The girl flinched, catching the edge of her anger and mistaking its direction. She began to shiver all over. "Three nights ago, when we did this play that made . . . it was terrible. The people got upset, and they attacked our wagons, and my aunt Loret was killed, and . . . don't be angry with me!" Tears began to course down Illona's face, as if she had been holding back for days, and could no longer control herself.

Marguerida did not respond at once. She was aware that there had been some sort of ruckus, and she now understood the marks on the cobblestones and the slight smell of ash outside. She even knew that several people had died and others had been injured. She had not really cared, because all that had mattered to her was that her son was safe. Until that moment, the whole thing had been rather abstract and distant. Now she felt the full force of the event, and saw the human face of the tragedy. Her heart ached for this child who had lost the only family she had ever known. Dyan Ardais, if he was Illona's father, as seemed very likely, would not be able to step into the void left by the death of Loret. He had never taken the least interest in any of his numerous offspring, and she did not think he was going to start now.

Marguerida reached out and took Illona into her arms, and let the girl sob into her chest. "No one is angry at you, dear child." She stroked the coarse hair gently. All the emotions the girl had held in check flooded through her, a bundle of terrors and experiences that shocked her. It was a great muddle of memory and feeling, all held together by the fear of what would happen to her now.

After several minutes, Illona's weeping began to subside, and she hiccupped a few times. Marguerida dug into her beltpouch and produced a serviceable handkerchief. The girl took it, wiped her eyes, and blew her nose fiercely. She started to hand back the soiled cloth, then turned red. "I really messed up your nice hanky," she muttered, hunching her shoulders and trying to make herself very small.

"That is what they are for," Marguerida answered calmly. "It will get washed and be as good as new." She reached out, without really thinking, and patted the wan face, as she would have done with her daughter or Alanna Alar. Illona flinched. "I am not going to hurt you, child."

"They say your hands are . . ."

"Oh, that. Only one hand," she answered, lifting the left one, "and only when I will it to be dangerous. You are perfectly safe, I promise."

When she had held Illona, she had felt the fear coursing beneath the natural grief. The girl was like a half-wild animal, unlike anyone Marguerida had ever encountered before, and her laran seemed very powerful, if completely untrained. She knew, from that contact, that the young woman was terrified of going into a Tower, that she believed the leroni did unspeakable things there. She looked into the sharp face, rather grubby from weeping, and wondered what she was going to do with her. Then she chided herself for assuming she was going to do anything whatever-it was not her responsibility at all.

Let Dyan see to her. A quick glance at the Ardais man made her realize immediately what a stupid notion that was. And somehow she could not imagine Lady Marilla being able to handle this particular girl. Marguerida sighed. She really did not need another foster-child, but she knew, almost as if she had experienced the Aldaran Gift once more, that she was probably going to have one.

"Nico told me you were nice," the girl said gruffly, "but I just thought he was speaking as a son. I didn't really believe him. But, maybe you are, and you won't seal me up in a room and make me . . ."

Marguerida waited for her to complete her sentence, and then realized that the girl could not bring herself to say the words that rested in her mind. "No one is going to shut you up anywhere."

Oddly, this seemed to satisfy Illona, for her taut shoulders relaxed slightly, and she sniffed into the hanky again. Then her vivid green glance darted around the room, until it found Domenic, now standing between his father and Herm Aldaran in front of the fireplace, and something of a smile began to play across her generous lips. Kate was standing behind Herm, her face relaxed at last, and Robert Aldaran and Donal were just a step away from the group, the paxman vigilant and the man reflective.

Marguerida followed her look, and studied the tableau. After a moment she realized there was something strained in the set of Mikhail's shoulders, and knew that something was disturbing him.

Mik, what's the matter?

I am having a bout of envy, caria. Look at Nico! See how he looks at Herm, and tell me I have nothing to feel jealous of.

Yes, dearest. I see it now. He left us a boy, and now he is really a man, and he regards Herm with the sort of intimacy you have never had with him. You would have to be inhuman not to feel wretched.

That is it, I suppose. I feel I just missed something very important in my son's life something I should have been present for.

And how many of your important passages did Dom Gabriel miss because of Regis?

There is that, damn you. Don't you understand that you are not supposed to point out unpleasant things to me when I am upset? There was an undertone of humor in the thought.

Yes, I do, but as your mother so often points out, I am not a suitable wife.

Well, she can't witness this event, and for that I am very grateful. And he is safe and strong, and filled with a confidence I doubted I would ever find in him, so I guess I should be pleased. Later perhaps.

Marguerida held back a laugh at her husband's expense. She felt, for a moment, lighthearted. She had her firstborn back, and he seemed none the worse for whatever adventures he had had. If only they were not riding into the jaws of an ambush in a few hours, she would have been entirely content. But they were, and her momentary pleasure left her, and all the worries flooded back again.

She sat down on a long bench beside one of the tables and gestured to Illona to sit beside her. The girl did, just as Dom Gabriel, who had been riding, to his fury, in one of the carriages, stamped into the room. His leg no longer allowed him to ride on horseback for any length of time, and he resented the infirmity enormously. Marguerida saw him take in the group before the fireplace in a quick glance, and then he came and sat down next to her. There was something very solid and comforting in his presence these days, and she was glad that the old man was on her side, as well as that he was so long reconciled with Mikhail.

"Stop your fretting, Marguerida. It won't do a drop of good, and will just tire you out," Dom Gabriel told her sternly. Then he smiled, his eyes almost disappearing in the wrinkles of his face. "Now, introduce me to this young woman, will you."

Marguerida had almost forgotten about Illona for a moment, and realized that the girl was a little overwhelmed by so many noble strangers. "Certainly-Illona, this is my father-in-law, Dom Gabriel Lanart. Dom Gabriel, this is Illona Rider, a friend of Nico's."

"Illona-that's a pretty name. Here, come sit beside me, girl. I am a little deaf these days, and I want you to tell me all about yourself." The older man smiled genially, and to Marguerida's surprise, the young woman grinned back at him.

She could sense Illona's fear start to recede, as if she found Dom Gabriel unthreatening. Well, he was very good with Yllana and with Rafael's daughter. She slid off the bench, circled around, and sat down on his other side, still clutching the soiled handkerchief in her hands. It took her a moment to realize that the girl was relieved to put a little distance between herself and Marguerida. She sighed. Her life had been so much simpler when she was just Ivor Davidson's faithful assistant, and she spent an indulgent moment thinking of that part of her past.

Then serving boys started to bring out platters of food, and she found her mouth watering. She had worked up quite an appetite, in spite of her worries, and Dom Gabriel was right. Marguerida swung her long legs over the bench, reached for a tankard of ale, and grinned fiercely. There was nothing she could do about the future except meet it-but not just yet.

24.

Lew Alton paced back and forth in the entry hall of Comyn Castle, his boots ringing on the stonework. For the first time in many years, he wished he had a large glass of firewine, or were already drunk. He still occasionally drank wine, but he had not experienced such a strong desire for it in a long time. He was annoyed at his body for betraying his weakness to him, but pleased with himself for recognizing the signals of his own unease. Later, when it was over, perhaps he would indulge himself. He knew better than to try to work in a circle with his senses muddled by alcohol.

For the first time in centuries, perhaps since it had been constructed, Comyn Castle was nearly empty. It was an eerie feeling, the great pile of white stone no longer crammed with the energy of the nearly thousand people who usually inhabited it. Instead of the familiar minds of his many kinsmen, there was a circle of leroni from Arilinn, plus Rafe Scott, who had chosen to remain there instead of following the funeral procession to the rhu fead. Most of the servants had been given instructions to slip away as the funeral train departed, and the children had left right after the ceremony the previous day. Getting the children to a safe haven was, in his opinion, the most nervewracking part of the plan, and he had not been able to relax until he had received word of their safe arrival.

All he could do now was wait and wonder what would happen-if it did not drive him completely insane first! There were so many variables that no one could possibly anticipate, and Lew hoped they had covered the most important ones. Surely the spies of the Federation in Thendara had noticed something, even though every effort had been made to present the appearance of normality. Or perhaps Lyle Belfontaine was over-confident-it would be consistent with his character. Arrogant little man.

The mental stillness of the place was really getting on his nerves, and Lew made a conscious effort to calm himself. He would need to be in control when he joined the circle, when Belfontaine attacked, if he did. He would not permit himself to think about his daughter, riding into the jaws of danger, where he could not protect her. A bitter laugh rose in his throat. Marguerida had been looking after herself quite well for years now, and she had all the protection she needed in her husband. The Alton Gift, which he possessed, combined with Rafe's knowledge, was needed to make their part of the plan work, as Marguerida and Mikhail were needed for the attack on the train. It was rather late in the day to start having second thoughts. He sighed and ran the fingers of his remaining hand through his hair. The logic of their plan was perfect, but his mind still gnawed at it, looking for flaws.

The entry was very cold, and he was only going to wear himself out, with his pacing. Lew thought about Marguerida as he had last seen her, mounting her horse. Her skin had been pale in the flickering lights of the torches in the Stable Court, and her fine hair had curled around her brow in the damp morning air. There was nothing he could do for her now, so he might as well stop worrying. It had been blowing up for rain, and she was probably going to get wet. He hoped that was the worst she would suffer.

The castle was spooky, almost tomblike without its usual background noises-the random and inescapable thoughts of maids and servants bustling about at their duties. At that moment, he would even have welcomed the brittle and quarrelsome mental echoes of Javanne Hastur-a thought that brought a smile to his face. She had gone to Arilinn the previous day, too exhausted from the funeral to make more than a feeble protest. He felt his mood shift as he thought of Javanne. During the funeral the reality of her brother's death had finally hit her, and all of her anger and bravado had collapsed into sorrow. Her strength seemed to desert her like a puff of smoke, and when he had last seen her, she had to lean on her husband's arm just to walk.

It had been a tumultuous few days, and he found his thoughts going to Cisco Ridenow. He had not often encountered that dour man, with his pale hair and eyes like blue ice, since he had been appointed, against centuries of tradition, as head of the Guards. He found himself remembering how Cisco had entered the Crystal Chamber, taken in the shards of glass scattered around the perimeter of the room, the assorted weapons flung carelessly on the floor. His expression had been unreadable, his mind shuttered, but he had eyed each person seated around the table with caution, as if he were evaluating their military value and was not terribly impressed by what he found. He had listened intently, without surprise of any kind. And when he had spoken at last, the room had gone silent. "If they actually intend to attack the funeral train, then it seems likely that they will also attempt to occupy Comyn Castle-which we must prevent, obviously." He had glanced around at Lew, Mikhail, and Danilo, daring them to contradict him. When no one raised any objection, Cisco, never one to waste words, had gone on. "I have considered this possibility for some time, and I have a plan."

Mikhail had nodded, concealing any surprise. "Good. Tell us what you need." Where a moment before, there had been tension, a mood of calm now seemed to encompass the table. Whatever disagreements had existed in the past were forgotten for the present.

Cisco had spoken in short sentences, chopping off his words, and Lew realized that he had seriously underestimated the deviousness of the commander. The scheme he unfolded was a clever combination of military and laran talents. For someone with no actual experience in the field of combat, Cisco had a grasp of tactics worthy of the strategies of one who had fought a hundred campaigns. It was a daring and innovative scheme, and Lew had felt a deep admiration for the man.

The fact that the entire plan depended on a series of illusions was both pleasing and terrifying. First there was the illusion that all of the Castle Guards had left, and that the castle itself was nearly uninhabited. The City Guards were assigned to stay out of sight, adding to the impression that no attack was expected. And, knowing how easily baited Lyle Belfontaine was, Lew believed he would walk into the trap, that it would be just too tempting to forgo. And if he didn't, that would be fine as well.

Lew found himself remembering the exchange between Cisco and Marguerida when the man had hesitated at last. "I do not know what we can do against energy weapons, and I confess this has worried me for some days now."

"Dom Cisco, are you familiar with the original construction of Comyn Castle?"

"I do not quite follow you, Domna."

She gestured to the ruined telepathic dampers, gleaming in the light from the high windows. "When the castle was constructed, or at least when it was begun, it was very different than it is today."

"And how do you know this?"

"I still possess the memories of Ashara Alton who was, in many ways, the architect of this building. There are passages that have been closed up for years. Actually, there could almost be said to be two castles, one within the skin of the other. You could hide a thousand men in those corridors, if you had them and knew their locations. And there is more."

Cisco's eyes gleamed. "You have my undivided attention, Domna Marguerida." The others in the Comyn Council were equally interested, and even as weary as they were, they had leaned forward, bristling with curiosity.

Lew remembered the heightened color in Marguerida's cheeks as she went on. "I know that most of you think that Ashara placed much of her power in the Old Tower. But, she was a wary old bird; she loved control, and most of all, she wanted to keep herself secure. So she constructed this maze of a building, but the most devious and clever thing she did was to hide a number of large matrices at all the entrances."

"What the devil are you talking about?" That was from Francisco Ridenow, who was observing the interchange between his son and Marguerida with visible unease.

"The matrices are inactive at present, and they are well concealed behind the stonework." She lifted her left hand from the table. "I can bring them into life quite easily."

"And why have you never mentioned this remarkable fact until this moment?" Javanne demanded, her voice hoarse and weary.

"There was no need."

"And why has no one other than yourself been aware of these matrices?" Lady Marilla was not hostile, just curious and rather confused.

"I believe that Valenta Elhalyn is aware of them, and has been since she was a little girl. And I suspect that Regis knew of their existence as well."

"Nonsense. He would have mentioned it if he had known," snapped Javanne. "More, what use would they be against off-world weapons?"

"There is more than one way to skin a cat, Javanne," Marguerida had answered serenely, refusing to be baited. "And none of them are pleasant for the cat. What is the one thing that all humans hold in common?"

"I am too tired for stupid riddles, girl!"

"Of course you are, Javanne. I apologize." The older woman had looked shocked at this. Marguerida had taken a deep breath and gone on. "We are all of us, regardless of sex or position, possessed of fears, which, at times, can ride our minds like banshees." She had looked around the table then. "Most of the disagreements we have had in this room come from our fears, our thoughts of the terrible things that might happen. And what is a matrix except a device for amplifying thought? Our foes are just as fearful as we are, and by activating the guarding matrices at the entrances, we can enlarge the fears of our enemies, whatever they might be, can we not?"

"How?" Cisco was rubbing his callused hands together and looking almost gleeful now.

"The leroni will be coming into Thendara from Arilinn for the ceremony tomorrow. If they do not return there, but remain here, they can create a working circle, and wreck havoc on the minds of anyone who is stupid enough or foolish enough to try to attack Comyn Castle. No one is likely to fire a blaster when the ghost of his great grandmother is standing before him."

Cisco had nodded. "I see what you intend. But it will need someone with the Alton Gift to direct it, will it not?"

"I believe that I can do that," Lew had heard himself say. Everyone had stared at him for a moment, and a sense of hope had begun to come from the exhausted minds around the table. "In fact, I have been wanting to drive Lyle Belfontaine crazy for years!"

He paused in his pacing for a moment and looked up. He had walked through that entrance hundreds of times in his life, and he had never known or suspected that a large starstone had been hidden above the lintel. Until it had been activated, it had been invisible to him, and to anyone else. Lew suspected that Regis had known about the hidden defenses, at some deep level. As a living matrix, it was difficult to imagine he had not. But, like Marguerida, he had never seen fit to mention it to anyone. With good reason, he decided, since they could be used against some outside enemy, but in the wrong hands, they could have been turned against the inhabitants of the castle itself.

They were as ready as they could be now, with a hundred Guardsmen secreted in a hidden passage that ran from the barracks to an opening in the wall of the castle about fifty feet away from where he now stood, and the circle of leroni from Arilinn. Part of Lew hoped that Belfontaine would not attack the castle, but would stay behind the walls of HQ. His strength was less than it had been a few days before, because the City Guards had arrested a number of his men for brawling and locked them up in the old John Reade Orphanage. But another part of him rather wished that Belfontaine would attack, so he could pay off some old scores.

Enough. He had to calm himself, even if it killed him. Lew stomped out of the entry and into the reception room to one side. There was a fire roaring on the hearth, and a circle of chairs had been placed in front of it. Half were occupied by the men and women who had come from Arilinn, while the rest of them were standing or walking to and fro, as restless as he was himself. He gazed in amazement at one older woman who was placidly knitting by the fire, as if nothing was more important than keeping her stitches uniform.

"Stop fussing, Lew," Valenta said quietly, appearing beside him without warning, trying to match her short stride to his longer one. He had begun to pace again without noticing it. At twenty-eight the beauty she had possessed as a child had blossomed into its fullness. Her dark hair was braided and coiled around her head, and her skin shone with health. The rosebud mouth was poised as if at the start of a smile, and her dark eyes sparkled with her usual mischief, despite the tension all around them. When she put a hand on his forearm gently with the butterfly touch of the telepath, he could feel the power that radiated from her.

She was young enough to be his grandchild, but Lew found it impossible not to confide in her, as if she were a contemporary. "I can't help it, Val. I want to be here, but I want to be on the road at the same time, and I keep hoping all this effort will be in vain-that nothing will happen."

Val shook her head. "Well, of course that would be very nice, but you know as well as I do that something is going to happen. You don't have to have the Aldaran Gift for that. Why, even those without laran know something is up-the merchants have shuttered their businesses and the streets are nearly empty. More, I sense a clutter of energies advancing toward us, so I suggest you stop fretting and get ready to smash them like bugs."

"Bloodthirsty wench," he said fondly, aware now of the movement of minds toward the castle. He felt a flood of relief. The waiting was over, and now all they had to do was find out if their plan would work.

"Nonsense! With a little luck not a drop of blood will be spilled, and if it is, it will not be Darkovan blood." Valenta grinned, displaying perfect teeth, but sounding almost disappointed.

"Do you think our plan will work? I know it is rather late to be having second thoughts, Val, but can we really frighten a bunch of trained fighters with a few illusions and shadows?"

"They are just men, Lew, and all men and women are afraid of the darkness inside them. All we have to do is wake it up. Oh, they may have superior technology, but they do not know what we have, and that is our advantage." She gave a brief nod. "And with those trap matrices to increase the power of their imaginations, they will likely surrender without a shot being fired."

"You are probably right, and I am just being a worrier."

"Yes, yes, I know. At your age, you should be sitting by the fire, reading a book and smoking your pipe."

Lew glared at her, horrified at the image she presented. "That is not what I meant." Then he realized she was teasing him, and made himself smile back at her.

Rafe Scott walked into the room just then, his eyes narrowed with concentration. "Our roof spotters report about seventy Terrans marching toward the castle, dressed in Federation uniform. At least they are not disguising themselves, so we don't have to pretend we don't know who is coming to call."

"Seventy? That is fewer than I assumed. Armaments?"

"Standard issue side arms, battle helmets, combat suits, and two small energy cannon seems to be the extent of their armament."

"Cannon?"

"Yes, but don't worry. I remember the things being in Ordinance when I was still at HQ, and to the best of my knowledge, they have not been tested in at least a decade. They are probably more for show than for use, since I think that Belfontaine does not expect any real resistance."

"Is the City Guard in position?"

Rafe nodded. "They are behind the enemy, and out of sight. Belfontaine should have thought to cover his back, but he was always a headstrong fellow. If the troops try to retreat, they can be contained for a time, as long as they don't start shooting."

"When do you want to begin our work?" Val asked softly.

"We should probably start preparing now, but I would like them to get almost to the front door before we actually attack them," Lew answered, beginning to enjoy himself in spite of his persistent fears. At last he would have something concrete to do!

"That close?" She sounded a little doubtful.

"They have brought nothing which can breach these walls, Val, and I think that Belfontaine really expects an immediate surrender. All the cutbacks the Federation has imposed have left them without much in the way of advanced weaponry, and what they have is nearly obsolete, although on Darkover it is still pretty powerful." Rafe was so calm when he spoke that both of them were comforted.

"I wonder what Belfontaine's excuse for attacking the castle is going to be," Lew mused. "Is he with them, or has he stayed behind in the safety of HQ."

Rafe gave a muffled snort. "I saw him from the roof, strutting like a banty cock, all tarted out in a combat suit adorned with ribbons he never earned." He gestured to a longviewer hanging around his neck, an instrument he had requisitioned at HQ years before and had not returned when he retired. He often brought it to the castle and took the children up to the roof for the pleasure of being able to see all the way across Thendara. Lew could sense the amusement in Rafe's mind, and realized that he had his own scores to settle with Belfontaine.

Now Lew could sense the press of minds approaching through the nearly deserted streets, Belfontaine's among them. He exuded confidence even at this distance, not to mention a certain righteousness of purpose. His men did not entirely share his mood, however, and he noticed doubt here and there, little quivers of unease that he knew the waiting leroni would use to advantage.

This was not a strategy that Lew would ever have conceived, for it was an empath's plan, and he had never thought of that particular laran as something that could be used offensively. But Val was right-everyone had fears and terrors that could be roused with the right stimulus. His own did not require any help, and he cursed his imagination silently, then forced himself to stop.

"Let us begin." Val made a small gesture, and everyone took their places in the circle of high-backed chairs except the two women who were to be monitors. The old woman who had been knitting pushed her work into a bag and shoved it beneath her seat, then began to pull her matrix stone from beneath her soft robe. Lew found her movements very peaceful, and felt his own spirits begin to settle down.

Val moved to the chair in the center of the circle, sitting tidily. There was no sound except the crackle of the fire and the faint rustle of silk being removed, as gleaming matrix stones were revealed. One of the monitors tossed something into the hearth, and a pleasant smell started to waft around the room.

After several minutes Lew could sense the atmosphere in the chamber begin to shift, a coalescing of thought and energy, focused on Valenta. He had not worked in a circle in years, except for a couple of practice runs earlier in the day, and it felt unfamiliar yet right at the same time. And, really, he had nothing to do except use the Alton Gift to channel all this wonderful energy into the large matrices above the entrance. His breathing deepened, and he felt himself become enmeshed in the circle, without strain, as if he had been doing it every day for ages. Now they would see if matrix science could outdo the technological "advantage" of the Terranan. He chuckled deep in his chest. It really was an elegant plan, and if they got out of this in one piece, he was going to raise several cups to Cisco Ridenow's health.

Lyle Belfontaine strode along a narrow street, ignoring the raw day and the faint feeling of unease in the back of his mind. He was not worried about capturing Comyn Castle, for he was sure the servants that were left in the huge building would not try to stop him. It was the other, the assault along the road, that concerned him. He had sent orders for the attack the night before, and he knew that the forces from the Aldaran Domain had left there. He had had a lot of trouble with Commander Shen, who was in charge of the Federation troops in the Hellers. He was old-line military, from some family that had been serving the Federation for generations, and he had protested Lyle's orders. Some nonsense about attacking civilians without provocation. Belfontaine had insisted that the funeral train was harboring dangerous enemies of the Federation-namely Hermes Aldaran, but others as well-and Shen had finally, if reluctantly, agreed. With any luck at all, Shen and his honor would not survive. It was only a pity he could not reach Vancof and tell the scrawny assassin to make sure of that, but the shortbeam was not responding. How dare Shen question his orders!

It had taken several frustrating hours of transmissions back and forth before Shen had obeyed, and Lyle had wondered if the entire plan would fall apart from the failure of the technology they depended on. Cottman's star was going through one of its periods of sunspot activity, and that had interfered with the proper functioning of their equipment. And he wasn't worried about the actual attack on the funeral train-it would either work or it would not. No-it was the trail of transmissions which disturbed him more than a little-the evidence that could hang him if things went awry. But it was worth the risk, to pay back these stupid and stubborn people for refusing to join the Federation. They had brought this on themselves!

And there was always the possibility that the Federation would never know what he was about to do-that they would not come back to remove the personnel from HQ at all. When Granfell had made that suggestion a few days before, he had dismissed it. But now, as the silence from the relay station continued, Belfontaine was not so sure. Perhaps they would be abandoned. Well, if they were, he would have the planet in his own control.

There would be no one to challenge his authority. Granfell would be dead, if Vancof followed his orders, and so would anyone else who might dare to oppose him. Really, he should be more grateful to Miles, for coming up with the idea in the first place. A shame the man was not to be trusted. But he could not have a second-in-command who might be a traitor, could he?

Belfontaine had not been in this section of Thendara very often, for he rarely left the comfortable confines of the base. He looked at the buildings on either side of the street-wide for Cottman IV but narrow by the standards of any civilized city-their high stone walls looming above him. He saw the painted signs that hung out from the shops, and noticed that the shutters were drawn in. It did seem rather quiet for midday-the streets seemed almost empty of the normal traffic, and if anyone was alarmed by the sight of several squads of armed men marching along this avenue, there was no indication of it. Perhaps this was a day of mourning, after yesterday's funeral. He almost regretted that he had not attacked then, but he had had no idea that there would be such an event, one so public and vulnerable. He had not had time to organize an assault, and it was probably for the best. Less than a hundred men against the populace of Thendara and the Guard units were not odds that appealed to him.