After a while she let him go to sleep.  He awakened several times during the night, conscious of the strange room and bed, of Jedrik breathing softly beside him.  Once, he thought he felt her shoulders shaking with repressed sobs.

Shortly before dawn, there was a scream in the next block, a terrifying sound of agony loud enough to waken all but the most hardened or the most fatigued.  McKie, awake and thinking, felt Jedrik's breathing change.  He lay tense and watchful, awaiting a repetition or another sound which might explain that eerie scream.  A threatening silence gripped the night.  McKie built an image in his mind of what could be happening in the buildings around them:  some people starting from sleep not knowing (perhaps not caring) what had awakened them; lighter sleepers grumbling and sinking back into restless slumber.

Finally, McKie sat up, peered into the room's shadows.  His disquiet communicated itself to Jedrik.  She rolled over, looked up at him in the pale dawn light now creeping into the shadows.

"There are many noises in the Warrens that you learn to ignore," she said.

Coming from her, it was almost conciliatory, almost a gesture of apology, of friendship.

"Someone screamed," he said.

"I knew it must be something like that."

"How can you sleep through such a sound?"

"I didn't."

"But how can you ignore it?"

"The sounds you ignore are those which aren't immediately threatening to you, those which you can do nothing about."

"Someone was hurt."

"Very likely.  But you must not burden your soul with things you cannot change."

"Don't you want to change . . . that?"

"I am changing it."

Her tone, her attitude were those of a lecturer in a schoolroom, and now there was no doubt that she was being deliberately helpful.  Well, she'd said she was his teacher.  And he must become completely Dosadi to survive.

"How're you changing things?"

"You're not capable of understanding yet.  I want you to take it one step at a time, one lesson at a time."

He couldn't help asking himself then:

What does she want from me now?

He hoped it was not more sex.

"Today," she said, "I want you to meet the parents of three children who work in our cell."

Aritch studied Ceylang carefully in the soft light of his green-walled relaxation room.  She had come down immediately after the evening meal, responsive to his summons.  They both knew the reason for that summons:  to discuss the most recent report concerning McKie's behavior on Dosadi.

The old Gowachin waited for Ceylang to seat herself, observing how she pulled the red robe neatly about her lower extremities.  Her features appeared composed, the fighting mandibles relaxed in their folds.  She seemed altogether a figure of secure competence, a Wreave of the ruling classes - not that Wreaves recognized such classes.  It disturbed Aritch that Wreaves tested for survival only through a complex understanding of sentient behavior, rigid performance standards based on ancient ritual, whose actual origins could only be guessed; there was no written record.

But that's why we chose her.

Aritch grunted, then:

"What can you say about the report?"

"McKie learns rapidly."

Her spoken Galach had a faint sibilance.

Aritch nodded.

"I would say rather that he adapts rapidly. It's why we chose him."

"I've heard you say he's more Gowachin than the Gowachin."

"I expect him soon to be more Dosadi than the Dosadi."

"If he survives."

"There's that, yes.  Do you still hate him?"

"I have never hated him.  You do not understand the spectrum of Wreave emotions."

"Enlighten me."

"He has violated my essential pride of self.  This requires a specific reaction in kind.  Hate would only dull my abilities."

"But I was the one who gave you the orders which had to be countermanded."

"My oath of service to the Gowachin contains a specific injunction, that I cannot hold any one of my teachers responsible for either understanding or obeying the Wreave protocols of courtesy.  It is the same injunction which frees us to serve McKie's Bureau."

"You do not consider McKie one of your teachers?"

She studied him for a moment, then:

"Not only do I exclude him, but I know him to be one who has learned much about our protocols."

"What if I were to say he is one of your teachers?"

Again, she stared at him.

"I would revise my estimations of him - and of you."

Aritch took a deep breath.

"Yet, you must learn McKie as though you lived in his skin.  Otherwise, you will fail us."

"I will not fail you.  I know the reasons you chose me.  Even McKie will know in time.  He dares not spill my blood in the Courtarena, or even subject me to public shame.  Were he to do either of these things, half the Wreave universe would go hunting him with death in their mandibles."

Aritch shook his head slowly from side to side.

"Ceylang!  Didn't you hear him warn you that you must shed your Wreave skin?"

She was a long time responding and he noted the subtle characteristics which he'd been told were the Wreave adjustments to anger:  a twitching of the jowls, tension in the pedal bifurcations . . .

Presently, she said:

"Tell me what that means, Teacher."

"You will be charged with performing under Gowachin Law, performing as though you were another McKie.  He adapts!  Haven't you observed this?  He is capable of defeating you - and us - in such a way, in such a way that your Wreave universe would shower him with adulation for his victory.  That cannot be permitted.  Too much is at stake."

Ceylang trembled and showed other signs of distress.

"But I am Wreave!"

"If it comes to the Courtarena, you no longer can be Wreave."

She inhaled several shallow breaths, composed herself.

"If I become too much McKie, aren't you afraid I might hesitate to slay him?"

"McKie would not hesitate."

She considered this.

"Then there's only one reason you chose me for this task."

He waited for her to say it.

"Because we Wreaves are the best in the universe at learning the behavior of others - both overt and covert."

"And you dare not rely on any supposed inhibitions he may or may not have!"

After a long pause, she said:

"You are a better teacher than I'd suspected.  Perhaps you're even better than you suspected."

While they dressed in the dim dawn light coming through the single window, McKie began testing what Jedrik meant by being his teacher.

"Will you answer any question I ask about Dosadi?"  "No."

Then what areas would she withhold from him?  He saw it at once:  those areas where she gained and held personal power.

"Will anyone resent it that we . . . had sex together?"  "Resent?  Why should anyone resent that?"

"I don't . . ."

"Answer my question!"

"Why do I have to answer your every question?"

"To stay alive."

"You already know everything I . . ."

She brushed this aside.

"So the people of your ConSentiency sometimes resent the sexual relationships of others.  They are not sure, then, how they use sex to hold power over others."