“No, Rimon, no,” said Kadi, catching her breath. “They warned us, Rimon, not just you. Us. I could have insisted on moving. But I didn’t. It’s just as much my fault as it is yours.”
Dizzily, Rimon realized he had again slipped into thinking of Kadi as a Gen, and therefore helpless, dependent. “I’m sorry___”
She glanced around at the field, the ruins. “Sorry isn’t going to help. We’ll build somewhere else. Come on, let’s see what we can salvage.”
Following her toward the house, Rimon saw her cough raggedly, stopping to gasp for breath. Then she doubled over, coughing. He caught her and eased her to the ground, groping his way into duoconsciousness. He zlinned fluid collecting in her lungs, the bronchial tree swollen, the more irritated now for her exertions.
As she continued to gasp for breath, Rimon zlinned the accumulating fluids and began to fear for her life. What would I do without Kadi? Shoving panic aside, he spread his tentacles over her back, extending the laterals to zlin deep detail.
His concentration was barely interrupted by the dim shock of discovering that he was actually zlinning her body’s cells. He could make out the sickened ones, selyn-dulled. But as his attention focused on them, the dulled cells began to throb weakly with selyn production again. It was as if his use of selyn caused her to produce selyn.
Perhaps, if he could fool her cells into thinking he was in need, he could induce the dulled cells to produce selyn again—to rejuvenate.
Suddenly, as she gasped again under his hands, he wished with all his heart for need, even attrition. With a shock, he found himself hyperconscious, unable to see or feel, though he felt no real need. The memory of hunting mode, that’s all it was. But under his touch, her cells began to surge with life, healing themselves, clearing the swelling and congestion miraculously.
Before long, she was laughing with him as they bent to the chore of cleaning away the ruins.
They were burying Wolf up on the hillside, next to Billy, when Del rode up that afternoon. The Gen Raiders, he reported, had struck the out-Territory Simes working in the fields around their small community. Although there was not usually much amity between the two communities of Simes, the common enemy, Wild Gens, had drawn Simes from both sides of the creek to ward off the attack.
“I got in on the tail end of it,” said Del. “The Raiders shot down three farmers and headed back across the border when other Simes started to the rescue: It was only when someone said they’d come from this direction that I realized you two might be in trouble.”
“We were,” said Rimon. “Fortunately, we had that hiding place.”
Del looked down at the ashen ruin. “Well, you can’t stay here anymore. This is the way the Gens always come through.”
“That’s why those Simes laughed at us for settling here,” said Kadi.
“There’s plenty of land over by my place,” said Del. “I’ll help you pack.”
“The land around yours is no good for farming,” said Rimon.
“Then why farm? Come in with me and raise horses.” It was tempting, but Rimon shook his head stubbornly. “Food prices in town are outrageous and—Del, we, of all people, have got to be self-sufficient. We’ve also got to be able to support other people who join us. You know how important it is for Gens to eat well…”
“And Simes have to eat, too,” said Kadi, “or have you forgotten? You look as if you haven’t eaten since you left us.”
Del’s face twisted momentarily. “I haven’t,” he admitted. “My last kill was… pretty horrible. I kept seeing Billy.” His nager rang with such pain that Rimon couldn’t breathe, but Kadi said firmly, “I’m hoping you’ll learn to live without killing, the way Rimon does, if only for your own peace of mind.”
Del turned away from the grave on the hillside. “I don’t think anyone else has a chance. Rimon found you first.”
She felt it then, but all she said was, “Come, Del, and have tea with us.”
Rimon and Kadi went back to camping until they could rebuild on a spot away from the Raiders’ trail. Meanwhile, they cleared more ground, and salvaged what they could of the trampled field. In return for Del’s help, they spent several days helping him build his cabin. He had already broken several of the wild horses and sold them in town; as he had money, he often bought things Rimon could not afford—presents for Kadi, he would insist.
One such present was a supply of jars for canning the products of Kadi’s garden. “It’s not a gift,” he insisted. “I expect homemade jam to come back in some of those jars, and I intend to exact payment of a part of your tea harvest. The stuff they sell in town is wretched!”
One day Del arrived for an unexpected visit, bringing with him a young Sime woman and two small children, in a wagon that Rimon didn’t recognize. The woman was Carlana Lodge, one of the out-Territory Simes from the neat little community that Kadi always admired. She spoke Simelan with a heavy Gen accent, and was the first Sime other than Rimon and Del to be willing to speak with Kadi. Kadi at once took a liking to the Sime woman. She was a breathtaking natural beauty, with pale skin, huge blue eyes ringed with thick dark lashes, and straight dark hair worn center-parted and pulled back into a coil at the nape of her neck. She wore a dress with a high bodice and skirts to the ground, even in the heat of summer. The sleeves of her dress looked as if they’d been designed to come down to the wrist, but then cut off and hemmed at the elbow instead, to avoid pressure on her tentacle sheaths. Apparently Carlana had carried an extreme form of Gen modesty with her across the border.
When they showed her around the garden, Carlana said, “Your tea plants are doing much better than mine. I never heard of trin tea before I… came here, but it is such a necessity. I don’t think anyone in Fort Freedom grows it as well as you do.”
“Fort Freedom?” said Kadi, struggling with the odd accent.
Carlana translated, apparently unaware of the irony in the name—for the out-Territory Simes had walled themselves in against whatever freedom Sime Territory had to offer.
Rimon and Del stood back, watching the women talk, and for the first time Rimon realized Kadi must be missing the company of another woman. They were soon chatting amiably, and he ignored them until there was a small nageric shock from the end of the garden. He looked over to see that Kadi had put her arm around Carlana. He heard her say gently, “I don’t think nature intended us to kill one another.” She took her arm away.
“Del—Mr. Erick—told me something about you, but I didn’t expect…” Carlana spread hands and tentacles. “I’m sorry.”
“I’m getting used to the fact that I’ll never have them,” Kadi reassured her.
But Carlana rushed on, not hearing her. “They’re so repulsive. You shouldn’t have to look at them.”
“… what?”
“They seem to have a life of their own,” the Sime woman apologized. “Of course, we all use them for working—we can get so much more done—but that makes it hard to remember to keep them decently sheathed in company.”
“Carlana… are you saying you actually try to hide your tentacles? But they’re beautiful!”
Carlana took Kadi’s hands, holding her arms up. “No, Kadi, you are beautiful. Normal. Not a mutant monster like me.”
Rimon glanced at Del. “Carlana comes from Gen Territory,” Del said. “She has a lot of strange beliefs… but I guess I can sympathize with some of them now.”
“Do you know,” Kadi told Rimon after their visitors had gone, “Carlana was surprised that I call myself a Gen? She thought it was purely a derogatory term for the Pen-raised Gens that are hardly more than animals.”
“What do the Wild Gens call themselves?”
“People.”
Rimon stared at Kadi, then chuckled. “Of course!”
“And most of the Simes at Fort Freedom were members of something called the Church of the Purity in Gen Territory.”
“What’s that?” asked Rimon.
“It’s an… organization to wor
ship God. I think. I didn’t really understand it all,” Kadi admitted. “They seem to believe that if a child changes over, it’s a punishment from God for the parents’ wrongs. They think Simes are inhuman monsters visited on the Earth because of witches and sorcerers who once tried to control the forces of nature, instead of obeying God’s Law. Really, Rimon– she told me this in all seriousness!” Rimon stared. She added, “Did Del tell you about Abel Veritt?”
“No—Del was too busy telling me how wonderful Carlana is. He likes her kids, too. I think we’re going to see him settling down pretty soon.”
“That fast?” asked Kadi. “Carlana only lost her husband last winter—and the way of life she’s found at Fort Freedom means a lot to her. I’m not sure they can adapt to one another’s customs. And from the way Carlana talks about Abel Veritt—their spiritual leader—I don’t think Del will be welcome in Fort Freedom if he questions anything that man teaches!”
Wistfully, Rimon said, “You want to be welcome there, too, don’t you, Kadi?”
“Well—yes. And I’d like to have Carlana and her children for friends. She wants us to come talk to Mr. Veritt– that’s what they call each other, Mister this-or-that, some kind of—Genlan?—honorific, I think.”
“They call their language—English. I always intended to study it, but never got around to it. I was sick so often during my First Year after changeover when it would have been so easy to learn…”
“I think you should tell Carlana all about Zeth if you get a chance. Rimon, she killed her mother in First Need.”
“Her mother!”
“I think we should go talk to this Abel Veritt. These people could use our help as much as we could use theirs. They’re all from out-Territory, and most of them have never had any contact with—civilization. Can you imagine what they go through—believing they’ve become demons? At least Veritt has given them some self-respect, but they’ve got a long way to go.”
“Even the ones who don’t think they’ve become demons have a hard time,” Rimon said. “Remember Charlie Horvan? Even after my father hired him, he was still depressed all the time, couldn’t learn Simelan very well, poisoned himself a couple of times, and finally hanged himself.”
“I remember,” Kadi said. “Mama and I had to take care of him when he made himself sick. Your dad came in one day and bawled him out for being such a fool… but I don’t think he knew those things he ate were poison, Rimon. We couldn’t feed Gens a lot of Sime foods. Surely there are things that Gens can eat that would poison us. You,” she amended, with a chuckle. “I’ll ask Carlana. There’s no reason to restrict our larder to food suitable for both of us.”
Kadi got her chance to ask a few days later, when she and Rimon were invited into Fort Freedom to meet Abel Veritt. The leader of the community was an imposing man who reminded Rimon of his father—not in appearance, but in air of command.
Veritt was actually shorter than Rimon, but stockier than most Simes, with broad shoulders. There was no malnutrition evident among the Simes in Fort Freedom. Apparently they kept up the Gen habit of regular meals.
It was difficult to judge Veritt’s age, although his hair was so silver that one couldn’t guess the color it had once been. His face was suntanned and weather-beaten, his eyes squinting out from a mass of lines.
Rimon noticed that Veritt did not zlin them—not even Kadi, who usually drew curious attention. Instead, he invited them into his parlor, offered them tea, and introduced them to his wife and son. Mrs. Veritt said little. She served tea and then disappeared into the kitchen. Only after she’d gone did the conversation turn to the reason Rimon and Kadi were there.
Rimon did most of the talking at first, explaining what he and Kadi had discovered so far. As he answered Veritt’s questions, Rimon noticed Jord Veritt, Abel’s son, watching in sullen silence. He showed the same effects of good diet and hard outdoor work as his father, and the few times he spoke up—objecting, probing—it was in faintly accented but fluent Simelan—of course, thought Rimon, he’d been born on this side of the border.
Rimon had a sudden insight into lord’s status. Kadi had mentioned that one of Veritt’s teachings was that if Simes lived “good lives,” their children would be Gen. Jord must be regarded as a symbol of his father’s failings. And, at the moment, Jord was in need. Small wonder he was so belligerent.
Veritt heard Rimon out. Then he sat back, elbows on the arms of his chair, fingers steepled before him. It was a familiar posture, except that Veritt kept his tentacles sheathed.
Recalling Carlana’s apology for displaying her tentacles, Rimon carefully kept his own sheathed. Veritt noted that and nodded approval. Then he asked, “May I have permission to zlin you and your wife, Mr. Farris?”
“Yes, of course,” said Rimon. “I was wondering why you hadn’t done so already.”
“We believe in privacy… and modesty. Although we bear the curse of the Sime nature, it is our goal to turn the Devil’s gifts to God’s purposes. It would be presumptuous of me to examine your soul without your permission.”
“My… soul?” asked Rimon.
“It is the human soul that is reflected in one’s nager,” said Veritt reasonably. Then he addressed Kadi for the first time, “Mrs. Farris, you are not like the soulless creatures provided here for our need. So—it disturbs me that you choose to ally yourself with a Sime—and yet you have taught him not to kill. I cannot easily judge what you are.”
“Zlin me,” Kadi invited calmly.
Holding his hands toward Kadi, Veritt said, “Will you forgive me if… ?”
“Mr. Veritt,” said Kadi, carefully using his form of address, “I am neither frightened nor offended by the sight– or touch—of tentacles.”
“I’m not in need,” he reassured her.
“I can see that,” she replied evenly.
Considering the way Carlana had delivered the invitation for this specific day, Rimon had known Veritt had timed the interview so that his judgment would be completely unclouded. Kadi had caught that nuance, too. She said, “You killed two or three days ago. It’s your son who is in need.”
“A witch!” Jord gasped. “Father, these are evil spirits come to tempt us!”
“Silence!” demanded Veritt. “If you can’t control yourself, leave us!”
The younger man sat back in his chair, sullen again.
Knowing how one Sime’s need could affect another, Kadi rose and placed herself between Jord and his father. As the older Sime held his hands toward Kadi, cautiously extending his laterals, Rimon watched Jord tense. But Kadi only stood quietly, projecting tranquillity.
When Veritt’s eyes refocused, he said, “I’ve never felt a, nager like yours. I can’t judge, for I have no basis for comparison.”
“I’m no witch. Surely you can tell that.”
“I sense no lie in that—but—” He looked from Kadi to Rimon, reserving judgment. “What do you ask of me?”
“Friendship,” Rimon answered. “Kadi and I have started a homestead.”
“Yes, Mrs. Lodge told me. She’s very much impressed with you.”
“I like Carlana,” said Kadi. “But she seems afraid to be my friend without your permission.”
“I am spiritual advisor to this community,” explained Veritt. “I won’t forbid anyone’s friendship with you.”
“Father—!” Jord protested.
Veritt fixed him with a cold stare. “I have not that right. However, for the time being, I must forbid my people to experiment with your attempts to avoid killing Gens. I have two reasons for this. The first is practical: you have not proven that you can teach your method to others. Your friend Mr. Erick is in great distress, Mrs. Lodge tells me, because he killed someone who had become his friend.”
“True,” answered Rimon. “So we’re not trying to teach anyone else until we’re sure we can do it You have my word.”
“My other reservation is more serious, because I can see no way of proving what you are. There are lege
nds of Simes and Gens living together among the gypsies, practicing sorcery. I have never seen this. We drove the gypsies away from our town when I was a child, but there were no Simes among them. On this side of the border I’ve seen Sime gypsies, never Gens. Yet it’s known they indulge in secret practices—and if they do, so may others.
“You don’t seem like a sorcerer, Mr. Farris—but the Devil works most effectively through those who seem innocent. God revealed to me many years ago, when I recognized the soulless state of the Gens grown here, that Simes have souls. I amended my life from that day, and have, with God’s help, brought hope to the people of Fort Freedom.
“Now you bring a new hope—that it may not be necessary for Simes to kill at all. Is this a new revelation from God? Or is it a false temptation to lead us into the practice of witchcraft? Because I don’t know, I’ll not forbid your welcome in Fort Freedom. Yet I can’t ask you to join our community.”
Rimon smiled. “I think you’ll soon see we’re not sorcerers.”
“I shall pray and meditate that God may let me see this matter clearly. Meanwhile, go join your friends.”
Del and Carlana were waiting for them at Carlana’s home. The Sime woman was delighted with Veritt’s decision. As it was very warm, they joined the children in the neatly fenced yard. At one end was a patch of strawberries, a few late berries still ripening. “Why do you let these grow?” asked Kadi. “They’re poisonous.”
“Not to the children,” Carlana replied. “They love them. They’re not poisonous to you, either, Kadi. Try some.” At Kadi’s hesitation, she laughed. “Really—when I was a child, strawberry season was a great time at home. Everybody in the family ate them. I’d no idea they were poisonous to Simes until the people here warned me not to eat them. It seems a lot of new Simes make that mistake– and some of them die from it.”
“Yes,” Kadi recalled. “One time that Charlie Horvan poisoned himself, it was with strawberries. I guess nobody thought to tell him what everybody knows!”
“And here you have no one to tell you what you can eat, have you, Kadi? There are, oh, certain mushrooms, for instance. Someday we’ll go out gathering some, and I’ll show you which ones my parents taught me to pick.”
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