Her mouth opened, and low moaning sobs issued forth in short, harsh barks her own vocal cords should never have produced. Helplessly, she listened, overwhelmed with pity for the poor creature who suffered so. She didn't know how it happened, but from the peak of that agony, she came down into a deep, clear pool of crystalline eternity. Here was not the happiness she had lived to achieve, but a radiant peace in which every disturbance could only be felt as a joy.

Warm, relaxed, aching with drained tension, she heard a lapping silence, the barest hissing echo of music. Her hands on her face were slick with tears. She felt the presence of the room about her as an increasing pressure on the skin of her arms, a burgeoning image in her mind's eye. And she felt Jindigar's eyes on her now. She couldn't raise her head.

A scurry's arm thrust tissues into her hands. She buried her face in them. Her suppressed hysteria of the last two days was gone. She'd finally finished grieving for her old life, her old self. But she wasn't anybody new yet. She lifted her eyes and met deep indigo ones.

"I'm sorry, I didn't realize you'd come in." Jindigar cast his eyes down to the whule, caressing its sounding bowl with one finger. "This was Lelwatha's whule. He... that was his last composition. I render it badly."

"I don't think I could live through a better rendering!" She deposited the sodden lump of tissue in the scurry's grip and rose to approach Jindigar. "Actually, I think you apologize too much, for things that aren't your fault."

He fondled the whule as if it contained the memory of his friend and mentor. "I've displayed a lot of faults lately." He looked up at her and She sat down on the edge of the platform he occupied. "Krinata, debriefing never revealed how it was my fault Taaryesh died."

"That's nonsense. The tornado killed her."

"I was Receptor. I missed the signs of the weather pattern. Dinai warned me, but it was too late for Seum to get us out of there. Krinata, if I hadn't been careless, Taaryesh—and six of our Lehiroh Outriders—wouldn't have died. We'd have still been in the field when Trinarvil pulled Dushaun out of the Allegiancy, and Kamminth's would have been picked up intact by the retrieval team. Instead, I'm the sole survivor of one of the best Oliat teams ever. And I've ruined your life, too."

She wondered if this was clinical depression, or if this was just a normal guilt reaction from a very responsible individual. The pattern of the thought was all too human, and the only cure she knew was human. "You didn't ruin my life. / decided to get you out of that horrid place. I'm not sorry I did it, either." For the first time, that was really true, and it felt good. "Did Seum, Dinai, Fedeewarn, Lelwatha or Kamminth blame you for Taaryesh's death?"

"No. Kamminth insisted she'd once missed a brewing hurricane. Lelwatha maintained I was the keenest Receptor he'd ever Emulated for." He toyed with the whule bow. "Maybe that's why I blame myself—because they refused to blame me." He looked up. "I am good in Oliat. That's why it hurts so. I've never... killed anyone before."

The Dushau species was not descended from hunters, but from carrion-eaters. They never killed their meat, or each other. "You haven't killed now." Krinata took the bow from his fidgeting hands and captured his eyes.

"Listen. If I'd had documented proof that you'd missed the weather signs because you were drunk on duty or whatever, I'd still have gone into that hospital after you. You want to trade guilts? / let myself get carried away during that debriefing. I was so busy imagining I was Taaryesh, I didn't think what might happen when I asked for dangers. I didn't research what had killed her. I didn't make a point of avoiding that issue. / didn't do my job properly, so you were dragged away as a saboteur of an imperial project! What did I do about it? I let them haul you out of my office, then I dithered for days before Arlai jolted me out of it. By then it was too late to save Dinai and Seum. Lay their deaths at my feet. Lay your whole situation at my feet!"

"That's ridiculous."

"No more ridiculous than what you're saying!"

They stared at each other for a long while before Jindigar gave in. She smiled and handed him back the bow. "When the Kings have had time to analyze all this, they'll stop Zinzik, depose him if necessary, and pick his successor. With a little sanity on the throne, Dushaun will come back and everything will be normal again. Jindigar, it can't take very long. When it's settled, my family will be able to get me a pardon, and I could even go back to my old job. I'm just not sure I'll ever want it back. And I've no idea what to do with myself in the meantime."

He set the instrument aside, and turned to confront her. "You really believe this is just a minor disruption, and eventually everything will be as it was?"

•'Of course." Now that she'd calmed down, she could see it clearly. When they came to their senses, they'd see she hadn't really committed a crime.

"Krinata, you know I'm not an Historian, though the talent runs in my family. Yet even I can recognize the deaththroes of a civilization. Nothing can stop Zinzik now. Nobody wants to. They know they can't solve these problems, so they're intent on slaughtering them, and we are the symbol. Anybody and anything remotely touched by us will be torn apart by this kill-frenzied mob. You can never go back. That's what I've done to you."

The last shred of hope dissolved before his certainty. But this time, it didn't hurt. "All right. I can accept even that. There's nowhere for me to go."

He searched her face as if reading a map. Then he uncurled his long, muscular legs and paced across the room. He moved more easily now, the sinuous glide of an acrobat. Then he turned and inspected her from across the room. She felt as if she were on trial for some quality of soul.

He swept some small items from the top of a scurry and half-sat, half-leaned on it, one knee bent to hook his heel on the edge of the flattop, hands clasped about that ankle. "I've lost my confidence in my own judgment," he confessed. "But I've nothing else to go on. So I've got to ask you. If you had a chance to pioneer an eminently livable planet—a first implant colony—would you take it?"

"That's what I've been trying to find, a place between here and Dushaun where you could drop me off and be rid of me, on your way home. But..."

"No, Krinata. Listen. Nobody who's ever done me a good turn, ever worked with me, ever done business with me, is safe now. And there are a few dozen such people scattered about the Allegiancy. For them, as for you, there's no Allegiancy planet where they can live. But I know a planet that would be a marginally comfortable home, though not suitable for commercial use—far, far outside the Allegiancy sphere. It's rugged: no amenities waiting, no pre-implant spadework done, no further tech support coming after you get there. I can't even promise you Oliat support. Just a few refugees of various species, lots of arable land, and nothing too hostile to live with. Its only virtue is that the Allegiancy doesn't list it as open, so nobody will look for us there. Would you be interested?"