Gwen was still heaving and panting with the effort of their run. They had come a long way. She fought to catch her breath. Silent tears left wet trails down her face in the blue light. "What do you think it was?" she said at last, with an edge in her voice. "That was a mockman, screaming."

Dirk opened his mouth and tasted salt. He touched the wetness on his own cheeks then, and wondered how long he had been crying. "More Braiths, then," he said.

"Below us," she said. "And they've found a victim. Damn, damn, damn! We led them here, we're to blame. How could we have been so stupid? Jaan was always afraid they would start to hunt the cities." – "They started yesterday," Dirk said, "with the Blackwiner jelly children. It was only a matter of time until they came here. Don't get all…"

She turned her face up to his, her features tight with anger, her cheeks streaked by tears. "What?" she spat. "You don't think we're responsible? Who else, then? Bretan Braith followed you, Dirk. Why did we come here? We could have gone to Twelfth Dream, to Musquel, to Esvoch. Empty cities. No one would have gotten hurt. Now the Emereli will be– How many residents did the Voice say were left?"

"I don't remember. Four hundred, I think. Something like that." He tried to put his arm around her and pull her to him, but she shrugged it off and glared at him.

"It's our fault," she said. "We have to do something."

"All we can do is try to stay alive," he told her. "They're after us too, remember? We can't worry about the others."

Gwen was staring at him, her face hard with– what?-perhaps contempt, Dirk thought. The look startled him.

"I don't believe what you're saying," she said. "Can't you think of anyone besides yourself? Damn it, Dirk, we've got the null-scent going for us, if nothing else. The Emereli, they've got nothing at all. No weapons, no protection. They're mockmen, game, that's all. We've got to do something!"

"What? Commit suicide? Is that what? You didn't want me to go against Bretan this morning, in the duel, but now you-"

"Yes! Now we have to. You wouldn't have talked this way back on Avalon," she said, her voice rising until it was almost a shout. "You were different then. Jaan wouldn't…"

She stopped, suddenly aware of her words, and looked away from him. Then she began to sob. Dirk sat very still.

"So that's it," he said after a time. His voice was quiet. "Jaan wouldn't think of himself, right? Jaan would play the hero."

Gwen looked at him again. "He would, you know."

He nodded. "He would. Maybe I would have, once. Maybe you're right. Maybe I've changed. I don't know anything anymore." He felt sick and weary and defeated then, and very shamed. His thoughts went back and forth and round and round. They were both right, he kept thinking. They had brought the Braiths down on Challenge, on hundreds of innocent victims. The guilt was theirs; Gwen was right. And yet, he was right, too, they could do nothing now, nothing. If that was selfish, it was no less true.

Gwen was crying openly. He reached for her once more, and this time she let him hold her and try to comfort her with his hands. But all the while, as he stroked her long black hair and fought to hold back bis own tears, he knew that it was no good, that it changed nothing. The Braiths were hunting, killing-and he could not stop them. He could hardly save himself. He was not the old Dirk after all, the Dirk of Avalon, no. And the woman in his arms was not Jenny. Both of them were only prey.

Then suddenly it came to him. "Yes," he said loudly.

Gwen looked at him, and Dirk got unsteadily to his feet, pulling her up after him.

"Dirk?" she said.

"We can do something," he said, and he led her to the door of the nearest compartment. It opened easily. Dirk went to the viewscreen by the bed. The room lights were all out; the only illumination was the long rectangle of faded blue that fell from the open doorway. Gwen stood in the frame, uncertain, a bleak dark silhouette.

Dirk turned on the screen, hoping (he could do nothing else), and it lit under his hands, and he breathed easier. He turned to Gwen.

"What are you going to do?" she asked him.

"Tell me your home call number," he said.

She understood. Slowly she nodded, and she told him the numbers, and he punched them out, one by one, and waited. The throbbing call signal brightened the room. When it dissolved, the patterns of light reshaped themselves into the strong-jawed features of Jaan Vikary.

No one spoke. Gwen came forward to stand behind Dirk, one hand up on his shoulder. Vikary looked at them in silence, and Dirk was afraid for a long moment that he would blank the screen and leave them to their fate.

He did not. He said to Dirk, "You were a holdfast-brother. I trusted you." Then his eyes shifted to Gwen. "And you I loved."

"Jaan," she said, quick and soft, in a voice so much a whisper that Dirk doubted that Vikary could hear. Then she broke and turned and walked swiftly from the room.

Still Vikary did not close out the connection. "You are in Challenge, I see. Why have you called, t'Larien? You know what we must do, my teyn and I?"

"I know," Dirk said. "I risk it. I had to tell you. The Braiths have followed us. Somehow, I don't know how, we never thought we would be traced. But they are here. Bretan Braith Lantry has knocked out the city computer, and seems to control much of the remaining power. The others-they have hunting packs here. They are in the corridors."

"I understand," Vikary said. Emotion-unreadable, strange-flickered across his face. "The residents?"

Dirk nodded. "Will you come?"

Vikary smiled very faintly, and there was no joy in it. "You ask my help, Dirk t'Larien?" He shook his head. "No, I should not jape, it is not you who asks, not for yourself. I understand that. For the others, the Emereli, yes, Garse and I will come. We will bring our beacons, and those such as we find before the hunters we shall make korariel of Ironjade. Yet it will take time, too long perhaps. Many will die. Yesterday, at the City in the Starless Pool, a creature called a Mother died a sudden death. The jelly children– Do you know of the Blackwiner jelly children, t'Larien?"

"Yes. I know enough."

"They burst forth from their Mother to find another, and discovered none. During the decades they have lived inside their vast host, others of their world had caught the creature and brought it to Worlorn from the World of the Blackwine Ocean, and lastly abandoned it. There is scant love lost between the jelly children and other Blackwiners not of the cult. So they stumbled forth, a hundred of them or more, overrunning their city, filling it with a sudden life, knowing nothing of where they were or why. Most were old, quite old. In panic, they began to wake their dead city, so Roseph high-Braith found them. I did what I could do, protected some. The Braiths found many others, because it took time. It will be the same in Challenge. Those that take to the corridors and run, those will be hunted down and slain, long before my teyn and I can help. Do you understand?"

Dirk nodded.

"It is not enough to call me," Vikary said. "You must act yourself. Bretan Braith Lantry wants you badly, you and no other. He may even allow you to duel. The others want only to hunt you, as a mock-man, but even they value you high above any other prey. Come into the open, t'Larien, and they will come after you. For the Emereli hiding around you, the time will be important."

"I see," Dirk said. "You want Gwen and me…"

Vikary flinched visibly. "No, not Gwen."

"Me, then. You want me to draw attention to myself? Without a weapon?"

"You have a weapon," Vikary said. "You stole it yourself, giving insult to Ironjade. Whether you choose to use it or not is a decision that only you can make. I will not trust you to make the correct choice. I trusted you once. I simply tell you. One other thing, t'Larien. Whatever you do, or do not do, it changes nothing between you and me. This call changes nothing. You know what we must do."