"I'm really very sorry," said the cadet, "but his instructions were explicit. I suggest you tune in on a vid someplace. It seems they're preparing for an announcement."

Soren sagged, relenting. It wasn't the cadet's fault, and arguing with the Ealdred wasn't likely to help anything anyway. "Thanks. I'll do that." He walked to his quarters, repeatedly repressing the anger that continued to bubble up from within.

Mark looked up as he came in, curious and startled by his early return. Soren plopped down on his bed, staring at the ceiling, too angry to feel like admitting his own fault, but recognizing it just the same. "What happened?" asked Mark finally.

"I was going to put it down. They must have been watching the record as it was made, and the Ealdred had Brian yank me out of there. I wasn't even allowed to report."

"He's still alive then," he stated, questioning.

"Yeah," he said, sitting up. "Turn on the stupid vid, turn the sound off, and I'll tell you everything."

Mark switched it on without questioning, muting the sound. "So," he said, settling himself.

Soren described it all, ending with the cadet. "He simply refused to see me. So now I'm waiting for them to announce what they're going to do to him. The cadet seemed to think it would be coming across soon."

Mark nodded. "I don't suppose the Ealdred would let me in..."

Soren looked up sharply. "With Arion? Wait. Turn the volume on."

Mark switched it on, and they both listened as Councilor Yonda read the announcement. "Be it known: the Lenisat and the venator are both still alive. While it is true that the venator has suffered a fatal injury, this injury did not result from any actions by the Lenisat. The question remains unresolved. Therefore, it is the decision of the full council to remove both Lenisat and venator, and transport them to Tellus, to be taken up the mountain and left to the wisdom of the Gryphusani. Let it be so. We extend our sincere apologies for any inconvenience that this may cause to individual flight plans, but this matter must be resolved as speedily as possible for the good of the entire family. Thank you for your patience and understanding."

Mark carefully turned off the vid. "You don't really think the Gryphusani are going to hurt Arion, do you?” he asked slowly, clearly trying to find some hope.

Soren shrugged morosely, inconsolable. “And what..? Die of thirst? The Gryphusani don’t have hands. They’d have no way to turn him loose.” He put his head in his hands, his fingers curling in his hair. " It isn't right. They shouldn't think it's right. Where did they get all this authority to simply announce to people what's going to be done with someone?"

Mark hesitated, concerned. "You sound an awful lot like you don't trust the council's judgement, Soren."

"I don't." He paused then, suddenly realizing the impact of his statement. To question their collective wisdom... It couldn't be done. He sighed heavily. "I just don't like it, okay?"

"You don't have to. Just trust God's grace. It all has to come out somehow."

He sighed again. "Yeah. But I'm going to be there just the same."

"That sounds good too."

Gaining access to the Ealdred took most of the day's trip to Tellus; gaining permission to participate in the transport took perhaps five minutes. Permission to see Arion beforehand was flatly denied to both of them.

"I suggest you go get some sleep," said Ealdred Tovi wearily. "Morning will be dawning at the foot of the mountain in about four hours. You need to be at the shuttle in three."

Soren sighed. He never could learn to sleep out of schedule, consistently spending his first day of leave with time lag. "Thank you Ealdred. I think I'll just get a good dinner instead."

The Ealdred smiled sympathetically, perhaps recalling Soren's problem, perhaps not. Or maybe he just wished he had a choice. "Eat a Danish for me," he said.

"I'll do better. I'll bring you one."

He laughed. "Deal. Thank you, Soren."

"For bringing you a Danish?" laughed Soren in return. "Tough favor!"

He shook his head, the smile fading yet lingering. "For still being willing to bring a Danish. For everything. For more than you would imagine."

Soren sobered. "Yes, sir. I understand. And you're welcome."

When he finally boarded the shuttle, he expected to find Arion on board, but he was nowhere to be seen. He turned to Ealdred Tovi. "I thought they were already on board?"

"They are." Then, to answer Soren's expression he said, "They're in the back."

"In back? In cargo?" he asked, shocked.

Ealdred Tovi frowned, irritated. "The venat wouldn't survive the trip without a pressure tube. Just where would you suggest we load that?"

Soren's mouth opened but no words came. He had known the venat couldn't survive; this was part of his irritation. It hadn't occurred to him that they would go to the effort of providing it with a tube. And of course it certainly couldn't fit anywhere but in cargo, and Arion would surely be happier back there with him anyway.

"Yes, sir," he said quietly, feeling that he had finally crossed the line between protective and belligerent. "I'm sorry." Ealdred Thomas nodded, silent.

Sitting in their seats, Soren and Mark didn’t try to start a conversation and Soren found his depression growing deeper. The tube was not for the venat's sake, but to ensure their excuse for taking Arion up the mountain. Soren didn't believe the Gryphusani intervened at all; their presence on the mountains was more legend than fact, though they had been seen in such places. Even if there were any around, he had little confidence in their ability to unfasten the cuffs that would secure Arion to the pole. What else, then, could Arion do but wait to die of thirst?

Soren's jaw clenched, knowing that this was exactly what the council was counting on. He and Mark would be forced to return to the Hammerstar immediately. They were trying to murder him, leaving him to die and then blaming it on the judgement of the Gryphusani, and, ultimately, on Arion himself.

He decided then, quite suddenly, that he simply wouldn't return to the Hammerstar. He wasn't entirely certain how he would manage it, but to return to the Hammerstar, leaving Arion to die, that was unacceptable.

The ride down was long, the atmosphere and the short distance making speed impossible. Still, at last, they touched down, and the shuttle hatchway was opened. Soren was not prepared for the crowd that was waiting, though in retrospect he understood. He wondered briefly if Rita was among the crowd.

The cargo bay was opened, revealing Arion standing next to the pressure tube, his expression one of earnest calm. His hands were secured behind him. The faintest of smiles flickered on his face as their eyes met, disappearing immediately as the Fadeys moved in, opening the tube and lifting the venat onto the stretcher. No machines were allowed on the mountain, so it would have to be carried by hand.

He looked at the venat. It was muzzled now, its ears flat against its skull, eyes closed. They had not bothered with any restraint other than the muzzle, apparently because it seemed no longer capable of moving. Its body was completely limp except for the left arm which was curled against its chest, the fist clenched in a permanent cramp.

They laid it out on the stretcher, straps criss-crossing over the chest and knees to hold it in place. Arion watched with intense interest though his face remained neutral.

The crowd slowly gave way before them as the party moved forward: the two Ealdreds leading, six Fadeys bearing the stretcher, Arion behind the stretcher, flanked by Vic and Neal, followed Soren and Mark. Behind them came the crowd, recording crews moving around and about like flies. Only a few people stopped at the edge of the town, the rest continuing up the rise, past woods on the right and on into the open tundra that spanned between the town and the foot of the mountain.

Then, as they walked, Arion began to sing. Softly, but clearly, he sang to the tune of a familiar song, yet the words... Soren realized with a mild shock that he was singing in Venatese. He looked at the venat. Its ears had come forward, listening, and its eyes were open. Its head rested to the side, facing away, though Soren felt sure that it would still refuse to look at anyone if it had a choice. Quiet murmuring broke out in the crowd behind them.

Lamnek, lamnek, nash ran son
Eirlarada bada Kon
Koneilas tiba ba noma
Koneilas tiba ba goma
Komaludo ba moron.

Eirlarada Konaia
Rokanen, so mokoketaia.
Mono Konaia, mirquash ku,
Sonek, toka, ran pitu;
Koneidu asa modasaia.

Tiba roka, amonor.
Konenpashda ba Konaia mor.
Monalareida vudapek;
Konalareidas tonapek;
Konabeidos ba shapor.

Koneireisa Baba, Koneirsad!
Eirta shei danar, vad do vad.
Enarpachnas panar agro
Nimba bopenar reis kro
Kala kish Konubaia rad.

At the foot of the mountain the crowd stopped, leaving the party to go on alone. Here too Arion ceased his singing. He would need his breath for climbing. Actually, thought Soren as they began, as mountains went, this was more of a hill. Still, they had a winding, twenty minute hike ahead.

At long last they rounded the last bend of the path and came to the leveled clearing. A smooth rock wall rose above them on the left, tumbled rock and undergrowth covered the way beyond the clearing, and the mountain sloped down and away to their right. In the center of the clearing two poles had been raised. Arion was guided to the first pole closest to the wall; his wrists were loosed and refastened to the pole. He accepted this with placid calm.

The venat had been set down next to the second pole, but its left arm remained cramped against its chest. A tether was tied to its right wrist, with the intention of hauling it upright and cuffing it to the pole, but it became evident that this would be impractical without the left arm. "Leave it lie," said the Ealdred Thomas finally. "It's not going anywhere." So the stretcher was lifted, rolling the venat off onto the ground. Soren looked at Arion, but his eyes were on the venat, frowning. He looked back at it again. It was face down, and probably not very comfortable. He went over to it and gingerly, (and not without some repugnance), moved its head and limbs into a more comfortable looking pose. He looked at Arion again and sighed.

Arion smiled briefly and nodded once. Soren hesitated, wanting to say something, but there were no words for what was happening. No words to erase the helplessness. But he would be back. He would return for Arion, though he couldn't say so now. Instead he gazed at Arion with fierce loyalty, urging him to understand that he wouldn't let him down. Arion frowned slightly, perceiving something, but gave no other sign. A hand on his shoulder startled him, and he turned to see Mark. He looked at Arion once again, then turned abruptly and began walking. But he would be back.

The walk down was brisk and silent. The crowd still milling at the foot of the mountain, waiting. Ealdred Thomas waited until Soren and Sparrow had reached them before turning to the crowd. "The venat and the imposter have been left to the wisdom of the Gryphusani. It is done. My heart aches for those of you who feel loss, but you must place your pain in the hands of God. He alone can mold your sorrow to your strength. Let us not forget the real Arion and the supreme sacrifice he made for the family. Let us remember him with gratitude; let us pray now for his soul." He bowed his head and paused for several moments.

"Look!" someone shouted from the crowd.

"Yes! Yes! Look!" shouted someone else.

All eyes turned to the mountain. High up the slope but below the clearing was the clear figure of a man. He was moving quickly down the path, trotting, stumbling, hop-skipping down the steep winding trail. He stopped at a bend and began waving, then let out the whooping crow of victory, his voice soft with distance but still clear. Another wave, another crow, and he came on again, lost behind some trees, reappearing on the other side, still running.

Sparrow let loose with an answering crow. He clapped Soren on the back, jubilant. "Didn't I tell you to trust?" Soren stared at him, senseless, the truth only now dawning on him. He looked again, and the figure, closer now, was clearly Arion.

Soren laughed, unconscious of the tears flowing freely down his cheeks. How? How..? It didn't matter how. It was. Some of the people were cheering, but no one set foot on the mountain path. An eternal fascination later, Arion was stumbling into the midst of them, gasping for breath, laughing, trying to speak.

"I saw - I saw - " he gasped, then laughed.

"How did you get loose?" demanded Ealdred Thomas. Those close enough to hear him quieted; the anger of his tone was sobering.

Arion looked at him, his smile lessening with a mildly puzzled frown. He looked away, as if searching for the answer, the frown deepening slightly then shattering as he laughed again. "I don't know," he gasped, still laughing. "I don't know. ...I saw.. the gryphus..." His grin widened and he smiled around at the crowd. "I saw..." He shook his head, eyes sparkling.

"Don't listen! It's a trick!" shouted someone in the crowd, behind but near the Ealdred Thomas.

"Yes! The Gryphusani shouldn't be asked to deal with Lenisats. Kill it!"

An angry roar went up among the crowd and quite suddenly everyone was arguing. Soren looked at Mark, whose face was grim, and Arion, whose face was shocked and confused. The arguing developed into shoving as some tried to reach Arion and others held them back.

"NO MORE!" The noise dropped dramatically at the resonant voice. Arion faced the crowd, his arms above his head. "No more!" he said again, breathing heavily still but no longer gasping. He looked the crowd over, still shocked, but clearly angry now. "Whether you believe me a Lenisat," he said to those pressing forward, "or whether you don't," he said to those holding them back, "how can you fight each other?" he demanded, spreading his arms wide. "How?" His mouth struggled to form words, but nothing came and he shook his head. "No more." He turned and began to walk away.

Ealdred Thomas reached out, taking hold of his arm. "You're coming with us."

Arion stopped and looked at him, his eyes shockingly cold. "No," he said firmly, with unquestionable authority. "You have no more claim on me. You have no right. No more." He jerked his arm free and began walking again. The Ealdred's frown deepened, but Ealdred Tovi put his hand on Ealdred Thomas' arm and shook his head. The crowd milled uncertainly as Arion headed towards the town, a solitary figure. Soren hesitated, unsure whether to follow, or to stay and monitor the situation. He decided to follow, jogging to catch up, afraid that the Ealdreds would herd him into the shuttle. Mark joined him, along with several others.

Ahead of them, Arion paused at the edge of the woods, then turned and began walking into the trees instead of on into the town. Soren caught up with him, laying a hand on his shoulder. Arion stopped cold in his tracks, stiffening. Soren struggled to react, trying to catch him as he suddenly collapsed. He was unable to hold him, but he slowed his descent to the ground, cradling his head at least so that it didn't strike anything. He looked up at Mark, unsure what to do with him. One of the others who had started to follow turned back, returning to the crowd.

Mark squatted down and looked him over. "We'll have to carry him back."

"Back?" asked Soren doubtfully. "Back where? Not the Hammerstar."

Mark sighed, agreeing. "To the Pier Mignon, I guess," he said reluctantly.

"He can stay at my house."

Soren looked up and spied Rita. Of course she had been in the crowd, but still he hesitated. "Won't Lal object?"

She looked uncomfortable and shook her head. "He's..." She put on a momentary, forgiving smile. "He's dead."

Just then someone jogged up. It was the fellow who had turned back to the crowd, only now he was carrying the stretcher. "Thought we could use this," he said, laying it down beside Arion.

Soren looked at him, both relieved and pleased. "Great. Thanks." He looked at Rita, apologizing silently. "Having him in your house may cause trouble for you," he warned quietly.

She smiled again, more naturally this time though still uncomfortable. "I don't care." Almost as an afterthought she added, "I haven't been terribly popular lately anyway." Her voice was firm now, her expression rebellious.

Again his sympathy was silent, but clear. "Thank you, Rita." They shifted him onto the stretcher, Mark and Soren lifting the front end and the fellow who had brought it lifting the other end at his feet. Arion was much lighter than the venat. They set a brisk pace, Mark seeming to share Soren's urgency to get Arion away from the crowd. Rita led the way, sprightly keeping ahead of them. It wasn't far, and soon they were in the door, Rita closing it behind them. She took them into a bedroom, and they set the stretcher on the large bed.

"Boy!" exclaimed the fellow. "You'd think you two were in a race!"

Soren smiled apologetically. "We wanted to get him inside away from the crowd."

He frowned slightly and shook his head. "The two Ealdreds were having a rather entertaining debate," he said, a smile playing at the corners of his mouth, but perhaps unsure how these two Gadamis would take such news. "They're all standing around to listen."

Soren hesitated, then nodded, allowing himself to smile. "Arion and Ealdred Tovi were once very close," he said, pleased to think that he had finally changed his mind. "Now that I think of it, it did seem strange that they didn't catch up to us. Well, that's good too. By the way, my name is Soren," he said, extending his hand.

The other accepted and shook it. “I’m Bruce.”

“Thanks again, Bruce.” He smiled, then turned to help Mark with settling Arion in the bed while Bruce and Rita watched from the doorway. But why hadn't he woken up yet? When Mark was finished, Soren came close, whispering confidentially. "Is he going to be all right?"

Mark glanced at him and back at Arion, then nodded. "Exhaustion," he said quietly, seeming to understand Soren's unspoken question.

Rita had disappeared, but returned now with a large pitcher of juice and five glasses. She poured all five, handing them around. She looked at Arion and left his sitting on the tray, sipping pensively at her own.

After the long, arduous walk, the juice felt, as well as tasted, very good indeed. "Thanks Rita," said Soren, setting his empty glass on the tray. "That was perfect."

She glanced at him, flashing him a smile, then knelt on the floor beside the bed. Very lightly she began caressing Arion's arm. She seemed to have no expectation that he would wake, nor undue concern that her attentions would force him from his rest. Her movements were idle affection, as she might pet a cat sitting in her lap.

After several minutes, Arion's eyes began to flicker, the motion setting Soren's heart to beating wildly. Rita stopped her petting and moved away, fetching Arion's glass of juice. In this way, his eyes opened first to the empty side of the room, and Soren saw the first gray shadows of doubt in his face, not knowing where he was. His head snapped around then, hearing Rita's movement. His eyes closed, his body relaxing as he saw who was with him, but not before Soren recognized the wary defensiveness that had come first.

"Arion," said Rita quietly, "would you like some juice?"

He smiled, then opened his eyes. "Ah, what's 'is face got crows, but I get a lovely lady. Yes, sweet angel of mercy. Please." Rita blushed furiously, but smiled wide and brought it to him. He hesitated for a moment, then took the glass, rolling to his side to sip gingerly. He put his head down again, cradling the glass to his chest. "Oh," he breathed happily, "that is good." After several moments, he took another, longer drink, but his hands were trembling as he lay down again and Rita closed her hand over his to steady the glass. He allowed her to take it, his eyes closing.

"So tell me," she almost whispered, "what did you see?" she asked, her voice full of wonder.

A beautiful smile spread across his face, but his eyes didn't open. "I saw the gryphus," he said quietly, dreamily. The smile faded as his face relaxed, his brows coming slightly together as if he were trying to capture a fleeting thought. "It was so strange..."

"Why?" she whispered.

"When I first saw it, I almost felt happy, but I..." His brows furrowed deeply. "All I could feel was the most crushing despair. Humiliation.... I didn't even feel the pain anymore, though I can remember it. And the gryphus came.." He paused, his voice breaking. "It set its claws on Raach's back, and I could feel... Are you ready? I wanted to scream no, but I couldn't. ...I've never been so terrified. Never... Mobatnte... Mono sharpen. Mono patka. Rumoshap! Rumoshap! Rumomasgat ba mon nada!" In his delirium he didn't seem to notice that he had fallen into Venatese.

Rita reached out and held his hand, tears running down both their cheeks. His back arched in the bed, his breath labored. "NO!" he screamed suddenly, sitting up in the bed, his eyes wide and staring. He seemed lost then, gazing about the room as if seeing it for the first time. He looked at them, puzzled, as Rita guided him downward into the bed again.

"It's okay now," she said softly. "It's all over now."

He smiled, shocking them, and began to laugh softly, closing his eyes again. "I'm sorry if I scared you. I think I was dreaming..."

"You were telling us about the gryphus," said Rita calmly, though her eyes were wide and dark.

"Was I?" he asked, frowning, then laughed again. He opened his eyes briefly but gave the effort up, defeated. "Oh, I am so tired..." His eyebrows went up. "I didn't want to come back," he admitted confidentially.

"Why not?" asked Rita after a pause.

"You can't imagine how it feels..."

"Tell me?" she asked after another pause.

He laughed softly, perhaps crying. "...I couldn't believe it, even though I could feel the laughter, feel our wings beating the air, blowing it away, blowing me away, leaving nothing but me..." His voice slowly dwindled and he stopped, sleeping soundly.

Soren breathed a shallow sigh of relief. He had almost reached out to stop Rita from questioning him, not trusting what mischief might come from his delirious words.

"Let's let him sleep," whispered Rita, rising and picking up her tray. They filed out after her, pulling the door to, but not latching it. She carried the tray into the kitchen, then looked about distractedly. "Are you hungry? I have plenty..." Her hand strayed out invitingly.

"That would be nice," said Bruce. "I'll help you. What would you suggest?"

"Oh, I don't know. Take a look and see if anything appeals to you." He did as suggested, moving about with an easy familiarity.

"Here. How about some cheese sandwiches?" he said, bringing out several items. He set them on the table and everyone began helping themselves.

"So what do you suppose he meant?" began Rita.

"Oh don't start," snapped Soren, suddenly angry. "It's bad enough trying to drag it out of him when he's obviously in no shape to talk about it. Don't start trying to make something of what you can't possibly understand!" Rita, who should normally have flared at such an attack, dropped her eyes and fell silent.

Soren stared at her, ready to fight and robbed of his opponent, faced instead with a hapless victim of his anger. "I'm sorry," he growled, rising from the table, no longer hungry. He walked down the hall to Arion's room and went in, sitting in the dark, watching nothing.

What do you suppose he meant? The venat was dead, killed by the gryphus while Arion watched. He looked at him, sleeping so deeply he could have been drugged. Why? Was it maybe just what Sparrow would have called necessary growing pains? Was this what it would take to bring him to his senses?

He jumped, startled as the door opened. Rita stuck her head through. "Soren, the Ealdred Tovi is here. He says you have to come back to the Hammerstar now."

He glanced at Arion and rose heavily. This would not be pleasant. He walked out, following Rita to the front hallway. "Sir," he said, dipping his head. "I can't come right now."

"I understand your concerns, Soren, and I sympathize. I have granted you as much leeway as I could where he was concerned, but he's not with us anymore. You have other responsibilities."

"Yes sir. I'm sorry, but... Could I please do my healing here?"

He nodded slowly, apparently not surprised. "You will return when we pass again."

He inclined his head, acknowledging the compromise. "Yes, sir."

The Ealdred paused then. "How is he?"

Soren looked at him. "Who?" he asked, knowing it was cruel of him, but angry enough to force it from him anyway.

For the first time since he'd known him, the Ealdred looked away, shamefaced. "Arion," he said softly.

"He's sleeping," he answered, his voice no longer taut and formal. The heavy weight was not gone, but it had lightened considerably. "Would you like to see him?"

He shook his head. His lips said no, but without voice. He turned and went out quickly.

Soren looked at the door for several moments, then turned to look at Mark, suddenly realizing he had not left with the Ealdred. "You're staying?"

He smiled slightly. "They'll be back." Soren laughed softly. "That was very hard for him," Mark said casually.

This time Soren looked away. He would have said he didn't care, but he knew it wasn't true. He cared desperately. Why then had he forced it? "It was necessary," he said softly, though he wasn’t sure.

Mark nodded. "Yes. I think it was. For both of you."

Soren looked up at him, startled, but he had already turned and was heading for the bedroom. He followed.

It was a full six hours later before Arion woke up. The delirium had gone, but in its place was a heavy gloom. "Hey."

"Hey," Soren responded. "That was some nap you took." Arion looked out the window at the sun which showed it to be late afternoon. His eyebrows flicked upwards with momentary recognition, but no interest. Soren shifted uneasily in his chair. "I'm sorry about Raach," he said finally, opting to get it over with, but careful to use his name.

At last Arion showed interest. "Sorry? Why?"

Soren hesitated, floored. Why? "Because it wasn't what you wanted," he managed.

He smiled a strange, sad smile and laughed softly. "It was exactly what I wanted," he said to the ceiling. "I still want it," he added with mournful longing.

"Arion..." he began, then shook his head. "You have totally lost me."

Arion looked at him, frowning slightly. "You think he died, don't you?"

Soren gave one short, incredulous laugh. "What am I supposed to think?"

He looked at him for a moment longer, then away and nodded. "I suppose that's natural," he said, speaking to the ceiling again. "I guess they'll all think that."

Soren didn't answer, too confused by this bizarre exchange. More strange than the person he had found in quarantine was this mournful man in the bed, disagreeing without denying that the venat had been killed. "Wasn't he?" he asked finally.

"No."

He hesitated. Was he simply unable to face it? Was he refusing to remember what he had told them earlier? "What about the gryphus?" he asked tentatively. Arion said nothing. "You said the gryphus put its claws into his back..."

His eyes flickered, as if surprised by this information, but he nodded.

"And?"

"And it doesn't matter what I say anymore because people will only believe what they want to believe anyway. It's only going to get worse."

"What do you mean?" he asked, suddenly wishing Mark was in the room.

He sighed, frowning. "I mean everything. People. It wasn't so bad when they just hated me. But it's only getting worse, and nothing can stop it. I thought I could warn them. I couldn't. Then I thought I could show them. They wouldn't see. And now they're fighting each other. ...Catalyst," he said bitterly, closing his eyes. "No wonder they hate me."

Soren rose from the chair, deciding to get the others, knowing they would resent being left out if he didn’t. "You can't blame yourself," he said firmly. "I'll be back in a minute." He went out, finding Mark in the kitchen with Rita. "He's awake, but he's in an awful state of mind."

Mark looked up, frowning, inquisitive. "How so?"

"He's upset because the people were arguing. He says it's only going to get worse, and he says it's all his fault."

He rose. "Not surprising. Come on." Soren and Rita followed.

"Hey," said Arion, smiling slightly in spite of himself. "Reinforcements."

Soren chuckled and Mark smiled easily, apparently pleased. "Hey. I hear you're pretty down on yourself."

He looked back up at the ceiling. "No. Just facing facts."

"Such as?"

"Such as I already told Soren," he snapped suddenly. "I'm tired of being the center of curiosity," he said angrily, throwing the covers off and swinging out of the bed. He only managed two steps before he staggered and fell to his knees, clutching the side of the chair for support.

"Get back in bed before you hurt yourself," chided Rita, attempting to support him on one side. Arion shrugged her off, made a shaky journey to the bathroom and returned, nearly falling into the bed.

"Would you like to eat?" she asked.

He laughed then, but ever so softly. "I think I've forgotten how."

"Arion," said Mark quietly but firmly. "When's the last time you ate?"

He frowned, then raised his eyebrows with a slight shake of his head, his eyes closed. "I think I had lunch before I went to see Ril."

"What?" demanded Soren, stunned. Arion scowled and sighed angrily, turning his face away. Mark signaled for him to be quiet.

Soren closed his mouth, clenching his teeth against his own anger which was spurting in every direction. If Mark wasn't surprised, had he known? Why hadn't he said something before? Why hadn't Arion said something to him? He could have brought something. How in all creation could the Ealdreds neglect something so basic?

Not since he went to see Ril. The window on his left showed it already late afternoon. Add a day and a half to reach Tellus, the day Raach was injured, the day Arion was put into the cage, two days waiting for the Alexandria to deliver the venat... Six days! Six and a half when he added the half day when he went in to see Ril and spent the rest of it in the medicat. He leaned against the wall and closed his eyes, trying to release his anger. Why hadn't somebody said something? Why hadn't he himself asked Arion, he asked himself then. Because it never occurred to him that he wasn't being fed.

"Rita," said Mark calmly, "would you please bring some more juice? And see if you have any soup out there. Some kind of nice light broth."

"Sure," she said. Soren noted with selfish satisfaction that her voice was uncertain. He wasn't the only one upset by Arion's condition.

"No more," said Arion quietly after she left. "No more questions. No more answers."

Mark sat down in a chair. "Okay."

Rita returned several minutes later a lap tray and two extra pillows. "Here. Sit up for a minute," she said, placing the pillows behind him as he complied.

"Thanks," he mumbled as she set the tray across his lap. She nodded. "So what'd you guys do? Quit?"

Soren shook his head. "We've been left behind, but they'll pick us up next pass. I'm afraid we didn't even ask you if we could stay here," he added to Rita. "If you want, we can find somewhere else."

"No," she said, shaking her head, but not smiling. "That is, if you don't mind sharing a room."

"We normally do anyway," said Mark. "Thank you very much."

She smiled distractedly, clearly worried about Arion, who was avoiding everyone's faces. He ate in silence, they sat in silence, and Rita wrung her fingers in silence. She fetched the tray as he finished, pulling the pillows out for him as he moved to get them. "There you go."

"Thanks again," he said, slightly more genuine this time. Still, he promptly rolled over on his side, turning his back on them, and pulled the covers over his shoulder. "Out," ordered Rita, "and let him sleep." They rose easily, neither offended by her tone, and went out.

They went into the kitchen and sat at the table, Rita dumping the dishes in the sink and joining them. "So what do you think?" asked Soren. Rita looked at Mark expectantly. None of them had ever encountered such a situation before, but of the three, Mark had the most medical training.

He shrugged. "I think he's exhausted," he said simply.