Owen started to pull Zeth back, but when he saw Kadi Farris he followed Zeth, his field marbled with concern and sympathy.

Marji looked up. "Your father said, you were home, Zeth. He was just in—Kadi came conscious for him."

"How bad—?"

"They were caught in the fire. Both of them have bad burns on their legs. Rimon threw himself over Kadi when the roof fell in—he has even worse burns. Kadi has lung damage from smoke—and your father says there are scars from another time."

"Gen raiders burned their first house down around them when they started to homestead here. Marji," said Zeth, "will she live?"

"Oh, yes! I'm sure. Rimon will be back later—she responds best to his field, but I can maintain her."

Zeth began to zlin his mother. She could hardly breathe. The burns on her legs were painful, but the dark anomaly of failing cells was in her lungs. Marji was projecting need, encouraging Kadi's cells to produce selyn—to live and work and sustain her—but his mother's field resisted full cooperation with the young channel's. As Zeth pored over what he zlinned, the fields became abstract designs, fascinating in their complexity. He allowed his own field to impinge on the

linked fields before him. Kadi's field responded—and then she became aware of her pain, crying out, "Rimon!"

"No, Mama, it's me—Zeth."

She turned to look at him. Her eyes were normally deep blue, but now pain had drained the color from them until they seemed almost gray. Her hair was dull with smoke and soot—she was faded, not the flaming-haired angel he remembered. Then she smiled, and was his mother again.

"Zeth. My baby. They told me—"

"Don't try to talk, Mama. Yes, I'm all right, and I'm a channel, like Dad."

"You feel like your father," she murmured. Zeth didn't know what to make of that, but didn't ask because he could see how it hurt her to talk. "... so proud of you," she whispered, and then could not stay awake any longer.

"She must be getting stronger," said Marji. "She could hardly talk to Rimon." Zeth let himself become duoconscious again, but could comprehend nothing more from Kadi's field. As he turned to go, he passed Lon Carson, who was projecting a savage pride as he watched Marji. His nager didn't interfere with her work. Probably Rimon had decided making Lon go would create a greater disturbance.

Owen held the hangings aside. "Zeth, can you hear me?"

"Sure."

"Well, listen! Stay with me and let me shield you—you can't go drifting off in a hospital!"

"All right, Owen," said Zeth with absolute intent as he followed along in Owen's wake . . . until the flow-pattern of the ambient nager became an irresistible lure. He turned around, caught in the intensity of ebbing and flowing energy.

This time Owen shook him impatiently. "Come on, Zeth, the channels will throw us out of here!" He led Zeth on to where, heavily shielded with many layers of drapery, the channels were treating the critically wounded patients. Zeth jolted back to hypoconsciousness when he zlinned that the body being carried out by Dan Whelan and Del Erick was dead. The bodies out in the field had not bothered him—but this one meant the channels had failed to save someone. Bron?

No, Maddok Bron had been laid on a table, still unconscious. Duoconscious again, Zeth perceived the fighting strength that denied Bron's state of depletion.

Two Mountain Chapel Gens with guns had accompanied

the party into the chapel. Their fields thrummed with suspicion as Rimon bent over the still form of their leader. "You gotta take the bullet out," one of the Gens insisted.

Zeth's surprise and revulsion were reflected in his father's field, and Rimon fought irritation, fatigue, and pain before he answered calmly, "Then he would surely die. Prying about inside the wound would start the bleeding again, just when I've managed to stop it."

"Whad'ya mean, you stopped it? You didn't do nothin'. We watched you the whole time."

Again Rimon gathered patience before replying, "I'm sure you're aware that Simes can sense a Gen's life force. Those of us who are channels can sense such things as the bullet inside Mr. Bron—and just as a Gen's field affects a Sime, a channel's field can affect a Gen. I'm afraid I can't explain further in terms you can understand." He paused. "How did this man get shot? There were no Simes with guns."

One of the men explained, "When most of the ranchers went down, we were ready to retreat. Mr. Bron wouldn't let us. He rode through the ranks to lead us—I think he must have gotten in the way of someone's shot. I don't think he knew he was hurt till the battle was over."

Rimon nodded. "A brave man. Now will you allow me—?"

Maddok Bron suddenly surfaced to semi-consciousness, flaring pain. Both Rimon and Zeth turned at once, and the Gens raised their guns by reflex. Owen moved to shield Zeth, who suddenly realized Rimon was working without a Gen. "Go help Dad," he urged.

Rimon motioned Owen back, saying, "No—he's so weak I shouldn't have any field interfering. I worked alone when I healed you, Owen. Stay with Zeth—he has no experience."

Bron was lying on his side. Rimon carefully placed his hands over his back and abdomen, the wound between them. One of the Gens gasped, "What are you doing?"

"If he moves, he could start bleeding again," Rimon replied. "He could go into shock. How can I make you understand that the best thing is to leave him here?"

Astonishingly, Bron fought his way up to full awareness. His eyes opened. "Don't move!" Rimon said sharply.

Bron's dizziness and nausea came sharply to Zeth, even through Owen's field. How did his father stand it? Fear, pain, anxiousness—"Who are you?" Bron whispered. Rimon, still bearing the effects of the fire, looked like an apparition

straight from the hell preached about in the Church of the Purity.

"You're in Foil Freedom," Zeth said quickly. "My father is treating your wound."

Confused, Bron struggled to peer at Zeth. It was several moments before he whispered his name.

"That's right," Zeth said, trying to project encouragement. "You're safe. Because you came to help, the Raiders are gone."

Bron had no strength, and was both chilled and sweating. Shock. They could lose him right now. Bron knew it. "I'm dying," he murmured. "Tell my sister—"

The two men with guns immediately started toward him. "No!" said Rimon. "Mr. Bron, you won't die if you can tell these men to stop interfering with your treatment."

Bron was shivering steadily now. Owen tried, "Please, Mr. Bron. Rimon can't work with Gen fields interfering. I know you can't understand, but—"

"Not understanding," Bron whispered with a beatific smile. "Faith. You said it, Owen. I asked for a sign." He drew a long, shuddering breath. "Go, Cord, Vern. I don't need your protection here—I have God's." He managed to remain conscious until the two men left the room. The instant relief in the ambient made Zeth's senses reel.

Forcing himself back to duoconsciousness, he heard his father saying, ". . . blankets and a warming pan. Wik should be out there somewhere. Send him."

Owen said, "I'll be right back, Zeth. Rimon, should I take him—?"

"No—just hurry back." When Owen had gone, Rimon said, "Zeth, I can't take Hank and Uel or Jord and Anni away from the wounded Simes. Marji—"

"I know. I saw Mama. She talked to me."

Rimon breathed a sigh of relief. "She's getting stronger, then. I hate to leave her with Marji, but she can hold Kadi's field and she can't do what I'm doing. When Owen gets back, we'll see if you two can help me."

Owen returned with blankets. "They're warming bricks on the chapel stove to warm the beds. I sent Wik—Rimon, the way that kid has changed while I've been away!"

"You forget he came out of the pens," Rimon agreed. "He'll be a fine Companion when we have time to train him—but meanwhile we've got to make do with what we