Aidan eventually noticed that Falconer Abeth was observing him closely. He thought at first it was only the interest typical of a leader for a trainee, but as he achieved more and more, she was almost always, it seemed, scrutinizing him.

Finally, she called him in to her quarters. Her room was different from the few other falconer rooms he had seen or heard about. It was not as spare or as casually kept. Indeed, Abeth's was neat and filled with items. On one wall she had carefully arranged a display of Clan weapons and on another were pictures from Clan history. Papers were evenly piled on a long table. In an open closet, clothes were not only hung meticulously, but arranged according to the type of uniform.

Abeth smiled at Aidan as he entered. He thought that perhaps she had called him here for sex, although the other cadets had told him she never summoned any of them for coupling. She motioned him to a chair at the end of her bunk. She was seated in another chair next to the table with the papers on it, and she picked up a folder that lay open at the top of one pile. She gestured with the folder in his direction.

"Jorge, this says that you led your former group in all categories. Your late falconer reported that you were almost certain to pass in the Trial if you did nothing foolish."

Aidan, not knowing how to respond, curtly nodded his head.

"Since you have joined us, you have also achieved the highest performance record for the group. I am impressed. And bothered. You see, your achievements here exceed what you attained in your former unit. Indeed, significantly exceed it. Can you explain this?"

The tone of her voice was as gentle as usual, but the words felt like the harsh blows she was known to deal out.

"I think," he said, "I think it is the tragedy."

Her brow furrowed. "Tragedy?"

"When . . . when the others were killed, I made a vow to try even harder to become a warrior. I suppose I am doing better because I want to bring honor to them as well as to myself."

What an improvisation, he thought, impressed with himself. The intensity of Abeth's stare had not diminished.

"That is an odd response, Jorge. Almost mystical. I am not used to freeborns, or trueborns for that matter, being mystical."

"I do not understand the concept of mysticism."

"I suspect you do. You even sound different from others, certainly your fellow freeborns."

Aidan's heart was in his throat as he went from pleasure at his improvisation to fear of discovery. If Abeth found him out, it would ruin his chances at the Trial.

"Different? No. I am just new. You will get used to me and I will soon seem like the others."

She put the folder down. "You do not even talk like them. You talk like me, like a warrior. For one thing, you have said several things and not once used a contraction. What kind of filthy freebirth does not use a contraction in normal conversation?"

He struggled to remain calm. "I'm sorry. It's just that—that, when I'm nervous, I kind of, kind of get formal. Do you see?"

"I can see that that could be an answer, yes. But I also take note that you reacted to my comment about contractions with the wrong kind of tension. I called you a filthy freebirth. I have not seen a freeborn yet who would not erupt into visible anger when called a filthy freebirth. Even during the earlier stages of training when they cannot address falconers, I have always noted a flinch in the eyes from any freeborn whom I have cursed like that. What do you say to that, Jorge? Is it not true, quiaff?"

Aidan felt pushed against a wall, even though he sat comfortably in a chair. "Aff, Falconer Abeth. But in my former unit we had made a pact not to show emotion when insulted. We became skilled at it. I still retain that skill."

Abeth stared at him a moment longer, then laughed quietly. "You are adept, Jorge, I will give you that. All right then, you are dismissed."

When he reached the door, she said to his back: "I am not convinced by you, Jorge, but I will check you out as best as I can."

On the other side of the door, in a long, dark hallway, Aidan let out a breath he had been holding since rising from the chair in Abeth's room. What would he do, he wondered, if she should find him out and confront him with his fake identity? Would he have the courage to kill her? He was certain he would.

36

'I remember you now," Horse said suddenly. He and Aidan were engaged in breaking down and cleaning the antiquated rifles that freeborns got to use in training. The parts of each rifle lay on a blanket in front of each cadet. Aidan noted that Horse's rifle was divided into precise parallels and right angles. His were more casually arranged, although organized according to the rifle manual. Both had been pushing a treated cloth though the bores of the weapons. Falconer Abeth demanded cleanliness in every single piece before she would allow a cadet to reassemble the rifle.

Aidan responded, "I don't understand, Horse." His voice was calm, but he was ready to cut Horse's throat when the words of challenge came.

"I know where I saw you. You were in a 'Mech on the First Stage Training Ground. We fought. I had a demolition charge that you got rid of, but not before I almost beat you. You've changed, got stronger, shrewder far as I can tell. No, don't bother to deny it. I know. I know. "

Aidan examined the cloth, surprised that there was still so much residue from the bore on this, the umpteenth time he had pushed a cloth through. He was also evaluating which of the pieces on the blanket would most swiftly dispose of Horse if it came to a fight. Even as his muscles tensed to spring at Horse, however, his brain noted the serenity with which Horse spoke. When it came to freeborns and trueborns talking together, hostility was the norm, never serenity. "What do you intend to do, Horse?"

Horse shrugged. "Nothing, I expect. If you are so hot to become a warrior that you'll come train with a bunch of freeborns, then I think you probably should be a warrior. Why are you looking so strange?"

Aidan, now facing a clean cloth, put the bore down on his blanket. Everything was ready for Abeth's inspection. "I am confused by you, Horse. In a similar situation, a trueborn would do something,anything. Turn me in, fight me, strangle me while I was asleep."

"Why would he do that?"

"Because the code would demand right behavior."

"And what's right about strangling you in your sleep?"

"It would punish me."

"And you need to be punished?"

"When the code is violated, yes."

"Well, here, you take my bore, exchange it with yours. That way you won't get the points and I will. Is that sufficient punishment?"

"Probably not, but I agree to the exchange." As they switched bores, Aidan said, "Falconer Abeth might check to make sure we each have the bore we started with."

"No, she won't. Nobody inspects that close, not even Abeth."

And he was right. Horse received praise from Abeth for a job well done, while Aidan was told that he was slipping and better shape up.

Afterward, Horse said no more about the past incident. For a while, Aidan thought he might have to kill the freeborn anyway, in order to protect his secret. That, he knew, is what Ter Roshak had advised. Just calling Aidan trashborn, as Horse had done during the training exercise, would have been sufficient excuse at one time to do away with the young man. But now Aidan was too puzzled by Horse's laconic acceptance of him to want to kill him. He had to know more about- Horse and about freeborns, if only to maintain his own freeborn identity. Worse, he had begun to like Horse, a reaction he had never anticipated. He could not kill him. Not yet, anyway. Not until he was a clear danger to Aidan. He would not trust Horse because he could probably never fully trust a freeborn but he could, for the time being, spare him.