"Is the fellowship a secret, then?" Nicci asked in a whisper.

Everyone chuckled. Brother Narev didn't laugh, but his mouth smiled again. "No, child. Quite the contrary. It is our most fervent wish and duty to spread the truth of mankind's corruption. The Creator is perfect; we mortals are but miserable wretches. We must recognize our wicked nature if we hope to avoid His righteous wrath and reap our deliverance in the next world.

"Self-sacrifice for the good of all is the only route to salvation. Our fellowship is open to all those willing to give of themselves and live ethical lives. Most people don't take us seriously. Someday they will."

Gleaming, mousy eyes around the room watched without blinking as his deep, powerful voice rose, like the Creator's own fury.

"A day will come when the hot flames of change will sweep across the land, burning away the old, the decaying, and the foul, to allow a new order to grow from the blackened remains of evil. After we burn clean the world, there will be no kings, yet the world will have order, championed by the hand of the common man, for the common man. Only then, will there be no hunger, no shivering in the cold, no suffering without help. The good of the people will be put above the selfish desires of the individual."

Nicci wanted to do good-she truly did. But his voice sounded to her like a rusty dungeon door grating shut on her.

All the eyes in the room watched her, to see if she was good, like her mother, "That sounds wonderful, Brother Narev."

He nodded. "It will be, child. You will help bring this to be. Let your feelings be your guide. You will be a soldier, marching toward a new world order. It will be a long and arduous task. You must keep the faith. The rest of us in this room will not likely live to see it flourish, but perhaps you will live long enough to one day see such a wondrous order come to pass."

Nicci swallowed. "I will pray for it, Brother Narev."

The next day, loaded with a big basket of bread, Nicci was let out of the carnage, along with a gaggle of other people from the fellowship, to fan out and distribute bread to the needy. Mother had attired her in a ruffled red dress for the special occasion. Her short white stockings had designs stitched in red thread. Filled with pride to at last be doing good, Nicci marched down the garbage strewn street, armed with her basket of bread, thinking about the day when the hope of a new order could be spread to all so that all could finally rise up out of destitution and despair.

Some people smiled and thanked her for the bread. Some took the bread without a word or a smile. Most, though, were surly about it, complaining that the bread was late and the loaves were too small, or the wrong kind.

Nicci was not discouraged. She told them what Mother had said, that it was the baker's fault, because he baked bread for profit, first, and since he received a reduced rate for charity, baked that second. Nicci told them that she was sorry that wicked people treated them as second-rate, but that someday the Fellowship of Order would come to the land and see to it that everyone was treated the same.

As Nicci walked down the street, handing out the bread, a man snatched her arm and pulled her into the stench of a narrow dark alley. She offered him a loaf of bread. He swiped the basket out of her hands. He said he wanted silver or gold. Nicci told him she had no money. She gasped in panic as he yanked her close. His filthy probing fingers groped everywhere on her body, even violating her most private places, looking for a purse, but found none hidden on her. He pulled off her shoes and threw them away when he found they had no coins hidden in them.

His fist punched her twice in the stomach. Nicci crashed to the ground.

He spat a curse at her as he stole away into the shadowed heaps of refuse.

Holding herself up on trembling arms, Nicci vomited into the oily water running from under the mounds of offal. People passing the alley looked in and saw her retching there on the ground, but turned their eyes back to the street and hurried on their way. A few quickly darted into the alley, bent, and scooped up bread from the overturned basket before rushing off. Nicci panted, tears stinging her eyes, trying to get her wind back. Her knees were bleeding. Her dress was splattered with scum.

When she returned home, in tears, Mother smiled at seeing her. "Their plight often brings tears to my eyes, too."

Nicci shook her head, her golden locks swinging side to side, and told Mother that a man had grabbed her and hit her, demanding money. Nicci reached for her mother as she wailed in misery that he was a wicked, wicked man.

Mother smacked her mouth. "Don't you dare judge people. You are just a child. How can you presume to judge others?"

Stopped cold, Nicci was bewildered by the slap, more startling than painful. The rebuke stung more. "But, Mother, he was cruel to me-he touched me everywhere and then he hit me."

Mother smacked her mouth again, harder the second time. "I'll not have you disgrace me before Brother Narev and my friends with such insensitive talk. Do you hear? You don't know what made him do it. Perhaps he has sick children at home, and he needs money to buy medicine. Here he sees some spoiled rich child, and he finally breaks, knowing his own child has been cheated in life by the likes of you and all your fine things.

"You don't know what burdens life has handed the man. Don't you dare to judge people for their actions just because you are too callous and insensitive to take the time to understand them."

"But I think-"

Mother smacked her across the mouth a third time, hard enough to stagger her. "You think? Thinking is a vile acid that corrodes faith! It is your duty to believe, not think. The mind of man is inferior to that of the Creator. Your thoughts-the thoughts of anyone-are worthless, as all mankind is worthless. You must have faith that the Creator has invested His goodness in those wretched souls.

"Feelings, not thinking, must be your guide. Faith, not thinking, must be your only path."

Nicci swallowed back her tears. "Then what should I do?"

"You should be ashamed that the world treats those poor souls so cruelly that they would so pitifully strike out in confusion. In the future, you should find a way to help people like that because you are able and they are not-that is your duty."

That night, when her father came home and tiptoed into her room to see if she was tucked in snugly, Nicci clutched two of his big fingers together and held them tight to her cheek. Even though her mother said he was a wicked man, it felt better than anything else in the world when he knelt beside the bed and silently stroked her brow.

In her work on the streets, Nicci came to understand the needs of many of the people there. Their problems seemed insurmountable. No matter what she did, it never seemed to resolve anything. Brother Narev said it was only a sign that she wasn't giving enough of herself. Each time she failed, at Brother Narev's or Mother's urging, Nicci redoubled her efforts.

One night at dinner, after being in the fellowship several years, she said, "Father, there is a man I've been trying to help. He has ten children and no job. Will you hire him, please?"

Father looked up from his soup. "Why?"

"I told you. He has ten children."

"But what sort of work can he do? Why would I want him?"

"Because he needs a job."

Father set down his spoon. "Nicci, dear, I employ skilled workers. That he has ten children is not going to shape steel, now is it? What can the man do? What skills has he?"

"If he had a skill, Father, he could get work. Is it fair that his children should starve because people won't give him a chance?"