The Ealdred Thomas sat silently, staring at the blank console in front of him. Soren shifted his weight. Though the Ealdred had the full record at his fingertips, he had demanded an oral account first. "Would you in fact have shot it?" he asked without looking up.

"I wasn't authorized to do that."

"Would you, in fact, have shot it?"

Startled, he paused, considering. "I wanted to very much, and I was seriously considering it, but no, I don't believe I would have."

He nodded. "And what part does the Lenisat play on the mountain?" he asked then, looking up to study his face.

"I'm not sure. He said he just wanted to make sure it got there."

He continued to study his face until Soren started to become annoyed. "And what reaction did it have to the venator's translation of its title?" he asked, leaning back now but still watching.

"None really," he said mildly, refusing to let his resentment show. That Ealdred Thomas thought Arion a Lenisat he had accepted readily - Ealdred Tovi did also, but he never tried to bait those who didn't.

"Interesting. And you didn't ask him what he thought about it?"

He did not allow his jaw to tighten, but his stomach did. His access to Arion depended on his usefulness. "No, sir, I didn't."

He nodded and looked down at the desk again. "Thank you. Dismissed."

"Yes sir, but if you please, I would like to request permission to see him again tomorrow."

"Request received. Dismissed."

"Sir." He turned sharply and walked out, almost immediately regretting his curt exit. It wasn't guilt, not by a long shot, but, like it or not, he needed this man's permission to see Arion. Until he received it, he couldn't afford to anger him. He was not, however, allowed to worry about this for long. Waiting outside the restricted corridor was the record crew.

"How is he?" they asked. "Is he in high spirits?"

"That depends on what you consider high spirits. If you mean is he dancing jigs, no. But he's not weeping and wailing either. Mostly he's upset about people calling him the returned Christ," he added, seizing the opportunity. "He says they mustn't say that because he's nothing of the sort."

"Has he accepted the role of prophet?" asked the second.

"No. His exact words were, 'I'm nobody.'"

"Christ told his disciples to keep quiet in the beginning, too," he persisted.

"Arion isn't asking disciples to keep quiet," said Soren harshly, annoyed. "He has flat out denied that he is Christ and was horribly upset to learn that people could think he was."

"What about the venator?" asked the third. "Has it threatened him in any way?"

"No."

"Has Arion explained the title that the venator Ril gave him?" asked the first.

"The venator, Raach, explained it as meaning 'catalyst'. He said that Arion was a first because of his escape, and that he represents a pivotal time in history for the venators."

"Has he given any indication that he would expose the venator if given a safe opportunity to do so?" asked the third.

"None. He gives every indication of believing the venator has a soul."

"Has Arion explained his reasons for attempting to help the venator to escape?"

"No. He's denied it. But that will all be much clearer if you will wait for the full report. I'm sure the council will make it available shortly. Now if you'll excuse me."

"Has Arion said anything about what his plans are?" asked the second crewman, barring his way.

"No. Excuse me, please." He pushed his way past him, the other two at least making way for him, and headed for his quarters. He reached his rooms without further interruption and gratefully slipped inside. Mark wasn't there. Stretching out on his bed to unwind and think, he fell asleep.

"Soren! Soren, wake up!" came Mark's insistent voice.

Recognizing the urgency in his tone, he woke quickly, instantly afraid it had hurt Arion. "What happened?"

"It's AJ. He's dead. And Raach is dying."

"AJ?" he asked softly, stunned. "How?"

Mark sat down on the edge of the bed, leaning his elbows on his knees. "AJ, Vic, Eric, and Tony went in to question Raach, about an hour after your report." He paused, angry. "AJ was trying to force something with him; I don't know what. Nobody's saying much of anything yet, but AJ got too close and Raach tore his throat out. Then Vic hit Raach and ruptured his middle." He grimaced. "Even with the semi sound-proofing in there you could hear him scream. That's how I found out."

Soren sighed heavily. Raach’s death would probably help Arion in the long run, but he would be terribly upset in the meantime. " What a mess."

"And then some," agreed Mark, frowning.

Soren nodded, then, remembering that Mark had said the venat was dying, not dead, he asked, "If Vic ruptured its middle, didn't they put it down?"

He shook his head. "He probably will be, but right now they're still taking care of AJ's family." He was silent, thinking. Then, "I wonder how Arion is taking it."

Soren frowned again, feeling he should be more upset about AJ, yet finding his thoughts turning always to Arion. He had no malice toward AJ, but no real affection either. AJ had done his job, had died and gone home. Arion, however, was closed in with a dying friend who deserved to be put down, yet he had no way of doing it mercifully.

“Hey,” said Soren suddenly. “If Raach is obviously dying, maybe Arion would be willing to put him down out of mercy. You know, if given the opportunity. Those were the terms, right? Either it had to kill him, or he had to kill it. Maybe I can get the Ealdred to give me authorization."

"Want me to go with you?"

"Sure." They rose together and headed out.

"Absolutely not," said Ealdred Thomas.

"How can you refuse? He's passed your sick test. What right do you have to refuse?"

"Mind your place Mr. Kelsi," he answered testily. "As you so heatedly pointed out, the animal isn't dead yet. He will not be released until we are satisfied, and you will not put the animal down. Is that clear?"

"Yes," he hissed, pointedly omitting the 'sir.' “What I wanted was to give Arion the chance to put him down so he could fulfill your terms.”

"You will be allowed in one last time, to complete the questions we gave you last time, and to offer the Lenisat a deal."

"He's not a Lenisat. He passed your test!"

"Shall I send someone else?"

He ground his teeth, furious. "No."

Arion looked up as he came in, but the smile of relief he had dreaded was absent. Almost now he would have welcomed it, unprepared for the calm despair that enveloped him. The venat was on the floor near the back wall, covered with a blanket, its head resting on Arion's balled-up jacket. Arion sat a short distance away, near his feet. "Has he woken up at all?" he asked quietly, sitting by the bars.

"Once," he said, yet shook his head doubtfully. "He wasn't there."

Soren nodded, understanding. The injury was invariably fatal, the initial pain severe. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah," he said, nodding, then grimaced. "I'm sorry about AJ."

"I know."

"They didn't let you in here to chat," he said with a poor smile. "What do they want?"

Soren looked down guiltily, ashamed of their single, obscene offer. "It was supposed to be to let you out," he said, avoiding it.

"But it isn't," said Arion, his voice firm, calm.

"...They said to tell you that if you would confess you are a Lenisat, they will take you home to Lenis and set you free, unharmed."

"And if I don't?"

"They didn't say. Arion... I'm sorry." He looked up but was unable to say more.

Arion shook his head, a small, sad smile resting easily on his face. "The same deal," he said softly, "but they haven't the courage to make the same threat."

"Same deal? What threat?"

"You don't know?" he asked, mildly surprised. They might have been discussing flyer parts. "That was their deal to Raach. AJ told him they would turn him loose on Lenis, unharmed. All he had to do was kill me."

Soren's face contorted in angry disbelief, and yet he did believe. "No, I didn't know," he answered, calming slightly. He looked at the still form lying by the wall, puzzled that he hadn't complied. "I guess he knew they wouldn't really do it."

"AJ promised, Soren. He gave his solemn word as a Cedrychad."

Soren frowned. "His word? Are you sure?"

"Yes," he said bitterly. "They talked about it, round and round. Each time Raach refused, they hit him and told him what would happen to him if he didn't."

"What?"

Arion opened his mouth, but said nothing, then looked up and away, waving his hand toward Raach. "They kept asking him, didn't he want to live? Did he want to die and go to hell? Even if he really was just an animal, he ought to prefer life. ...Round and round."

He hesitated, his face screwing up with distaste. "Raach pulled back, like he wished he could get away, and I remember I was upset, because.. I figured they must have really hurt him that last.. that last punch, to make him back up." He shook his head.

"AJ moved in on him, pressing harder, threatening him. And then all of a sudden AJ was on the floor. They just stared at him, lying there, and Raach looked over at me. Tom yelled.. hit him..." He shook his head, staring at the floor.

"They never threatened you?" Soren asked, at a loss for anything else.

"No. When they first came in, they darted Raach, then Tom tossed in a knife. He said I should kill him while I still had a chance. When I refused, they told me to come over, and chained my hands to the bars. Then they strung him up and gave him the stimulant to wake him up." He sighed. "They gave me dirty looks -afterwards, when they took the cuffs off. They probably would have liked to do something, but they never said a single word to me at all."

"What sort of things did Raach say to them?"

"Mostly he didn't say anything. Once he said that if they wanted me dead they'd have to kill me themselves. Once he said something to AJ, but softly and I couldn't hear. AJ didn't like it though because he hit him really hard that time."

He nodded. "I'm also supposed to ask you what you were going to do on the mountain. We never finished that last time."

Arion shook his head. "I wasn't going to do anything. I wasn't even going to be there. No one ever is," he added, looking up, looking frustrated. "Why are they so stuck on that? Why are they so convinced I was going to be there?"

"Because Ril said you would set him free."

Arion stared at him, then dropped his eyes and shook his head, tired and depressed. "That's not what he meant."

"So what did he mean?"

He gave a short, bitter laugh, waving his hand helplessly. "I can't tell you, Soren. I promised. It wasn't supposed to matter."

Soren sighed heavily. "That it has a soul, and can't die," he said for him. "Which means it needed someone to set it free. Right?"

But he shook his head, frustrated. "No."

He sighed, then looked over at the venat, dismayed. Arion turned and watched as well, for it was stirring. It writhed, panting, rolling to its side and slowly curling inward, its movements clumsy and weak. Soren groaned inwardly. Its body had refused to give in to shock, and death now would be slow and cruel.

Its gaze found Soren's lap and rested there, the ears slightly turned back. The venator knew it was dying, yet the eyes held no plea, no hate. Though Soren still believed him to be a consummate liar, he could recognize, and maybe even respect, the dynamic personality that Arion had come to admire. The gloss had gone from his fur, the power from his limbs, and yet even now he still held himself with a fierce dignity.

No one, not even the Ealdred or the whole council, had the right to take that from him. He rose and unsnapped the collar on his laser. "Arion," he said softly, holding out the laser. "Go ahead, buddy. Put him down."

Arion looked at him startled, then stared at the laser with alarm. "Soren, no. Don't."

"It's alright, Arion. I've been in trouble for worse. They might even agree that you fulfilled their test."

He hesitated, glancing back at the venator.

Its head turned, looking down past its feet, gazing at the floor in front of Arion. "Who is the bastard now, eh?"

"No, Raach. As long as you're alive you still have a chance."

"I am already dead!" he snarled furiously, but the ears flattened sideways in a submissive posture that startled Soren.

"Arion," he said sharply. "What do you think you're doing? He's dying. You know that. So does he."

"No," Arion answered, his voice thick. "As long as he's alive, he still has a chance."

"I am laid at your feet, Pratlataach," it said softly, closing his eyes. "You are justified."

"No," he insisted, almost angry.

"Arion, this is wrong," said Soren harshly. "By his own words, remember? Well he's dying. Anything he says, anything he has said, is meaningless. So now you've just got to accept that he's an animal. Let him die and be done with it."

"No," he whispered, anguished. "He isn't dead yet."

"How much proof do you need?" Soren asked, incredulous. "If you care about him, how can you insist that he suffer? He's dying! They crushed its gut. He has no way to survive. I don't have permission to do this Arion. I'm willing because it's the only decent thing to do. How can you deny him?"

"Because he could still make it to the mountain. The worst is already over. He'll get worse and worse, yes, but he could still make it." He looked at the venat. "Tell Soren about the mountain. Tell him the rest. If he understands, maybe he can help."

Soren sighed heavily. He seriously doubted that the venat would tell them anything helpful. Still... Arion's promise prohibited him from explaining, but the venat still could - if it was willing. If nothing else, maybe it could tell enough to release Arion from the bindings of his promise. "How about it venat? You feel like talking?"

It was silent for a moment, then opened its eyes and turned to gaze at Arion's feet again. "I am dying, Pratlataach. The truth should not come from me. It can only bring evil."

"We all know you're dying, Raach. It's been said enough times. But I still say you're not dead yet."

His ears flattened submissively again, his voice low, almost a growl. "Will you alter even the verdict? Among my own they would tear me to pieces."

"Maybe that's why you're here, instead. Please, Raach. Explain the rest of it."

He hesitated, then quite suddenly his ears flattened tightly and his lip lifted. "Truly in kindness you heap coals upon my head!" he grated. He paused, clearly waiting for a response, but Arion said nothing. He dropped his head with a vicious hiss of fury, but immediately raised it again. "As you wish," he said angrily.

It moved then, struggling to crawl to the corner. His left leg dragged loosely beneath him, useless. He froze several times, tensing, panting, yet moving forward again with a fierce growl. Soren sat again, watching with reluctant fascination, astounded by its willingness to satisfy Arion, yet suspecting that he was in fact trying to bring on convulsions and death. Arion was obviously pained for him, but he made no move to help him.

He settled finally, his body cradled in the corner for support, his head resting against the wall, exhausted. As the pain subsided his panting slowed until at last he opened his eyes. Still avoiding meeting the gaze of either one, he stared straight ahead of him, at the floor. "Tell us," he said heavily, still struggling to control his breathing, "the purpose.. of the mountain."

Soren frowned. "It's traditional," he said slowly. "Venators that are still alive get taken up the mountain and left to the Gryphusani."

"That is the action. What is.. the purpose?"

"It has no purpose," he said bitterly.

It sighed raggedly. "How did the practice begin?"

Soren thought for a moment. The venat was obviously pursuing something specific, and if it, in its condition, could cooperate, then so could he. "When we first started fighting back, people felt very awkward about killing venators. Even though they had been declared without souls, no one could deny sapience. That made it hard.

"When the battle was over, and they had venators that had surrendered, they didn't feel they had the right to kill them. The venats were no longer a threat, and were at their mercy, but they couldn't just turn them loose. So the first poles got set up, just to hold them, but that was even worse. They're there, but what do you do with them?

"Then somebody hit on the idea of taking them up the mountain and letting the Gryphusani deal with them. So now, right after the battle, the venators get chained to the poles while everyone cleans up. If they survive the night, they get taken up the mountain and left for the Gryphusani."

"...Why the Gryphusani?"

Soren gave an almost invisible nod, acknowledging the cowardice of the practice. "Because the Gryphusani are willing to do what they're afraid to do - put them out of their misery. The Gryphusani have mountains on five of our planets, so they're usually available.

"Besides," he added coldly, "they're out of the way. No one has to watch. Pretty strange, huh? It all started because they didn't feel right about killing them when they were at our mercy. Now it's okay for the people to chain them up and take out their hate on them, but if no one's angry enough to kill them, they get dragged up the mountain and left to die."

The venator sat very still for several moments, gazing at the floor. "You do not believe," he said, his breath coming more normally now, "nor do you approve, but for those who are captured, the mountain is the only hope."

"Why?" asked Soren suspiciously. "What was Arion supposed to do for Ril on the mountain?"

"Nothing. His presence would not be desired. It is a private time."

"Ril desired Arion's presence. What did he expect of him?"

The ears crimped downward. "Who knows what lies were whispered in his heart? He is dead. Let his words die with him just as you look for my words to die with me."

"Raach," said Arion firmly. "You have no more business denying hope than denying the possibility of disgrace."

His eyes opened but he did not move. "...I cannot argue against you. And yet, perhaps, Pratlataach, even you do not fully understand. Reaching the mountain is no guarantee."

"No," he grudgingly allowed, rising and crossing the room to the sink, "and knowledge isn't faith. But you're not evil, Raach. If you were, you wouldn't have let them hurt you to protect me."

He looked toward Soren with a rancid smile. "I could not save my life by committing suicide."

"Then don't do it now," Arion urged, returning with a glass of water. "Here," he said, sitting back on his heels. "I've brought you a drink."

Raach looked at the glass, now clearly, carefully avoiding Arion's face, but he didn't take it. "It is better for both of us if I don't."

"Allow God to forgive you. I forgive you."

His head lowered, his ears flattening sideways. "I treasure your gift - it has greater value than you know," he said softly, "but I am dead nevertheless."

"You can't know that."

"...I can't believe otherwise."

"Arion," Soren asked, struggling to contain his irritation, "just what else do you expect?"

Instead of answering, he looked at Raach. "Please tell him."

He paused, almost looked up, but seemed to catch himself. He paused again, his ears tilting backward. "The Gryphusani are not flesh. Are you aware of this?"

"What are they supposed to be then?" he asked cautiously.

"They are not flesh. They are manifestations. Do you accept this?"

"I can't. I don't follow you."

He hissed, his lip curling upward to expose gritted teeth as he glared at the floor in front of him. "The Gryphusani are manifestations, not flesh. They are real. You can touch them. You can feel them. They can tear you to pieces. But the illusion of a physical embodiment is implemented for your senses, not theirs, and they can drop it as easily as you close your eyes. Do you understand?"

"Well enough. Go on."

He gave a slight nod, and his ears relaxed slightly, then tightened again. Soren waited for him to continue, growing irritated with his theatrics when he did not. He was about to comment when he realized that it was not breathing properly. It was in pain. Fending off guilt, he waited. "Upon the mountain," it said softly, "those who live receive transformation. This is the gift of the Gryphusani."

"Transformation. Into what?"

"Into what we were before."

"And what's that?"

But he shook his head, infinitely weary. "No." His eyes closed and his ears tightened again. "...If the body dies... Your words and concepts do not explain the way of it. You are so utterly confined by the immediate..." He hissed again, trying to control panting that would not be denied.

"I am dying," he said darkly. "When I am dead, my flesh will disintegrate, absorbed into the life of other things. That is the energy stored within the physical. In transformation, it is the ko which absorbs the physical.

"Without transformation," he said, his ears flat against his skull, "the ko also disintegrates, its individuality dissolves. For the known beast, there is hope for a return. For the beast uncovered, such hope is considered vanity."

"Beast? What do you mean, beast?"

"You have nothing else that comes close," he said wearily. "A beast is one who must die; one who cannot receive transformation. You would disapprove, but we have among our own those who are known. Some are known from birth, as when the father dies, for a beast cannot father any but a beast.

"If the son is young enough, he is tolerated, so long as he accepts guidance." He paused and looked at Arion. "Reegat is far too old to be tolerated. He will be executed when my death is announced."

"What about the other one?" asked Soren. "Your brother."

He shook his head slowly. "An embarrassment for Sharsa, but I did not sire my brother."

"What about Reegat's other father then?" Soren asked, for the venators were unisexual.

Raach hissed viciously, so furious that no one spoke. He hissed again, but more softly. "Do not speak to the dead of mothers," he said sourly. "I have no business speaking of them, just as I have no business speaking of the Gryphusani or explaining our beliefs."

For the first time Soren decided the venat was overacting. "You've been speaking just fine so far," he said squarely. "Besides, according to what you've been saying, your soul is already dying with the rest of you. What more have you got to lose?"

A wrinkle in its lip might have been a snarl or a smile. "Touché."

"So how do you decide which of you is the father?"

"The same way you do. We have females, Cedrychad. They do not live with us. They are holy. I will not tell you more than that."

"I thought you were unisexual," he argued, ignoring its refusal.

"No. We are not." A soft cry of pain escaped him as his left arm suddenly curled upward, cinched in a spasm. He clutched it uselessly with his right hand, unable to alter the situation.

Soren stood, totally fed up. He had the information now, but it still wasn't any help. For Arion's sake he said, "Enough is enough. This is cruelty. I wasn't allowed in here to put you down, but I've been penalized for euthanasia more than once. So has Arion," he added, glancing at him with some reproach. "If you want to end this now, I'll do it for you."

It looked up, still panting, its eyes fixed on the laser, ready in Soren's hand. "I am what I despise," it began, its voice tight with pain, breaking off as the outer door flung open.

"I'm sorry Soren," said Brian, "but you have to leave. Now. Ealdred's orders."

He sighed angrily, looking at Arion with helpless frustration. After everything else, he'd allowed the venat to rob Arion of even this small companionship. And for nothing.

Arion smiled back easily, unreasonably calm, even sympathetic. "I'll be fine."

"I'm sorry, Soren. Now."

"Later," he whispered, then turned and left.