The venator's head rose quickly as Soren came through the door, quickly enough that he suspected it had been dozing. Its posture was still relaxed, sitting on the cot with its back against the wall, one knee raised.

Arion rose slowly from the other cot and came forward, his face neutral. Soren met him at the bars and sat on the floor. "How you doing?"

"Okay, I guess. Mostly confused. I know they think I'm a Lenisat, but..."

He nodded. "Before I can tell you anything, I have to ask you some questions, all right? It was the only way they'd let me in here."

He smiled briefly. "Yeah," he agreed. "No problem."

Soren glanced down at the sheet it had taken them six hours to prepare. "What did you talk to the venator about? The one you helped question."

"Ril?" he asked, startled. "But they were there. I translated for them."

"Did he say anything you didn't translate?"

"Well, yeah, but..." He shook his head. "What do you want to know?"

"I need you to tell me as much as you can on your own. I can direct it somewhat, but the more you volunteer the better."

Arion laughed, frowning, and dropped his eyes. He paused, considering. "He was very scared, and he kept asking about the promises they'd made him. I didn't bother about that. He said stuff about his family. Do you want that?"

"I don't think so. Maybe later. What about the promises?"

"He wanted to know what they were going to do with him. They promised to take him to a mountain, but he was worried would they really do it, and what else would they do. I think he was afraid they would slash him once he got there."

Soren nodded understanding. Slashing was an unofficial compromise, conducted in the privacy of the mountain, to deliver a merciful death rather than a lingering one.

"A lot of the talking was just repeating stuff like that. Did everything go okay?"

Soren sighed hard. "They took his body down."

"They killed him?" Arion asked, appalled. "But they promised!"

` "They kept it as best they could by taking his body down."

"His body. What good does that do?" he asked bitterly.

"It would've died anyway. You know that."

Arion shook his head, intensely frustrated. "They promised. Doesn't that mean anything anymore?"

"Of course it does," he snapped, losing patience. "It means enough that they went through the motions, even though it was already dead."

"That wasn't the promise."

Soren sighed again. "They didn't kill it, Arion. Tony did. He didn't know. AJ had the muzzle off so it could answer him, but with all the confusion going on it startled Tony, so he shot it. Call it an act of God."

This last seemed to calm him, but he asked, "What about AJ? What was he doing there?"

"The Ealdred sent him in to question it on his own because he said you spent too much time talking for what you gave back. AJ didn't know about the promise, but it told him things you never translated."

Arion calmed considerably as he spoke, dropping his eyes to stare at his lap. "There were things. I already said there were." He picked up the boot lace and began poking the tip into the holes, one by one. "Ril seemed to think I could help him, and I wanted to, but..." He shrugged. "What do you need to know?"

"Ril seemed to think you could help him," he echoed, prompting.

"He wanted to reach the mountain."

"And?"

"I don't know. He said they'd listen to me. He thought I could protect him."

"Protect him from what?"

He frowned and shook his head. "He was so afraid he wouldn't reach the mountain..."

Soren sighed, frustrated. "Okay, how about 'prattletock'? What is that?"

"Praht-luh-tahch," said Arion, correcting him. "The 'k' sound at the end is soft and drawn, like you never finished making it. Like Bach. The 'a' is soft too."

"Whatever. What does it mean?"

"Just a name," he said, shaking his head.

"It's just a name?"

"Well, it's kind of a title name. Ril kept calling me that, but... Ohashta too, but I never really thought about it."

"A title. What kind of a title?"

Arion looked up, troubled, but shrugged his shoulders. “I don’t know.”

Soren stood abruptly and stepped back as the venator rose and came forward. It smiled and nodded, approving, and sat down slightly behind and to the left of Arion. "I respect your caution, Cedrychad," it said quietly. "I will not try to test you. I can tell you the meaning of Pratlataach."

Soren stood still, eyes locked. Striking. That was the word. In appearance, composure, his whole manner, and Arion was devastating proof of his ability to deceive. Caution then, especially with Arion still trapped and vulnerable. All these thoughts washed through his mind in fluid succession. He sat again, a space away from the bars. "All right," he allowed.

"Pratlataach is, as he said, a title. The closest translation I can give you is 'catalyst'. The title, then, is for one who brings change."

"Why call Arion that?"

"He is the first, eh? Unique."

"Agreed," he said stiffly. "What has that to do with bringing change?"

"You credit us with very little," he said slowly, the upper lip lifting ever so slightly, "but we, too, have promises. What you would call prophecy. He fulfilled such a promise as the first to escape. For us, he marks great change."

"Why a title then? AJ said the name was a significant title."

"He is chosen," he answered as if stating the obvious, the ears twitching backward.

"Chosen? By who? You?"

His ears pushed further back and his eyes narrowed. "He is chosen," he repeated softly. "Known, eh? Not kirtika. Not vampat. ...Not a bastard," he finished, looking at Arion.

"Because before you told him God didn't want him. But around here we don't think that way. We are all chosen. We all belong to God."

"Truth?" he replied, softly still, but contemptuous. "Is that why I was commissioned to kill him? Is that why he is here even now?"

Soren reddened, soundly countered. He glanced at Arion, only to find him smiling faintly, amused. "It's because you messed up his head," he answered, frustrated.

"Tell me, Cedrychad," it said coldly, "what crime did he commit to be sent here? They did not like the words he spoke?"

"I didn't come in here to talk to you," he said shortly. "Arion, can you give me anything more?"

"It would help if I knew what you wanted."

"All right, let's try something else. Tell me what happened between you and AJ. In detail."

He gave a deep sigh and nodded. "When I came to detention, Craig was on duty. At first he didn't want to let me in, but when he did, AJ was already in there. The gate was open, and AJ was inside, hitting him with the rod. I told him to stop, but he said, 'back off,' and hit him again.

"Ril saw me, and started begging me to help him. He was sitting on the floor towards the back. The muzzle was off," he added, glancing up. "Like you said, but with his broken foot he couldn’t do much. So anyway, I tried to tell AJ to stop again, but he wouldn't listen."

"When did you come inside the cage?"

"Right away. I said, 'AJ, cut it out,' from the outer door, and crossed the room while Ril asked for help. The second time, I said, 'AJ, wait. Stop,' or something like that. And I was inside the cage then."

"Then what?"

"AJ told me to get out, and then he told Ril that no one was going to save him from what he had coming. He was so mad," he said softly, shaking his head. "He'd hit Ril and then look at me. He'd say, 'Does that bother you?' and then hit him again." He closed his eyes. "They promised," he whispered.

"What did you do?"

"I told him he couldn't hit him because the Ealdred promised him safety. He just spat on the ground and started hitting him again. Just kept on hitting him, so I grabbed him, and... We wrestled a little. He wouldn't listen. He spun us around and I tripped, or maybe he swept my feet, now that I think about it."

"Then what?" Soren prompted when he stopped.

"He started hitting me," he said softly, wonderingly. "I think I yelled at him at first, but he wouldn't stop. He just... He was trying to kill me." He looked up, searching Soren's eyes. "He thought I was a Lenisat. That's what he told Chad, and then he tried to put me down. Is that what Ril said?"

Soren's heart grabbed. The venat had said nothing of the kind, so what made him think it might have? This was exactly what he was supposed to be looking for, but why did it have to go against him?

Arion's face suddenly twisted with a small, bitter smile. "No," he said, answering his own question, "but now you think so too." He fought to laugh with the convulsions of his chest, but his eyes were bright and he looked away.

"Arion, I'm sorry," he said softly, feeling dead inside. "Seems like nobody knows what to think anymore. Me, I don't see it, but I can't help wondering sometimes. Everything's gone crazy since you came back. That's what they wanted," he said bitterly, looking at Raach. "The venat never said anything about you being a Lenisat," he continued, "but you know they're going to jump all over that."

He nodded, still composing himself. "Soon as I saw the look on your face, I knew I shouldn't have asked that." He laughed softly. "I'm just trying to figure out why AJ was so mad at me. He wanted to kill me and I don't even know why."

"Because he thought you were a Lenisat. You're right about that, but the venat didn't say it."

"Why then? What? It had to have something to do with Ril. I mean, that's a pretty big question for me."

"A lot of reasons," he said with a sigh. "It didn't happen all at once. It's been building up slowly and it just sort of caved in on you. Ril calling you that title was a big part of it, but that wasn't all of it."

"What?"

He sighed. "Well, you running around trying to change all the rules didn't help any either, but... The blood tests had them suspicious from the beginning. But when you attacked AJ they - "

"Attacked AJ? I didn't attack him! He attacked me!"

He paused. "The Ealdred said you admitted it."

"No," he said, visibly hurt. "We wrestled a little, yeah, but I didn't attack him. I just wanted him to stop."

Soren sighed, wishing he could forget the look in Arion's eyes when he had wanted to attack Sparrow. "You made the first contact," he said carefully, "and AJ feels that you were attacking him. His story pretty much matches yours. He already suspected you were a Lenisat before you came in, but that settled it, for him and for the council."

"...Because of the iragon," he said, musing. "And because Ril called me Pratlataach."

Soren bit his lip. They still hadn't covered the last of it. "I need you to tell me more about the venator."

But Arion frowned and looked up at him. "If they really believe I'm a Lenisat, what is all this?" he asked, holding out his arms to display the uniform.

Soren tried to smile but suspected it came closer to a grimace. "It's a test. A lot of people don't believe you're a Lenisat at all. This was for them. For us," he amended with a better smile.

Arion frowned, puzzled, and shook his head. "A test?"

"They threw you to the lion," he said, gesturing to the venat. "They wanted to prove to us that you were a Lenisat, but if you managed to kill him, that would prove you were human."

For a moment Arion just stared at him, then he looked at the venat and back again. "If I had been willing to fight, and I managed to kill him, they would have believed I was me?"

He nodded. "Yeah. They didn't tell you?"

His eyes dropped and he gave a single, choked laugh. "No." Soren wondered briefly what they had told him, but he was somehow reluctant to ask. "What happens now?" Arion asked then.

"I don't know. I don't think they know. But they haven't changed their stubborn minds yet," he cautioned, trying to steer the conversation. He desperately wanted to simply sit and talk, comrades with a common goal - but it couldn't be, or he'd never be allowed back in again. "Arion, I need for you to talk to me. Please let's get this out of the way, and then I'll tell you anything I can."

He smiled sympathetically. "Okay, buddy. This is hard for you, too. What do you need to know?"

"The venat. Tell me about the venator."

Arion stared back at him, eyes locked, and Soren saw with yet another, horrible shock that he was indeed harboring a secret. His eyes were asking him not to push, and searching, seeking, perhaps, to discover how much the venat might have said. "He wanted me to help him," he said at last, softly, dropping his eyes. "He said I was the only one who could understand."

"Understand what?"

"...That he needed to reach the mountain."

"And what did he want you to do?"

"Make sure that he reached the mountain."

Did you talk about saving his life?" he asked, prompting.

"...Yes. Like I said, he thought I could help him."

"How?" he pressed.

"He wanted to reach the mountain," he repeated glumly.

"Why?" But Arion closed his eyes, silent. "Did you tell him you would turn him loose?" he asked, wishing he would have offered it on his own.

"No."

Soren sighed, deeply troubled. He was being evasive and it could only hurt him now. It was imperative that he voluntarily reveal any plans they had made. He was certain now that Arion felt he had been forced to choose between betraying his vow and betraying the Gadamista's trust in him. Surely the council would understand that, but not if it continued. "The venator told AJ that you were going to help him. That you would make sure nothing happened to him," he said slowly.

"Nothing was supposed to happen to him. They promised. But Ril was afraid they'd hurt him anyway. So he kept asking me about it. To protect him. And yes, I kept telling him that he would reach the mountain, because I believed he would. I believed the promises would be kept."

"Arion," he said, frustrated, "you have to tell me what was going to happen on the mountain. What were you going to do for him?"

He shook his head. "Nothing."

"It doesn't wash, Arion. All this fuss to reach the mountain, for what? To die. No, buddy, that's not what he was looking for. What was it?" But Arion said nothing. "It told AJ that you were going to set it free," he said finally.

Arion looked up, startled, then hesitated, looking miserable. When he spoke, it was to the venat in Venatese.

"Arion," said Soren angrily, "you can't play both sides. It won't work."

"I'm sorry, Soren," he said quietly, "but I can't help it. It's tearing me apart, and I know I'm hurting you too, but I can't change it and I can't ignore it. I'm trying, but you'll just have to wait a minute." They spoke quietly and Soren had no choice but to wait. "Okay," said Arion softly, turning around again. "Raach is going to tell you something."

"I'd rather hear it from you," he said crossly.

"I can't."

"What I tell you now," said the venat, cutting off Soren's objection, "is central to my culture. Will you listen?"

"I have no choice."

It paused for just a moment, then began. "Your language is very physical, so this is hard to explain. Your beliefs also complicate communication." It paused again, then said, "Your leaders have declared us animals, but we are not. Neither are we like you. We are not meant to die."

Soren snorted, incredulous. "Everybody dies venat," he said, scornful. "I've seen plenty of your kind die."

He nodded. "Yes. Many die." He paused again, looking at Arion. "He once asked me if I had a soul, but I could not answer him. Now I tell you, it would be more appropriate to say that I am a soul. If I die, my soul dies with me."

"Oh, so now if we kill one of you, we're not only killing a souled creature, we're killing your soul too. My heart bleeds," he said contemptuously.

"You said you would listen, but your ears are closed."

"To rubbish they are, yes. The way you paint it, you have venators running around who never die until some evil human comes along and kills him, soul and all."

It’s ear twitched with irritation but it nodded. "I was not clear. No. We all reach an end, but it is a time of utmost privacy. A human dies, and no one knows his fate. We are not like you. I will reach an end, but if I am not meant to die, I cannot be killed. If I am damned, I must die."

"Great," he said, dismissing it. "So what's this got to do with you?" he asked, turning to Arion.

"That's the freedom Ril was talking about."

"That's freedom? Arion, please, I know this is important to you, but honestly - it's ludicrous! It's bad enough with people running around saying that you're Christ returned to end the world. Even if any of this could be true, don't you think they would have said something before?" He paused and fell silent, too frustrated to speak.

"They're saying I'm what?" he asked, flabbergasted.

"Oh, yeah!" he answered irritably. "You have quite a following. You're Christ, come to put an end to pain and death and tears."

"That's crazy!"

"So is running around saying venats have souls and never die."

"You just don't understand, but you've got to tell them, no. Tell them I said so. I'm nothing of the sort. I'm nobody..." He trailed off as words failed him, becoming lost.

Soren sighed, much of his anger ebbing away. He'd done it again. And yet, it seemed to be necessary at times. So wrapped up in his own insanity, Arion couldn't see the effects he was causing, rippling outward, wreaking havoc. Exactly what that blasted black venat had planned all along. "I'll tell them," he said gently, then added, "And I'll ask you again, why wouldn't they have said something before? For that matter, why couldn't you?"

He sighed deeply. "Their tradition forbade it."

Soren shook his head, unbelieving. "No. They just finally figured out that it's to their advantage to claim a soul. What does that have to do with you? If you believe this rubbish of his, why couldn't you just tell me yourself?"

He looked up, smiling bitterly. "Who would listen? Besides, I promised not to."

"You promised? To a venat? Why?"

"I know how it sounds," he said, his voice refusing guilt. "He needed to explain, and I needed to understand. He said I had to promise not to tell anyone what he said, because they were forbidden to tell anyone. I told him if it was military I would have to pass it on, but he said no, it was only personal. So I said fine, as long as it doesn't affect the Gadamista."

Soren sighed deeply, considering. "Okay, let's leave your promise aside for a minute, and explain something for me. If their tradition forbade them to tell us, then how could it tell you? How could Raach here tell me?"

He frowned. "Because I promised."

"And what makes you so special? I'm sorry Arion, but it's got to be said. Did you promise him?" he asked, gesturing to Raach.

"...No."

"Don't you see Arion? They're lying. They've got you pegged and roped. That's what they wanted all along. That's why they let you escape. Poison, remember? It's all a lie. All of it."

"Just because it's confusing doesn't mean it's a lie," he said quietly. "Raach, can you help me here?"

"You are Pratlataach. You gave me permission," he said simply. "Ril is dead."

"Permission?" Soren asked, looking at Arion again. "First promises, and now you gave >him permission?"

Arion looked at Raach with a puzzled frown, then down at his lap. "When Raach and I were talking before, just now, I asked him about it, and he asked for my permission then. I didn't know why, and I didn't really care. I just said yeah, absolutely. It didn't make much sense, but it didn't seem important."

"Wonderful," said Soren, his sarcasm returning. "If all Arion had to do was ask, then why did this Ril character make him promise?"

"Arion did not ask. Ril had no permission. He is dead." He said the last with such bitter contempt that even Arion stared at him.

"Oh, well, that explains everything!"

"To die is to be disgraced," it said evenly, though Soren noted with satisfaction that he was angry. "Ril is dead. He has been erased. He was a beast. His actions were those of a beast."

"Well, if this crud of yours is so central to your culture, then why were you forbidden from sharing it?"

He stared back silently for several moments, a dark statue. "The silence was imposed until permission was given by a chosen one, someone outside our own people."

"Why? You still haven't said why."

It smiled evasively. "Our sons have demanded the same. Especially when it became clear that you held such strange notions about souls. Such a question will have many answers. The silence is broken. Your question will answer itself."

"You won't answer because it's nonsense. What makes Arion so special that he can give you permission?"

"He is Pratlataach."

"Oh, yeah, right. I forgot" he said angrily, sorry he'd asked. "Well, if you have souls, why would God allow you to hunt us? I can understand an animal hunting us, it doesn't matter, it’s innocent. But the one thing the family has always shared is that we don't hurt each other. It's a universal law. If you've got a soul, how can you hunt us?"

It smiled faintly. "You won't like that answer."

"I don't like any of your other answers either. So what?"

Another smile and he nodded. "Very well." He stared intently at Soren, pausing. "Your people are a great treasure," he said quietly, "but you grew complacent and arrogant. So arrogant you grew that when the adversary was released, you didn't even notice. We were sent so that you would take notice."

"The adversary?"

"Satan," explained Arion.

Soren snorted. "Does that make you one of Satan's demons? We have many people who already believe that. Even Arion considered it at one time."

"I am not immune to the archangel. Are you?"

"Hard to say. I don't believe he's loose."

"Then who would you blame?"

"I blame you. I thought that was obvious."

"Am I to blame for the humans who torture venators?” he asked calmly. “Am I to blame for those of your race who beat each other down to save themselves? Are your blinders still on, Cedrychad, even now? The adversary has been abroad for a long time, and his creatures walk among both our peoples. We bear great hatred for those we discover, but mistakes are sometimes made. This, too, is his doing."

"Oh, you're a fine one to talk! Yes, you're to blame. You and your sportsmen who kill for pleasure and drink our blood, trying to get something which they will never have. Yes!" he hissed, angrily pursuing the point as its ears went back. "Let his blood save you now. Tirtaach," he sneered. "Great and powerful Kirnaach. You tried to buy it, you tried to steal it, and now you are trying to lie your way into it. But you never had a soul and you never will."

Its eyes bored into him, intense, wild cat's eyes, and for all his anger he found himself grateful for the bars that separated them. He must remember not to provoke it too much, or Arion might pay for his boldness. Then the ears relaxed ever so slightly and it spoke, its voice low, quiet and sedate. "I am no sportsman."

"How do you figure that?"

"I do not kill for pleasure or revenge."

"Uh uh," he said, shaking his head. "You tried that one on Arion, but I'm not sitting on the end of a leash. What was your party for, if not for pleasure?"

Another lengthy stare. "It was a ceremony to destroy a bastard. Still, I am accountable for my actions, and if I die your blame is well placed. The sportsmen, as you term them, fight purely out of hate and vengeance. They are those who have been exposed as beasts, but who have escaped execution and vent their pain. They are properly destroyed. But you have such creatures among your own people as well.

"The ritual of drinking blood," he went on, "is exactly that, a ritual. Sharsa described its origin to Arion, but his wording was selective. He did not explain that it is an expression of contempt and condemnation, not to be practiced on the chosen. Our use of Arion in this was an error which may well prove fatal."

"You can't drink someone's spirit, venat," said Soren darkly.

"Truth."

"Then why did you let him loose? Reegat said he would become a nothing, so Arion became that and you believed it."

"No. Reegat believed he would become Kalb. He is young."

"You're lying. You turned him loose afterwards. If you didn't believe, you never would have left him loose. Not by himself." He waited for an answer, but he remained silent, his ears back. "Why would you have left him loose?"

He stared back silently, looked over at Arion, then smiled slightly. "Because he frightened me."

Soren stared at him, incredulous, then shook his head, disgusted. "That's very logical," he said sarcastically.

"A ritual was conducted to dispose of a bastard," he said solemnly, with sculptured dignity. "Yet he survived. This is considered significant. Whatever I suffer I will have brought upon myself. I know that now, just as I knew it then."

"Yeah? If his surviving was so significant, why was your first impulse to give him some awful injection? Why did you rip up his back with a whip? Is that what you do with the so-called chosen?"

The venator stared, silent and motionless, no doubt thinking quickly for some reasonable response. Finally, it said, "You do not believe that the adversary is loose, but for us this is a reality which dominates our lives. Also very real to us is the threat of deception. We guard against it at all times.

"We have an expression: The adversary is as subtle as truth. Am I a liar? No, but if I am a beast, my perception of the truth is warped, and therefore false. Even if I am not a beast, I can be deceived. Do you understand this much?"

"Yeah. You're issuing a disclaimer. You're not a liar, but since Satan is, you might be wrong, and if you are wrong, it's not your fault. You trying to tell me the Devil made you do it?"

The venat hissed with disgust, its ears twisting back again as it looked away. Its gaze returned quickly, its eyes now fierce and angry. "You have no proper understanding, and less interest in learning. That Arion survived the ritual was significant, but it was not proof. Though significant, it could have been a deception.

"I was frightened. Perhaps your arrogance is so great that you cannot conceive what that means, but either Arion was chosen, and I had been terribly used, or he was a beast so favored by Dokapka that his survival had been arranged. Such a threat means nothing to you, but to me... " It trailed off, hissing through its teeth again.

"You still haven't explained about the drug or the whipping."

"The drug was intended to bring out the truth. Under the circumstances, it was ill-chosen and I discarded it, unused. The whipping was mandatory for having left the house."

"He went outside without permission while he was at Sharsa's house. Why didn't Sharsa whip him?"

"He was no longer posing as a damat. A damat learns quickly, but only through demonstration. If Arion was truly as withdrawn as he seemed, he would learn most quickly by the same means as a damat." He paused, then added, "You may take satisfaction in knowing that if I die, my son Reegat should also be executed, as well as those others who accompanied us that night."

"Well pardon my asking, but you keep saying, 'if you die'. What makes you think you won't?"

A motionless pause, then its lip lifted in a sneer that suggested a smile as well. It nodded, surprising Soren, its eyes never leaving his face. "I have no illusions of getting out of here unscathed. I have made serious mistakes and have good reason to fear. Still, I accept the nature of morko, and I welcome chastening. It is much better to suffer and learn than to escape and die." The smile strengthened as he looked at Arion. "If I am meant to live, I cannot be killed."

"You haven't proven anything venat. Those are very bold words for someone in your position," he added threateningly. "Someone might be tempted to test them."

The ears twisted back and his head lowered as he returned his gaze to Soren. "Truth."

He rose smoothly, unsnapping the collar on his laser. "If you're meant to live, you can't be killed. And if you die, you're a worthless beast and anything you've ever said or done is a meaningless lie."

"Truth," it growled, motionless.

He glanced at Arion, prepared for his anger, ready to argue, only to find that he was not angry. They stared at one another until Soren relented, dropping his eyes and resnapping the collar. "You make it awfully hard to help you," he said softly, sitting down, "but by his own admission - all right? - by his own admission, when he dies, that's proof he has no soul. Proof that he's a liar and you can't believe anything he's said."

Arion smiled weakly. "Not when, if. And he didn't say it would mean he had no soul, but yes, he couldn't be trusted."

Soren gave a sharp, hard sigh of disbelief. "How could you still say he has a soul?"

He opened his mouth to respond, then hesitated, apologetic. "I got confused at first too. ...Raach?"

It looked at Soren, as did Arion, both of them clearly asking if he would permit it to explain. "Go ahead," he snapped, waving his hand at it in resignation.

It gazed at him a moment, waiting for him to calm. He glared at it defiantly, refusing to be 'reasonable.' Its ears twisted back slightly in annoyance, but its eyes narrowed, accepting the challenge. "You have two words, soul and spirit; they seem to mean much the same thing. We have two words, to and ko. They are quite different.

"What is the energy that makes a creature alive? This is 'to.' All that lives and grows has to. Your own have seen this, have recognized the energy that cannot be destroyed, only changed. Yet, in arrogance as a people, you refuse to see it.

"'Ko' is that which returns. Ko is.. an individuality, eh? Created by the Infinite, separated as an entity which is independent of its source."

"So what you're saying is, if you die, you have to, but not ko. That's just a fancy way of saying the same thing. To is life, ko is soul. When you die, that's proof you have no soul. Which means," he continued with a contemptuous smile, "that I really must kill you, if only to prove to Arion that you're a liar."

The deep yellow eyes dilated briefly, and Soren held its gaze, thinking it had finally stepped on its tongue. Let it stare silently!

"You are very close," it said softly. "What happens to the life of an animal when the animal dies?"

Soren frowned. "When it dies, it's dead. There is no life. That's what dead means."

"Matter and energy cannot be destroyed, only altered," it insisted with unblinking eyes. "Burn a piece of wood. It is not destroyed, but converted to energy and ash.

"Where, then, does the warmth go? It is absorbed by the body and by the very air. Is the warmth gone? No. It exists in the body. It exists in the air. Even if it becomes diffuse as the molecules move apart for their very warmth, it is there. It is there in the energy of the air current created by the warmth.

"Open your eyes, Cedrychad! Or better yet, close them. Open your heart. Is your god an individual whom you can face? Is he an entity whom you can sneak up on from behind?" He leaned forward with intensity. "Is he here, right here, right now?"

"He's everywhere," he answered readily, though somehow the vacant ease of the words disturbed him.

"Truth," it spat vehemently, agreeing yet disdainful. "He is in you, in your Ealdred, in your pets, in your food! He is in the minerals of the ground. He is in the metals and compounds of your ship.

"Your God is Infinite. No matter how small a package you try to make of him, no matter how large a package, he cannot be contained. He is greater than the world you know or the heaven you dream of."

He turned to Arion. "To is the Infinite, yet the Infinite is much more than that. Life. Eh? It is the energy that comes from the Infinite, that the Infinite gives to creation. You try to make to the lesser force, but you're wrong. Ko is nothing but an individuality given to a small quantity of to."

Soren rubbed his face, trying to wipe away a steadily increasing headache. The venat's earnest persuasion made him seem very sincere, but there was nothing here but the twisting of their own beliefs. Certainly, there was nothing that could help Arion. "You go round and round... Let's put it this way Arion," he said, looking up, "if he was meant to live, he wouldn't be here."

The venat had a peculiar reaction that Soren only glimpsed from the corner of his eye, but Arion laughed outright. "That's what Raach said about me, but here I am!"

"Yes," agreed Soren, smiling slightly in return. "Here you are in spite of him, and in deep trouble because of him."

"And he's in deep trouble because of me," he returned easily. His face sobered then and he said, "He was left here, drugged and purposely abandoned by the Rikshastika during a mock attack because he helped me escape from Kinoshi."

"No, Pratlataach."

Arion looked at Raach. "No?"

"I was banished for what was done to you, not for you. I did not help you escape. In truth, I did not know you could."

"But you could have shot me. You had the brotik. You didn't need to let Sharsa ruin your craft."

It gave a silent laugh and shook its head. "I had no desire to assist Sharsa."

"Yeah," Soren snorted. "That's why you tore Arion's shoulder open."

Arion dropped his head, frustrated, looking up as the venator spoke. "What would you have done, Cedrychad, if I had not?"

Soren glared at it, his hate painfully strong. Originally, he had thought it was the other one that bit Arion, but it wasn't. It was this one. This one that had whipped him. This one's son that had broken his rib and then tortured him by pushing on it. This one that had played games with him, almost killing him, but never quite finishing the job. "I would have killed you," he said, wishing he had.

"And Arion? What would have happened to him?"

"What if," Soren sneered, refusing to rise to the bait. "You like what ifs, don't you? It doesn't matter what could have happened. What did happen was that you ripped him. Just one more on a long list."

"Sharsa threatened you with his death because he was frightened. Though he is not Rikshastika, Sharsa thought he knew enough to manipulate you, but he pushed too hard too fast. He did not realize what it would take to force your promise.

"It was my judgement, at that time, that without your promise, Sharsa would have fled, taking Arion with him, and that you would have killed us all trying to stop him. I was fighting for my life and I would have killed Arion if necessary, but not willingly."

"I didn't come in here to talk to you," he said icily, wishing once again that he could silence that slick tongue.

The horrible eyes never flickered. "As you wish," he said solemnly.

Soren held the cat's gaze a moment longer, then looked back at Arion. "He's using you Arion. He's full of lies and none of them wash. He wants you on his side because he has no one else. He would have killed you to save himself; you just heard him say so. Now isn't any different. What he did to Sharsa had nothing to do with you, except that you were the tool. He's not out to help anyone, except himself."

Arion frowned, considering. "Then why hasn't he killed me now?"

"No advantage. Can't you see, Arion, that he's still just trying to save his own skin?"

"And why shouldn't he? That doesn't make him evil."

"I didn't say he was evil. I said he's an animal. An animal that tore you to pieces. The valiant venat is such a fine cur that even his own people don't want him. This is the spokesman I'm supposed to listen to? I should believe him when he says he has a soul? How can you ignore everything he did to you?"

He sighed hard, lowering his head to stare at his lap. "Because I understand. Because I respect him."

"...What do you understand?"

"Why he did what he did. Soren," he urged softly, looking up, "if I can't forgive the mistakes he made against me, how can I hope to be forgiven for what I did?" "What you did? You didn't do anything."

"I attacked two men. I as much as killed them. They're dead because of what I did. That's the very thing that convinced Raach I was a bastard."

"They weren't human, Arion. And if you're going to start on that again, how can the venators be excused for all the lives they take? Because we're arrogant? What kind of an answer is that?"

"It's different for them," he said, frustrated. "You just don't understand. You don't even want to understand."

"What do you want me to do Arion? Pretend I believe him? That would be a lie."

"You could listen. I told you I can't explain because I promised. Raach has been trying to explain, but all you'll do is insult him and tell him to shut up."

He sighed hard. "Okay," he said, relenting. "Go ahead venat. Explain to me how it is that you can excuse yourselves, as souled creatures, for attacking other souled creatures."

For a long moment he did not answer. Soren recalled Arion saying that he liked to choose his words, but he felt it much more likely that it was pausing for effect, seeking to unnerve his opponent with unblinking, bottomless eyes. "Our full story is much too long to explain here," he said at last. "Suffice it to say that you have yet to understand morko. This is an anger without hate, driven by love."

"You attack us because you love us?"

"No. We attack because we are hungry, but we are permitted as the instruments of God's perfect anger. Understand, without anger, perfect anger, there is no discipline. Without discipline there is no correction. Without correction there is no redemption. Without redemption there is no love."

"Elegant and eloquent. But we have already been redeemed. We still make mistakes, I'll grant you that; sometimes even great whopping mistakes like poor Arion being in here. But we've all been forgiven in Christ."

He tilted his head with a slight smile, acknowledging the point. "Shirtatka manona broka ba nasba, so brondanel ashte. This means, ‘the adversary is not a graceful loser, but he has already been defeated.’ Still, an error must be admitted before it can be forgiven.

"Shirtatka's creatures walk, and must be destroyed. Like you, we were deceived by the adversary long, long ago. You sinned early, a child's error, but we had no such excuse. We played a very destructive role in his plans. As punishment, we have been given a hurtful role and set a deadly task.

"We view your extreme confidence as arrogance. You assume that each and every one of you is accepted by God, but you are wrong. Do not your own writings speak of those who praise God with their lips though their hearts are distant?"*

"You mean like you?"

"Do you condemn me?"

"Why shouldn't I? Your own people have."

"No. They have not. No more than your people have condemned Arion. Perhaps less. I was placed here so that my fate would be determined. This has been done many times in the past. Just as your people seek God's judgement, so mine do. If I were known and condemned, they would have killed me themselves."

Fluid. "If the Lenisats are really human, why haven't they all been eaten?" he asked suddenly, hoping to catch him unprepared.

"They are protected by the interests of the research center."

"What were Sharsa's actual plans for Arion?"

"My brother is ignorant and naive," he said readily, "but he is not stupid. He holds the lives of the Lenisats in his hands and they will do anything he says. He meant to arm them, directing them to attack and capture the party that came to receive Arion. He felt that the Gadamista would be willing to blame, not him, but the treacherous Lenisats for the failed delivery. He had high hopes for multiple attempts."

"He had no intention of letting Arion go," said Soren, leading.

"Eventually," he answered, smiling slightly.

"Why did you foul Sharsa's plans?" asked Arion.

This time he hesitated and Soren cocked his head and lifted his eyebrow, inviting him to answer quickly. "I did not approve of his actions."

"Why not?" Soren prompted.

"I saw great danger in what Sharsa was trying to do, because his use of Arion was ill considered. The fact that he had survived demanded respect. Then too, arming the Lenisats could only have been a mistake. He could not believe they would turn on him. Nor could I convince the Rikshastika not to allow it. Their interests are not the same as those of the research center. They did not care if an entire tribe was wiped out in order to retrieve the weapons, and they did not believe that this might be insufficient. If you could understand him, you would know that Sharsa has great love for his Lenisats, but he has little respect. I have less love, but greater respect."

Soren paused, considering. It was an intriguing answer. Poor Arion. Alone and vulnerable for so long, no wonder he had given in to this master liar. He smiled then. "You, a Rikshastika Kirnaach, were unable to outrank a mere homologist in some research center?"

He smiled in return, almost laughing. "It was indeed Sharsa's finest hour, as your expression goes. I have greater rank, yes, but Sharsa is not without influence. His plan appealed to the Rikshastika because it involved no risk for us. If it failed, it would have been the Lenisats who suffered. If it succeeded, it would have been the Rikshastika who prospered. Sharsa would have been paid handsomely, permitting him to hire and outfit carriers, which in turn would allow him to increase his business."

"His business?"

"The damats," he answered, surprised. "They are selling faster than he can provide them. They have become very popular."

"And he expects to replace the Rikshastika?" Soren asked scornfully.

The venat frowned and shook his head. "No. They are..." He paused, recognizing that his words would be distasteful, but then continued. "The damats are highly valued. As a worker, as a pet, as a companion, all these things. Your children remain children for some time. This also has value. Even a child is capable of helping, and does so as eagerly as a loyal dog. We would no sooner butcher our damats than you would your dearest pet."

"Why was your son's highly prized damat butchered for Arion?" Soren asked in an icy tone.

He turned slowly to gaze at Soren. "...We were drunk," he admitted. "Still, you might consider the unique moment in his life. You have nothing to compare, but it was as momentous to him as a wedding would be to you. He was awarded title, though he cannot.. wear it until he is fully mature. Notwithstanding, he also became tirquash that evening. It was not a frivolous night. Even so, he grieved for Kalb. As I said, he is young and full of notions. He had thought that Kalb would live in Arion's body. His keen interest in you," he said to Arion, "was for Kalb. He hoped that Kalb might be confused and frightened, refusing to respond, but still there."

Soren shook his head, unconvinced. "That's a pretty childish mistake for someone as mature as your son," he observed. "A little too childish for me to believe."

Raach gazed at him for a long moment, his ears slightly back, but without anger. "We are nothing to you but animals to be driven off," he said quietly. "Even as your enemy, you have so little respect for us that you don't bother to know anything about us. ...Do you know our life cycle?"

"No, and like you said, I don't care. If it comes hunting, I kill it."

Its mouth opened, then closed again. "Briefly then," it said, its voice tight, "our life expectancy is about twenty-five of your standard cycles. The eldest venator ever recorded had thirty-two. I have nineteen cycles, and my son has nine.

"Obviously, we mature much more quickly than you, but what may be judged childish alters as well. We learn a great deal in a short space of time, but this makes us vulnerable to misunderstanding. Reegat made a child's error, yes, but I do not fault him for it."

Soren smiled. "Keep trying venat. Explain this: If you have such a short life, how is Sharsa supposed to be raising all these damats to sell? Arion saw damats older than you."

"Our grandfather began the operation and our father continued it. Now Sharsa has it. A damat is ready for sale at two and a half to three cycles. This immense investment of time makes them very expensive, while their longevity makes them valuable. I have a very large number of damats, as Arion can tell you. These are all adults I inherited from my father, with the exception of Ky. I bought him when I turned ten - a full adult. I had not yet inherited the others, and I wanted one of my own. He has twelve cycles now."

"How old is Sharsa?" Arion asked suddenly.

"He has twenty-two cycles."

"Getting a little elderly, isn't he?" Soren asked skeptically.

Raach smiled slightly and nodded. "If Sharsa feels his age, he does well to hide it."

"Why?" asked Arion.

"We are a harsh society. Resentment of beasts is strong, and any sign of weakness is suspect."

"Beasts?" Soren echoed dubiously.

It stared back at him for a moment, its ears motionless, yet its eyes growing somehow deeper with resentment. Glancing at Arion, the anger subsided slightly and he said, "Truth. That which he has been trying to explain to you."

The door opened and Chris stuck his head in. "Time's up Soren."

He rose slowly, reluctant to leave. "God's brought you this far," he said quietly to Arion, "He'll get you through."

He smiled, warm and genuine. "Thanks Soren. Really, I think this is a lot harder on you than it is on me."

Soren managed a small laugh. "Good. Take care then and I'll talk to you some more later."

"Till then."

He smiled, then grinned at the venat. "And I think you're really a magnificent liar," he said admiringly. It didn't respond.

 (*Matthew 15:8, Mark 7:6)