"Our only help?" asked Sparrow, smiling.

He grinned, allowing himself to laugh. "Thank you, Sparrow. No. Our only information," he amended. The smile faded, his expression growing even more somber than in his discussion with Arion. "I must show you something now in strictest confidence. It is not to be mentioned to Arion or to anyone else. Understood?"

"Yes sir."

He handed across a piece of paper. "This is the medical report on Arion when he arrived. What do you make of it?"

Soren looked it over but found nothing out of order and handed it to Sparrow. He read it and set it on the desk. "What's the problem?"

"Arion related to us that he was given a.. transfusion if you will, from one of the damats."

Soren grimaced, remembering. The venats had drunk his blood, drawing him to the point of death, then reviving him with blood from a damat. He shook his head to banish the image.

Damats. Humans and Lenisats both, carefully raised dumb and kept as pets. And Arion claimed these venats had souls?

"Are you familiar with blood chemistry?"

"No, not really," said Soren, forcing his attention to return. Sparrow shrugged.

"In such a situation as he described, his body would make use of the foreign blood only long enough to replace it, and would then flush it from the system. Follow?" They nodded. "In which case, the presence of foreign elements should rapidly decline. This has not been the case."

"If you don't mind, sir," said Soren, "could you just say what you're saying? What are you getting at?"

"You know as well as I do that the only way to detect a Lenisat is by blood tests. The iragon in Arion's blood should be disappearing rapidly. It isn't."

Soren stared at him. "Are you trying to tell me he's an imposter?"

"No," he said wearily. "I can't do that. We don't know enough. And everything else matches. The teeth, the fingerprints, knowledge, everything. But the council is very troubled and so am I. We want more than anything else for it to truly be Arion, but they've had over a cycle to work on him. We just don't know."

Soren shook his head, stunned. "What do you want us to do?"

"Watch him. Protect him. And above all, don't tell him. If it's an imposter, we don't want to alarm him yet. If not, the last thing he needs is to think we've lost faith in him. At the same time, we can't afford not to protect ourselves, and certain areas will have to remain off limits to him until we're sure. And don't tell anyone else either. We don't need a panic and Arion needs all the support he can get."

Soren sighed heavily. With everything else, this was hard to take. "Sir, may I ask, do you think he's an imposter?"

He looked back at Soren steadily. "I honestly don't know. When I mentioned the iragon, he immediately referred to spies. What about you? What do you think?"

He shook his head. "He's changed a lot, but he's still Arion. I can't see it."

"Good. But watch him anyway. Listen to what he says. Think about it."

"Yes sir."

"I know it's a terrible weight to lay on your shoulders, but you know him better than anyone else. You've got a good, clear head. I know I can trust your judgement."

Soren gave an irritable laugh and a shake of his head. "I don't know about that. Pretty emotionally connected, aren't I?" He sighed at the assessing look the Ealdred gave him and nodded. "I'll do my best, sir."

"Thank you, Soren. It's all I can ask." He looked at Sparrow. "Your training has involved dealing with emotional stress. Nothing of this sort, but I'm counting on you to be there for both of them. They're going to need you. Can you do that?"

"Yes sir." His answer was formal and confident.

"Good enough then," he said, obviously tired. "Is there anything I can do for you?"

They glanced at each other and shook their heads. "No, sir, thank you," said Soren. "Not that you haven't already done."

He nodded, sighed and stood up. "If you think of something, don't hesitate."

"Thank you, sir." Effectively dismissed, they left.

Down the corridor, they discovered with dismay that Arion had been unable to get very far, pinned down by an enthusiastic records crew - a crew that was not supposed to have been there. They were smiling and jubilant, and Soren noted that Arion seemed calm and self-possessed. When he spotted them, however, there was no smile.

"What did you hate the most while you were there?" one of the crew was asking.

"...The leash. It uh, it's made of something we don't have, but it's very strong. I couldn't find anything to use against it. It was the only thing stopping me, but it stopped me cold. I hated it."

"And what did you like the most? Was there anything you liked?"

He paused, looking at Soren and Sparrow. "They let me have this," he said, displaying the mythra. Another pause, and another glance. At first he appeared distressed, but that gave way to a sudden small smile. "I also had the opportunity to improve my chess game. It seems I'm actually a challenge for Soren now."

They laughed. "Will you play something for us?"

The smile faded and he gazed down at the mythra, looking confused. "Maybe later," he said softly, retrieving the smile. Soren noted that it took effort.

"Did you see other humans while you were there?"

His smile vanished, abruptly enough that even the crew noticed, becoming somber and serious, but highly curious. "I'm sorry," he said at last. "I've been asked not to discuss certain things for awhile."

"Why?" asked one immediately.

Another, now desperate, look to Soren and Sparrow, then back at the waiting faces.

"We would greatly appreciate," said Soren moving in, his tone lightly reproachful, "if you would allow him the space he has already so graciously asked for. He was kept in isolation for almost the entire time. He did glimpse others here and there, but we don't know whether they were human or Lenisat.

"To allow confused information to flow freely could only serve the Venatorista." He smiled. "We do realize that his return is the most exciting event of our generation, and your patience so far has been wonderful. We do sincerely thank you for that. Now if you'll excuse us..." Another winning smile, and he moved off down the corridor, towing Arion with him.

"What were you waiting for?" asked Arion in a low, angry whisper.

"A good excuse," answered Sparrow. "You were doing great. We really had no excuse until then."

A short, hard sigh of disagreement, then a softer one of resignation and he nodded. "Yeah. I'm sorry."

Soren looked at him. "You don't have to apologize. You didn't do anything wrong."

"Where were you headed?"

"I don't know," he sighed. "Ag deck, I guess."

"Want a safety escort?" asked Sparrow, smiling.

Arion looked at him, then laughed softly. "Sure. Thanks."

They walked in silence with long, purposeful strides that discouraged engagement. Those they met broke into bright, excited smiles that Arion returned readily, dropping his just as readily as soon as they were passed.

On the Ag deck, he headed straight for the trees, to a secluded spot. Soren smiled as he recognized it - Arion had come here other times in the past when he was troubled. The irrigation channels had been sculpted into scenic streams with grassy banks that gave way to pebbles at the water's edge.

Arion took his spot beneath the tree, curling up by the trunk, hidden from the pathway.

They sat down a little further over, silently watching the water. Soren tried not to look over, to give him privacy, but he stole several glimpses from the corner of his eye. It was comforting to see him in such a familiar setting, and yet even here he seemed withdrawn, a huddled, forlorn figure. In the past, even troubled, his bearing had always been relaxed.

"Soren?"

"Yes?"

"Would it hurt your feelings if I asked you to leave?"

He smiled. "Nah. I should've known. You said you wanted to be alone. We'll catch up to you at lunch like you said. ...Unless you wanted Sparrow to stay?"

He shook his head. "Thanks."

"Not a problem," said Sparrow easily. "See you later."

Soren stood in the foyer with Sparrow, watching the shuttle move away. It was the second time Arion had missed their ride to the surface where they were to launch and christen his new gremlin. It was a beautiful machine, a true multi-purpose hovercraft, complete with a two to three man cabin.

It had been Arion's day-dream to return to a small island he and Soren had found together one leave, and to stay there for awhile. It seemed the perfect answer - seclusion from prying recorders while he ordered his thoughts - but it did require Arion's presence.

They found him in the gymnasium, running on the scenic jogger. "Yo bunkie!" Soren called to him. "You missed the shuttle again. What gives?"

"Sorry," he answered shortly.

Soren frowned. He hadn't even looked over. He came up to the jogger, but Arion still ignored him. "We can't launch the gremlin from the Hammerstar you know," he said lightly, trying to ease him into conversation.

He started backward as Arion jumped down in front of him. "Well, maybe I don't want to go, okay?" he said darkly, his voice low and threatening.

He stared into alien eyes, forbidding and intense. "Why?" he managed.

A moment's pause, then Arion dropped his eyes with a sharp, angry sigh. Turning on his heel he stalked into the next room and began assaulting the sandbag.

"He's scared," Sparrow said, briskly following him. Soren trailed after. "Arion," said Sparrow, his tone calm, firm.

No answer.

"You're scared, Arion. You don't want to go because you're scared. Remember when Raach asked you why you became a Cedrychad? You said because you didn't like feeling helpless. You joined because you were scared.

"You've been scared of them all your life. And then they finally got you, only it was worse than you'd ever imagined because he stole away your right to defend yourself. Now you're home and you still can't fight, and you don't know what to do about it.

"The only way to be safe is to stay where they can't reach you. But you can't spend the rest of your life on board a Hammerstar. You're going to have to go down sooner or later."

Arion whirled around, furious, trembling. For an awful, sick moment Soren thought he might actually attack. Instead he turned on the bag again, gripping it and throwing it away, then spun around to leave.

The sandbag, however, completed its arc and swung back, knocking him off his feet. He kicked at it and scrambled to his feet. Soren watched, appalled, as he broke into a run, smashing full tilt into a group of filament screens.

He isn't real, he thought with horror, even as he started forward to help him.

Sparrow gripped his arm, stopping him. "Leave him alone."

"He's over the edge, Sparrow," he said, unwilling to voice his real fear, unable to shake the sight of alien eyes staring into his own.

"No," he said with the same firm tone he'd used on Arion. "He's just throwing a tantrum."

Soren looked at Arion, thrashing about in the filaments, savaging the poles like a wild animal gone berserk. His arm was bleeding freely. This was nothing that he had ever dealt with before and he trusted Sparrow's experience more than his own judgement, but... "But he's hurting himself."

He nodded. "That happens when you're in a fight."

Soren glanced at him, then back at Arion, who was beginning to slow down. Tantrum it might be, but he was still obviously out of control, possessed by a madness that didn't seem… didn't seem human.

He thought of the drug the venats had given him, wondering... That a healthy individual like Arion could be reduced to such a state was alarming, to say the least. Still, even that was better than an imposter. Besides, he rationalized with sudden relief, a fraud wouldn't present himself as an emotional catastrophe.

They came towards him as he collapsed in a heap amidst the debris, hiding his face in his arms. Soren stood still, feeling wretched and helpless, with Arion curled up on the floor rocking and sobbing. Slowly he became still, but they continued to wait.

"Arion," said Sparrow as Arion's sobs at last grew still. Arion made no effort to move or respond and Sparrow didn't touch him. Another wait, shorter this time. "Come on, Arion," he said softly.

Arion rose slowly, haunted eyes flickering about the wreckage. "I'm sorry," he said, sounding lost. "I'll pay for it."

"Yes, that you will," chuckled Sparrow, his mirth striking Soren with an eerie, off-kilter chill. "But that's not important right now. You tore your arm open and I think we'd better fix it. Come on over here."

Subdued and obedient, Arion stood and followed Sparrow to the opposite end of the room and the first aid kit. He sat still and silent, his eyes down while Sparrow tended the cut. "There," he said as he finished. "Now come on and we'll help you clean up your mess."

Sparrow grabbed a trashcan on the way and began picking up the pieces and throwing them in. Mechanical, Arion and Soren imitated him. The filaments were fine and brittle, and picking them up took time. Soren began to see the good of the activity as Arion was moving more freely now, more naturally.

"You know I really appreciate you not punching me back there, Arion," said Sparrow. "I know you wanted to, and I guess I was pushing it. But I think you scared the turps out of poor Soren, smashing up these screens that way." He was smiling.

They both looked at Sparrow, startled, then at each other. What did Sparrow think he was doing? That Arion could even want to punch him was...

But Arion gave a sudden sheepish smile, and the next thing they knew they were both chuckling over the look on the other guy's face.

"You play dangerous games, Sparrow," chided Soren, smiling, though his stomach had not yet fully relaxed. "What would you have done if that hadn't worked?"

He shrugged. "Tried something else, just like we've been doing all along. I simply got tired of you two walking tightropes around each other trying to pretend nothing's wrong.

"You," he said, turning to Arion, "are all messed up inside no matter who's right or who's wrong. Stop trying so hard and let God handle it. He got you home regardless of who He used to do it, and I'm sure He has everything under control even if we don't. You're job right now is to learn how to cope with being home. And if you're scared, join the club. We all are."

He sighed then and shoved the can in a corner. "Let's go get something to eat."

"It's not just me," Arion explained, picking at his food. "I mean, yeah… that's..." He frowned, sighed and shook his head. "What do I do when something happens? I don't know what to do. ...What if it's one of you guys?"

"You've lost me."

"I'm supposed to be a Cedrychad. I'm supposed to protect people. What if I can't?"

"Tough question," agreed Sparrow. "But I don't think you'll find the answer by hiding on the Hammerstar. That's something you'll have to deal with when it happens. If it happens."

He snorted unhappily. "It's bound to happen sooner or later. What good is a Cedrychad that can't fight? What do I do when the Ealdred puts me back on active duty?"

Soren sighed, putting a friendly hand on his shoulder and squeezing. "Worry about that then, huh? The Ealdred knows better than to put you out there if you're not ready. Right now you need to unwind and shake all their cobwebs out of your head. You need to go fishing and have some proper fun."

"You'd be perfectly safe out on the water," Sparrow pointed out.

Arion grimaced. "Pretend it isn't happening?"

Sparrow shrugged. "On the gremlin or on the Hammerstar. What's the difference?"

Soren tensed at the question, as did Arion. It was far too pointed, but Arion responded quickly. "At least on the Hammerstar I know there's someone else to help."

"Let someone else do the dirty work, huh?"

Soren glared at him, shocked by his insensitivity, but Sparrow ignored him. Arion smiled bitterly. "On the gremlin or on the Hammerstar, what's the difference?"

Sparrow chuckled. "Soren's getting mad at me. He thinks I'm being crass."

Arion looked up at him and Soren cursed Sparrow silently. Arion smiled, lopsided. "Thanks, Soren, but it's okay. I don't like it, but I've got to look at it and he knows it."

Soren returned the lopsided smile. "I guess I'm just over-protective," he said, realizing he had never questioned Sparrow's methods before. He sighed. "You're a big boy."

Arion laughed softly. "I'm a big mess, is what I am. I never knew I was a coward too."

"You're not," Soren said darkly.

"Being afraid of something doesn't make you a coward," said Sparrow, seemingly unconcerned. "When you think about it, it's really more apt to be a sign of intelligence."

"Yeah, yeah," Arion allowed dismissively. "It's what you do with the fear that counts. Only I'm not doing anything with it but hiding."

"And maybe that's the intelligent thing to do right now," Sparrow persisted calmly. "Yes, you'd be safe from the venats on the gremlin, but that doesn't mean you'd be safe from yourself. If you're not ready to deal with it yet, you're not ready. So ask yourself, am I ready?"

Three days passed, and along with them passed the opportunity to leave the Hammerstar, as Arion still declined. They had discussed everything with the Ealdred, who had - at Sparrow's urging - not ordered Arion to go down. He refused to speculate on what he would do with Arion when his leave was up, insisting that Arion would feel differently later.

Now, with the Arlemagen under way again, they sat in quarters, watching the vid screen, "relaxing." Soren tensed as a report came on the screen. The Sagira had engaged the venators today, successfully grounding the carrier and destroying over half of her escort.

It had been a rousing coup, made all the more satisfying by the fact that some of the venats had been using the brotik stun guns that Arion had warned about, and the carrier was almost full when it was grounded. The Sagira's only disappointment was the loss of a Lenisat found on board the carrier.

"He was helping them, see?" said a man to one of the recorders. "They bring in someone else what's unconscious, right? And that dog starts strapping him in. The venats didn't even stay to see that he did it. He could've been turning us loose, but no! He's strapping us down."

"And when you were freed, no one considered the possibility that the Gadamista might want to question the Lenisat?" asked the recorder.

He shook his head. "Not right then. I mean, yeah, sure, we're sorry they didn't get to question him. But the Cedrychad what got us loose never said a word. He had his laser on him while he undid straps with his free hand," he explained, pantomiming. "The first few of us free helped undo some others. And then, well, that was it. One guy went straight for him as soon as he got loose and started dragging him off. The Cedrychad didn't say a word. He just put his laser away and kept undoing the straps. So a bunch of the rest of us followed after them."

The scene shifted from the man to the recorder. “Allies to the venators, the Lenisats represent a possible source of information. The Gadamista requests that in the future, if possible, people should refrain from killing them immediately. Your cooperation will be most appreciated." The picture panned past her, zooming in on the Lenisat, or what was left of him, cuffed between two poles. The scene faded and Arion rose quietly and left.

Designed to hold captive venators until they could be dealt with, the poles were simply that: heavy shafts set into the ground with manacles set near the top. The Lenisat had been stripped and beaten to death.

"No wonder he thinks Satan is loose," said Soren glumly.

"Maybe he's right."

"Don't start, Sparrow," he said crossly. "It isn't funny."

"I wasn't joking."

Soren looked at him, suddenly angry. "He needs help, not patronizing. That'll only make it worse." He stood, walking quickly out the door and went in search of Arion. He was shaking, for the fate of the Lenisat disturbed him, too. Not because he believed Arion, but because it was cruel.

More than once he and Arion had been reprimanded for quickly dispatching venators that could have been questioned or sent to the poles. Questioning he grudgingly understood, and it was mostly done with drugs, though it rarely amounted to anything worthwhile. But the poles were something else again.

The people, he was told, needed the outlet. He, the council reminded him, gained such release for his anger by fighting as a Cedrychad. The villagers, however, had nothing but the poles. They were, after all, just animals.

Too many times he had seen the battered form of a venator, still alive, still conscious, taken down and carried up the mountain, shackled once again and left to die. This was yet another bur. A naive tradition from earlier times, the creatures deserved to be put down quickly and mercifully. It remained an ongoing debate.

He finally found Arion on the Rec deck, sprinting again on the scenic jogger. He watched him run, impressed by his endurance after such a long captivity. He started forward, snatched from his thoughts as Arion collapsed and fell. The faint hum of the jogger died as the safety sensors automatically shut it down, the scenery fading out. Arion was on his knees, retching into the gutter that had been installed for those who overexerted themselves.

Soren waited for him to finish, then turned on the faucet to flush the gutter. Arion cupped his hands under the flow and splashed his face.

"Feel better?"

"No."

Soren nodded, but noticed that his tone was more that of the "old" Arion. "Ready to talk about it?" he asked, holding his hand out. Arion took the lift without answering and headed for the shower.

"Come on," said Soren when he came out, "let's get some coffee." But Arion shook his head and kept moving.

"So there you are," said Sparrow, falling into step with them in the corridor.

"Hey," said Arion, but his voice remained flat. Soren's stride faltered as he wondered if they shouldn't just leave him alone, but Sparrow motioned silently to keep coming. "It's weird," said Arion finally as they turned into the trees on the Ag deck.

"What's that?" asked Soren after a long pause.

"...Sitting in quarantine, I was so desperate to convince him. I wanted so much to get the report over with so we could really talk about it, and... There in his office... I started out wanting to convince him, because it was so important, right? And then, all of a sudden, at the end there..." He broke off, hesitating. "I wanted him to convince me," he admitted, ashamed.

"Why?" asked Sparrow, prompting.

"...It was hard… trying to say it. Even when I believed... I knew it was presumptuous, even then. And... It's embarrassing, getting these grand ideas, and then it's just stupid nonsense, and it's humiliating. ...But it was easier..."

Soren squeezed his shoulder. "It's okay pal. You're home now, and you're among friends. It's okay."

Arion stopped, leaning his forehead against a tree, his fingers exploring the rough bark. "No it isn't," he protested, almost whispering. "That's just it. I'm not home, and I don't know how to get back. I tried so hard not to let them get to me... I didn't have much to go on, you know? Just my gut. I wanted the Spirit to be there, to guide me, so I listened to my gut. It was the only thing I could trust..."

"And now?" asked Sparrow. "Who should you listen to now?"

"The Ealdred," he answered readily. "And I'm trying. I want to, I really do. But it won't let me be. I can't let it go. I keep thinking, what if I'm right? There's no proof, is there? Either way, there's no proof. It would be so much easier to be wrong, to take the easy way out.

"But what if I'm right? If I'm right, and I let go, then Satan wins. After a thousand years of not hurting each other, he'd have to work us up to it, wouldn't he? First venators, and now humans. And who do we think we are? We're so smart he can't fool us anymore? We think we can stand up to him and not be affected?

"We never had to face him before. Never had to think about it before. Everybody runs around making little mistakes and saying they don't matter because of course we aren't perfect but Satan's gone so we don't have to worry... We must be so gullible and naive by now.. So arrogant..."

Soren grimaced. From Arion's report, the venat had repeatedly accused him of being arrogant. "Give it time, Arion. It can't disappear overnight. You're here now, and no one's going to be lying to you anymore."

"Satan's the best liar there ever was," he said into the tree. "And if he's loose he's everywhere. ...Oh God!" He began weeping, his fingers clutching the bark like a mother's skirt. "I don't want to be there, I don't want to be here. I don't want to be anywhere. I just want to go Home!" It was the plaintive cry of a small boy.

Soren put his hand on Arion's shoulder, silent and useless, shocked and disturbed by such suicidal despair, remembering that he had actually tried to kill himself in captivity. "That ugly vampat took our worst nightmare and brought it to life, just to get inside your head. It's a lie, Arion. A lie."

"Arion," said Sparrow softly. "What if you are right?" Beneath his hand, Soren felt Arion hold his breath to listen. "If letting go frightens you," he continued, his voice slow and resonant, "then don't let go. Look at it. Face it. Own it. You don't have to admit you're wrong just because the Ealdred says so."

"I don't want to be right," said Arion miserably, still burrowed into the tree.

"Of course you don't. But letting go before you're ready isn't resolving anything. All you're doing is trying to bury it. If you want to get rid of it, you'll have to face the idea that you might be right. You have to accept that possibility, and deal with it."

He groaned. "How? I thought... When I believed, I thought I could just tell it, and then we'd know, and we could try to work together... But no one believes me. I'm not even supposed to talk about it. The records crew runs around telling everyone how wonderful I am, that God brought me back as a sign of hope for the people, and what words of wisdom does the elected one have for us today?

"The Ealdred says I'm a hero, how everyone's looking at me for encouragement, and what a responsibility it is - but don't say anything to anyone about how you really feel because you're crazy!" The last came out hard and viciously angry.

"Do you think you're crazy?"

After what seemed forever, Arion released the tree and turned around. "No one believes me," he said softly to Sparrow. "No one."

"No one knows," he answered.

He grimaced, wounded. "That doesn't help."

"I believe you, Arion," said Sparrow.

Soren turned on Sparrow, furious but silent. Sparrow's gray eyes met his gaze without apology, absorbing his anger without pain.

"Why?"

"Because I think you're right," he said, turning back to Arion. "But it's going to take work. And if we work at it, we're going to make people mad. They won't want to believe anymore than you did in the beginning. It will force them to try to prove you're wrong. Can you work at it, knowing that you risk being wrong?"

"...How?"

"By being honest."

Arion stared at him, torn by anger, doubt, and desire.

"Sparrow," said Soren, finding his tongue, "do you realize what you're asking him to do? He can't go against the Ealdred!"

Sparrow turned his steady gaze on Soren. "Then let's go talk to the Ealdred."

Soren hesitated, then nodded, welcoming the opportunity to deliver this insanity to a higher level. "Let's do it now."

"Absolutely."