Judith had told Sister Magdalene of our dilemma and we discussed it in whispers. She advised us strongly not to try to reach any decisions just then. 'I'm in charge of Judith's purification; I can stretch it out for another week, perhaps, before she has to draw lots again.'

I said, 'We've got to act before then!'

Judith seemed over her fears, now that she had laid her troubles in Sister Magdalene's lap. 'Don't worry, John,' she said softly, 'the chances are my lot won't be drawn soon again in any case. We must do what she advises.'

Sister Magdalene sniffed contemptuously. 'You're wrong about that, Judy, when you are returned to duty, your lot will be drawn, you can be sure ahead of time. Not,' she added, 'but what you could live through it-the rest of us have. If it seems safer to-' She stopped suddenly and listened. 'Sssh! Quiet as death.' She slipped silently out of our circle.

A thin pencil of light flashed out and splashed on a figure crouching outside the alcove. I dived and was on him before he could get to his feet. Fast as I had been, Sister Magdalene was just as fast; she landed on his shoulders as he went down. He jerked and was still.

Zebadiah came running in, checked himself at our sides. 'John! Maggie!' came his tense whisper. 'What is it?'

'We've caught a spy, Zeb,' I answered hurriedly. 'What'll we do with him?'

Zeb flashed his light. 'You've knocked him out?'

'He won't come to,' answered Magdalene's calm voice out of the darkness. 'I slipped a vibroblade in his ribs.'

'Sheol!'

'Zeb, I had to do it. Be glad I didn't use steel and mess up the floor with blood. But what do we do now?'

Zeb cursed her softly, she took it. 'Turn him over, John. Let's take a look.' I did so and his light flashed again. 'Hey, Johnnie-it's Snotty Fassett.' He paused and I could almost hear him think. 'Well, we'll waste no tears on him. John!'

'Yeah, Zeb?'

'Keep the watch outside. If anyone comes, I am inspecting the corridor. I've got to dump this carcass somewhere.'

Judith broke the silence. 'There's an incinerator chute on the floor above. I'll help you.'

'Stout girl. Get going, John.'

I wanted to object that it was no work for a woman, but I shut up and turned away. Zeb took his shoulders, the women a leg apiece and managed well enough. They were back in minutes, though it seemed endless to me. No doubt Snotty's body was reduced to atoms before they were back-we might get away with it. It did not seem like murder to me then, and still does not; we did what we had to do, rushed along by events.

Zeb was curt. 'This tears it. Our reliefs will be along in ten minutes; we've got to figure this out in less time than that. Well?'

Our suggestions were all impractical to the point of being ridiculous, but Zeb let us make them-then spoke straight to the point. 'Listen to me, it's no longer just a case of trying to help Judith and you out of your predicament. As soon as Snotty is missed, we-all four of us-are in mortal danger of the Question. Right?'

'Right,' I agreed unwillingly.

'But nobody has a plan?'

None of us answered. Zeb went on, 'Then we've got to have help... and there is only one place we can get it. The Cabal.'

'The Cabal?' I repeated stupidly. Judith gave a horrified gasp. 'Why... why, that would mean our immortal souls! They worship Satan!'

Zeb turned to her. 'I don't believe so.' She stared at him. 'Are you a Cabalist?'

'No.'

'Then how do you know?'

'And how,' I insisted, 'can you ask them for help?'

Magdalene answered. 'I am a member-as Zebadiah knows.' Judith shrank away from her, but Magdalene pressed her with words. 'Listen to me, Judith. I know how you feel-and once I was as horrified as you are at the idea of anyone opposing the Church. Then I learned-as you are learning-what really lies behind this sham we were brought up to believe in.' She put an arm around the younger girl. 'We aren't devil worshipers, dear, nor do we fight against God. We fight only against this self-styled Prophet who pretends to be the voice of God. Come with us, help us fight him-and we will help you. Otherwise we can't risk it.'

Judith searched her face by the faint light from the portal. 'You swear that this is true? The Cabal fights only against the Prophet and not against the Lord Himself?'

'I swear, Judith.'

Judith took a deep shuddering breath. 'God guide me,' she whispered. 'I go with the Cabal.'

Magdalene kissed her quickly, then faced us men. 'Well?'

I answered at once, 'I'm in it if Judith is,' then whispered to myself, 'Dear Lord, forgive me my oath-I must!'

Magdalene was staring at Zeb. He shifted uneasily and said angrily, 'I suggested it, didn't I? But we are all damned fools and the Inquisitor will break our bones.'

There was no more chance to talk until the next day. I woke from bad dreams of the Question and worse, and heard Zeb's shaver buzzing merrily in the bath. He came in and pulled the covers off me, all the while running off at the mouth with cheerful nonsense. I hate having bed clothes dragged off me even when feeling well and I can't stand cheerfulness before breakfast; I dragged them back and tried to ignore him, but he grabbed my wrist. 'Up you come, old son! God's sunshine is wasting. It's a beautiful day. How about two fast laps around the Palace and in for a cold shower?'

I tried to shake his hand loose and called him something that would lower my mark in piety if the ear picked it up. He still hung on and his forefinger was twitching against my wrist in a nervous fashion; I began to wonder if Zeb were cracking under the strain. Then I realized that he was tapping out code.

'B-E-N-A-T-U-R-A-L,' the dots and dashes said, 'S-H-O-W - N-O - S-U-R-P-R-I-S-E - W-E - W-I-L-L - B-E -C-A-L-L-E-D - F-O-R - E-X-A-M-I-N-A-T-I-O-N - D-U-RI-N-G - T-H-E - R-E-C-R-E-A-T-I-O-N - P-E-R-I-O-D - T-H-I-S - A-F-T-E-R-N-O-O-N'

I hoped I showed no surprise. I made surly answers to the stream of silly chatter he had kept up all through it, and got up and went about the mournful tasks of putting the body back in shape for another day. After a bit 1 found excuse to lay a hand on his shoulder and twitched out an answer: '0-K -I- U-N-D-E-R-S-T-A-N-D'

The day was a misery of nervous monotony. I made a mistake at dress parade, a thing I haven't done since beast barracks. When the day's duty was finally over I went back to our room and found Zeb there with his feet on the air conditioner, working an acrostic in the New York Times. 'Johnnie my lamb,' he asked, looking up, 'what is a six-letter word meaning "Pure in Heart"?'

'You'll never need to know,' I grunted and sat down to remove my armor.

'Why, John, don't you think I will reach the Heavenly City?'

'Maybe-after ten thousand years penance.'

There came a brisk knock at our door, it was shoved open, and Timothy Klyce, senior legate in the mess and brevet captain, stuck his head in. He sniffed and said in nasal Cape Cod accents, 'Hello, you chaps want to take a walk?'

It seemed to me that he could not have picked a worse time. Tim was a hard man to shake and the most punctiliously devout man in the corps. I was still trying to think of an excuse when Zeb spoke up. 'Don't mind if we do, provided we walk toward town. I've got some shopping to do.'

I was confused by Zeb's answer and still tried to hang back, pleading paper work to do, but Zeb cut me short. 'Pfui with paper work. I'll help you with it tonight. Come on.' So I went, wondering if he had gotten cold feet about going through with it.