“Yes, really.” Seefa sounded annoyed. He tended to take offense at any perceived slight. “I had more than one relative on that shuttle. She must be coming to see someone here.”

Lenaris decided the business about Terok Nor could wait until later. “Let’s go out and meet her, then. Bring her some water. She must have come a long way.”

Seefa appeared to agree without actually speaking, and together the two men fetched a gourd full of clean water before they began to walk along the dusty road to meet with the approaching traveler.

“Ranjen Winn!” Seefa called as they drew near her. “What brings you all the way out here?”

The monk appeared to be slightly younger than Lenaris himself. She was fair of complexion, probably originally from the north, with ruddy spots flaming high upon her cheeks—the day had been hot. Her pale hair was twisted into complicated designs at the back of her head, her eyes glassy in their colorlessness.

“Aro Seefa. Hello.” She accepted the gourd that he offered her, and after taking a small sip she reached out and took his ear to read his pagh.She closed her eyes, and then opened them again as she released his ear. “You are troubled,” she said.

“Not any more than usual, Ranjen.”

She smiled tightly. “I have come to speak to someone in your village.”

“Oh? May I ask who?”

“Ornathia Taryl. Can you take me to her?”

“Taryl? Of course.” Seefa offered her the gourd again, and she took another sip, eyeing Lenaris with what seemed to be mild suspicion.

The three started to walk toward the village together, Winn continuing to look Lenaris up and down as if she did not trust him. “You are not one of the Ornathias,” she observed.

“My name is Lenaris Holem. I’m from Relliketh.”

“I’ve never seen you here before.”

“I’ve been here about two years now.”

“Two years.” Winn turned to Seefa. “Can it really have been that long?”

“It was almost four years ago that you were here last, Ranjen,” Seefa said.

“Four years,” she said, her expression unreadable. “And I am still but a lowly ranjen.”

Lenaris was not sure how to respond to her. The revelation was spoken without emotion, yet it seemed to upset the woman. They reached the village without further conversation, and the two men escorted her to Taryl’s hut, though she already seemed to know where to go.

“Ornathia Taryl,” Winn said formally as she entered Taryl’s hut. Lenaris and Seefa stepped inside behind her.

Taryl was, as usual, working on something. She stood up from her bench and bowed before the monk.

“Now, my child, there’s no need for that. I am hardly the kai—or even a vedek.”

“You honor us with your presence, Ranjen.”

Winn looked pleased at being addressed with such respect. “I have come with news of your brother Lac.”

“Lac?” Taryl’s hand floated to her chest, and Lenaris saw, for a beat, the emotion that she was denying herself. It was gone just as quickly, that veil of restraint back in place.

“One of the prylars in my order just returned from the Pullock system,” Winn said. “It seems the Cardassians have a prison camp there, on Pullock V. As you may know, the Cardassians permit some religious officials to give counsel to their prisoners, if it is requested. One of the prisoners on Pullock V specifically requested that an official from my order be sent. That prisoner was Lac.”

“Lac!” Taryl exclaimed. “He isalive!”

“He’s not at Terok Nor!” This was Seefa. “I knew it, Taryl. I told you it would have been foolish to go there!”

“To Terok Nor!” Winn looked appalled at the very suggestion. “What kind of foolishness is this?”

“Nothing, Ranjen,” Taryl said, shooting her fiancé a look of urgent fury. “Please, tell us what you know of my brother.”

The ranjen was clearly unsettled, but she continued. “Lac wanted to be sure to send back word to you that he is alive…. He doesn’t believe the Cardassians took possession of his ship—”

“He’s letting us know that we’re still safe!” Lenaris exclaimed. Winn glared at him, and he apologized quickly. “Forgive me, Ranjen.” He turned to Taryl. “I’ve seen star charts of the Pullock system—it’s not far from our own.”

Taryl turned to Lenaris. “Are you saying what I think you’re saying?”

“What is the meaning of this?” Winn demanded.

Lenaris continued to talk as if Winn weren’t there. “Tiven Cohr,” he said.

“No,” Seefa argued. “Enough with the warp ship, already. Even if your friend couldfix it, you’re guaranteed a death sentence if you leave the atmosphere in that ship.”

“You’re underestimating what kind of a pilot Halpas Palin is,” Lenaris informed him. “He fought the Cardassians in the early stages of the occupation. If anyone can do it, Halpas can. If I leave now, I can get to where he and Tiven live by tomorrow morning.”

He smiled at Taryl, ever so slightly. “I’ll even apologize, if that’s what it takes.”

Ranjen Winn was visibly agitated by this talk, looking back and forth between Taryl and Lenaris. “Any foolhardy attempts to travel offworld will only result in lives lost, more Bajoran prisoners in Cardassian camps!” she admonished.

Taryl turned to the holy woman. “He’s my brother,” she said simply, and went right back speaking to Lenaris. “You would do it, then? You would contact Tiven Cohr—even after what he said?”

“Of course I would!” Lenaris said. “It’s like you said, Taryl—he’s your brother. And my friend. We can do this.”

Winn interrupted. “Your birthright is to till the soil, notto leave this world in a ship! Just look at what has happened as a result of farmers trying to be something they are not—your brother has been captured, and according to the monk who attended to him, the conditions in that camp will not sustain him much longer.”

“My birthright is that of a pilot,” Lenaris told Winn. “And if you say Lac doesn’t have much more time, then we had better get moving quickly.”

Seefa broke in. “No,” he said. “Lac can’t know for sure whether the Cardassians took his raider, and I believe they would have done so. I suggest we all leave immediately, without our ships. We should go back to the peninsula.”

“Seefa,” Taryl said. “Lac obviously sent us this message with the hope that we would come looking for him.”

Seefa looked unmoved, shaking his head.

“Please,” Taryl pleaded. “He would do the same for you.”

“Lac would be the first to point out that it would be foolish to risk several lives to save one. I know how upset you must be, but, Taryl…” He reached for her, but she stepped away, her eyes flashing.

“How can you say that?” she snapped. “If there’s any chance that we can save him, we should take it. Holem is going to find Tiven Cohr—and I’m going with him.”

“By the Prophets,” Winn said angrily. “The misguided words of a renounced vedek have penetrated the consciousness of this world so thoroughly that farmers leave their fields unplanted, choosing to fly off on suicide missions instead of providing food for their world. You were never meant to take to the skies, Taryl, and neither was your brother. Perhaps this result is the Prophets’ way of telling us that Lac should have kept his feet planted on the ground—as should you.”

“Ranjen,” Taryl said, her tone softer, “we have long disagreed on this matter. We mean no disrespect to you, but we must do this. Imust do this. My mind is made up.” She turned to Lenaris. “How soon can we get there?”

Seefa tried to interrupt again, speaking over Taryl in continued protest, but she paid no attention to him. Neither did Lenaris. He was already formulating what he would say to Tiven. An apology seemed a small price to pay for Lac’s life.

Natima was exhausted and not in a mood to talk when she received the transmission from Cardassia Prime. She and Veja had been on their feet all day long, attending a press conference that addressed some tortuous rearrangement of the civilian government’s leadership role in the Bajoran provinces. It was all she could do to filter a decent report out of her notes. It hadn’t helped that she had been standing right in front of a man with a rattling cough, masking out half of the dialogue. Not that any of it was especially compelling.