"Later, Horon, later."

"It's extremely important."

"Sharding Abominators! Thought we'd seen the last of their kind," Groghe said impatiently. "Sebell, go see what's so bloody important. I'd better deal with them." His gesture indicated the waiting Gatherers. "Damnable way to start Turnover." With that he kneed his mount to a trot all the way to the harpers' platform. The tune was brought to a conclusion with a flourish that Sebell wryly approved, and the crowd flowed forward to hear what the Lord Holder had to say.

Sebell caught the eye of the nearest person in harper blue, an apprentice girl who rushed up to him.

"Worla, I'll be at the Hold with Lord Horon. Bring me the text of all the messages coming in. I'll send any replies directly to the Drummaster." He summoned his gold fire-lizard, Kimi. Holding her to his shoulder, he and Horon jogged up the wide staircase to the freezing expanse of Fort's upper court. He heard the cheers as Lord Groghe stepped up on the harpers platform.

"So what is so important, Horon?" Sebell asked once they were out of the wind.

Horon gulped. "The most-ghastly…" His face contorted with revulsion.

"Abominator cant?" Sebell was surprised.

Horon gave a shudder. He opened the door into the Lord Holder's five-sided office. A table had been set up on which the vandals' gear was spread. Grainger, the trusted steward of Fort Hold, was busy searching a saddle pack.

"That!" Horon pointed to a thin pamphlet with a dirty cover, its pages roughly fastened by crude stitches. His nostrils flared and it was plain he wanted nothing more to do with it. Grainger's expression was similarly revolted.

Sebell bent over to examine the pamphlet: obviously a very amateurish effort. Why, Tagetarl's youngest apprentice could have done a neater job. In bold block letters-similar to the single letter on the vandal's map-the title of the pamphlet read Tortures of the Abomination.Yes, the same hand had made the B.

"Just-just look inside, Sebell!" Horon flicked his fingers, his mouth contorted with revulsion.

Sebell lifted the cover and only stern self-control kept him from slapping it shut. He could see what had made Horon squeamish. The picture was, indeed, revolting to look at. It depicted shapes, indecently colored, of unusual appearance and what looked like knives holding flesh back from what could be a long incision. A caption had been blacked out. Underneath, again in the black block lettering: "A body laid bare, pulsing in torture. It could be yours."

"It's all like that. Revolting pictures," Horon said. "Where could they… get such things?"

Impassively, Sebell flipped several more pages and found one picture he actually recognized. The compound fracture of a human tibia, the flesh colored an unrealistic pink against which the ivory bone nauseatingly contrasted. He'd seen such an injury in a hill hold, Turns before. The printed caption read "Shattered by blows." Sebell made out page numbers, almost obscured by the dirty finger marks, and, right by the margin of the picture, "Fig. 10" and "Fig. 112." Checking, he found none of the pages were sequential and realized that the pamphlet was comprised of random photographs, undoubtedly removed from a perfectly proper medical text released from Aivas's comprehensive records.

"Kimi." Sebell turned his fire-lizard's head toward him, one finger stroking her neck affectionately. He scribbled a quick note on the pad he kept with him and tucked it in her message cylinder. "Take this to Keita at Healer Hall. You know her." He projected a vivid image of Oldive's discreet journeywoman. The little queen made a throaty noise and disappeared from sight.

"Revolting to us, perhaps," Sebell said, negligently pushing the pamphlet away from him, "but instructive to a Healer when not used as… disinformation."

Horon shuddered.

"Those photographs are quite likely of surgical procedures. Those are not well understood as yet," Sebell went on, looking directly at Horon. "Your own grandfather died of a burst pendix that the then Masterhealer could have removed. Such an operation was known-and successfully performed."

Horon's face was pale as he nodded his understanding.

"Healers have recovered much lost or imperfectly understood information," Sebell said. "Master Oldive has been training his most skillful men and women to perform surgery that will greatly lengthen life and improve health." He gestured disparagingly at the pamphlet. "That was deliberately produced to misinform people. To undermine one of the most basic rights of the Charter, the treatment of ills and wounds. You know," he said, pointing at Horon, "that when Master Oldive offered treatment, that stupid female rejected him. She's been well schooled in the delusion. No one is forcedto accept healer help. Certainly no one's bones are broken in torture! Not by Healers!" He dismissed the pamphlet with contempt.

There was a scratch on the door, which swung open. The burly minor holder who'd assisted with the prisoners peered round the door.

"MasterHarper, Lord Horon?" He entered at Horon's wave. "I thought you'd like to know that they're talking."

"Talking?"

"The prisoners. Naming each other, at least. I thought you should know."

"Indeed we should," Sebell said. "That could be most useful."

The half-open door hit the man in the back as someone else tried to enter.

"Master Sebell?" A man in proper Healer green with a master's knot came in, breathless.

"Ah, Master Crivellan, just the person to explain what exactly we have here!" And Sebell slapped the dirty pamphlet in his hand. As Crivellan stared down at it with some apprehension, Kimi slipped into the room and resumed her perch on Sebell's shoulder. "Crivellan's particular skill is surgery. Do tell us what these pictures actually depict."

As soon as the warm air of Landing's morning hit him, F'lessan realized how tired he was.

You need to go back to Honshu and sleep. There is no Fall for two more days,Golanth told him as he circled above the panorama of Landing.

"I just want to check on Tai. They kicked her around a lot. Persellan said she'd be badly bruised but the gash on her cheek wouldn't scar."

She's not here.Golanth stretched his head skyward and stroked his great wings for height.

"Surely she's in bed in her weyr?" F'lessan said.

Zaranth is sitting by the sea.

"Zaranth is by the sea?" F'lessan echoed in amazement.

Tai is in the sea,Golanth informed him. Shall we go there?

"By all means." Hearing that she was well enough to go swimming, F'lessan was annoyed with himself for having been so concerned. So concerned that he had left what would have been a fascinating session at Fort. He wondered if T'gellan had had better luck questioning Landing's captives.

Golanth went betweenand came out again, circling, skimming the brilliantly turquoise and blue sea. Dolphins immediately tail-danced to greet him, squeeing their welcome. He was as well known as Ruth was to the various pods along the southern continent. Golanth swung shoreward until F'lessan saw the swimmer: a black spot in the sea.

Swimming is good for aches,Golanth remarked.

"Quite likely," F'lessan replied with uncharacteristic sarcasm.

The swimmer was Tai. She seemed to be treading water as they overflew her.

"Come in!" F'lessan yelled through cupped hands. Then he pointed to the shore.

Craning his neck backward, he saw that dolphins accompanied her. Well, maybe she wasn't being so reckless, then.

Yes, she swims with Natua and her new calf.

Were you listening then, last night?He never knew when Golanth was. Last night seemed a very long time ago.