The inevitable recognition came from a young girl of probably nineteen cycles. Her hair was long and glossy black, her skin burnished bronze, and her eyes so dark a brown as to appear black like her hair. She was costumed in the colorful silk skirts so popular in this area. She was very pretty.

"You're Arien the eagle, aren't you?" she asked.

He smiled easily. "Once I would have loved that confusion, but actually I'm just Arion, the ex-minstrel. I've corrected people before, but they seem to enjoy the mistake."

"It does suit you," she agreed, smiling, looking at Arion with blatant admiration. (Soren squirmed inwardly. Normally he would have left Arion to enjoy the young lady's attention, but the Ealdred had strictly ordered him to supervise.) "You have mounted up with the wings of an eagle," she said, eyes sparkling. "It doesn't insult you, does it?" she asked then, suddenly concerned.

"No, not at all," he assured her. "It simply embarrasses me."

"Embarrass? Why?"

He smiled sheepishly, truly self-conscious yet clearly enjoying the attentions of the lovely woman. "Because I always wanted to be a great hero, and because I'm still just me."

"No," she said, shaking her head seriously. "Not just. But we'll leave it alone. Will you be playing for us?" she asked then, peeking around his back at the mythra.

"Oh..." His smile disappeared and Soren recognized the old terror seize him. "I really hadn't meant to. I just.. I.. No, I won't be. I just brought it to amuse myself." He watched Arion's fingers play with the strap across his chest, suspecting he had brought it for security, like a small child's blanket or favorite toy.

The girl watched this transformation with interest, shading from concern to sympathetic amusement. "Would a small audience be too difficult?" she asked, coy. "An audience of one or two?"

Soren laughed. "He's capable of playing for anyone, even a large audience. It's simply a matter of getting him cornered first."

She smiled, but didn't laugh. "Well, I don't think that's really necessary. I wouldn't want to force him into anything."

"My name's Soren," he said, extending his hand.

"Oh! Yes, my name's Payal." She smiled at Arion again. "We already know who you are," she said, shrugging him off with playful snobbery.

Arion smiled, relieved by the change of subject.

"Why did you help that venator, if that little boy was wrong?"

Arion's eyes dropped though his quiet smile did not disappear. "Love your enemies," he said softly. This had become a ready answer on board the Hammerstar.

"Ah." She seemed both enlightened and disappointed.

Arion glanced up at her, and Soren could see that he was distressed to have succeeded so well in discouraging her. Abruptly he sat down on the grass and began tuning the mythra.

She smiled afresh at this and joined him on the grass. Soren followed suit.

"Soren told me to write a new song," Arion said quietly, grinning slyly at him, still tuning the mythra. "I haven't played it for anyone yet,” he went on, looking back to Payal. “Would you like to hear it?"

Her face lit up, her eyes smiling as fully as her lips. "I'm honored," she said with all sincerity.

He nodded, tested the mythra, and began.

Payal smiled. "That was beautiful. Why are you so reluctant to sing?"

He shrugged, then looked up as an excited clamor broke out just outside the village. They all rose and followed the sound, Soren growing more and more apprehensive as they drew closer. He and Arion exchanged glances, both aware of what the noise meant. Despite the Ealdred’s precautions, a venat had been found, and it was still alive.

It had already been dragged from its hiding place when they first caught sight of it, two men on either side, holding it fast with noose poles. The noose at the end of each pole was slipped over its head, then tightened so that it could not slip out.

With practiced agility they flipped it to its belly and pinned it down while a third man came up behind it with a muzzle. The crowd laughed as the third man jumped back, cursing as the venat nearly succeeded in grabbing him. He discarded the muzzle and pulled two smaller noose-poles from their gear.

He slipped the smaller noose over its flailing wrist, and then gathered in the other, drawing its hands behind its back and securing them. Then the muzzle was added, and its feet secured. The noose poles were removed and the men stepped back.

It rolled over to its back, exposing a nasty red and black wound in its chest, made by a laser during the conflict. Had they not found it now, they would have found it later when its corpse began to smell. It thrashed, straining its neck in a futile effort to be free of the muzzle.

"He can't breathe," said Arion in a choked whisper.

Soren looked at him. He stood rigidly, making no effort to interfere, though this clearly took all he had. He looked at Payal next, who was watching Arion with pained interest.

She moved away then, toward the group surrounding the venat. "Now that it's secure," she said almost casually, "do you think it would be safe to take the muzzle off? It looks as if it's suffocating." Indeed, the severe gasping was obvious, its pained panting hampered by the muzzle.

The man who had put on the muzzle laughed at her. "Safe? Not until its dead, Payal." He looked past her then, spotting Soren and Arion, and his smile faded. "But what would you suggest?" he asked loudly. "Would you care to coddle this one too?"

Before either of them could answer, Payal growled with her own anger. "You have all the manners of a pig! If he remembers to have compassion for his enemy, as the Christ taught, you have no room to ridicule!" With an angry, dramatic flounce she stalked over the venat, stepped behind it, and loosened the muzzle.

She jumped back as it thrashed, shaking the muzzle off its face. It hissed savagely, snapping at her, then sagged, panting heavily. A wave of laughter passed through the crowd as Payal regained her composure. "There!" she said with an angry flare. "What's the big deal?"

The muzzle man inspected the venat with exaggerated care. "Would you care to be the one to move it?" he asked.

She glanced down. "So let it alone," she said shrugging. "Or put it out of its misery."

Soren pounced on the opening and strode forward, drawing his laser. "An excellent idea, Payal," he said, and shot it in the head.

For a moment Soren thought Arion would be angry, but he clapped his shoulder and sighed. "Thanks, Soren." He turned and started walking, away from the dead venat.

"I don't get it," said the muzzle man. "You take the muzzle off so you can shoot it? I don't understand."

Soren looked at him, years of old frustration and weeks of stressful confusion breaking loose. "Yeah, well I have never understood people who could find pleasure in the pain of anything." He looked at the dead venat. "I never could see what was supposed to be so damned funny," he added, turning a scathing glare to the watching crowd. He turned to catch up with Arion who had disappeared with remarkable speed.

He found him in the village quad, in the midst of a vigorous circle dance. The quad was slightly sunken, surrounded on all sides by several shallow steps. These served well - and frequently - as seats, and Soren sat down to watch. Payal joined him moments later. "He dances rather well, doesn't he?" she ventured.

Soren failed to suppress a snicker as Arion chose this time to loose the step. "No, he doesn't," he said smiling.

"Oh?" she asked, grinning back. "And do you dance well?"

"Not this, no. I'm worse than he is at this." He paused then. "Arion likes this sort of dancing, but he doesn't have much opportunity for it. They don't do these dances on board. Not enough call for it."

"That's a shame," she said as she rose to her feet and joined the dance. She proved to be an excellent dancer, her feet flying in perfect rhythm, her light, full skirts flowing and swirling, her hair complimenting the effect. Soren watched raptly.

It ended abruptly and Arion, who had spotted Payal in the circle, followed her back to where Soren was sitting. They watched silently as another dance began, faster and wilder. "Arion," asked Payal, almost timidly, "what made that little boy say you thought they had souls?"

"He overheard a conversation that was none of his business," he said softly, not looking away from the dance.

"Oh."

From the corner of his eye, Soren saw her looking at him.

Life on board became increasingly strained. Soren watched the progression with growing concern. It had improved for a short while, after Payal's display and declaration that Arion was simply being kind to his enemies, but it slowly deteriorated.

The quest for vylar insoles had grown stale, and the cadets finally caught on. Toby had been the first, taking it with supreme grace, and turned to join the cause. He, he claimed, had finally found a pair. Unable to produce them, though, the rest of the class saw through him quickly.

This was followed by a period of general kidding that raised everyone's spirits. Their commencement was especially merry, but when it was over, Toby and the others moved on, replaced by a new group of cadets who knew only that the last class had been duped.

The general populace still debated the question of souled venators, sometimes heatedly, and the question of the Lenisats became even hotter. The Gadamis felt this pressure and resented it. They pushed Arion more and more for a definite response against the rumors, but were disappointed. They resented this also.

Standing outside the gym, Sparrow, Soren and Mark waited for Arion to finish so they could go to lunch. They had all found that their mutual company discouraged those who would question them. Not all, but enough to be a comfort. "It's getting worse," said Soren.

Sparrow nodded. "Worst for Arion. He hates these classes, and now... Kiral pushed his limits yesterday. Arion was pretty upset about it, but he tried not to show it."

"What do you mean?" asked Mark.

"I mean Kiral wasn't pulling his punches. Not trying to hurt Arion, mind you, but trying to get a rise out of him. I think Arion was more upset by the reaction of the others than by Kiral. I'm not sure, but it seems they were rooting for more."

Just then Arion burst out of the door, heading down the corridor without a word, without having changed. "I can't teach them anymore," he said tersely as they caught up to him. "It's pointless."

He was obviously headed for the Ealdred's station. No one said anything as they walked, though they caught some looks as they passed. "I need to speak with the Ealdred," said Arion to the aid. "Is he available?"

"One moment."

The Ealdred appeared quickly and ushered them into his office. "Yes?"

"I can't teach the defense class anymore. It's impossible."

He nodded, but did not seem sympathetic. "Are you surprised?"

"No," he answered shortly, undaunted. "I just want to know where I stand with you."

"I expect you to do your job as assigned. I warned you that you would make trouble for yourself. Now you'll have to deal with it."

"I have been. And now I'm telling you that they aren't learning anything. We're not doing anything constructive in there. All we're doing is escalating what tension already exists. If you will allow me to tutor Kerey, in private, then he can teach the class on his own."

"No." He paused, allowing Arion to glare at him. "You've obviously come straight to me after a bad day in class. You should not be surprised. You were warned. Now you will simply have to deal with what you have created. Dismissed."

"But - "

"No," he said sharply, cutting him off. "I have bent over backward for you since you came home. I have made myself as instantly available to you as I could. No more. Stand up on your feet man and deal with your problems! I'm done with it. You have nannies enough," he added, glancing around at the others. "Next time you come to me, it had best be important."

"Yes sir." He turned and stalked out the room. He headed for his quarters, the others trailing behind. He opened his door gently and sat down at his desk quietly, but his movements were too careful, too controlled.

Everyone sat, awkwardly silent. Arion kept his back to them.

"He made a bad choice," he said at last, his voice a soft, angry whisper.

"How bad is it?" asked Sparrow.

"He's going to have trouble out of them, and there's nothing I can do about it. He'll blame me, but he's going to have trouble out of them. They're only in that blasted class for two hours, but they've got their tongues wherever they go."

"What are they saying?"

"That I'm a Lenisat. An imposter." Soren's skin went cold and he glanced at Sparrow. "It's supposed to be a joke, but they're not joking anymore. It's still in the pretense of a joke, but it isn't. It isn't." He still had not turned to face them.

"Why didn't you tell the Ealdred that?" asked Mark.

"What? That they're cracking jokes about me? You heard what he said. How do you think he would have taken it? Nannies!" He put his head down between his arms, his hands clasping the back of his head.

He sighed heavily, all the tension draining out of his shoulders. "He's so much stronger than I ever imagined," he whispered softly, "and even you won't believe he's loose."

"Yes," said Sparrow, leaning his shoulder against the wall, "he's strong, but God is still stronger."

He nodded slowly and raised his head, resting his fists against his mouth. "I can't eat today," he said, his words muffled by his hands. "You guys go ahead without me."

Soren hesitated and Mark looked like he wanted to say something, but Sparrow ushered them out silently and steered them to Soren's and Mark's quarters. He looked at them intently.

"Mark, did the Ealdred tell you about the iragon? ...No," he answered himself, reading Mark's puzzled frown. "When Arion was on Kinoshi, they drank his blood, and replaced it with the blood of a damat. It was born on Lenis. Do you follow me?"

He nodded, but frowned. "And?"

"They ran blood tests on him the entire time he was in quarantine and for awhile after."

"Routine."

"Yes. But the results weren't. As you'd expect, he had iragon in his system. It decreased at first, as his body flushed out the foreign blood, but not as much as the Ealdred thought it should. Then it just plain stopped. It's still there."

He shrugged. "So it's too heavy an element to flush. People do elemental identity markings on livestock all the time. You aren't seriously trying to suggest he's really an imposter?" he demanded, incredulous.

"No. But if people are starting to call him a Lenisat, what will they do if they find out about the iragon in his blood?"

Mark pondered this, becoming visibly alarmed.

"Sparrow," said Soren softly. "We have to tell Arion. I know the Ealdred said not to, but he deserves to know."

He nodded. "I already did. That's probably why he didn't want to tell the Ealdred what they were saying. He's scared."

"Does he have reason to be?" asked Mark.

Sparrow gave him a long look. "What do you think?"

"Well I find it pretty hard to believe that anyone would actually do anything..."

Soren sighed heavily. "Mistakes happen," he said glumly. "And if they think he's a Lenisat, they could make an awful one."

"Just keep it in mind," said Sparrow. "Keep your ears open and squelch any noises in that direction."

Mark nodded. "Maybe if we took Arion in and talked to Kerey, all of us together."

Sparrow and Soren looked at each other, but neither had anything to say. The next day, they put it to Arion. He was not enthusiastic, but he agreed to give it a try. They found Kerey in the lounge, eating a late breakfast. He was unimpressed.

"It would be easier if you didn't hate it all so much," he told Arion. "They may be kids, but they aren't stupid. They can tell you hate teaching them, and they're insulted."

"It's not them," Arion protested irritably.

Kerey shook his head, giving a doubtful laugh through his nose. "It's them you react to."

Arion scowled at the table, but said nothing.

"What we're trying to do, Kerey," said Sparrow, "is figure out what can be done to make class go more smoothly. Maybe if you could try to get them to take it more seriously, instead of cracking jokes..."

Kerey shook his head. "They do take it seriously, which is exactly why they crack jokes. It relieves tension. I'm not about to take that away from them." He paused, looking keenly at each of them. "Why would you want me to?"

Soren took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. "Take a guess," he said, testing.

Kerey fixed his gaze on Soren. "He's gone soft on them," he said bluntly. "Now tell me why."

"Compassion," Arion answered quietly. "Is it wrong to care that something has to die?" he asked, almost whispering, still staring at the tabletop. "Is it wrong to find no humor in viciousness?"

This time it was Kerey who took a deep breath. "They're young. What do you expect? After what you've been through -" He shook his head.

Soren saw Sparrow's back stiffen, and Arion hissed, making his skin crawl. It sounded eerily like a venat. "I can't tell you what I expect," Arion growled, furiously soft, glaring at Kerey. "After what I've been through, I would like to see the cadets taught decency, but I seem to be alone on that. After what I've been through -" he broke off, biting off what he would have said. He rose abruptly, but Sparrow stood with him, laying a hand on his shoulder.

"Sit down, Arion," he said calmly. Arion began to shrug his hand away, but stopped mid-motion, then slowly sat down. Sparrow looked at Kerey. "Spend an entire cycle with anyone, and you can't help but learn their good points as well as their bad points. The vids had plenty to say about what was done to Arion, but that was all only a small portion of what went on. They didn't mention long conversations, or favors and kindnesses." He paused. "After what he's been through, Arion recognizes them as individuals."

Kerey sat back in his chair, considering. "Individual what?"

Soren looked at Arion who glared at Sparrow.

"What does the Ealdred have to say about this?" Kerey asked then.

"We asked him to let me teach you in private. He said no."

"Then that isn't an option."

Arion nodded and rose again, smoothly now. "I'm afraid we're just wasting your time. I'm sorry." He turned and began walking, and the others followed.

"You can't keep on like this, Arion," Sparrow said softly, falling in step beside him.

"That's a very helpful observation. What do you suggest?"

"Maybe it's time you started speaking your mind. The cadets see it, but they don't understand it. Kerey sees it, but he doesn't understand it. Maybe you should let people understand why."

"Just forget about the Ealdred, huh?" he asked softly, almost wistfully. He stopped walking and faced him. "Sparrow, don't you understand what that would create? You understand, and you believe, fine. Ealdred Tovi understands, and he doesn't believe. Soren understands, and he doesn't believe.

"Don't you get it? I'm still the bait, only this time it's poison instead of a trap. Some will believe, and some won't. You'll have me turning the Gadamista against itself. The more I look at that, the more I wonder if the Ealdred's right. Maybe I wasn't supposed to escape the way I did, but they wanted me here. How can I just ignore that?"

"You know the truth. You shouldn't hide it."

"No," he said firmly, refusing to back down. "You're wrong. I don't know the truth. That's just it. I know what I believe, but I don't think anyone knows the truth." He turned and started walking again.

Things stayed quiet for quite awhile after that, and Arion didn't make any more complaints. Once again, it seemed the whole question had been tabled. It exploded rather dramatically following a messy defeat.

Soren and Mark had rushed to the hangar bay to join the fight, but their exit was canceled. It was already over. Two Cedrychads and a Fadeydushka had been killed, a number of other people had been wounded, and the carrier had still escaped. Two of the carrier crew had been killed before its departure, and two of their escort pilots had been shot down. One died instantly; the other was being taken to the Hammerstar for questioning. Shuttled in the same Valerian as the venator was a third Cedrychad, still alive but in critical condition.

Soren looked up, silently greeting Sparrow and Arion as they joined them to wait. Guiltily, Soren wished Arion had stayed behind. Sparrow, he knew, was there to tend the Cedrychad, but he had no idea how Arion would react to the venator, nor what shape it was in.

He didn't have long to wait. Out first was the venator. Muzzled, its hands secured behind its back, it was escorted off the Valerian. Behind them came a pair carrying a stretcher, upon which lay the Cedrychad, Edward.

Sparrow went towards him quickly, and Soren spared his attention for Arion. Arion stood quietly, his eyes on the venat. To Soren's surprise, the venat turned its head and gazed directly at Arion, clearly interested. Before he could make anything of it, Soren was distracted by a commotion by the stretcher.

Sparrow stood ready to assist, but Edward was fending him off with fury. "I don't want his help!" he snarled angrily. "Him and his vampat-loving sidekick! Look at him. Look at him!"

All motion ceased as he began to yell and everyone turned to look at Edward. "What's this one's name, Arion? Huh? Is this one your friend, too? What's its name? It seems to know you!" His voice was rising to a hysterical shriek.

"Get away from me!" he cried, pushing Sparrow's hands away a second time. He groaned then, sagging back in evident pain. It was the first time Soren had ever seen Sparrow at a loss. He stood helplessly, aware that Edward needed attention, but that his own had been refused. Moments later, Edward was dead.

Soren met his gaze as Sparrow looked back at him, but he had nothing to offer. Sparrow's eyes traveled on to Arion, equally helpless, to the venator, its own attention still eerily focused on Arion, and finally back to the stretcher-bearers. "...I'm sorry," he said hoarsely.

Neither of them said a word, as stunned by the incident as most of the others there. "Just get away from him," said someone else, stepping forward. Dorian, Edward's wingmate. His voice was quiet, but it carried a sharp edge of grief and anger.

Sparrow rose smoothly. He nodded, sighed heavily, but then hesitated, clearly troubled by the anger directed toward him. Somehow, something within Soren snapped, unleashing his own frustrated anger.

"Look, Dorian," he said coldly, "be mad. Go ahead and be mad. I know how it feels to lose your wingmate. I know. But don't take it out on him. Sparrow was here to help."

"Right," he agreed, "only Edward doesn't trust people who get buddy-buddy with venators. Can't say I blame him."

"Doesn't trust?" Soren demanded incredulously, ignoring Sparrow's gentle pressure on his arm. "How can you say you don't trust your own - "

"It's about time someone did say it," Dorian snapped, cutting him off. "We were there, Soren. We were there on Lenis, and we saw what they're like. Just because someone looks like us doesn't mean they act like us." He paused, but Soren found himself too outraged to speak.

"I saw him just now. Did you? Did you look, like Edward said to look? I did. I saw. One lousy glance at Edward, and then all Arion had eyes for was that filthy vampat. I think they know each other."

"What do you know?" Soren growled. "How do you know what he's thinking? There was nothing Arion could do for Edward. Sparrow was right there, ready to help, wanting to help. What was Arion supposed to do? Get in the way? If you'd been held captive for a full cycle, don't you think you'd stare at one too?"

"What about the venat?" he asked, his voice nasty. "It certainly seems to know him. It's hardly taken its eyes off of him since it arrived."

Soren, like everyone else, looked first at the venat, then at Arion. Though he maintained his composure, Arion obviously felt trapped by the sudden, unpleasant attention. And, as his gaze flickered about the crowd, the venat, too, recognized the shift of attention. Its ears turned back as its head lowered. It hissed once through teeth clamped shut by the muzzle, then once again turned its gaze to Arion.

One of the Fadeys holding it punched it hard, low in the back where a human's kidney would be. "He can't help you, pyon," he growled, and began pushing it forward again, directing it once more toward detention. It grunted at the blow, its ears now flat against its skull, staring straight ahead as they took it away.

Arion stood still, waiting for the reaction of the crowd. Soren struggled to think of something that would ease the tension, but it seemed nothing could erase the clear, intense interest the venat had in Arion. The crowd, however, began to break up silently.

Two weeks later, Soren and Mark found Sparrow already waiting for Arion when they arrived outside the door of the gym. Lunch aside, they had made it a point to meet him after class every day. They were early, and Arion proved to be late.

They were just beginning to get restless when they heard someone cry out from the shower room. It was one door down the corridor, and they hurried to investigate.

"Enough!" shouted Sparrow, the first in the door, and everyone froze.

Four of Arion's students had him pinned to the floor on his belly, his arms twisted behind his back. One of the four was straddling his back, holding Arion's right arm tight with his left while his right hand was twisted in Arion's hair, pulling his head back. Kiral was kneeling at his head, holding a shaver while the other two stood by, laughing and egging him on. "What goes on?" Sparrow demanded.

"Just a haircut," chuckled the one gripping his hair.

"Yeah," said Kiral. "If he's going to act like a Lenisat, then he ought to look like a Lenisat."

"This goes beyond a practical joke," said Sparrow, his voice soft.

Kiral's smile dropped. He shook his head and stood. "Come on guys. His nannies are here. Let him up, Lewis."

Lewis released his hair, rising off and stepping back. As he did so, however, Arion grunted in pain and for a moment Soren thought he had actually kicked him.

Lewis, however, seemed just as surprised. Arion was in obvious pain, not trying to get up, and though he had brought his left arm around and under his face, his right arm remained behind him.

Sparrow stepped forward, but Lewis reached down and began drawing him up. "Come on Arion," he said gruffly. "I guess we were a bit - " He broke off, stopping as Arion cried out.

On his knees now, Arion shook his left arm free of Lewis's grasp, raising his hand to ward off any more help. "My shoulder..." he said, though it was now rather apparent, his right arm hanging low and useless.

Soren joined Sparrow at his side, glaring briefly at Lewis, but Arion was still halting any advances. "Just give me a sec," Arion said.

"You need to go to the Medicat."

"I know," he said impatiently. "Just let me do it myself." He stood slowly and headed for the door. The others made way for him silently.

Arion was still in the medicat, buckling the strap to the sling when they received word that the Ealdred had sent for him. Parting ways, they waited for him in his quarters, each one quietly wishing someone had something to say. When he returned, he was sullen. He sat down at the desk and opened a drawer, and began sorting things one handed.

"Arion, what did he say?" asked Soren, who couldn't stand the silences that Sparrow seemed so at home with.

"He said I've become a disruptive force. He said I only had another five months to go, but if I wanted to get thrown out I had succeeded."

"Thrown out? He's throwing you out?" demanded Soren, incredulous.

"Yup. For all the trouble I'm causing, and two months to heal, I'm not worth another three months of service."

"He won't let you induce it?"

He shook his head. "He offered, I refused. I don't think it would have made any difference anyway. He knows I don't like induced healing. It always comes out weaker than natural healing, and your body doesn't do anything about it because it's already healed."

"Well," said Sparrow quietly, "you did want out."

"Not like this," he said bitterly. He sighed then, losing his anger. "It's my own fault," he said in a tired voice. "All of it. If I'd done what I was supposed to do in the first place, it wouldn't have come out like this. Live a lie, reap the thorns."

Sparrow hesitated, then said, "It wouldn't have changed anything with the Ealdred," he stated in neutral tones.

"Why do you say that?" asked Mark.

"Because he told me himself. Back when I first said that I believed Arion, he told me that if Arion started spouting off, he'd throw us both out."

Arion snorted and Soren quietly asked, "Is that why you didn't push it?"

He shook his head. "God doesn't push. He shows you the way and waits for you to follow. Satan is the one who pushes."

"Which is what I said to begin with," said Arion glumly. "God showed me the way, and instead I let Satan push me into keeping quiet." His jaw set. "Not anymore."

Word of the incident spread quickly, and the results followed it, outstripped it, and brought it along for company. The ship was in an uproar and the Ealdred was furious, but he was required to deliver Arion to his destination. The records crews found Arion easily accessible now, and they listened hungrily.

"Is it true that you're being thrown out of the Gadamista?" they had asked.

"Yes," he said soberly. "It's done."

"Why?"

"I'm told I've become disruptive."

"Isn't it true you've less than six months left in your contract anyway? Why aren't you being allowed to finish?"

"I've got five months left. After two months for my shoulder to heal, I'd only have three months left for service."

"But that's no reason for throwing someone out. Everyone is saying you started the fight that injured your shoulder. What do you say?"

"No. I didn't."

"What caused the fight?"

"How did your shoulder get hurt?"

"It was dislocated, right?"

"Yes, it was dislocated, but it wasn't a fight. It was meant to be a prank, and my shoulder was an accident."

"But that's even less reason to throw you out. Why is the Ealdred so angry with you?"

"If you want to know what the Ealdred is thinking, you should ask him."

"Why do you think you're being thrown out?"

Arion gazed at him for a long moment. "Because I believe that the Lenisats are human. I believe that Satan is loose from the pit. And I believe that the venators are not just animals. I can't say they have souls in the way we think of souls, but they have something. These beliefs are disruptive to my duties and to the people around me. I believe he finds it better for the harmony of the Arlemagen if I'm not present.”

"It's said," began one of the recorders quietly, "that the ones who hurt you thought you might be a Lenisat. We asked the Ealdred to comment, but he wouldn't. Why do you suppose that is?"

"I'd say he's pissed."

"About what? Does he think you're a Lenisat?"

Arion smiled slightly, dropping his eyes and shaking his head. He looked up and said, "I told you before to ask the Ealdred what his thoughts are, but in my own opinion, if he truly believed I was a Lenisat, he wouldn't be turning me loose."

Another recorder, bolder perhaps, smiled expansively and asked, "Are you a Lenisat?"

Arion smiled. "Thank you. For the record, no, I am not a Lenisat."

"Why didn't you say what you believed before?"

"Because I was told I'd been misled and lied to. I was afraid they were right."

"And now?"

"I think they're wrong."

They hesitated, somewhat uncomfortable. "What will you do now?"

"Pack."

They chuckled. "Where will you go?"

"When I first got back, I was given, by a large number of people, a fully equipped gremlin, with a cabin, which I have not yet christened. I plan to do so, and I plan to live on her. She is currently harbored in Salathiel, on Pov."

"What will you christen her?"

"Pier Mignon."

"Come again?" said one.

"Sounds like a steak," chuckled another.

Arion smiled. "Pier Mignon. Pier means 'stone' and Mignon means 'delicate' or 'dainty'. She will be my dainty stone, reminding me always to trust and have faith, just as she has faith to stay afloat."