“He’s bluffing,” said Umbo. “He knows we can’t get food without him.”

“He won’t leave Loaf,” said Olivenko.

“He won’t leave me,” said Param.

But Rigg kept walking. Yes, he had started this maneuver as a bluff, but Umbo’s assertion of it as fact made him harden his resolve. They wouldn’t starve—Olivenko and Umbo were resourceful, even if Param and Loaf were useless. And if Rigg turned around now, then their trek would collapse into a democracy, which meant that whatever whim struck them would change their plans. There’d be no purpose. And he’d be trapped with them.

So Rigg would move on, and let them do whatever they wanted. Either they’d run and catch up with him, or they wouldn’t. In the former case, this nonsense would stop; in the latter, then he wouldn’t have to play at being leader anymore.

Nobody followed him. Nobody called after him. And Rigg never looked back.

Without others to provide for, Rigg realized he wouldn’t have to stop so soon, wouldn’t have to search for a camping place with water and firewood at hand. He didn’t have to hunt or trap for food. With the bit of meat he had saved to eat as he walked, he could keep moving until dark. Or later—following the paths of animals, he wouldn’t fall into canyons or pits in the dark.

But if they changed their minds, they’d never catch him if he doubled his pace. So it was time to decide: Did he want to leave them behind and proceed alone? Or did he want to give them a chance to rejoin him?

He had already gone too far for them to catch up before nightfall, especially if they had dithered before changing their minds and following him. But he could build up a big, bright fire, set traps for meat, and then get a late start in the morning. It would be good for them to spend a night in the dark and cold without him.

In the morning, his plans began to seem foolish. Were they following him or not? They were too far for him to search out their paths; did that mean they weren’t coming, or that they were moving slowly? He cooked and dried the flesh of the animals that his traps had taken during the dusk and dawn. And still they didn’t come.

So I’m on my own, he thought. It made him feel bleak. Lonely. But it also eased his mind. I have no more responsibility, he thought.

Only his mind wasn’t so easy after all. What if they had tried to follow him in the dark, and got lost? They had no knack for tracking. Umbo should be able to follow, though—he had grown up near the woods, and he was smart.

But they were burdened with Loaf. And Param. How much ground could they cover? As long as he had been with the others, Rigg had ranged ahead, then returned to the group, again and again. Now, since he had stopped checking back with them, just how far and how fast had he gone? Without his encouragement and guidance, how slow had they become? Maybe they were trying to catch up with him. Or maybe they were lost.

Slow, or lost.

Or heading back to the Wall, without any means of getting more food.

And Rigg gradually realized that their lives were more important to him than getting his own way. Yes, they had rebelled against his authority, but it was authority he hadn’t asked for, and didn’t want. He had taken charge only because he knew how to survive in the wilderness; but what difference did it make how quickly they moved? It’s not as if he had some urgent appointment in the next wallfold. And it had been stupid to go on alone. What if he needed them? Umbo and Param had time-shifting skills that might save him. And Olivenko, the only soldier they had left, might be just as necessary.

And what about Loaf? Why had Rigg thought he could leave Loaf behind? Just because Umbo was so devoted to Loaf, and had become much closer to him during their time together while Rigg was in Flacommo’s house, didn’t mean that Rigg wasn’t responsible for bringing Loaf, or whatever was left of him, back to Leaky in their inn at Leaky’s Landing.

Rigg carefully put out his fire, stowed the meat he had dried in his pack, and started back the way he had come.

He walked for hours, and saw no other human paths. They had not followed him.

He reached the place where he had parted with them. Far from following him, they had started back toward the Wall.

Well, then, what responsibility did he have? They weren’t trying to rejoin him. They intended to go their own way. If he kept going and caught up with them on the return journey, it would be a complete admission of defeat.

And if he didn’t, Loaf might die.

What kind of leader was he, if he abandoned his people?

But in what sense was he a leader, if he surrendered to them completely like this?

He started down the path they had taken, retracing their steps toward the Wall.

Then he changed his mind and began to climb up again, abandoning them to the consequences of their own choice.

Then he stopped, remembering that Loaf had made no choice, and headed back down.

And then the whole matter was taken out of his hands, because from the crest of a ridge he saw something shiny, flying above the trees, coming rapidly toward him.

It was a vehicle from Vadesh’s starship. Not the wagon he and Loaf had ridden through the tunnel, but something from the same culture, the same technology. It flew. Was this a starship? No, too small, and it didn’t seem designed to withstand the dangers of cold space, as Father had described them to him.

Father had talked about spaceflight. As conjecture, as if it had never happened, but he had talked about it, and enough of it had stuck in Rigg’s memory that he knew this flying coach could not be a starship. What else had Father taught him without Rigg’s guessing its significance?

Everything. Rigg had never known the significance of anything.

The flying machine rose up swiftly to the level of the crest where Rigg was watching. Then it came to rest in the meadow that surrounded him.

A door opened in the side of it, and Vadesh emerged.

“What are you doing here?” asked Rigg.

“The others called me.”

“They’re not here.”

“I know,” said Vadesh. “After I picked them up, I came for you.”

“Thank you for telling me that they’re safe. Now I can go on.”

“There’s no reason for you to keep walking,” said Vadesh. “I’ll take you to the next wallfold, if you want.”

“I don’t trust you to take me where you say you’re taking me,” said Rigg.

“The vehicle obeys the ship, and the ship obeys you,” said Vadesh. “And I am sworn to obey you now.”

“Now that you destroyed my friend,” said Rigg.

“Get in the flyer,” urged Vadesh. “It will take us all to Odinfold.”

“The others wanted to go back to Ramfold,” said Rigg. “Take them there, and let me be.”

“They changed their minds,” said Vadesh.

“Then why aren’t they talking to me? Why did they send you?”

Vadesh turned without another word and headed back to the flyer.

Rigg realized how ridiculous this was. What kind of child was he, to insist that they had to ask him nicely to rejoin him? He didn’t want to lead them, and they didn’t want to be led, so let Vadesh take them wherever they wanted, to do whatever they wanted.

Rigg walked away across the meadow, heading eastward again, retracing paths that he and his one-time companions had already crossed more than once.

Olivenko came out of the flyer and called to him. “Rigg! Wait!”

Rigg just shook his head and went on. He felt foolish. But he would feel foolish no matter what he chose. Somehow, in his hours alone, the wall between him and his erstwhile friends had grown so thick and high that he could not even think of crossing it. They resented him. He was just trying to do his best and they hated him for it. So he was done with them. That was a wall he didn’t even want to get through.

So why were tears spilling from his eyes as he continued walking away?