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victory." Brill opened his glistening eyes to stare at Doriand. "You can share the victory by joining us. If you refuse, we can accomplish the same end by taking you to the God Wall. When the people of Fairhope see that you have no personal god to protect you, they will return to Lord Tern."

"Your time has ended," Doriand said. "Why can't you accept that gracefully?"

Brill made a sound that was something between a laugh and a death rattle. He waved a hand, and the two boys grasped Dorland's arms and lifted him from the chair.

Doriand, you can't let him take us to the God Wall—

Doriand did not resist when the boys forced him around and walked him down the long carpet to the door. A moment later, they stepped into bright sunlight.

Desperation made Paul try something he

wouldn't have believed possible. He reached out for the tenuous sensations he felt around him—the muscles of Dorland's legs under him, his shoulders in the grip of the boys—

We're getting out ofhere\

—and forced his own orders to Dorland's legs. They responded sluggishly, and Doriand pulled free of the boys and began a shambling run across the lawn. Paul felt resistance from Doriand and stumbled, caught himself and kept running.

Paul, no—

He heard a shout behind him; then something exploded against the back of his neck, knocking him forward onto his knees. He tried to get to his feet, but his muscles disobeyed. Something hit him again and he sank into nightmare oblivion.

He opened his eyes, squinted against the sun that was full in his,face. His arms hurt; he tried to move them—

We've been strapped to the wall.

Paul jerked at the voice, then froze as pain stabbed upward from his neck through his skull. Don't try to move, Doriand said. Everything will be all right.

Paul resisted an irrational urge to laugh. Five of the Sons of God had formed a line a few meters away, facing the wall. The boy with the slanting scar stood in the center. He met Dorland's eyes and held them. His face was expressionless. Paul strained against the bindings at wrists and ankles. He felt Dorland's muscles relax and almost sobbed with frustration.

Don't worry.

Time passed. The sun warmed his face. His

wrists throbbed, and he tried to ease the pressure by pushing down with his feet. The bindings cut into his ankles. Every muscle in his body began to cramp. The boys stood motionless in front of him. Paul didn't know how long he had been hanging there before he heard approaching footsteps. He looked up and saw Elder Jacowicz limping down the pathway, leaning on a wooden staff. His white robe swirled at his ankles. Paul felt tension grip him.

Jacowicz stepped through the line of boys and thrust his white face up close to Doriand. "I knew you would come back." His voice was sharp and high-pitched. "You couldn't stay away." Doriand locked eyes with Jacowicz. The other returned Dorland's stare in a measuring, predatory manner.

"Why did you have to kill Diana and Shari?" Doriand asked.

"Oh, I didn't really have to," Jacowicz said.

"I suppose it was ordered by Lord Tern." Jacowicz issued a short bark of nasal laughter.

"Hardly. Lord Tern gives his orders to High Elder Brill, not to me."

William Greenleaf

"Whose orders do you obey. Elder Jacowicz?"

"My own." Jacowicz used the tip of his staff to prod Dorland under the chin. "We really need your cooperation, Dorland. Our children have become quite upset and it's all your fault. You'll have to talk to them and straighten it out."

Dorland kept silent.

"The people of Fairhope are confused, and confusion often breeds violence. Many people will be killed if you don't help us. Do you want that on your conscience?"

"Some will surely die," Dorland agreed. "But if they rid Clarion of the Holy Order—"

Jacowicz pressed hard with the staff, and a bolt of pain lanced up through Dorland's jaw.

"All you have to do is talk to them," Jacowicz snarled. "High Elder Brill will call a service at the temple. You will tell the people the Godstone they saw was false. High Elder Brill will do some of his tricks, and all will be forgotten. It's all so simple!" Dorland's eyes shifted from Jacowicz's leering face to the young boys who stood behind him. The boy with the scarred face stared back.

Suddenly Paul was aware of another presence—

the link. Elli.

'"(Acceptance)*

The feeling of warmth rushed over him—Elli's strength flowing out to him and Dorland. He felt another presence as well.

-(Youth/touch) kra'ith*

"I want an answer." Jacowicz's voice came faintly through the soft veil of Elli's presence. Dorland's eyes were on the boy's scarred face. The boy stared back.

*Kra'ith*

It came in an instant. The boy's name was Jonny. He was trying hard not to be concerned about his parents. They were in the group near the river. Jonny knew they had violated one of Lord Tern's strictest rules by going into a forbidden part of the city.

"(Youth/touch) kra'ith*

Elli's presence folded over all of them. Dorland, Paul, Jonny and Elli. Kra'ith—an alien touch reaching out to soothe an array of human feelings: Dorland's guilt over the deaths of Diana and Shari; Paul's doubts and insecurities; Jonny's blasphemous concern for his parents. They were all together—

"What's going on—?" Jacowicz's voice rose, then faded.

*Kra'ith*

"—Jonny, I want you to come up here and . . . JonnyV

For a moment Paul was back in that depressing bar with Dorland behind him on the stage. Paul had felt that he was a failure at everything when he'd sat down at that table, and when he'd left, it was with renewed faith in himself.

Dorland was a kra'ith leader.

Jonny's parents: his mother planted jewel tips around the porch of their little house in Fairhope in an effort to make the squalid place a nicer home for her family; his father worked the fields even when his back felt as if it would break as he reached for the next fluff of cotton. But he went to the fields every day because the deacons kept a record of those who missed, and the fear was great enough to overcome the pain.

The link expanded to cover the other boys waiting behind Jacowicz. Affection, hatred, fear, happiness—all the range of human emotions

washed out from them. Dorland brought Diana and Shari close to him. He projected their warmth and acceptance.

•"(Group/touch)*

204 William Greenleaf

The semarch ceremony initiated the boys into the Sons of God. It was a distorted version of the Tal Tahir ceremony.

The youth are transformed from those who are worshipped to those who worship.

Dorland blinked, and for a moment Elder

Jacowicz's skull-like face cleared in front of him. Jacowicz raised the staff high and brought it slashing down toward Dorland's head—

Dorland felt the shades of music in the background. He imagined his hands inside the robe of his player's garb, fingered the buttons, arranged the music, swept the auditorium with color. The music and the flashing colors combined into a magical salve, swaying in and out of the pain in Jonny's eyes, sweeping over Jacowicz's upturned face. Kra'ith—the strength of the child.

"Jonnyr

The shrill scream pierced through the haze that surrounded Paul. Through Dorland's eyes he saw the staff raised high above Jacowicz's head, and Jacowicz's arm held tight in the grip of Jonny and another boy. The staff fell to the ground. Elder Jacowicz stumbled back, staring . . .

Then Paul felt himself fading. Again came the stretching of identity, and the surroundings changed. Abruptly, he was sitting on a hard stone pedestal with Sabastian beside him.

"Are you all right?" Sabastian asked. His face was strangely pale. "You've been mumbling and muttering the whole time, jerking around like you were having a bad dream."

Paul's eyes focused with some effort on the old man. "I was with Dorland."

Sabastian didn't question the statement. "Where is he?"

"Coming back, I think."