"I know," Zeth whispered. He remembered being brought in afterward—the crowded room, the atmosphere of rejoicing, his vow to be a channel. The first time he had vowed it, a very small boy caught up in a moment that changed history. "I was there," he said. "I remember the way you looked—I guess I'll never forget. When I was a little kid, and used to

picture God like a person ... I pictured you, except sort of mixed up with my dad."

Heeling pain played over Mr. Veritt's features. "We set ourselves up for that, we who take on the spiritual leadership of a community. I felt the same way about my father. He was the minister of our church, many years ago."

Zeth knew that Mr. Veritt had come from Gen Territory, fleeing across the border just as Bekka Trent had—but back then there was no Fort Freedom to welcome him, and in his despair he had fallen in with Freehand Raiders. But instead of launching into the familiar tale, Mr. Veritt said softly, "I killed my father, Zeth."

The boy jumped, shocked.

Veritt drew his gaze from the horizon. "To him I had become an abomination, for the Church of the Purity teaches that all Simes are evil demons. I believed that, even more when I realized what I had done. It took me years to find my way back to God, and many years more to stop distorting His truth with my own prideful theories. Your parents taught me that, Zeth. I no longer pretend to interpret God's will.

"Yet some things I know. My entire life is evidence of God's mercy. He has a way of bringing together the right people to implement His plans. While I was building Fort Freedom, your father was undergoing his own changeover and suffering terrible guilt because in First Need he, too, killed someone dear to him. You bear the name of the man he killed."

"I know," said Zeth, for that was another familiar story.

"Throughout your father's sufferings, there was your mother, a woman of courage and devotion.-"

That story was Zeth's favorite: how Rimon Farris and Kadi Morcot had grown up together. How Kadi, still a child, had helped Rimon survive the tragedy of his First Kill—not a Gen, but a Sime, his cousin and best friend. How Kadi had established and been taken by Gen traders to be sold at the Reloc Bazaar as a Choice Kill, and how Rimon had rescued her.

Rimon, in need, had meant to escort Kadi to the border and send her safely into Gen Territory, controlling his own desires in the face of Kadi's soaring field. Then they had encountered a Gen raiding party, torturing to death a Sime they had captured.

Rimon intended to release the prisoner, and send Kadi

safely across the border with the Gens. Neither Rimon nor Kadi spoke the Gen language nor understood that a party of bounty hunters was no safe escort. When Kadi ran to them, pretending to flee for her life, they took her in all right—and began fighting over who would have her.

Rimon had to rescue Kadi again. The Sime captive of the bounty hunters, he saw, was a member of the Lorder Patrol. It didn't take him long to find the rest of the Patrol and lead them to attack the Gens. In the melee of battle, he was releasing the Sime captive when she died in his arms, driving him from need to intil—the helpless urge to kill. Instinctively, he turned on the nearest Gen: Kadi.

Somehow through hard need, Rimon Farris recognized her, and when he should have killed to renew his own life—he stopped. Shenned, ripped from the source of satisfaction through an act of pure will, he fell unconscious. Now Kadi faced a life-or-death decision—and decided to give her life for Rimon's. Taking him hi kill position, she gave selyn, expecting to die. But because she did not fear, she did not die.

Zeth shivered as Abel Veritt retold the story. It was a perfect legend, each lover willing to die to save the other. Mr. Veritt continued, "When your mother and father could find no acceptance in their own home, God led them to us. Here they learned all that Sime and Gen can do together—and here your father found his destiny. Your heritage, Zeth. You may be the channel we so desperately need. We have not found another since Uel Whelan, nine years ago. You are our hope, along with Uel's children. In your father's family, changeover comes early, usually by twelve. Soon you may face a great responsibility."

"It's what I want," said Zeth. "I vowed I'd be a channel before I even understood what a channel was!"

Mr. Veritt looked down at his arms, extending his tentacles in an uncharacteristic gesture. "It is not always easy to keep a vow, no matter how heartfelt."

The hollow despair behind the softly spoken words made Zeth put his hands over Mr. Veritt's. The old man twined his tentacles over the boy's hands, squeezing gently. "You have a channel's instincts, Zeth—or a Companion's. But you may not wish to touch me when you know that I have not yet kept the most important vow of my life."

Zeth had heard that vow repeated at every year's turning ceremony. Slowly, the tone had changed from triumph to

determination to something close to desperation, and the older Simes wept when Abel Veritt declared, "As God is my witness, I shall not die a killer!"

Horror-struck, Zeth whispered, "No! Oh, no, you can't mean—"

"Zeth . . . my last kill was not. nine years ago. It was seven months ago."

Veritt had retracted his tentacles, but Zeth still clung while he fought conflicting emotions. "But. . . why?" he whispered. "We've got channels, and I know Mr. Steers gives you transfer. Why!" he cried, backing off with a sudden angry urge to throw the frail old man who had betrayed his trust down the rocky hillside.

"I pray constantly for an answer to that question," Mr. Veritt replied softly. "Thus far, there is no answer . . . that I can accept. Perhaps I must pay for the presumption of my vow . . . and yet I cannot comprehend a judgment against me paid with the lives of others."

"What . . . what does Dad say?" asked Zeth. Rimon Farris surely knew everything about Simes.

"There is a change in the nager of a Sime who has killed, when once he passes the crisis and is separated from the kill. That change takes place only in the young—those Simes still in First Year, when they have the great flexibility required to adjust to being Sime. If they don't stop killing in First Year . . . your father thinks they never can."

"No," said Zeth. "Dad killed for four years before—" Total panic overtook him. "No! No, he doesn't! He can't!"

"No, Zeth," Mr. Veritt said firmly. "Your father does not kill, ever."

"Then why—?"

"I don't know. Your father passed his crisis the first time the test came upon him—for others, it may simply take longer." Mr. Veritt looked over into Gen Territory again. "I'm a very old man, Zeth. I never expected to live so long. But it is my fervent hope that God is allowing me time to fulfill my vow. As the years pass, the crisis comes on me less frequently—but with greater power."

"When you were so sick last winter—?" Zeth realized.

"It was not illness," Mr. Veritt confirmed. "I was determined to pass– the crisis. The first month, your father forced transfer on me, but I remained debilitated. The second month—I

can't even remember. I've been told I shenned Uel, Hank, and then your father. I would have died of attrition."

"What happened?" Zeth asked.

"Slina." He sighed. "She doesn't understand us, but she is a good woman in her own way. She brought one of her Gens right into the house. I ... responded—demanded it, your father tells me. I was not in my right mind—but your father is a healer. I suppose he could not help weighing my life against the life of that poor drugged creature who had never had the chance to become a person. All I remember is coming to with that dead Gen a burden in my arms."

Zeth's head was whirling. If Mr. Veritt could not stop killing, what about the other people he loved? Mrs. Veritt was another mother to him, Del Erick had taught him to ride—and all the others who had raised him—killers all? Hypocrites?