The Ealdred ushered them into his office without delay, shutting the door behind him. "What can I do for you?"

Soren and Sparrow both looked at Arion, and the Ealdred joined them. Instantly Soren regretted bringing him in. It had been too fast, too sudden. Now, face to face with the Ealdred, he was intimidated and confused.

Frustrated with himself for allowing it, he was angrier with Sparrow for causing it, but Arion was now caught in the middle - the very type of situation they were supposed to be protecting him from. He was about to speak up when Arion began.

"Ealdred, sir, I... " He swallowed. "I don't want this, but... I can't.. I can't just ignore it. I'm trying, but I can't pretend. I'm sorry."

He frowned and nodded. "You want permission to talk about how you feel."

"Yes, sir."

"Do you understand why I can't allow it?"

"...I know it's hard, sir, but... Well, Sparrow said-" He broke off and looked at him, finally seeming to realize that he couldn't have meant it.

"Sparrow told him he believed him," explained Soren, intent that this item be brought out.

"Is that right?"

"Yes, sir," said Sparrow.

He frowned, nodded, and sighed. "It's not that I don't think anyone will believe you, Arion. More the opposite. They will believe you simply because you made it home - precisely what the venats are counting on. You were lied to, Arion, and I know you will come to understand that, and be comfortable with it in time. It will be much easier for you if you take it slowly and don't run around creating chaos.

"Consider the magnitude of the situation," he continued slowly. "I'm not just trying to protect you from humiliation. The entire Gadamista would be demoralized. The entire family would be panicked. Not just humans, Arion, everyone. The Marshandra, the Balmiggor, everyone. Maybe even the Gryphusani. I simply can't allow it. And you won't want that on your shoulders later on."

"Is it better for them to keep on the way they are, murdering people? They-"

"This is about that Lenisat this morning, isn't it?"

"Yes, sir, but it's not just that."

"Arion, I know it's always been hard for you and Soren to tolerate that sort of thing, but just because it's a Lenisat doesn't change policy. You didn't like it before, but you never called it murder. There's no need to start now."

"But it is," he hissed bitterly.

"Arion, you can't expect to get over this without some time. I think it's time you had something constructive to do, to fill your time. I'm going to cut your leave short, since it doesn't seem to be doing you any good, and give you an assignment."

"...What kind of assignment?" he asked, tensing.

"You learned a great deal in captivity. That knowledge is most valuable, and I would like you to share it with us. Mornings you will report to the gym and work with Kerey. Show him what you know, and together you two can teach his students. Then in the afternoons you will report to Communications. In the same way, you will work with Liang and his students on Venatese. Any questions?"

He looked totally miserable, but he shook his head. "No, sir."

"Any objections?" asked the Ealdred, allowing for his obvious reluctance.

He opened his mouth several times, but at last he sighed and shook his head. "No, sir."

"Good. Report to the gymnasium first thing tomorrow morning. You may go now. Soren, you and Sparrow will be placed back on active duty tomorrow. Sparrow, I want you to stay please. I'd like to speak with you in private."

Arion glanced back at Sparrow, and continued out the door. Soren sighed, falling into step with him. "I'm sorry, Arion. I should have prevented that."

He looked up sharply, then laughed softly, gazing back down at the ground. "Why? It's all part of the mess isn't it? I mean either way it's a mess. There just isn't any way to be clean about it."

"No, I guess not, but I don't have to contribute to the mess." He took a deep breath, cutting off his thoughts on Sparrow's contribution. "Besides, I'm selfish. I hate watching you hurt."

Arion laughed softly and shook his head. "It hurts, yeah. It hurts. But not because of you. And really, I needed that. Even if it didn't do any good, at least I tried." He snorted then, disgusted. "Talk about selfish! Self centered, self-important. Never mind that it didn't help, just so long as I can feel a little less guilty. Crud."

"That's Raach talking," said Soren disapprovingly.

"Yeah. But I happen to agree with him."

"Hating yourself is just as bad, Arion. And more destructive. I don't suppose you can see it from the inside, but the way you carry yourself... That vampat stole every shred of confidence you ever had."

He sighed heavily. "I'm sorry. I don't mean to be pathetic. I just get so mad, and there's no one to blame but myself."

"Only because you aren't willing to blame Raach. He taught you to hate yourself, but only so you'd listen to him." Arion didn't answer and Soren sighed. "Let's get something to eat."

Lunch passed in silence, but Sparrow showed up just as they were finishing. "Hey," he greeted them.

"The Ealdred mad at you?" asked Arion sympathetically.

He smiled, nodded, and sat. "Yeah," he sighed, "but mostly 'cause he thought I might be putting it on. If I were, I'd sure feel guilty now, but I'm not, so I don't." Arion chuckled.

"Sparrow, why? I mean, he's my own wingmate and even I can't say I believe it. I wish I could, just so we'd be on the same side, but I don't."

Sparrow smiled. "You're still on the same side, Soren, because you both believe in truth. You just have different versions right now. I can't tell you why I believe him, I just do. Like he said before, you can't prove anything either way. If we could prove to him he's wrong, it would be simple, but we can't. And he can't prove he's right. It's a matter of faith."

"Well, I hate to mimic the Ealdred, but honestly - if God really wanted Arion to tell us all that, don't you think he would have made it clearer?"

"No, as a matter of fact I don't. I think," he said, smiling, "that God has a habit of making important things obscure. A matter of faith. Either you believe it, or you don't. Take it or leave it. Know what I mean?"

"But think what you're saying! Venators with souls?"

"Yeah," he answered, his face serious. "I know."

He sighed, frustrated. "And when did you decide you believed him?"

Sparrow looked at him, his gray eyes suddenly piercing. "When we watched that report about the Lenisat. Something inside me just went cold, and I knew he was right."

"Well what about - " He broke off, unable to mention the iragon in front of Arion. He shook his head. "They're not human. I don't like what happened this morning, but I never liked it when it was venators either. Like the Ealdred said, if they were human, the venators would've eaten them all a long time ago."

"I don't know," said Arion slowly, considering. "I've been thinking about that too. But when I first got caught, back on Lenis, he was talking to that Lenisat about tribute... And he told me that they get whatever they want from the Lenisats, and in return they let the Lenisats survive. The Lenisats pay a tribute."

"Why would the venats bother? The Lenisats don't have anything. Even if they did, the venats could take anything they want anyway."

"Yes. Which is what makes it worthwhile for the Lenisats to cooperate. But think of it from the Venator's point of view. You have a herd of humans, if you will. You take a few here and there -- tribute, all right? -- but you leave the rest. That's your breeding stock. You wouldn't kill off all of your animals because now you've exhausted your supply."

"That's sick."

Arion smiled slightly. "Then become a vegetarian."

"Oh come on," said Soren crossly, "be serious."

"I am serious," he answered calmly. "I didn't say I liked it, but why shouldn't they? From their point of view it makes sense. It's exactly what we do. It's what Sharsa wanted so badly, only he talked about it on an even grander scale."

"Look, you've got to be careful when you start talking about what they told you. You know that. Besides, even if that's what they're doing, they'll never stop at that. They'll never leave us alone. Let's say they are raising and eating Lenisats. It doesn't matter, because they'll never have enough. The more they get, the bigger their population gets, and the more they need."

Arion looked at him quietly, mildly reproachful. "You act like I'm on their side. I'm not."

"I'm not calling you a traitor Arion, but you are on their side as long as you keep trying to spread their lies for them."

"I'm not spreading anything," he said bitterly. "I'm not permitted, remember? All I was trying to do was debate possibilities, hash what could be from what couldn't. I don't want Sharsa's plan to work," he continued, his voice dropping low, thick and angry. "But he's already doing it, and nobody cares because they aren't human. Only they are. If you're afraid raising their own meat will only make them stronger, then tell the Ealdred. He won't listen to me."

"Look," said Soren, sighing heavily, "I'm sorry, okay? I guess I just don't have a very good grasp on what it is you believe. On the one hand you say the venats have souls and you're worried about them, and then you turn around and say stuff like this. I don't know. I don't understand how you can try to play both sides like that."

Arion sighed, then gave a soft laugh. "It isn't easy. And it's very confusing. Especially when I don't have a very good grasp on it either." He looked at Sparrow, giving him a playful shove. "What about you? You said you believe me and you're going to sit there and let me drown? Or did you change your mind already?"

He smiled into his glass as he took a sip, then looked up at Arion. "Why do you suppose," he asked slowly, "the Rikshastika was so eager for you to believe these people were human? Let's say the Lenisats are human, and the venators are eating them. Knowing that the Gadamista is sworn to protect all souled beings, wouldn't they be better off trying to convince us that these human equivalents were not in fact human and had no souls? Then we wouldn't be obligated to protect them."

Arion frowned, considering, then shook his head. "No. Because then we'd have no hesitation about wiping out their food supply."

Soren nodded. "We've already attacked them, and the venats protected them. But if they're the spies that the council says they are, they'd still want us to think they're human."

"Okay," Sparrow agreed, looking down into his drink, then up at Soren. "Try this then: If Satan isn't loose, do you think God would allow something so obscene as the generation of artificial humans? Do you think the venators are skilled enough to produce something so perfect, yet so empty?"

Soren shifted uncomfortably, then smiled and looked up at him. "Aren't you the one who's always telling me I shouldn't try to say what God would or wouldn't do?"

Arion laughed. "Touché!"

Sparrow smiled and nodded. "Fair enough. For that matter then, does it truly matter whether the Lenisats are human or not? Even if they aren't, how do we know they don't have souls? If they're so nearly identical to us, couldn't the venators be eating them anyway?"

Soren shrugged. "The council already decided not to order any more attacks on Lenis anyway."

Sparrow snorted with disdain. "Yes. Too many people got upset with them for it."

Soren looked at him closely. "And that makes you mad?"

Sparrow returned his gaze, his anger clearly visible. "The council is supposed to receive divine guidance. Either they never got it before they ordered the attack, or they threw aside the guidance they got in favor of popularity with the people. I don't care for either option."

"Then how about a third option," Soren said slowly, startled by Sparrow's blatant disrespect. "Maybe you don't know as much as you think you do. Maybe they got guidance for both decisions. Sometimes God backs off because we aren't ready to accept something."

"If that's the case, then God told them to attack Lenis, then told them never mind because we're too lame to stomach it yet. You were one of the ones who yelled loudest, Soren," he reminded him.

"I know. But they have to know what they're doing. If we throw that out -"

"If we threw that out, people would have to start thinking for themselves, and praying for themselves, and listening to God themselves. You're right. It's too much work," he said with disgust. "People would much rather be told what to do."

"Sparrow," Soren said with concern, "this is new. Where is this coming from?"

He sighed deeply, then looked at him squarely. "From in here," he said, tapping his chest. "And it's been there for a long time, only I didn't want to see it. Because I've been trained, just like you, not to see it.

"They're making mistakes, Soren, because they're human. But because they're the council, I'm supposed to pretend they aren't mistakes, and I'm supposed to imitate them. Well I don't want to. Arion has a message for the family that's being stifled because they don't want to face it. That's wrong Soren. It's wrong."

It occurred to Soren that the full council had not made the decision to keep Arion silent. Ealdred Tovi had, and Arion had acquiesced. He glanced at Arion - who looked even more upset than he himself felt - and sighed. If he pointed it out, Sparrow would push for a full council, and Arion didn't need that.

"I'm sorry Sparrow," he said heavily, "but we just don't know that yet. It could still be all lies that they fed him. I objected to the attack on Lenis because they aren't attacking us. If the venators use them, that's not their fault. I'm not ready to throw out the council."

Sparrow's piercing gray eyes held him. "You've ignored them before. They say throw the useless venats to the villagers. String them up on poles so the people can savage them like mindless dogs. How many times has your gut known better, Soren? How many have you put down for mercy's sake, despite the reaming that earns you?"

"And if you're right," he said coldly, "then I'm precisely wrong, because I'm killing souled individuals. That makes the council right in spite of itself. Which brings me back to what I've felt all along. I don't trust any of the venats and I have no interest in trying to sort out their lies. I don't believe any of it. I know they eat us. I know they kill us. I know they drink our blood," he added with disgust, glancing at Arion. "If they aren't worth killing I don't know what is."

"Fair enough. What about the Lenisats? Human or no?"

Soren drained his glass and rose, pushing his chair back. "No. They don't want any part of us; I don't want any part of them. Let the filthy venats have them. I've had enough of this for now. If you'll excuse me." He rose from his seat and paused, looking at Arion and thinking how much he had changed. "I just don't understand how they could treat you the way they did and you still stick up for them."

"Do we treat venators any better?"

He snorted. "We don't lock them up for a solid cycle and crumple their brains. I really don't want to talk about this anymore. Later." He turned away and left them sitting together.

The next morning Soren headed down the corridor to his starphire, already being prepped for practice drills. The prospect pleased him more than he had expected and he realized what a strain the last few weeks had been. Quarantine had been rough, and what followed had been even rougher. He stepped into the hanger bay and viewed the busy scene. This was what he knew and understood.

"Hey, Soren! You're finally back! How's he doing?"

He shrugged. "Could be better. Could be worse. Still getting used to really being home I think."

Paul nodded sympathetically. "Takes time I guess."

Soren smiled. "Yeah. The Ealdred put him to work today too, though. I think that'll help a lot."

He grinned. "It is his favorite therapy, isn't it?"

"That it is," he agreed with a laugh.

"Well she's all ready for you whenever you are," said Paul, waving his hand at the starphire.

"Where's Mark?"

"You don't know?" he asked, clearly surprised. "He had a hot landing day before yesterday, and he's been in the medicat ever since."

"A hot landing? How? We haven't had any alerts."

He shook his head. "Practice drill. Some kind of system malfunction. He'll be okay, but they wanted to keep him for a bit. Took a nasty knock on the head and I think an electrical burn on his hand. Something like that."

Soren shook his head, annoyed. "And nobody told me. Who am I flying with then?"

"Let's see... Eric, Vic, and I believe Peter will be your wingmate."

"Nobody said anything to me. I'll fix that," he said then, swinging up into the cockpit. "You watch and see if I don't get a patch straight to his room!" he said with a grin as the hatch began to close.

Paul laughed and said something, but it was lost in the hiss as the cockpit was sealed. Once aloft, he began working on his connections. Three favors later, the audial patch was complete. "Mark! What's the big idea, running off to the Medicat? Nobody even told me until just now."

"It's all fine and dandy if you take off for weeks at a time, but me, I can't even get hurt without being yelled at!"

"So how are you doing? Paul said you got burned?"

"Not really. Nuisance, more than anything. Back of my hand is all. They say I got an honest to goodness concussion though. First class headache and dizzy when I get up. That's why I had to stay here. But even that's already clearing up. Should be out and on your back in a day or two," he said.

"Sounds good," he answered, relieved. "I've got to get to business now. I'll come and see you when I come in."

"Where are you?" he asked, puzzled.

"In my starphire," he said casually. "Reported for duty this morning only to find my wingmate gone. Find one and lose the other. I tell you, this is getting monotonous!"

"Your starphire? Are you serious?"

"Of course. I told you, I just found out you got hurt, so I called you first thing. But I really have to go. Talk to you later!"

"But - " he protested as Soren cut the connection.

He smiled, laughing quietly to himself. That final 'but' had been worth all three favors. Mark would spend the rest of the morning tracking down whether or not he really had called from his starphire. Getting the call through had required two rather sizeable favors; the third was to give Mark a hard time.

The next few hours went quickly, his mind fully occupied by the demands of the drill. Peter was a good pilot and their movements were well coordinated. Free flight was somewhat rougher, and it became clear that they were not an ideal team, though perhaps time could mend that.

By the end of the drill, however, he decided that he would rather have Mark back again. He sighed then, as he came in, thinking how badly he wanted Arion back. For the first time, he began to admit to himself that Arion might never return to flying. The Ealdred had already taken the first step by sending Arion to other duties.

Sparrow certainly wasn't helping matters, he thought bitterly as he left the hanger bay and headed for the Medicat. Things were bad enough without him slowing it all down. He knew he wasn't being fair; he couldn't expect Sparrow to lie to Arion, but it remained frustrating.

He stopped at the entrance to the Medicat, hesitating. He was in a foul mood now to be visiting Mark, yet he had said he would come. He took a deep breath, letting it out slowly, focusing his thoughts on Mark. How had his investigation gone?

He grinned as he walked into the room: Mark was on the line, arguing with Sylvia. "Why not?" Mark asked impatiently. Then, "Oh never mind, then. He's here now anyway. Bye." He looked accusingly at Soren. "I can't tell whether you made that call and covered your tracks, or just said you did and left a false trail."

Soren looked at him with hurt surprise. "Why would I do anything like that?"

"Because you would, that's why!" he retorted, laughing. "So fess up. Which was it?"

"I told you I called from my starphire. Why don't you believe me?"

"Because you love to cause confusion, that's why."

He smiled. "You wouldn't know a straight answer if you got one."

"Which means I haven't gotten one yet."

"I didn't say that."

"You're impossible. One way or the other, you deliberately made it impossible for me."

"Consider it a get-well present," he said ingratiatingly.

"A get-well present," he echoed. "More like a go-mad present!"

"Oh, come on. I'll bet you've been bored silly till I called. I just gave you something to do."

"Aw, you're too kind. So what do you have scheduled for the rest of the day?"

"I don't know. I'll grab some lunch I guess and find out what the Ealdred has me down for. You better hurry up and get out of here though. I want you back. Peter's a good pilot, but I don't think we match very well."

"I'm flattered," he said, maybe even seriously. "But what about Arion? Won't you be teaming back up with him?"

He shook his head, uncomfortable. "I don't think he'll be flying again," he admitted.

Mark sighed, growing serious. "A year's a pretty long time," he said quietly. "I can't imagine what that would be like..."

Soren frowned in agreement, then shook his head, declining to answer the discrete question. "It wasn't good." He paused, then said, "This is just between you and me, okay? As far as anyone else is concerned, he's doing great."

"Right. I understand." He smiled slightly and looked up at Soren sideways. "Just between you and me - selfish bum that I am, I can't help being glad in a way. I'm glad he's back," he qualified, "but I was sore about losing you. I don't want another wingmate either."

Soren snorted a laugh and smiled. "Yeah. ...Yeah."

Released from the Medicat the following day, Mark was still restricted from flying due to his head injury. Thus it was that Soren was flying with Peter again, and it was no longer a drill.

Fresh into the fray Soren had one lined up, but his hand froze. What if Arion was right? What if it really did have a soul? The moment passed, the line up was gone, and Soren found himself in a cold sweat.

The fight went poorly then, most of his shots near misses. He finally destroyed one, but Peter's ship was hit immediately after, and he was going down. Soren was unable to follow him, his attention required by the immediacy of the battle. Someone had to get through and disable the carrier...

He broke through at last, elected by the others by virtue of his now solo status. Soren banked around, then spotted Peter's starphire, and a venator heading towards it. "Peter! Can you hear me? ...Peter?"

"Yes." His voice was weak and pained.

He didn't wait to discuss it, but headed straight for the venat. It heard him coming, too late, ducking just as the laser hit, twisting as it cut through its body. "One less to worry about Peter. I'll be back." He turned his attention to the carrier then...

He managed to disable the carrier, but not before it had clipped another starphire. The escort fought doggedly, attempting to destroy them all and rescue the carrier crew, but in the end they gave it up.

Soren landed beside Peter's ship, but that matter too had ended. Soren stared at Peter's body, unable to shake the fear that he'd been shot down because of his hesitancy.

He turned and walked away, finding the venator he'd shot. Its body was cut nearly in half at the chest, and it had surely died instantly. He looked up suddenly as someone approached. It was Gordon.

He looked away, turning slightly. He didn't want to talk to anyone. He realized with sudden frustration that he especially didn't want to face Sparrow or Arion.

Gordon stopped several paces away. "You all right, Soren?" he asked tentatively.

"Peter's dead," he answered flatly. He took a deep breath and turned back toward the Starphire. "Help me get him out."

He avoided Sparrow and Arion for some time, but the news only worsened: Andrew and Cedric were also dead, and Lewis was in the Medicat with a broken shoulder and burns.

He headed towards his quarters for the simple relief of getting it over with. Sparrow looked up as he entered but Arion was gone. "Hey," said Sparrow quietly.

Soren threw himself down on his bed without answering. After a time he closed his eyes and shook his head, sighing deeply. "It was so messy this time."

"Yeah. We heard."

"Where's Arion?"

"In detention. They caught two of the venators. Arion's trying to get permission to talk to one."

Soren sighed, frowning, and rubbed his face with his hands. Not good, he decided. "And if it lies to him too? What then?"

"Take it as it comes. We have enough problems without looking for them before they happen."

Soren didn't answer and they were silent for a time.

"It wasn't your fault, Soren," Sparrow said softly.

His jaw tightened as he draped his arm across his eyes, his elbow bridging his nose. This one could have been an obvious guess, yet Sparrow had a habit of picking thoughts out of the air. Some people didn't believe he could do it, but Soren was too familiar with it to doubt. It made Sparrow very good at his job, but at times it was disconcerting.

"I let it get away," he whispered at last. "I missed shots all over the place. Do you know why?"

"Because you were afraid Arion might be right."

"And now Peter's dead."

Sparrow was silent for a moment, then said, "Are you more upset about Peter being dead, or about the notion it might be your fault?"

Soren lifted his arm to glare at him, but Sparrow held his gaze easily until he himself looked away, uncomfortable. "The blame," he admitted at last, resenting the question when Sparrow already knew the answer.

"And what are you afraid of?"

He hesitated, becoming angry again. "That Arion's right is the answer you want, isn't it?" he asked bitterly, sitting up. "Because you already believe him. I let Peter die for nothing, and came back to my senses too late. Well it isn't going to happen again and that's not what I'm afraid of either. And I'm not going to quit flying no matter what you and Arion believe!" He slammed out the door, almost knocking Arion down in the hall. He barely hesitated before continuing on.

He made his way to the lounge. Arion had his spot to ruminate; he had his own. "Hey, Soren. What'll it be?"

"Douls," he said. He accepted the bottle and took a swig, then studied the label. He wondered, for the first time in his life, what it would have been like to live on ancient Earth where people had actually "drowned their sorrows." Did they really feel any better for it?

He gave a short laugh. Depended on who did the telling, he thought, taking another swig. From what he'd read of the old literature, it did make a difference of some kind, but it carried a hefty price tag that hardly seemed worth the results.

He sat down then, consciously relaxing his muscles. He needed to sort things out and make some decisions. Reaction number one insisted that he request new quarters immediately, but then he'd never been one to yield to his reactions. No, better to slow down and make decisions.

He took another swig and studied the label some more. Running away wasn't going to help Arion come to terms with anything. Matter of fact, as unpleasant as the thought might be, the friction he wanted so much to avoid might be the very best remedy available.

He leaned back, considering the expression on Sparrow's face as he'd made his declaration. What had he read there? Surprise? Not really. He laughed again. Same old Sparrow. He was good at his job because he never let on what he was thinking. As a Fadedushka, Sparrow was a mediocre pilot, but an exceptional medic, tending people's emotional hurts as well as their physical ones.

He looked up as Arion came over, then down at the bottle again. "Would you be insulted if I told you I'd rather be alone?" he asked, echoing Arion's words that first day out of quarantine.

Arion hesitated, leaning against the bar. "Normally I'd say no, but in this case the truth is, yes. You're blaming me for an attitude that I don't happen to hold."

Soren gave a short laugh, angry that his request had been denied. "Yeah?" he asked, rubbing the edge of the label with his thumb. "And what attitude is that?"

"You seem to think I want you to quit. I never said that."

He looked up, simultaneously trying to check his anger and feeling that Arion had asked for it by refusing to leave. "No, you never said that. You just sit around moping because venators have souls and we're killing them. But you never asked me to quit. Here's to discretion," he said, raising his bottle. He drained it, set it on the counter and turned to leave.

Arion set his hand on his shoulder, stopping him. "Soren, Sparrow says you're afraid I'll blame myself for Peter because you froze. Is that true?"

Soren turned slowly. "How well do you know Sparrow?"

"Not well."

"When you 'died,' the Ealdred grounded my Starphire and sent me to work with Sparrow. I have watched that man help people shed clay like he was prepping them for a party. I have watched him take the hands of the virtually dead and bring them back with a prayer. And I have watched him take other peoples' hands exactly the same way, only to say we were on our own. Sometimes they lived; sometimes they died. He picks thoughts out of the air and forces people to be honest with themselves. He's gifted Arion. Tremendously gifted. Never doubt him."

"In other words, he's right."

He nodded. "Yes."

He smiled slightly, to himself, and nodded. "You're right too. But that's not your problem, it's mine. I'm all mixed up in the head, Soren, and I know it. I'm not about to expect anything out of anybody, and that includes you." He paused, struggling again for his words. "I even.. almost.. glad you disagree, because then I.. I have to really.. I have to figure out what it means. What I believe." He paused, but this time his words failed him completely and he remained silent.

Soren looked over at Kahil, who was carefully staying out of earshot. He knocked twice on the counter. Kahil looked over, nodded, brought two more drinks and retreated again.

Soren took a sip and sat down, Arion following suit. "It's hard, Arion," he said quietly, "and I don't understand. I don't see what convinced you, I don't see how you can excuse them, and I don't see how you can profess to believe what you believe without objecting to - " He broke off, shaking his head.

"...By seeing through someone else's eyes," he said quietly. "Your eyes, Raach's eyes, anyone's." He sighed. "They don't see things the way we do, Soren. ...I used to wonder why God ever made them at all, but they're His too. No matter what we may think of them, they're His too."

"So was Satan," he replied, instantly regretting it. He sighed. "I'm sorry. I'm angry with you and I don't even know why. Lack of anything solid to lash against I guess. I'm sorry."

He laughed softly. "Well, you said you wanted to be alone and I forced it, so I guess I'm asking for it."

Soren smiled. "You said it, buddy, I didn't."

"Yeah," he smiled back, "but you were thinking it. Right?"

Soren laughed. "Are you taking lessons from Sparrow now, or what?"

He grinned. "What."

Soren sighed and looked at his bottle. "You know," he said slowly, "all that stuff you believe... It all hinges on the idea that Satan's loose."

"How?"

"Because it's the only excuse that covers it all. The only way to make you believe that Lenisats are human. The only way to excuse what that venat did to you. It told you Satan was loose, hurt you so bad you had to believe it, then said you deserved it. You wouldn't have believed that if you hadn't believed Satan was loose. That's why it said it."

"There's other things too though, Soren. The Lenisats are a big part of it, but other little things. Weird things... I can't believe the Lenisats are as complete as they are without being human. I just can't credit the Venatorista with so much. Satan's got to be loose."

"Well, I should think God would've warned us."

Arion smiled slightly, cocking his eyebrows and lifting his hands to his chest.

"Sorry, buddy. If He wants me to believe it, He's going to have to prove it to me." They were silent for several moments, and Soren fought to find something to change the subject. "I hear you tried to get into detention. Any luck?"

"No. The Ealdred didn't think it was a good idea. Said it was too soon."

He nodded. "Is that hard for you?"

"Yes and no. I really wanted it, but I was relieved too. The only chance I had for getting in was to translate for them." He tried to smile but it was more of a grimace. "The Ealdred said I wasn't ready to help question a venator. I think he's right."

Soren nodded again, trying to think of something to say, but before he could think of anything, Arion looked at him intently.

"You could probably get in."

He stiffened, apprehensive. "What for? I can't talk to it."

"Sure you can," he said softly, looking down at his Douls. "They'll have another translator lined up. I'm not the only human around that speaks Venatese."

"True. Just the best."

A smile flickered and was gone. "You don't have anything to prove," Arion pointed out. "You wouldn't be looking for anything the Ealdred didn't want you to find. He'd let you in."

Soren sighed heavily, trying ignore the implication against the Ealdred. "Again - what for?"

"He's just another captured venat, right?" he asked without looking up. "He has nothing to do with me. Nothing to do with Raach or Sharsa. Ask him if he has a soul. What have you got to lose?"

Soren shook his head slowly, but silently considered. "And if it says no?"

"If you tell me that he said he has no soul, I'll believe you. But only if you hear him say it himself."

Soren snorted irritably, uncomfortable. "I won't know what it's saying. Are you telling me you don't trust the Ealdred to be honest with you?"

Arion flinched somewhat, but Soren could see a stubbornness there too. "I'm saying the Ealdred is as biased as I am, only in the other direction. You're neutral. You won't try to twist it to suit yourself. The Ealdred might, just like I might."

Soren sighed again, shaking his head doubtfully. "What makes you think I'm neutral?"

He smiled. "You're more neutral than the Ealdred is."

He frowned, resisting the surge of hope that his own awkward position might actually serve a useful purpose. If all it took to soothe Arion was the assurance that these creatures were truly vampats - without souls - then it would be worth it. "I can talk to the Ealdred, but I'll have to put it up front."

Arion laughed once, his hands gripping the bottle too tightly. "Absolutely."

He said nothing more and Soren again found himself trying to think of something to say, something to change the subject. Again. "Think you might like to shuttle down to the party tonight?"

Arion hesitated. "Maybe," he said dubiously. "It's probably a good place to start."

"That's what I was thinking," he said, without adding that the venats never attacked the same village twice in a row. "Everyone's really eager to see you," he continued cautiously, "and the longer you wait, the more curious they'll get."

"Yeah."