"Haven't you?"

He nodded. "There are Simes, and there are Gens… and there is Kadi. Abel and the others see their established children as I see you. But they must have their defenses until they learn—if they can learn—"

Kadi's nager became a soothing blank, her eyes suddenly sad.

"Kadi, what's wrong?"

"There's something I must tell you, Rimon—or you'll find out about it without preparation."

"What are you talking about?" Her nager gripped him.

"The day Del came to visit, when you were away. Del was so depressed. You see, during the snow, when no one could travel, Drust Fenell established."

He couldn't wait for her to say it. "Vee killed him."

Kadi nodded. "And herself."

Rimon was numb, suffocating. "Why did they let them try?"

"Nobody let them. They managed to get off alone– and—"

"Oh, Kadi, what have we done?" Rimon forced the words out in a harsh whisper. He felt as if he were struggling against an oppressive weight. "Kadi! Let me grieve!"

She gasped, and he felt her control slip away. Grief flooded through him then, but he was able to cry it out. She held him, crying too. Willa came over to them, worried, touching them, beginning to cry herself without understanding.

The feast was a difficult experience. Fort Freedom was divided into those who still saw Rimon and Kadi as hope for the future, and those who had become fearful of the pain they had brought.

Abel Veritt was showing his age more and more, and Jord was haggard. Mrs. Veritt hovered worriedly over them. Both the Lassiters and Sara Fenell avoided the Farrises, and Rimon felt too guilty to go up to them and offer condolences. Kadi, however, insisted, and so they made the attempt. The responses were cold, but Rimon felt better for trying.

Rimon helped to bring the trestle tables out of storage. There would be a prayer ceremony tonight, and then the chapel would be cleared of benches and the tables set up for the feast tomorrow. As he worked, Rimon felt resentment from some people, while others refused to come near him. Clearly, he and Kadi were no longer welcome.

But Abel said, "Tonight, in the chapel, I will make my vision clear to everyone. Be there, Rimon, with Kadi. Then,

if you still feel you do not belong here, leave before the feast tomorrow."

In the chapel that evening, sitting with Del and Carlana, Rimon felt the tension all around them. First there were prayers of thanks that the small community had survived another year, that the crops had been good, and that five babies had been born and had survived.

When he lifted his head at the end of the prayer, Rimon felt the ambient nager shift toward indignation. After a moment, he realized they had expected thanks for all who had established.

Veritt stepped out from behind the lectern, and called, "Carlana Erick." Carlana left them, and at the front, Jord seated her on one of four chairs. "Miral Coyne." Another woman, heavily pregnant, moved forward and was seated beside Carlana. A third woman, also obviously pregnant, was called forth, and so Rimon was not at all surprised when Veritt called, "Kadi Farris."

Kadi stopped before him. "Abel, I will be pleased to have your blessing and your prayers for the health and safety of my child. But, if you're going to pray he'll be Gen, I can't participate."

Smug satisfaction filled the air around Rimon, then was shattered into disbelief and anger as Veritt replied, "No, Kadi, I shall not pray that any of these children be either Sime or Gen—only that they be born healthy."

A gasp went up, and then people began rising to leave, muttering indignantly. "Wait!" called Veritt, his powerful voice silencing the murmurs. "Hear me out before you condemn!"

Reluctantly, the people reseated themselves. "I promise," said Veritt, "if you cannot accept the new revelation God has granted me, I'll step down as your spiritual leader."

He returned to the lectern, placed his hands on the sides, and extended his handling tentacles.

This time the gasps of horror took the form of words: "Sacrilege!"

"In God's Own House!"

"How dare he?"

"I dare," Veritt answered them, "because I am a Sime. God made me a Sime." He lifted his right hand, tentacles spread. "God made my tentacles, as surely as He made the rest of me. I learned long ago not to question the will of God. If it is wrong to question His will, is it not equally wrong to deny His gifts?"

"Gifts!" The exclamation stuttered from several points.

Veritt was silent for a moment, allowing the heat of emotion to die, retracting his tentacles and becoming once more the calm and pious leader they were used to. "Every one of you has had to change the beliefs he grew up with, in order to survive. In Gen Territory, you were taught that Simes have no souls."

Rimon felt the first melting around the edges of cold indignation.

"I have taught for twenty years that the Sime nature is a curse. But in this past year, God has seen fit to demonstrate to us that it's not our nature that is a curse, but what we do with it. He has sent among us a man—a Sime—who lives entirely without killing. Look at the girl seated to his left, a Gen from Slina's Pens—a Gen we would have taken for the kill had Rimon not chosen her—and here she sits, safe in the midst of Simes, not because she can protect herself, but because Rimon Farris protects her. Look at Rimon's wife, a Gen, who will bear his child this year. Kadi Farris is a miracle in herself, for she was able to keep Rimon from the kill until he could learn to take selyn from any Gen without killing. Rimon Farris is our hope for the future—and you would have me banish him from Fort Freedom?"

There was instant response from all sides. "He killed Drust and Vee!"

"He's a devil sent to mislead us!" Others, though, cried out, "Rimon wasn't even here when Drust and Vee died!"

"He's a healer!"

Veritt held up his hands—hands only—for silence. "Yes," he said, "there are those who recognize what Rimon has done already. Since he began changeover training, two of our children have come through, if not easily, certainly with far less pain than most of us knew." He added solemnly, "But it is true that two other young people died. We all loved Drust Fenell and Vee Lassiter. Yes, it was in my heart, as it was in all of yours, that they might have been the first among us to live as Rimon and Kadi Farris do. Had they waited, they might have succeeded. Do you think Rimon learned what he does at his changeover? No—it took him four years!"

Another murmur—and the first hint of sympathy. Veritt seized upon it. "I have seen you looking at me, at my son, at Mr. Erick. I have heard you say that Rimon brings only death, pain, and illness to those who try to learn what he does. But it cannot be learned overnight—and is it not worth any amount of suffering to learn to live without killing?"

Before anyone could shout him down, Verrit raced on. "I've called these four women before you for our traditional prayers for those with child. They know they face the pain of childbirth—yet each one rejoices that she will bring a new life into the world. There will be pain in our learning not to kill, pain as inevitable as the pangs of childbirth—but will the results not be as well worth the suffering?

"Traditionally, we have prayed this night each year that the children in our midst establish, that the babies to be born grow up Gen. I submit we have blasphemed by asking for God to do our will, not His Own! Think. Count. God's will has been to make two out of every three of our children Sime—and often we have allowed them to die! Rimon has taught us to save them. Will you go back to letting your children die horribly—or will you pray with me and with Rimon and Kadi Farris, that when these children grow up, it will not matter if they are Gen or Sime?"