"I have done that," she said, worried, "but the shape of the words is not what it should be."

Mik stood up, brushing off his robes. He approached Salera slowly but without fear. Good lad. "Good morrow to you, Mistress—uh—Sa—"

"Salera," I whispered loudly.

"Mistress Salera. I am honoured to know you." He put out his hand as if to shake hers.

She stared at it for a moment and looked back at me.

"We shake hands, one Gedri to another," I said. "Will, come here, put out your hand."

Grinning like an idiot, Will obliged me and we shook hands. Salera sighed and extended her hand, twice the size of Mik's, each finger tipped with a long sharp talon.

"I cannot," she said sadly. "I would harm him."

For once in my life inspiration struck at the right moment. "Here, lass, you hold up your hand, but open it as much as you can." She did, and the talons spread wide, leaving the tough skin of her palm exposed.

"Here, Mik," I said. 'Tou raise your hand too, and touch palms."

Mik touched Salera's palm briefly and said, simply, "Welcome, Salera."

"Well-met, Mik," she replied.

I couldn't help but smile at the odd solemnity of it, but withal I found myself moved. As it happens, Mik, all unsuspecting, was the first to use the gesture of greeting between Aialakantri and Gedri that is now commonplace.

It's a shame the moment couldn't have lasted a bit longer. Ah, well.

I had been crouched over moving stone for some time. My new-healed back began to ache, so I paused, stretched my wings on high and reached out with my head and neck, easing the stiff- ness. I had not considered the effect of my full height on the nearby Gedri—I heard some cursing and, glancing down, saw that most of them had moved swiftly away from me. I am ashamed to admit that my chief thought was that, all in all, it would not be a bad thing for the Gedri to remain a little fearful of us for a time. There were so few of us, so many of them; and I was certain that the mob that had come casting accusations would not be the last to blame all their troubles on the Kantri, and others might throw more than accusations. It occurred to me as well that in all this long time, perhaps they had invented some weapon that would do us harm.

In the midst of my musing, my eye was drawn to a robed figure riding towards the town. I paid no attention until Salera shot into the air not a wingspan from me.

My mindvoice was echoed by Varien s as we both cried out to her in truespeech.

"Raksssshi!" she hissed, and launched herself at the rider on the road.

I could not get airborne nearly as quickly as she, I had to run instead. Out the ruined gates of the College and swiftly north to where the rider sat in the road, his horse long gone, gaping up at Salera as she gathered the breath of Fire. I just managed to shelter him from her Fire with my wing.

"Rakssshi! Evil!" she cried, trying to maneuver around me for a clear shot. I had never seen her fly like this. She was amazingly agile in the air, turning on a wingtip.

"We do not judge the Gedri, Salera!" I cried, struggling to protect the creature. "Others of its kind must punish it if punishment is due. For all our sakes, control yourself!"

She screamed her frustration and wheeled away, breathing her Fire to the Winds in protest.

"You are wise, Old One," said the creature under my wing. The stench of the Rakshasa rising from it all but choked me. The moment Salera had given up her attack, I folded my wings away. It laughed, and the eyes of the Rakshi gazed back at me from that human face. I spat Fire, carefully missing it by only a talon's width.

"Take no comfort from my restraint," I growled. "I would sooner destroy you than not, and I would be less forgiving than the little one—but you wear the guise of a child of the Gedri."

"An excellent shield, is it not?" the thing mocked quiedy. "And so hard for their useless eyes to see past."

"Goddess, it's Healer Donal!" cried a voice. Magister Rikard came running up.

"Perhaps it was Healer Donal," said I, cold fury in my voice. "It is now the shell around a demon."

"I was just riding down the road when those things attacked me!" false Donal cried, as more of the Gedri crowded round. They are ever curious, as a race. The students came along close behind Rikard. Vilkas's dark head rose above the others; at his side, as ever, kind Mistress Aral, and behind her the Lady Rella.

"Friend, if either one of them had attacked you, we'd be looking at a pile of cinders," drawled Rella. Her voice was light but her eyes were flint.

"The big one didn't want to be seen to kill a human!" cried false Donal loudly, trying to back into the crowd. "It said so!"

"You poor man," said a new voice, with nothing of pity about it. I had not seen Maran approach but there she stood, at the side of the demon-caught Healer. "Here, this should give you comfort." She took something from around her neck and pressed her palm to false Donal s forehead.

He screamed and tried to fight her off, but she held him in a grip that regularly bent iron to her will. Eventually several men managed to remove her hand from his forehead, but still he screamed. There, as though it had been graven in his flesh, was a shape I remembered well. A star with many points around a central circle, the points in groups of three.

"What have you done to him!" cried one of the students, who was drawing in his power to help the afflicted one. False Donal tried feebly to fight him off.

"Nothing that would hurt a true Healer," said Maran, scowling. "It's my Ladystar," she said, holding it up for inspection. "I had it blessed this morning. Just as well."

The student laid his hands on false Donal and sent his power into the creature. The Gedri stopped screaming and growled, a grating, hideous noise from a human throat. "Leave off!" it snarled, knocking over the Healer and standing up. "Gah!" It rubbed the black shape on its forehead.

Magister Rikard made his way through the gathered folk. His face was grim and he glowed a clear blue, far brighter than the hapless student. "Donal, in the Lady's name, what has happened to you?"

The thing started to curse. Rikard's eyes widened. "True names—perhaps—I call you, Donal of Ker Torrin, Donal of the East Mountains, Donal ta-Wylark, speak to me!"

The man shuddered violently, closed his eyes, and collapsed. When next he opened them, they were no longer the eyes of the Rakshi. A plain human stared back at us all. Shaken, revulsed, terrified, but human.

"Save me, Rikard!" he cried. "It is not banished, it lurks and waits its chance to take me over once more." He began to weep, suddenly, shockingly. "Shia's heart, Rikard, I beg you, kill me, don't let that thing come back!"

"How did this happen?" asked Rikard. His voice struck even me as being overly harsh in the face of such desperation. "Demons follow laws. How could they take over a man—a Healer!—if he did not invite them in?"

"I did, I confess it!" cried Donal. "For the love of Shia, I beg you, shrive me, kill me, I cannot bear it!"

"How did you fall?" demanded Rikard.

"Power," said Donal. He was trembling in the mild air as though he lay naked in winter. "They gave us all power, power to heal, so much more than the Lady granted! And all for so small a price, that might never need be paid." His whole body shook now, his voice thick with revulsion. "But they have called in our debt. I was drowning until you called me forth, Rikard. I know not how long I will last, I fight it with every breath as it is."

"How may it be banished?" asked Lanen swiftly. "What have we to do to help?"

"It depends. Did you sign in blood?" asked a cold voice, and suddenly Vilkas stood over the wretch.

"No, no, it was just a lock of hair, that's all they took from any of us." Donal's eyes grew wild. "Save me, Rikard, it returns. I beg you, take my life before I am lost forever!"