"Terra's Seal"
by Sharon Monroe

	Chapter 1


	Commander Adama waited calmly for his department heads to file
into the largest of the battlestar _Galactica_'s briefing rooms.  His
usual outward composure was the result of yahrens as both military leader
and politician, but the mask concealed inward trepidation at the cause
for the meeting.  It had been only a few centars previous that his chief
engineer and supply chief had brought their current dangerous technical
and supply problem to his attention.  He'd agreed it had to be acted on
immediately, and given orders for the briefing and other assignments.

	He ran his fingers through his hair, ruffling the silvered
strands from their accustomed order.  Watching from under thick bushy
eyebrows, he observed the trickle of military and civilian personnel as
they settled into their seats.  He'd worked with some of these people for
a long time, in the yahrens the huge warship had been part of a fleet
defending the Twelve Worlds.  Others, many of them civilians, were
survivors of the Destruction of those worlds.  Command demanded a certain
distance, but he'd learned to know these people well, and even call a few
of them friends.

	Together, they now struggled to keep a rag-tag group of
miscellaneous vessels intact and functional as the _Galactica_ led them
in search of sanctuary on the legendary Thirteenth Colony, Earth. 
Keeping the fleet functional was now their main concern.

	Colonel Tigh, Adama's right hand and a friend of long yahrens,
somberly called the meeting to order, his grim visage earning more haste
than usual.

	The handful of civilians clustered together, as was their wont,
presenting a united front against besieging warriors on all sides.  They
were obviously curious why they had been so summarily summoned to a
briefing, but were patiently resigned to waiting.  They took their cue
from Siress Tinia, the determined, clear-sighted representative from the
Council of Twelve, who waited with as much apparent calm as Adama
himself.

	The heads of the technical departments of Communications,
Computer Systems, Supply, and Engineering were quietly discussing the
problem, sharing their wide expertise and perhaps hoping against hope
that one of them would find a solution or some data to add.  Their gloomy
expressions said they were having little luck.

	The flight captains and senior warriors were already present,
except for Captain Apollo.  The bridge had reported he'd returned from
his mission and was on the way.  A moment later, the officer silently
entered the briefing room and slid into his chair, the last to arrive.

	Adama caught Tigh's eyes upon him, and cleared his throat to
bring the meeting to order.  The two-score or so attending personnel
turned intensely curious attention to him.

	Adama nodded toward Major Euclid, giving him the floor.  The
developing crisis in Engineering was an unexpected and rapidly worsening
situation.  Better to let Euclid explain it.  Unlike some scientists, the
man made an effort to be comprehensible to his fellow crewmen and
survivors without being condescending toward their limited engineering
knowledge.

	His expression relatively unharried, Euclid gave them the
rundown.  "We have critical neodymium and yttrium shortages in this Fleet
-- that is, we're rapidly running out of essential rare earths used as
the dopants in the laser gem crystals, to name a major use, as well as
elsewhere.  We're past the danger level.  We have to restock, now."

	From their faces, Euclid could tell everyone recognized the
elements he'd mentioned, but weren't sure of their significance.

	He continued.  "For those needing more information, the neodymium
oxide is a small but absolutely essential part of the synthetic gem
crystals used in the laser assemblies of both our Vipers and the
Galactica's defensive weapons.  We also use it in certain pieces of
engineering equipment, which department is already doing without. 
Yttrium oxide is similarly necessary--"

	"A laser crystal doesn't sound like something we'd be running out
of," the elegant Council representative commented, puzzled.

	The engineer wagged a finger toward the flight commander.  "Ah,
but over the past yahrens, in our battles against the Cylons, we've lost
and damaged numerous Vipers, as well as enduring attacks on this
battlestar.  Each shattered crystal and destroyed laser had to be
replaced.  The tremendous energy loads those crystals bear also make them
susceptible to damage.  We're running on our last crystals now -- and we
can't grow any more because we don't have the parent element.  I'm sure
Captain Apollo can confirm that we will have a number of pilots grounded
soon because we will lack the supplies to repair their ships -- to
*fighting* capability, that is.  We're facing a dangerous shortage of a
material we can't do without, even if we didn't face external dangers in
our journey."

	Apollo nodded unhappily.  He hadn't realized the significance of
recent slow repairs.

	"Is there some substitute...?" Tinia continued.

	"We've gone through all the literature available in the computer
data banks, spoken to every surviving scientist in the Fleet, and even
tried a few half-witted schemes of our own.  Nothing we've got has
suitable excitation levels or other chemical properties."

	"You've tried everything?  There's nothing else you can do?" the
head of Council security broke in.  He looked like he hadn't quite
understood the explanation, but was determined not to let it show.

	"Well, we could always reverse the polarity of the neutron flow,"
the engineer told him with a straight face.  Several of those present
snickered at the widespread science academy joke.  "Of course, if I
remember my physics correctly, that would be ineffectual in getting our
weapons systems operational again."

	"We're completely unarmed?" demanded another civilian, looking
even more alarmed.

	"Not completely, but rapidly getting there.  Fortunately our hand
weapons operate on a slightly different principle, due to questions of
size and practicality.  However, we must restock as soon as possible.  We
still have some neodymium, but we're running at danger levels.  We've
gone somewhat beyond our prescribed maintenance checks, you may recall." 
Euclid ignored worried and somber stares, directing his next words to
Adama.  "And now, sire, I'd like to get back to my section, if I may. 
I'd rather not leave some of those half-trained techs with too free a
hand, if you know what I mean."

	<And your knowledge and skill can probably do more than anybody
else's to keep this ship functional and intact long enough for the
mission we have to send out.  Who'd ever have thought we would come so
far -- and run out of firepower because overgrown gemstones cracked?>

	The commander nodded.  "Go ahead, Major."

	The engineer trotted out, leaving Captain Hannibal, one of his
chief assistants, as department representative.

	"Now you're all aware of how critical the situation is," he said
to the rest.  "Captain Apollo, was your scouting mission a success?"

	Apollo had been dispatched to do a quick survey of surrounding
sectors when the seriousness of their difficulties became known.  His
voice was brusque and grave as he gave his report.  "Only one of the
systems we scouted has rare earths in quantities worth mining, in the
naturally occurring compound bastnasite.  Medium-sized yellow star,
environmentally compatible planet in the biozone, several natural
satellites, only one of any size to affect the planet.  Additionally,
there is an asteroid belt with what appear to be sizeable tylium
deposits, which are also useful.  Unfortunately, the planet is inhabited
-- pre-industrial society, beginnings of urbanization, apparently human
population.  The largest traces of bastnasite occur near major population
concentrations."

	He rose to indicate a point on the massive star chart dominating
one wall of the chamber.  "The _Galactica_ can make the trip within three
days, under Fleet cruising speed, and maintain a distant orbit in the
asteroid belt.  We can send in a mining crew with shuttles to the
planet--"

	"Just a centon," interrupted Thoth.  "Didn't you say the planet
was inhabited?  Commander Adama, are you sure--"  The senior archivist
had been, before a crippling injury, a prominent xenoanthropologist, and
had definite ideas about contact with less developed societies, human or
otherwise.

	"If we don't get those raw materials, this ship is doomed and the
Fleet with it!" Captain Apollo reminded him strongly.  "Any half-witted
kid with a rock and a sling can defeat us if we don't have laser
capability!"

	"We have no right to weigh our few thousands against the
population of an entire developing planet!" Thoth continued.

	"Order!" the commander thundered.  "Captain, didn't you say the
inhabitants were human?"

	"They *look* human!  We didn't go down and take a sample!" he
insisted strenuously.  "You're not suggesting we abandon the _Galactica_
to *live* there--!"  He looked horror-stricken.

	"No," Adama replied thoughtfully.  "However, we could send our
mining team down dressed as locals, with appropriate military and
security teams, also properly attired."

	Apollo blinked in shock, as did several other warriors.

	But Thoth looked inspired, and yahrens younger.  "We could send
some of our social and cultural specialists down as well!" he stated
eagerly.  "If these people *are* human..."  His voice trailed away, but
his eyes still gleamed.

	"Yes."  Adama could read his mind, and had similar thoughts.  "If
the Thirteenth Tribe passed this way, and the inhabitants are human, we
could find clues here.  They might be members of that exodus, and good
historians and xenoanthropologists could spot the evidence." <But have we
the right to expose this planet and its people to the danger which
pursues us?  We haven't seen Cylons in a long time, but they could still
be near, waiting for us to make a mistake.>  "You've raised a good point,
Thoth.  We'll send a team from Archives as well."

	Apollo closed his eyes as if in pain.  Adama could read his son's
thoughts as well. <Civilians to shepherd.  As if our job won't be hard
enough already, trying to fit in on a world we aren't familiar with...>

	Adama gave orders.  "Full mining and survey teams, with Security
and warrior escort.  Thoth, pick your best people for this.  Captain
Apollo's patrol team will brief you with what they know, and we'll send
another flyover before landing.  Apollo, keep in mind the people you
select will have to be able to adjust to a primitive society -- the same
for Security--"

	"Commander," the elderly Thoth interrupted with a frown.  "If I
may be so bold, I suggest we send an older warrior than Apollo as head of
the expedition."

	Adama was nonplussed; Apollo looked insulted.

	"This is a primitive, pre-industrial, agrarian, human society. 
Such are often, in my experience, ruled by elders who've proven their
competence and right to rule by surviving the rigors of their society.  A
traveling party, perhaps similar to the Romany of our Colonies, would
have a male patriarch in charge, not a youngster."  Thoth didn't notice
the flush of color rising on Apollo's face as he intently detailed his
suggestions for the necessary expedition.

	"Did you have someone in mind?" Adama asked smoothly.

	The archivist gestured at the engineer.  "Captain Hannibal.  He
has sufficient gray in his hair to pass for a patriarch.  As an engineer,
he knows better than any of us what we actually need.  He's used to
command.  And I know for a fact that he is capable of working with
warriors and civilians both."

	Knowing something of Hannibal's past himself, Adama was inclined
to agree.  "Captains?" he queried, looking mostly at Apollo.

	Neither offered any objection.

	"Excellent.  I suggest we make good use of the cruising time
necessary to reach this system.  That gives us time for a quick survey,
so we can at learn how to at least appear to fit in to this society.  The
mission team will reconvene for a final briefing in three days.  Siress
Tinia, if you have no objections?"  Adama could feel Tigh stiffen beside
him.

	The elegant Siress nodded fractionally.  "I agree with your
decision, Adama, and I am sure the Council could do no better than to
give this mission our blessings.  And in the interest of controlling
emotional outbursts in the Fleet, it might be wise to underplay the
importance of this mission to our population, perhaps focusing on the
luck of finding so convenient a tylium deposit."

	Tigh almost visibly relaxed, and Adama permitted himself a smile
as he nodded in return.

* * *
	Preparations for the mission commenced at once and proceeded
continuously for those three days.  Adama expected it was too much to
hope for everything to run smoothly; he only hoped they wouldn't have to
face any outside threat during this vulnerable period.  Their Vipers
running on danger levels, with lessened firepower on the battlestar
itself, their chances would be slim...

	Adama studied the mission list compiled by Apollo, Hannibal, and
Thoth, in conjunction with Fleet personnel rosters from the computer. 
Hannibal had no difficulty choosing a good mining team, with the rest of
his staff assigned to the tylium mining.  Thoth's enthusiasm had to be
tempered with a reminder that this was an emergency expedition, not a
full-scale mission of exploration.  There would be time for only the most
cursory studies of the culture; only a few of the best of his people
could be sent.

	Apollo had actually proved the greatest difficulty. Security was
really more necessary that trained pilots, but the captain had weighted
his part of the team as much as possible with warriors he trusted and
could depend on.  He had to be reminded that his people would be more
valuable in their Vipers than stranded on a primitive world if the
_Galactica_ was attacked.  At that, Apollo almost backed out of the
mission himself.

	There had been another meeting with the senior officers of the
mission when the roster was ready.  After going over the team, Captain
Hannibal had hesitated.

	"Is there someone else you wish to propose for this mission?"
Adama asked.

	Hannibal nodded.  "Yes, there is a man, but..."

	"But?" the commander prompted.

	"He's on the prison barge."

	"What?"

	"At least consider him.  He's got the experience for this type of
expedition.  I know, because I've worked with him before.  And I know
you've drawn personnel from there for vital missions before.  His name is
Anubis."

	"Commander!"  Apollo looked more harried than before.

	Adama studied Hannibal for a long centon, ignoring Apollo, then
said, "I'll consider his credentials."

	Hannibal seemed content with that, and the meeting soon ended. 
As the senior warriors filed out, Adama overheard Starbuck comment to
Boomer, in a voice obviously not meant for privacy, "Cutthroats and
thieves.  We're handing the safety of the Fleet to cutthroats and
thieves."

	"Hey," Boomer shot back, "it worked last time."

	"Yeah, okay, might as well.  I mean, why not?  We'll be reduced
to throwing rocks pretty soon."

	Adama's lips twitched treacherously.  Leave it to Starbuck to
bring a glint of humor to the deadliest situation.  Left alone with the
engineer, he checked computer personnel records before asking, "Hannibal,
what's the real reason you want this Anubis with you on the mission?"

	The captain shook his curly gray head.  "You know me pretty well,
Adama.  I didn't think you remembered..."

	"It's been a long time since I worked with you in Intelligence,
Hannibal, but I haven't forgotten.  What's so important about Anubis?  Is
he one of yours?  The file states he's in prison for a number of property
crimes.  Yet he refused the amnesty offered to those guilty of similar
crimes.  Why?"

	"Actually," the other man replied casually, "he was keeping an
eye on Baltar, among others, after some of his escapades.  But since that
worthy is no longer on the prison barge, his talents would be put to
better use elsewhere in the Fleet.  And this is the first opportunity
that's come up for his release."

	The commander almost laughed.  "I should have known, old friend. 
We'll keep the reasons between us, but Anubis joins the team."

* * *

	Boomer, Jolly, and Greenbean were assigned to pick up the man
from the prison barge.  They found a dark-eyed, black-haired man of
almost indeterminate age waiting for them in the Security lounge.  The
man looked as challengingly untidy as Commander Croft himself had been
when assigned to the Arcta Expedition.  Anubis' half-smile was amused as
they removed the shackles from his wrists, trying not to touch the old,
ragged clothing, before escorting him to the shuttle.

	"You know why you've been offered this mission?" Boomer finally
asked, unwilling to endure the silence any longer.

	"Yes."

	"And how important it is to the safety of the Fleet?"

	"Yes."

	After a moment, Greenbean leaned over and whispered to his
friends, "I think this is a mistake."

	The former prisoner heard, and his eyes glittered, but he said
nothing.

* * *

	Adama waited until Athena was finished with her class before
speaking with her.

	"Come to see how your grandson is doing?" she asked gaily as
Boxey threw himself into the commander's arms.  Adama hugged the boy
close.

	"Actually, I've come to see my daughter."

	"Oh?"  She looked slightly uncomfortable.

	"If you'd had any access to the computers these last few days,
I'd suspect you of programming it to choose you for the expedition."

	"Well..."

	"Of course, you have the qualifications, Athena."

	"Are you going along, Aunt Athena?" Boxey interrupted excitedly. 
"Why can't I go with my father?  It's not supposed to be a dangerous
mission.  Can I go, Grandfather?"
	
	"Boxey, I'd like to keep at least one of my family with me. 
Besides, you have instructional periods you shouldn't miss.  And I'm sure
your father has given you other assignments for while he's gone."

	"I'm supposed to watch his stupid medals again!  And eat my
primaries, and study hard at instructional periods, and say my prayers,"
the boy cried out.  "But I have to do that anyway, and I could make up my
instructional periods.  If Athena's going along, we could study on the
planet--"

	"I suspect your Aunt Athena will have other tasks to occupy her,"
Adama told the boy with mock severity.  "And I must have someone here to
help keep the Fleet running, someone I can trust..."

	Boxey rose to the bait.  "I guess I'll stay."

	They sent the boy off to play.  Adama faced his daughter again. 
"So you're on the list."

	"If the computer says so," she hazarded.

	"I don't suppose this has anything to do with Cassiopeia being
assigned as Med Tech, and wanting to keep an eye on a certain blond
lieutenant from Blue Squadron?"

	She grinned mischievously, certain from her father's
conspiratorial attitude that she was still included on the mission
roster.

	"Give 'em hades, Lieutenant."

	"Absolutely, Commander."

* * *
	"Five cubits says you can't teach Siduri anything about handling
a sword!" Starbuck yelled gleefully.  Green Squadron's captain glared
back at him while the rest of the bladed weapons class snickered.

	Hannibal, the engineer surprising in his wide variety of skills,
declined to take the lieutenant up on his bet.  He merely grinned as he
patiently showed the woman how to hold the unedged weapon -- again. 
Siduri was a more than competent pilot, and she exercised an easy-going
kind of discipline over Green Squadron.  But none of her hobbies and
interests concerned ancient weapons.  She sighed heavily, straining the
tight lacing of her bodice as she poked in the general direction of her
sparing partner.  The costume fit her full figure well, but was quite
unsuitable for combat.

	Tammuz disarmed her with swipe.

	"Swash that buckle!" one of the warriors called.

	"Try again," Hannibal instructed calmly.

	"How am I supposed to fight in this?" Siduri retorted,

exasperated.  "Skirts weren't designed for swordfights!"

	"All of our personnel must at least be familiar with the weapons
common to this society.  Unfortunately, that means doing so while wearing
the common garb as well -- in female cases, long skirts and tight
blouses.  Does it make you feel better to know that the men will also be
wearing what we would classify as skirts -- or kilts would be the more
proper term, since they resemble the old Colonial Keltoi garb -- with
short trousers under them?"

	"I'd feel better carrying my laser," the statuesque,
auburn-haired beauty muttered under her breath.

	"No lasers on a primitive world," the captain quoted back.

	Her rebelliousness turned coy as she batted her lashes at hm.
"They wouldn't expect a woman to know how to fight anyway, would they?"

	"We don't believe so.  That's an advantage we hope we won't have
to exploit."

	"Maybe I need a new partner," she changed the subject.  She
glanced at the bench, where a row of primitively-clad warriors waited
their turns.  "Lieutenant Starbuck, would you do me the honor?"

	"Uh..."  Starbuck quickly tried to fade in the bench as most of
the warriors laughed and hooted.

	Hannibal agreed.  "Perhaps that's a good idea.  We should all
have experience in a variety of fighting styles, including those of our
teammates.  Starbuck...?"

	A moment later, and one blond had been replaced with another in
the practice circle, holding the training weapon in none-too-certain
hands.  It had been a long time since the Academy's weapons training, and
he was still far from comfortable in the kilt.

	"I think I'll give them something else to consider --  my
personal advantage!" Siduri announced.  Before picking up the blunt sword
again, she looped the long skirts through her waistband, freely
displaying long, shapely legs.  Then, grasping the mock blade in both
hands, she pointed it at her opponent, smiling with all the wicked
come-hitherness she could.  "En guarde!"

	Starbuck gaped; several members of her squadron cheered.

	Siduri fared better that time.

* * *

	Doctor Paye and Cassiopeia prepared their medical bags for the
extended expedition.  "Are you sure we should be taking so much?" the med
tech questioned doubtfully, studying the additional pile of equipment the
physician had gathered.  "We've got the standard bandages and usual
medicals and supplements.  I don't know if--"

	"The first time one of those engineers breaks a leg, or one of
the miners crushes a thumb, they'll be glad for everything we're
bringing," Paye cut in with a smile.  "We may be going down to a
primitive planet, but I have no intention of becoming a witch doctor for
the duration."

	Paye assigned Cassiopeia the responsibility for getting the
additional gear stowed.  She thought he was expecting a lot, that she use
her trained socialator's wiles to convince the miners to sidestep orders
and carry nonregulation materials.  The lovely blonde underestimated
herself; Cassie discovered that, for a smile and blink from
sapphire-bright eyes, the miners were more than willing to carry extra
medical equipment.

* * *

	A number of the assigned security team were selecting their
clothing aboard the textile ship.

	"This vest has lots of pockets," Leander observed.  He already
had picked out a loose shirt, short baggy trousers, boots, and the
kilt-type wrap that the native men wore.

	Reese frowned at him.  "You keep commenting on that.  You picking
your clothes by the number of pockets they've got?  Must be planning on
picking up a lot of stuff down there."

	"Maybe," the husky redhead hedged.

	"Bet they don't let us bring back anything unless it goes through
the bio-team."

	Leander only shrugged.

	His friend shook his head, and left with his small pile of
garments.

	"Why *are* you looking for clothes with pockets?" inquired Eris. 
The chunky blonde had already picked out an undertunic, blouse, boots,
several layers of skirts, and long embroidered vest.

	Leander grinned, then glanced around. "If they think I'm going
down there unarmed, they're crazy.  I'm taking a small hand laser.  Lots
of bulky pockets and this kilt will make it easy to hide," he whispered
back.  The man couldn't bring himself to call it a skirt -- none of the
Colonial men could.

	She inhaled sharply.  "We're not supposed to bring personal
weapons!  All issued lasers are supposed to be concealed in the wagons,
to be used only in emergencies!  If Captain Apollo finds out, you'll be
on report -- and off the mission!"

	"I don't care!" he replied emphatically.  "I'm not going
unarmed."

	Eris thought for a moment.  Then she glanced over her chosen
outfit.  "I suppose," she said thoughtfully, "that no one could tell the
difference, under full skirts like these, especially with the layers of
clothes women seem to wear on that planet..."

* * *

	Commander Croft grumbled to himself as he packed the small bag of
allotted gear.  The full reinstatement Adama had promised for his part in
the Arcta mission was slow in coming.  Sure, he had his rank back, but
there was no real responsibility with it.  Even on this mission, when he
was supposedly overseeing Security arrangements, he was little more than
the yes-man for Captain Apollo.  They had managed to work together to
destroy Dr. Ravishol's laser cannon, but since then they argued more than
anything else.  Apollo seemed utterly incapable of understanding what had
once motivated Croft and his team -- the rest of whom were now dead, also
during that ice-planet expedition.

	At least Hannibal seemed like a reasonable sort.  And then there
was Anubis, the one from the prison barge.  He remembered the quiet
prisoner as someone always in the background. *Always.*  But somehow
always *there*, too.  Croft shook his head.  He'd never understood that
man.

	Well, maybe this mission would finally regain him the respect he
deserved.  Leda's words came back to him as through icy winds, taunting
him as she had.   <We're here because we're expendable.>

	For a moment, he wished he'd died with his wife on Arcta, or
better yet, joined the attempt to escape...and left the Fleet to its
fate.

* * *

	Mulciber, civilian head of the mining crew, grinned and studied
the garishly-painted caravan wagons that now carried concealed equipment
and supplies for a relatively lengthy stay on a primitive world.  He was
rakishly attired in a bright shirt tucked into the short, dark, tight
pants, with a kilt at his waist and cloak draped up over his shoulder,
but the clothes were completely functional, as were the ankle-high boots
he wore.

	Major Euclid scanned the wagons briefly.  "Well, you've got the
mining equipment you need, primitive as it is, also scanalyzers and
sieves for preliminary processing."

	"Yes.  And false bottoms in the wagons to carry the mined
bastnasite."  He shook his dark curly head.  "And we'll be doing our work
at night, under guard, to prevent curious natives from surprising us --
and themselves.  Then, when we've got full loads, the wagons slip away to
our landing zone -- along a desert/mountain fringe far away from their
version of civilization."

	"It'll probably take several trips, with shuttles picking up your
cargo, before we can consider ourselves sufficiently restocked."  The
engineer grimaced.  "Of course, a lot will depend on the stuff's purity. 
You can't do much processing on site, so we'll be shipping a lot of other
rare earths and minerals -- bastnasite being primarily cerium and
lanthanum, in varying proportions.  We can use the other elements, so
that's no concern."

	"As long as we have enough time to get what we need."

	"Right.  The xenoanthropologists and historians don't want us
risking any exposure of our culture to these people, whether they're part
of the Thirteenth Tribe or not.  As long as they have no indication of
space travel, our culture is off limits to them.  I hope they don't ride
herd over you too much."

	"Those archivists have their own studies to do," Mulciber
commented.  "I think we can count on Hannibal to keep them out of our
business.  And Captain Apollo."

	The miner and the engineer had worked together before.  Mulciber
was an expert at deep-space mining, and usually handled the tylium when
they discovered a source; this time, he would have the more important
responsibility.  He'd gravitated easily to the Engineering department
after he and his team joined the _Galactica_'s Fleet after the
Destruction.  He'd proven invaluable several times since then.  Still
talking, the two men moved on to their final check of the rest of the
wagons.

* * *

	Commander Adama watched somberly from the observation deck as the
three heavy equipment shuttles launched; the difference between those
hulks and the light, graceful personnel carriers always amazed him. 
Colonel Tigh waited with him.

	"Sixty lives, our Fleet, and a world at stake," he muttered to
his officer.  "If they aren't successful, our days may be be numbered. 
If they aren't careful, they could ruin that world.  I hope we're doing
the right thing."

	"They'll be successful," Tigh reassured him.  "I have every
confidence in the team leaders.  Mulciber knows his stuff.  Hannibal can
handle anything.  Croft and Anubis are survivors; they've proven that. 
Apollo's got Starbuck, and his luck is enough for the whole team.  We
sent good people.  If we didn't trust them to do their job, we wouldn't
have let them go."

	"I suppose I should have more faith in my officers."  Adama still
sounded grave.  His gloomy expression didn't alter as the shuttles
vanished into the star's glow beyond the halo of its moon.  "Good luck,
people, all of you."

* * * *

	Sheba studied the layers of clothing she had already picked out for the
mission--undergarments, multiple skirts, blouse, bodice, vest, apron,
stockings, boots...  She imagined spending the day trudging around in the
heavy layers.  She glanced around at the others in the Textile Ship
workroom, all selecting appropriate garb or working feverishly to prepare
the right styles of clothing.

	"Kobol, this is worse than full cold-weather gear!  How can we do
anything dressed like this?"

	Cassiopeia came around the corner of the next row of shelves, her arms
full of folds of blue and white fabrics.   She ginned at her.  "The men
aren't happy with their skirts either."

	"Skirts--"  A beat.  "What?"

	She giggled.  "That's sort of what they look like.  I asked Jolly what
they're really called, but I couldn't pronounce the word."

	"Skirts?"  Sheba began to giggle herself.  "Oh, they'll love that."

	"I overheard Greenbean squawking about it.  Jolly told him he showed
more leg in a triad uniform, so what was he complaining about."

	Sheba was snickering out loud now.  "Oh, but's not the same!"

	"That's what Greenbean said too!"

	She forced the smile off her face long enough to say, in strangled
tones, "I'll have to suggest they change their triad uniforms to
something more modest, if they're afraid of showing their knees!"

	"The Otori would support you, believe me!" Cassiopeia retorted.

	They couldn't keep a straight face; both broke into laughter and
Cassiopeia fell back against a shelf.

	Sheba's eyes suddenly widened and the laughter died in a squeak.

	"What?"

	The other woman nodded mutely.

	Cassiopeia pushed away from the shelf, dropping her clothes, and turned,
craning her neck to see around the shelf in the other direction.

	Across the chamber, Captain Hannibal and a civilian miner named Mulciber
strode through the semi-organized chaos.  Their chosen clothing fit
perfectly, in color and cut, and both men wore it well--Hannibal kept
himself in as fit a physical condition as any young warrior; Mulciber,
younger, in equally good shape, might as well have chosen his outfit
deliberately for its effect on female viewers.  They could have been
father and son, Sheba noted half-consciously, in posture and looks,
although Mulciber was considerably darker.  The two marched in
unconscious formation, their kilts swinging from side to side with every
step.  Intent on their conversation, the men didn't seem to  notice they
were being observed, and left the chamber without stopping.

	"Oh, my!" Sheba finally breathed.  "I may get to like men in skirts!"

	"Ummm.  Does Mulciber play triad?"

	"I wonder if Apollo's picked out his clothes yet."

	"Sorry, he was here about a centar ago," Cassiopeia advised her.

	"How about Starbuck?" Sheba asked.

	Cassiopeia suddenly looked less comfortable, and the bantering was over.

	"Cassie?"

	She shrugged, and finally sighed before quietly admitting, "I don't
know, Sheba.  He seems...more distant these days.   When he and Apollo
went on that basestar mission, I said some things that maybe he wasn't
ready to hear--but I had to say them, or I wouldn't have been able to
live with myself if he didn't come back.  From the way he reacted, I
thought he felt the same way.  But since then, he's pulled back from me,
emotionally.  He's not as open as he used to be.  He's been seeing other
women again.  And it feels deliberate.  It's almost like it was at first,
like I was just one of his...harem."  She sighed again.

	"But he knows you care about him, you've never hidden that.  Why would
that have changed anything?"

	"I..."  Cassiopeia swallowed.  "I know, but..."  She took a moment to
find the words.  "I think the way I said it--I was so worried about him,
I'm afraid that...that it might have sounded like I was trying to tell
him what to do, how to run his life."  She shook her head.  "I know
Starbuck better than that, I know me better than that, I would never tell
anyone how to run his life..."

	"I can't see Starbuck letting anyone tell him how to run his life."

	"Yeah."  She began picking up her mission garb.  "I hear he asked Athena
to the -Rising Star- a secton ago."

	Sheba wasn't going to admit she'd heard that too--from Athena.

	"It must have scared him," she concluded.

	"Maybe he scared himself when he realized how much he cared, too," Sheba
offered.

	Cassiopeia gave her a grateful half-smile.  "Maybe.  Either way, right
now I'm not sure where we stand or what's going to happen tomorrow.  He
knows I love him, but I don't know how he feels."

	Cassiopeia and Starbuck's relationship wasn't the only one thrown into
chaos by the Cylon basestar raid, and for the same reason, Sheba thought.
 She'd told Apollo about her feelings for him, had challenged him to let
go of the past, had even kissed him, afraid that he wouldn't come
back--and that even if he did, he would never make the first move until
she jolted him out of a life of only memories.  Since then, nothing
seemed to have changed, outwardly, publicly.  They still talked like
friends, they still spent time together with other warriors.  But she
noticed they were never alone any more, not really.  Sometimes she caught
him looking at her, but never long enough to know what his expression
meant.

	Like Cassie, she could only wait and see if the man she loved, loved her
the same way.


	Chapter 2


	Apollo studied the campsite.  What had yesterday been a mountain
meadow, waist-high grasses and slim saplings twice the height of a man,
was gone.  Vegetation had been burned away without fire or smoke, and a
circle of brightly-painted wagons and tents of unusual design occupied
the cleared space.  Besides the five large wagons, with their hidden
compartments and advanced Colonial equipment, there were a number of
smaller tents of non-military design and coloring being set up.  Most of
the personnel would sleep in those portable shelters.  The wagon space
was reserved for supplies, and would also later be used to carry rare
earth ores back to the rendezvous site.

	The disguised hover-drives meant a lot less work for the
Colonials, and eliminated the need for draught animals.  The absence of
equines and bovines would be part of their cover story and the reason why
wanderers were remaining in one place for a time; they would claim their
animals had been driven off one night by brigands, and they would
negotiate with locals for stock, some of which would be released when
they left, and some of which would be transported to the Livestock ship
in the Fleet.  The agriculturalist in charge of that aspect of the
mission would also be on the lookout for seeds and plant cuttings that
would be useful on the Agro ship.  They were making the most of this
mission.

	There was a rivulet to one side; the bio-team had already
confirmed that they could safely drink the water.   On the other side was
a steep bluff, overhung with wild brambles, shrubs, and herbs.  Higher,
trees of many species grew along the mountain side up to the snowline,
far, far above their sheltered spot.

	Apollo closed his eyes to concentrate on the smells and sounds of
the alien world.  It was very different from the sensations of the
Galactica's metal walls and shell, and the clangs and distant noises of
her engines.  Here, wild, flowering vegetation filled the air with spice,
and rich scents rose from the dark soil, mixing with the already fading
acrid odor of their burnt campsite.  Under the yells and fussing of
sixty-five people arranging a temporary base camp, there was a constant
giggling from the water, and hints of distant animals and birds in the
breeze.  It was all very much alive.

	He leaned for a moment against one of the remaining young trees. 
The bark was tender, almost smooth, and still chilly from the cool night.
 There was dampness from the dew.  The sun was just beginning to warm the
meadow.

	<In a few centars, we'll really be able to experience the
richness of this alien world.  It's all alive.  This'll take some getting
used to.  And being out of uniform, all of us.  We may get to like being
civilians here.  Maybe I shouldn't have been so quick to insist we not
settle here.>

	The handsome, dark-haired man looked like he belonged in such a
scene.  He wore a brown kilt, matching undertrousers, a white shirt, and
a long green-and-brown vest.  The clothes were less colorful than those
some others had chosen, but the aura of authority he wore more than
compensated.

	He let his eyes sweep over his team, noting the primitive
equipment they were using to set up camp, and reconsidered. <I'm not sure
I could get used to living without the benefits of our advanced
technology.  I'm trained to survive in a situation like this, but to
live, I need to fly.  Equipment, medicine, weapons...>

	At that, he felt naked, and the pristine world looked
threatening.  No advanced weapons.  No lasers.  They had all been issued
knives, of course, and some personnel were adept with swords, spears, or
bows and arrows.  Basically, they were reduced to the level of the
natives, at the archivists' insistence.  Heaven and the Lords help them
if there was trouble.

	Shaking off his thoughts, the captain joined one of the scattered
groups, which included several of the miners and a few others.  "Make
sure you store everything in the hidden compartments.  It's morning now,
and we have to look like we belong here.  Mulciber, your team may as well
get some sleep -- you'll be busy tonight, and we can finish the camp
preparations."

	The miner nodded.  "Yes.  We'll have samples to take, and
everything has to be sent back to the _Galactica_ for thorough purity and
content analysis.  I wish we could've brought more advanced equipment
with us."

	"I know what you mean," Apollo agreed, "but that kind of
equipment is impossible to hide, and we can't risk being discovered with
it.  We'll call you later this afternoon.  Get some sleep."

	"Right."

	In a few moments, Captain Hannibal strolled over and joined him. 
The engineer nominally in charge of the expedition seemed to be enjoying
himself immensely as he checked every facet of the camp set-up. 
Opportunities for him to get off the _Galactica_ and participate in any
kind of mission were rare, and his fondness for the outdoors was known to
his friends.  The rising sun made his curly gray hair look almost as
silver as the threads woven into a leafy pattern in his green vest.

	"Well, Apollo, we're here," he announced in a theatrical voice. 
"I hereby proclaim myself paterfamilias to this rag-tag group."

	"Have fun.  Won't be much for us to do -- hopefully -- until we
send back our first shipment.  The first rendezvous is in three days, and
we'd better have something to show for our time here."  Apollo obviously
expected something to go wrong.

	"Oh, I know Mulciber.  The first shipment'll be ready to send
back for grading in three days -- or Tigh and Euclid will come down here
personally to know the reason why."

	Apollo had to laugh, and agreed the assessments of the executive
officer and chief engineer were probably correct.

	"Uh, Hannibal," he began a moment later, gesturing toward another
team arranging the central hearth.  One of the men was the one from the
Fleet's prison barge.  "About your man Anubis--"

	"What about him?"

	"Well, some of my people aren't too happy about having a criminal
from the prison barge along on this expedition, especially in charge of
the cultural study team.  I just wondered why you wanted him here so
badly.  And why my father agreed to give him such...authority."

	"Actually, he has a good background in ethnography, history, and
xenoanthropology, making him very valuable as one familiar with the
culture in which we'll be functioning for the next few sectons.  As he's
used to primitive worlds, he also has a number of skills which aren't
normally taught either at military academies or in the average scholastic
institution -- no slur on your education or training intended, Apollo."

	"I see."

	"And he presents no danger to any of our personnel.  The crime
for which he was imprisoned was against property, not person."

	"Why wasn't he pardoned in the amnesty, then?  Or in the
conditional release and rehabilitation program?"

	The older man shrugged.  "Probably computer slip-up.  Maybe he
was just overlooked.  But I assure you, he'll be quite an asset on this
mission.  And since he has to answer to me and Commander Croft, I don't
think you'll have to worry about him at all."

	"I'm not sure of the wisdom of putting a former criminal in
charge of security, either."

	"You don't trust Commander Croft?"

	"Yes, I...trust him.  I know he can be depended upon, but we've
had our differences in the past.  And not everyone's worked with him, so
they don't have the same respect for his abilities that I do..."

	Hannibal laughed heartily.  "You worry too much, Apollo.  Relax
and enjoy the scenery."

	Apollo looked around the campsite, at an environment he was
capable of functioning in, but wasn't entirely comfortable with. 
"Right..."  He suddenly grabbed the older captain's wrist.  "There!  In
the bushes!  See it?"

	"What?"  Hannibal peered into the shrubbery.

	"I thought I saw something, or somebody..."

	"Let's check it out ourselves, not alarm the rest of the camp."

	Several moments of scrambling through the bushes revealed nothing
-- no animals, no people, no evidence that anything had been near the
camp.

	"Must've been my imagination."  Apollo was still disturbed.  "But
I think I'll suggest to Croft that he get his sentries up before half the
continent knows we're here."

*  *  *
	"I don't like it!" one of the boys whispered to his companions. 
From their leaf-concealed hiding place in the tree, they'd watched the
two strangers search.  Neither had thought to look up for three nimble
children.  "All we wanted to do was steal apples from Granny Ninny's
orchard, not watch a bunch of gypsies set up camp.  Father says you can't
trust gypsies -- they steal everything, and sometimes even kids.  I don't
like it!"

	"They won't steal us if they don't see us.  And when did gypsies
ever have tools like that?  Or travel without horses?" a second boy
demanded impatiently.

	"Let's go home and tell Father," the third whimpered.  "I don't
like them either."

	"Scaredies!" Dynas scorned the younger two.  But when they showed
no sign of returning courage, he scampered down the tree after them, and
fled homeward as fast as they did.

* * *

	"Neodymium," mused the lanky blond Lieutenant Greenbean. "That
anything like mesodymium or paleodymium?"

	His companions in the tent-raising detail responded in a variety
of ways.  Giles groaned, and took another swing at the ground peg. 
Diedre choked slightly, and her fingers slipped the rope she was
knotting.  Jolly, holding the other end of the long fold of waterproof,
insulated material, shook with laughter.

	Boomer responded with, "Not at all.  If you see anything that
doesn't look paleo or meso, it's probably neo."

	"Unless the dym is *too* dim," Jolly interjected quickly.

	"Does that make it neodullium?" Greenbean promptly demanded.

	"That does it, I'm leaving," Diedre announced.

	"Take me with you!" Giles demanded with a lopsided grimace at his
companions.  He waved the hammer in mock threat at the offending
warriors, who only grinned at each other.

	"Don't leave on our account," Jolly laughed.

	"I wish I were!" the woman retorted. "But I see the Captain
waving at me, and I think that means other duties."

	"Probably a village expedition with our grid-rat historian,"
Giles muttered.

	"He's a spooky one," Greenbean agreed.  "Too quiet, and he always
looks like he knows something about you that nobody else does."

	"Hey, everybody knows something about you, Greenbean," Jolly
said.

	"Ahem."  A discreet cough.  "Excuse me."

	The warriors fell silent as that individual walked past them
without comment.

	"See what I mean?" Greenbean whispered.  "You always feel like
he's sneaking up behind you -- and sometimes he is!"

* * *

	Anubis's ears were better than the warriors gave him credit for. 
He heard their comments behind his back, as he'd heard a number of them
talking on the shuttle to the planet and at the briefing before.  He
carefully pretended not to notice Reese's blundering attempt to be
inconspicuous as the Security officer stayed near him, but he couldn't
help a thin-lipped smile.  Clean clothes, a turboshower, and a new
assignment might make him look like part of the team, but in most eyes,
he was still a criminal.  It was only logical that Commander Croft and
Captain Apollo would be...careful of him.  Engineer Captain Hannibal, his
present superior, had delivered an advance warning.  It was unnecessary;
he knew what to expect.

	He expected he would like some of these people, if he could let
his guard down long enough to get to know them, and if they could
overlook appearances long enough to find out what he was and what he was
really like.  Maybe when this expedition was over and the promised pardon
was granted, he would finally have an opportunity to build some kind of
life.

	It wasn't easy for men and women in the Intelligence arena to
have stables lives or to raise families.  They were on call every day
they were in the Service; there was no real furlon time.  Their orders
were sometimes dangerous.  Missions were often lengthy, especially in his
branch of Colonial Intelligence.  Sometimes duty went beyond what the
average citizen, civilian or military, considered proper.

	He was almost relieved after the Destruction, knowing there were
some things he'd never have to do again.  Simple surveillance of Baltar
and other selected prisoners had been a trifle -- if the guard had
listened to him, the Nomen, the Alliance troops, and Baltar would never
have left their cells.

	But explaining his life and career to these people...

	They likely wouldn't have believed him anyway.  Somehow, that was
comforting.

	"Are you with us, Anubis, or shall we wait a while longer so you
can finish your daydream?" somebody interrupted with an acid question.

	He stared at his questioner for a silent few microns, sensing the
sudden fear that his dark glare induced in her, then responded.  "I'm
here, Nidaba.  I don't believe I've met everybody in the first team,
however.  Would you make general introductions, and finish the briefing?"

	He'd thrown her off-balance.  She turned nervously to the rest of
the team.  "Uh, you should remember Lieutenant Boomer and Lieutenant
Diedre--"

	"Don't you recall?  By Apollo's orders, we're all on name-only
basis for this expedition.  No ranks or military references to disturb
the natives."  His eyes glinted.  He would push the archivist, if he had
to, into testing her own limits.

	She straightened with a flush of mixed anger and humiliation. 
"Right.  Boomer.  Diedre.  Siduri.  Reese.  Starbuck.  Athena.  Nessus. 
Leander.  I'm Nidaba.  I'm sure everyone here remembers you, Anubis.  And
of course Hannibal, our patriarch."

	"Not today," the older man interrupted easily.

	The young woman was as red as her vest at a second rebuttal. 
"What?"

	"Paterfamilias doesn't go into town to barter for vegetables. 
Anubis, Nia, you can keep an eye on your people, can't you?  Good.  I
think between you you'll get a good deal.  One look at your eyes, Anubis,
and the villagers will believe you can keep the kids in line, and aren't
to be crossed."  He grinned at their muttered response to his flippant
statements.  "I think I'll stay here and watch the camp, accept visitors,
that sort of thing.  Take your glass beads and go..."

	Anubis studied the selected ten.  It was a small enough group to
be spared from camp-set-up, now that most of it was complete, yet large
enough to defend themselves if they should be attacked, especially since
any attackers wouldn't be aware that three of the women were warriors,
and quite capable of taking care of themselves.  The warriors and
Security in the group wouldn't count on Anubis being able to take care of
himself as well as he could, either.  That left only the civilian
archivist, Nidaba -- Nia -- to watch out for.

	Not a bad-looking girl, actually -- slim, with long, straight
brown hair, matching eyes currently with a mutinous gleam, flushed
cheeks.  And the sun brought out warm highlights in her hair and
complexion.  Competent and dedicated, from what Hannibal told him, but
also insecure, personally and professionally.  Anubis drew his own tall
frame next to her and matched her step.  Best way to protect her, and
maybe make her acquaintance, too.

	"A long walk will be good for all of us," he began
conversationally.

	"I hate long walks," she muttered back contrarily.

	"Good exercise, see a new world, study a new people," he
continued as if she hadn't spoken.  "We tend to get lazy and fat sitting
in our laboratories and libraries -- or prison cells -- away from the
action and life of places like this.  Never cared for armchair
xenoanthropology, myself.  How about you?"

	She glared at him.

	He only laughed.

* * *

	"You sure that was wise?" Apollo asked Hannibal as the group
straggled away, baskets and trade goods under their arms.  There was a
path, probably a well-used animal trail, that would take them most of the
way down to the village, to where a dirt "road" intersected it and
continued the rest of the way.

	"About time they got to know each other and work together.  About
time, too, that a few people in this group learn that Anubis is a man to
be trusted and depended on."

	"Hmmm."  It was Cassiopeia, the expedition's med tech, who had
escaped Dr. Paye's orders long enough to watch the group leave.

	"Worried about something, Cassie?" Apollo asked with assumed
innocence.

	She pursed her lips, her attention on Athena and Starbuck,
arm-in-arm as they trudged off with the rest.

	"I wouldn't worry, my dear," Hannibal consoled her, a twinkle in
his eyes as he winked at her.  "They're not likely to elope on this trip,
at least."

	The blonde smiled poisonously, then rejoined Sheba.

* * *
	Ector and Bran watched the slow, bright procession as it neared
the village.  Ector, the younger of the two men, and the son of
Farshire's mayor, freely ogled the women in the party.

	The women acknowledged seeing him, but didn't react as expected. 
The dark-skinned woman stared back at him for a moment before shrugging
and apparently losing interest.  A second female glared at him as if
already irate about something.  The one with the long, loose-flowing
auburn hair laughed outright and winked at him before turning back to her
male companion.  The fourth woman, a brunette, reached for the arm of the
tall blond man.  He responded by sliding his arm around her waist, as if
announcing to the world that she was his.  The half-dozen men with the
women laughed among themselves, and seemed to be teasing the girls about
Ector's attention, a ribbing all took in good humor.

	The young man flushed in annoyance.  Women weren't supposed to
react like that.  They should blush modestly, or stutter and look away,
or, if they might be interested in him, and hoping to encourage his
interest, glance shyly back at him as they walked off.  They didn't stare
to his face or laugh about it with other men.  Only sluts or foreign
women or fools acted that way, women whose men didn't know enough to
teach them manners, or who didn't care which men they attracted, as long
as they could pay the price for favors.

	"Not village girls," Bran commented with a grin.  "But maybe
they'd be fun in the haymows."  He stared avidly after the retreating
group.  The thin, gangly blacksmith's son had much less success with
women than the handsome Ector, and was really something of a coward, and
not especially bright.  His presence, however, made Ector feel infinitely
superior to the common rabble.

	"Strangers," Ector muttered back.  "Ryence's brats were right
about that, anyway.  More pilgrims, I guess.  Probably all got vows to
keep 'em from tumbling in the hay with a real man." He chose to ignore
the gypsy women's obvious ease with their own men.

	Bran's snicker was a further annoyance.  "Might have to break
some vows, eh?"

	"A demon changeling wouldn't break its vow with you.  Let's see
what they want in town.  If they're really gypsies, there might be a
show.  If they're just pilgrims, they'll be boring, but their coins will
be welcome."

	"If the eklektons think they're with the omen, they'll drive 'em
away, or call a trial!" Bran announced seriously, as though making a
profound statement.

	The mayor's handsome son snorted derisively.  "The eklektons are
so full of omens, they see demons if a cow's milk sours.  Next thing,
they'll blame the young arxon's sickness on the gypsies, when everybody
knows he's been bespelled from the next parish.  Their arxon's greedy,
wants Farshire for himself, and he's courting with magickers to get it."

	Bran agreed solemnly.  "Great Father protect us from an arxon who
buys magick to kill his enemies."

	Ector's attention was back on the gypsies.  He saw one of the
woman glance back, the one with the tightest-laced blouse.  She laughed
again, but he knew her exaggerated sway and coquettish smile were just
for him.

* * *

	Apollo saw the team returning from the native village.  They
carried lively tales of the villagers' reactions to them, and their
baskets were full of local produce to be tested by Colonial biologists
before being included in the supper pots.

	"And you should have seen how they looked at Siduri!" he heard
somebody hoot -- Nessus, one of the Security men who'd accompanied the
team.

	"I don't know, encouraging the local boys..."

	The captain understood; he hid a smile as he stepped out of
gossip range.  Captain Siduri enjoyed flirtations, and she was good at
them, though she seldom chose to let it go further than that.  She
must've responded to an "invitation" from one of the locals.  It
mystified Apollo how she managed to keep her squadron in any kind of
order.  Blue Squadron had its own sort of camaraderie, but they allowed
their captain a distance Green Squadron's captain refused to keep, and
Apollo would never have flirted with the female members of his squadron
the way Siduri flirted with the men in hers.

	He headed away from the bustling camp, into the more peaceful
forest toward the mountains.  Finding a quiet spot, he leaned against a
tree.  Rolling native grasses between his fingers, he settled to the
ground and let his mind wander.

	He studied the play of shadows and light in the intense greenery.
 The mining crew would come this way, to reach the mountain gorge where
the strongest vein of bastnasite ore had been located.  A secondary camp
would be set up at the mining site, with security escort.  The warriors
and Security at the main camp would guard the way.  No one lived this far
out; they were to make sure no one wandered accidentally into something
the natives wouldn't understand.

	Something rustled near him. Instantly attentive, Apollo slipped
behind the protection of the tree trunk, groping for a laser that wasn't
there.  Remembering, he reached for the knife sheathed in his high boot. 
That, and his wits, were his only weapons at the moment.

	Out of the bushes prowled a medium-sized, four-legged creature,
blinking against the light.  It had coppery-colored fur, and a long bushy
tail, with sharply-pointed ears over an elegant muzzle.  To Apollo, it
looked familiar, like creatures he'd seen in the forested mountains of
Caprica.  He relaxed slightly, remembering that the similar animal back
home had been nocturnal and omnivorous, mostly hunting small prey, wild
herbs, and berries.  It never attacked humans unless rabid or defending
its young.  The size and noise of their camp set-up had probably
disturbed it from its den.  He watched in fascination as the creature
gracefully rose to two legs and lifted its black nose to test the air.

	"Captain?"  Somebody blundered through the undergrowth near them.
 In the micron between his attention being captured by that call and his
looking back at the animal, it spooked and ran.  He caught only a glimpse
of its copper tail between wind-brushed grasses.  It slipped away without
a sound, without a stirred branch or blade of grass.  He was impressed,
and wished it would have stayed longer.

	"What is it?" he called back to the searcher, unable to keep some
annoyance from his voice.  He carefully sheathed the knife at his knee,
but didn't lace the strap.  It seemed safer to keep the weapon instantly
accessible -- maybe he'd move it to his waist.  The next creature he
encountered might be deadlier, and quicker to strike.

	One of Siduri's people appeared from the brush.  Tammuz looked
uncharacteristically out of place for a man supposedly familiar with the
outdoors, with leaves trailing through his regulation-length blond hair
and a twig of something snagged in his sleeve.  "Apollo, uh, Hannibal and
Croft request your presence in camp.  Croft is arranging security
cordons, and no one is to leave camp alone, sir.  The senior officers
wish a conference with you, too--"

	Apollo snapped off an obscenity.  "Tammuz, as official leader of
this expedition, and as a warrior of captain's grade, I am more than
competent to decide for myself if I need one of those security trainees
watching my every step.  And you may tell that equinus' astrum *that*, to
his face, for me.  You may also tell him I will return when I am good and
ready, and suggest that he keep to his business and leave me alone!"

	The young warrior was shocked. "Uh, yes, sir...  Shall I pass
that along verbatim, sir?"

	He relented, realizing that his temper had unexpectedly gotten
away from him.  "No, Tammuz.  I'll be back in a few centons.  I'll talk
to Croft and Hannibal then.  Thanks for telling me."

	Tammuz responded with a slight grin, mostly concealed in his
mustache.  "I understand, Captain.  We'll see you when you get back."

	"If you remember your orders, *Tammuz*."

	"Uh, yes, Apollo."

	He left the flight commander to a few more moments' solitude. 
Apollo tried to find traces of the coppery animal he'd seen, thinking to
track it or learn if there was a den near their site, but there were no
indications where it had gone.  Finally, with a shrug, he gave up and
returned to camp.

* * *

	Dusk brought a lonely beauty to the woods.  The darkening sky
slowly lost its brilliant colors and began to gleam with stars.  The
forest greens deepened to strange but enticing shades of gray.  Night
birds called to each other with haunting cries as they began their
rounds.  A quick breeze brought assorted spices of mosses, flowers, wood
smoke, and strange musks.  From the distant village came the sounds of
animals -- bovines, porcines, ovines, assorted fowl--and the tolling of
bells to mark the end of another day's work.  Rustles from the movements
of small animals and the coughs of larger creatures echoed eerily around
the small clearing.

	In the Colonial camp, things were still stirring.  A few people
managed to sleep, but most of the daytime personnel were still too
excited from their first day on an alien world to settle down.  The night
guards and the mining crew were waking from their naps and preparing for
their first night's exertions.

	Apollo really had nothing to do at the moment, but he prowled the
camp as if every detail was his personal responsibility.  He checked
every campfire and listened for a moment to every cluster of
conversation.  A number of warriors from Blue Squadron had joined the
Green Squadron pilots gathered around Siduri.  She was playing her zithra
and singing.  Two members of the morning's expedition to the village had
picked up some native stringed instrument and something resembling a
flute, and were trying to harmonize with the captain.  The others were
listening to the music, and occasionally joining in the singing.  The
ease was more of the personal magic that bound the Greens into an
identifiable entity.

	Sheba and Boomer noticed their own captain, and gestured for him
to join them.

	Apollo shook his head and moved on.  Nearer the trees, Mulciber
and his mining team were making final checks of the equipment -- again. 
He stayed in the shadows and watched them for a moment.

	"We're ready, Hannibal," the dark, muscular man finally
announced.

	The older engineer stepped out of his own shadows.  "Everything
looks good, Mulciber," he agreed.  "Get going.  You'll want to get your
camp set up tonight, and complete your preliminary surveys.  Keep an eye
on those techs of mine -- some of them are menaces to civilized society!"

	Mulciber laughed with him.  "Right!  We'll be in touch when we
arrive at our site, and again at dawn."

	"See that you do."

	The miner hopped aboard the disguised hovercraft, and it whirred
quietly into the night.  Someone began a raucous, slightly obscene old
song that every engineer and miner knew, but the chief reminded them they
were supposed to be traveling silently, and the singing stopped.

	"Expected you'd be asleep by now, Apollo."  Hannibal joined him
in the silent shadows beyond the remaining painted wagons.  "Or joining
the merry circle."

	Apollo merely shrugged.  "Can't seem to relax."

	Even in the darkness he could feel the man's gray eyes bore into
him.  "Feeling upstaged?" he inquired meaningfully.

	He laughed a little ruefully.  "Maybe.  I think you're getting to
know me too well for my own good.  You must be observant."

	"Just free to speak my mind.  So what's on yours?"

	"I guess for one thing, I feel a little unnecessary on this
mission.  Why bring a warrior when Croft's got Security in hand, and you
and Mulciber are taking care of the technical details, and you've got
specialists for everything else?"

	"Balance!" he replied unequivocally, then continued more
graciously.  "Besides, you young people really need the experience..."

	His laughter was contagious, and Apollo felt better for it. 
After a few centons, the warrior felt much more at ease with his
assignment and the planet.  When Hannibal repeated his earlier
suggestion, he joined the group around Siduri.


		Chapter Three


	The Lazy Ox Inn served less grand visitors to Farshire, the ones who
didn't have invitations to the arxon's manor and couldn't afford to
travel in grand style.  It also served as the gathering place for the
rowdy young men of the parish.  Perhaps two hands of them clustered
around Ector, enjoying the proprietor's brew, rightly touted for several
parishes as the best between mountain and sea.  The night grew long as
they consumed another round, and then another.

	The presence of the gypsies was still the main topic of conversation;
their arrival had all but displaced the previous arguments about the
cause of the arxon's mysterious illness.  

	The handsome mayor's son had approached one of the women from the
caravan, the brunette, when she was separated from the tall blond man for
a few moments.  She'd rather pointedly ignored him, and quickly returned
to her companion.  The blond man had given him a cool stare, then laughed
and steered the girl back to the rest of the group, leaving one
red-haired villager standing alone to face the jeers of his friends.

	"That gypsy snubbed you, all right," Ien commented.  The youth was a
farmhand, and one of the drunker of Ector's companions.  He winked at the
indignant act put on by the barmaid he'd just pinched.

	Ector's face flushed redder than the strong brew had already made it.

	"Wonder how they keep their 'ladies,' eh?" sniggered one of the others
with a rude gesture toward his kilt.  Boisterous snorts and a call for
another round greeted his suggestion.

	"Must be better'n Ector!  Might have to ask 'em..."

	The young man had too much ribbing and too many drinks besides.  Rising
from his bench with a bit of a sway, he announced, "The gypsy bitches'll
see light soon 'nough--when the eklektons start chantin' exorcisms over
'em..."

	"An' only a spelled wench wouldn't want you?" the first youth jeered
back.  "Maybe those gypsies jus' got better men!"

	Ector's face went purple, and he dove at his daytime friend and drinking
buddy.  A fight was all the excuse the barkeep needed to throw the whole
bunch out into the mud street.  Their companions stood around, helplessly
laughing and supporting each other to prevent tumbles from their
unsteadily upright positions.

	"They're no better'n any other foreign wenches," Ector snarled at them. 
"If I went up there right now, where they're campin' and offered a hen or
two, I'd have my pick of 'em all!"

	"Yeah, yeah.  Prove it!" Ien taunted back.

	"I will!"

	"Now!"

	Ector realized he'd been challenged into a corner.  He couldn't back
down now, or he'd lose standing among the louts.  "Gi'me a chicken..."  

	With a clucking, red-feathered hen stolen from a nearby coop, the young
men made their way out of the village and toward the distant camp of the
gypsies.

* * *

	Sheba had lost interest in company.  Somehow, when Apollo walked away
from her, shaking his head, she'd felt snubbed, and couldn't explain why.
 She gave up listening to the music, which had turned a little
melancholy, and decided to take a little walk around the camp.

	Boomer had let her go without comment, understanding, as he always
did--he was a good friend.  Cassiopeia and Athena had each asked her to
join them with groups at other campfires, but she didn't feel like it. 
She avoided Starbuck because she didn't feel like talking to him, under
the circumstances.  And when she saw Apollo return to camp and settle
down at a campfire with Captain Siduri's people, apparently not in the
least concerned about where she was, she quickly stepped into the
darkness to keep out of his sight.

	No, she didn't want to deal with the complications of relationships
tonight.  She didn't want company at all.  She discovered she wanted to
be alone here, and silent, with this experience.  Some restless urge
gradually drew her away from the others, gave her a yearning for solitude
like nothing she'd experienced before.  She let it pull her on.

	Twinkling stars studded the wide-open sky in the warm summer night. 
Sheba stared up in wonder, feeling the expansiveness soothe her soul. 
This was a view of the heavens she seldom saw.  She had spent much of her
childhood traveling with her parents from military base to military base;
none of those assignments had been planetary.  Her mother had settled in
Gemini City when her father received a ship command; there had been no
stars visible in the sky above that always-brilliantly illuminated
Colonial capital.  The yahrens aboard the -Pegasus- hadn't given her many
opportunities for ground-based missions either, where she might have
become familiar with starry nights.

	Something flew from the trees beside her, a dark shape against the sky,
keening some mournful sound.  Sheba flinched at the unexpected sound and
movement.  She felt too open, too exposed, and shivered.

	>I'm a warrior.  I belong in my Viper, on my ship among the stars, not
running around this little ball of mud in clothes that were out of date
when our people left Kobol.  Maybe I should have stayed in camp tonight
after all, but I couldn't.  There's something about being under the
sky...<

	In spite of her unfamiliarity with the forest, its sounds and smells
drew her deeper from the camp.  She followed an instinct for solitude she
didn't even realize she had.

* * *

	The night air had cooled some of their fervor as drunken glee turned
sour with the beginnings of hangovers, but mutual jeers kept the young
men going as they climbed into the foothills.

	"There's one of 'em!"  Bran pointed to a woman standing alone in a small
meadow surrounded by a grove of trees, staring up at the bright stars. 
"But she ain't one of those who were in town today."

	"Don't matter!" Ien insisted.  "He said any of 'em.  Well, she's one of
th' gypsies, you c'n see it."

	Ector grumbled under his breath and swaggered toward the woman.  When he
got close enough, he could see her overskirt and vest were shades of blue
and green, not the eerie black and gray they'd seemed from a distance. 
Those brighter colors covered a figure better than any girl's in the
village.  Her hair was a warm, foresty shade of blonde, and he felt a
moment's uncertainty, as if he'd walked in on a wood nymph instead of a
flesh-and-blood woman.

	"Hey!" he called.

	She barely glanced at him.  "I heard you coming, and your friends, too. 
You make enough noise for a herd of...  Never mind.  What do you want? 
And why are carrying that...bird with you?"

	He held out the chicken, its wings flapping furiously as he held it
upside down by the legs.  "It's for you," he breathed suggestively,
stepping closer.

	She drew a deep breath and stepped back, nose wrinkling.  "You reek."

	"Hey, we can take care o' that."  He reached for her arm.  "You won't
think I stink after a little while.  We can have a good time, and mebbe
take a swim in the creek after."  His voice dropped and slurred in a
feeble attempt to be suggestive.  "The chicken's for you..."

	"Lords..."  She sounded disgusted, and pushed away the offered bird.

	"C'mon, be nice..."

	"I am not interested in company tonight."

	He tried to slide his free arm around her waist.  "I'm not comp'ny, I--"

	She took his arm, suddenly twisted, and he found himself thrown over her
shoulder and sprawling in the dirt, narrowly missing a collision with a
tree.

	Howls of derision shattered the night as Bran, Ien, and the rest of
Ector's companions reacted to the sight of their friend ludicrously
staring up at the woman while the price for her favors squawked into the
forest as fast as its legs could carry it.

	Flushed with ugly outrage, Ector crawled back to his feet.  "Wench, that
wasn't smart o' you."

	Two men appeared magically behind the woman--one still young, but
scar-faced as a battle-seasoned fighter, the other a gray-haired man who
might well be an elder, or even the gypsies' leader, from his dress and
bearing.  To Ector's mild surprise, neither took position in front of the
woman; although tensed to move, both waited as if for the woman to speak
first.

	"You all right, Sheba?" asked the scarred younger man.

	"Fine, Croft."  She sounded disgusted as she glared at the villager. 
"You, mister," she addressed him, "are the most loathsome creature I have
ever met.  And it would take a lot more than that bird to make me think
otherwise.  You are also drunk, and I suggest you go home and sleep it
off before you run into somebody you really annoy."

	Ector turned to his friends for assistance.  They were starting to look
sheepish.  Studying the newcomers, he decided there was no way he could
take on the two men alone, but with the aid of his drinking partners... 
Well, it was better than leaving now and facing the smirks of the village
later.

	He charged at Croft with a roar.  The man simply stepped aside--and
stuck out his foot as he passed.  Ector went flying once again, catching
a glance of a merry smile on the seamed face.

	His friends were silent, anger and unease replacing their mirth.

	Croft and the other man heard the growing, angry murmurs.  Though
outnumbered three to one, they settled into fighters' stances, as did the
woman.

	Ien drew a knife.

	Before the scene got any uglier, several more men and women materialized
from the shadowy forest.  Starlight gleamed off newly-drawn metal in
their hands.

	Ector's companions drew back uneasily.  Knowing he couldn't face the
group of gypsies alone, the young man had to back off too.  Staring at
the blonde woman who still had a careful, disdainful eye on him, he
growled, "Bitch.  What real woman fights like that?  You'll be sorry for
that, if you stay around here..."

	Having delivered his parting shot, and noting that several of the
gypsies were looking rather menacing, Ector took to his heels into the
night, hating the sound of barely smothered laughter behind him.

* * *

	Apollo stepped forward as the last of the louts disappeared down the
dark path, his oaths still echoing faintly back to them.  "Are you all
right, Sheba?"

	"I'm fine, Apollo.  What were those...men...trying to prove, anyway?" 
She was more annoyed than frightened.

	"Whatever it was, I think we've made some enemies," he observed.  "We'd
probably better stay close to camp after dark.  Croft--"

	"Oh, hades!" Sheba exploded.  It was bad enough the strangers had ruined
her evening; were they going to ruin the rest of her stay on the planet
as well?  "We can't leave camp because these louts think skirts are an
invitation?  Hmmph!  Then you'd better cover your legs, Apollo!  There's
no reason we should have to stay cooped up in the wagons--I think we've
proven we're capable of taking care of ourselves, especially against a
gang of drunks--"

	Apollo spoke more strongly.  "We may have gotten lucky!  Those men
looked ready for a fight--and drunks are notorious for a lack of sense. 
If Security hadn't seen them coming, and alerted us back at camp--"

	"Oh, all right!"  Sheba brushed past the men without saying good night.

	Apollo turned his attention to Hannibal and Croft, not especially
concerned with why they'd been out walking after dark.  "Thanks for being
here," he muttered.  "Sheba doesn't realize she can't always take on the
world alone."

	"Like her father, that way," Croft observed.

	Apollo had to nod in agreement.

	"You were only a centon later," Croft offered.  "And nothing happened."

	"If she'd been alone, that centon might have been a moment too late." 
He didn't intend to be sullen.  He didn't like his warriors being
dependent on Security for their safety; warriors could take care of
themselves--and women shouldn't have to defend themselves against drunken
attacks.  But it was an alien world, and in this culture, women
apparently had a precarious position.

	Croft wore a slight smile, not quite mocking, but very annoying. 
"You're right, of course, Apollo.  I'll assign an extra guard to watch
the path, give us a little more warning if the locals come back.  Eris,
Leander, since you're already here, and you don't appear to have a job
tonight, you're elected.  Stay together, and keep alert--and keep your
skirts on."

	The blonde and the redhead smothered chuckles at the innuendo hidden in
their superior's words, and managed to nod with straight faces.

	"Sure."

	"Right."

	The two Security officers headed across the meadow to find a suitable
observation site.

	Croft nodded and turned back toward the wagon campsite, most of the
others trailing him.  Hannibal and Apollo were left alone for a moment.

	"Apollo," the older captain observed mildly, "you may want to keep your
temper on a stronger leash.  There are enough real and imagined grudges
between Security and the warriors.  Don't start any more feuds down here.
 If your people think it's open season, we could have a minor civil war. 
Don't provoke Croft, or make it look like you resent him."

	"I'll do my best."

	Hannibal spoke more strongly.  "Don't let your personal feelings get in
the way of your duty, Apollo.  You and Croft...well, it's not like you to
let your...differences...become common knowledge.  You're like *your*
father that way.  Work it out."

	"I said I'd try.  But it's not me alone--"	

	"No, it's not.  Keep that in mind, too, next time your resentment comes
too close to the surface."

	"You think that's what I'm doing?"  Apollo was losing interest fast.

	Hannibal shrugged.  "I'm not telling you what to do.  And I'm going to
stop boring you with things you don't want to hear.  However, if you're
interested, I brought along a few bottles of some rather special brews
from the Alchemist, and a couple of specially mixed smokes from a planter
friend of mine.  You are cordially invited to share both, if you like..."
 He rubbed his hands with expectant glee.

	Apollo was interested in the brews, if not the fumarellos.  He'd heard
rumors that one of the engineers had set up his own distillery, and was
concocting some fantastic alcohols.  He'd never known who it was, or had
occasion to sample any of the legendary concoctions--until now.

	Starbuck would never forgive him for missing the opportunity himself. 
That clinched it.

	"I'll be right there."

	Hannibal headed back to camp, chuckling.

	Alone for a few centons, Apollo stared heavenward, at the strange
constellations of the alien world.  For a micron, a falling star burned
through the sky.  He wondered if it would hurt if he used a childhood
superstition and wished upon it.

* * *

	"See the benefit of having brought your laser?" Leander asked in an
undertone.

	"Shh!" Eris whispered back.  "Wait 'til they're gone...  Yeah, if we're
going to be stuck out here alone all night, I'm glad I've got more to
depend on then those silly knives, but we're still in trouble if we're
caught with a real weapon!  And you saw how Croft and Apollo looked at
each other--give either one a chance, and he'll make trouble for the
other."

	"That's not our concern.  Keeping our camp safe is, and this--"  He
patted a side pocket, where something bulged slightly.  "--will make it
easier."

	Eris was troubled, but slipped a hand under her vest to reassure herself
that her laser was still in its pocket.  "Think they'll come back?" she
asked a moment later, staring down the hill path toward the village. 
There had been no shouts or echoed yells from that direction in several
centons, and it seemed the farm youths had given up their quest for the
evening.

	"Why, are you desperate?"

	The plump woman flushed at the gibe.  "Hardly," she shot back.  "Just
thought you might be interested in checking out the local women yourself,
since Deneira doesn't have time for you anymore."

	Leander growled back, amusement gone.  "Deneira wants a warrior, she can
have one.  And any more comments like that, and we'll have a long, dark
night to live through."

	Eris held her tongue.

* * *

	"Breakfast is ready at campfire three!"

	The call brought several warriors running to the fire where Greenbean
hovered over a pot and grill, set up over the fire that had now burned
down to coals.  Envious glances followed from other waiting personnel. 
Everyone was ready for breakfast.  The morning air and a centar of work
had roused appetites to a healthy level.  Since orders were for actual
campfire cooking, to protect the native society in case they were
observed, there were no quick packaged rations.

	Greenbean was also proving to be a very competent cook.

	Diedre sniffed appreciatively.  "Smells good, Greenbean.  I'm glad you
volunteered to cook this morning."

	"Self-preservation," the lanky warrior returned humorously.  "Someone
had to save the camp from your cooking."

	"Thanks a lot!" she exclaimed as the others laughed.  "When my turn
comes again--"

	"I'll be on a diet," he interrupted.

	The others laughed even louder.

	"We could eat out," the heavier Lieutenant Jolly suggested, savoring
another mouthful.

	Diedre turned on him.  "I may not be very domestic, but you'd think my
own friends--"

	"Uh-huh," Jolly commented, rolling his eyes at his friends, who
snickered back.  "Not very domestic.  As in mostly wild.  As in--"

	"My, aren't we all in fine form this morning!" Starbuck laughed as he
and Apollo joined the breakfast group.  "Smells good, Greenbean.  What is
it?"

	"Don't ask!" Diedre interjected.  "He might tell you."

	Only Apollo didn't join the chuckles.

	"Something wrong, Skipper?" Jolly asked.

	"No, I'm just in no condition for morning yet..."

	"Hung over?" Boomer hooted dramatically, adding Starbuck's reproachful
look to the way Apollo shaded his eyes from the morning sunlight.  "I
know Hannibal brought something special along from the Alchemist--was
that why you were up all night?"

	"I wasn't up all night," Apollo defended himself before the leers,
grins, and questioning looks of the others.  "I just didn't sleep very
well.  And I wasn't drunk..."

	Captain Hannibal's arrival stalled the discussion before Apollo or
Starbuck could ask what Boomer knew about the elusive engineering
distillery.  Several of the younger warriors moved away to let their
superiors discuss mission progress, leaving Greenbean to tend his
cooking.  The younger officer shifted position away from them, catching
his kilt between his knees to keep it out of the coals, but otherwise
keeping his eyes off the senior officers, diligently minding his coals
and the food.

	"Mulciber's reported back from the mining camp," Hannibal reported
jovially.

	"What's the report?" Apollo inquired as professionally as possible.

	"Excellent.  He's pleased with the preliminary tests, and expects Euclid
to be as well.  From the purity and content analysis, he expects we'll be
on this planet for approximately three sectons--barring unexpected
difficulties."

	The warriors exchanged surprised stares.

	"Three...sectons?" Apollo demanded faintly.

	Hannibal cocked an eyebrow at him, a smile quirking his mouth.  "Young
man, we are replacing elements you and your friends have used up over a
period of yahrens.  We are mining rare earth compounds--which are not
called rare earths for nothing.  We have absolutely primitive technology
and tools operated by a small crew unfamiliar with their use.  In all
honesty, Apollo, from our discussion earlier, Euclid and I feared a
longer period, perhaps twice as long--"

	"Twice?" Apollo interjected more strongly.

	"Yes.  I'm sure our archivists and social scientists won't mind being
here a bit longer.  Their cultural study will be much more thorough,
although they can't really go into a lot of depth in a few sectons."

	"I see."

	Tammuz returned, holding out his plate to Greenbean, who was still
guarding the cookpot and turning  flatcakes on the grill.  "More,
please?" he asked, dropping piteously to one knee.

	Greenbean ladled the savory porridge, muttering, "Enjoy it while you
can.  We'll be here three sectons, and I'm not cooking the whole time."

	"You mean we'll have to eat Diedre's cooking?" he demanded in horror.

	"Yes."

	Tammuz sent a mischievous glare at Hannibal and Apollo.  "We mutiny, tie
up our officers, and break out emergency rations."  With a grin, the
young blond warrior snatched a neatly browned flatcake off the grill and
rejoined his companions, blowing on his singed fingers.

	"Three sectons."  Apollo studied the rustic scenery of the camp, and
suspected he would tire of trees and animals long before the time was up.
 Concerned about their now possibly rough relationship with the
villagers, and wondering what effect such a long time together would have
on his crew, he began to have doubts.  Sighing, he filled his own plate
and began to eat.

* * *

	"Yeah, that wench really showed him!" Bran chortled once too often.

	Ector's fist shot out, slamming into his friend's mouth and dropping him
into the furrow behind the ox-drawn plow.  Ien and Balan stared in equal
shock as Bran gaped up from the ground, blood slowly dribbling down his
pallid chin.

	"I had guts enough to go up to the gypsy camp!" the youth snarled
gutturally, the bad temper of a hangover exacerbated by the cruel gibes. 
"And you didn't even stand by me when they attacked me.  You just ran,
all of you.  When you goin' up, huh?  When you gonna get 'em?  Huh?"

	Balan, parrot and perpetual shadow except when he was drunk, the only
one of the party who hadn't accompanied Ector the night before because he
was unconscious in a corner, immediately took up the jeer.  "Yeah, Bran,
when you goin' up to their camp?"

	"Well, if Ector couldn't..."  Bran faltered, half-heartedly trying to
continue the jest.

	"Go on.  Maybe the feisty wood sprite likes her men skinny and clumsy!"
Ector goaded cruelly.  "You might be just her type.  Maybe tonight you'll
get lucky--for the first time.  They say gypsy women can teach a man a
lot!"

	"Tonight's Dark Moon!" Ien interjected with an uneasy shudder, trying to
stop the taunting.  "Only demons and changelings risk going out
tonight..."

	"All the better!" Ector retorted.  "Well, Bran, prove the man you are. 
Go up there tonight.  Dare the demons and gypsies.  Go up alone, like I
was when the rest of you ran and left me."

	His lip thrust out, Bran shot back, "All right!  I will.  And maybe
tomorrow you'll have to admit you ain't the man you pretend to be!"  Not
even brushing new-plowed dirt from his kilt and jerkin, the provoked
bumpkin rushed away.

	"He shouldn't be out of the village tonight," Ien hazarded.  "No one
should.  The eklektons and kalanthros bless us tonight, and the fields
and animals.  The demons might get him, or the changeling women.  They
haunt the woods on nights like this, looking for men to father their
half-breeds and then leave madmen for the rest of their lives..."

	"Might teach him something," Ector growled rudely.  "But he won't go. 
He's no hero.  You'll find him hiding in last harvest's musty haymow by
sunset, or creeping around the chicken coops for a chicken's blessing."

	Balan laughed with him, but Ien looked troubled.

	"What if there really are demons in those woods?  And changelings?" he
pressed.  "The way that woman threw you, Ector, and the look on that
man...  And even if the gypsies are safe, there's all the dark woods
between here and there..."

	"The gypsies got lucky, because we all had too much to drink.  It won't
happen again."

	"Lucky bastards," Balan echoed.

	"Bran won't go.  And there'll be a time that gypsy girl will learn how
to behave with her betters."  Ector's eyes glittered with mixed emotions.

	In the face of his friends' jeers, Ien gave up.

	But Ector hadn't forgotten.  There were many things he wanted to "teach"
that lovely woman in the gypsy camp, and he vowed to himself there would
be a time.  She wouldn't always be surrounded by her people.

* * *

	Athena had communication duty that morning, in the one wagon full of
their most updated technology and gear.  She efficiently updated the
information currently available from Mulciber and Hannibal--and the
night's security incident from Croft.  Her brief report was prepared and
forwarded to the -Galactica- in a short time.  Rigel acknowledged receipt
of her report and provided a copy of the information sent by from their
counterpart at the tylium station.

	Athena saw Sheba leave one of the campfires.

	"Sheba!" she called, waving.

	The other woman hesitated long enough for her to catch up.

	"Hi!  How are you feeling this morning?"

	Sheba groaned.  "Oh, don't you start in on me!"

	"What?" Athena was taken aback.

	"It was bad enough--worse than bad enough--that Apollo made such a big
deal out of last night, please don't you make an issue out of it!  I'm
fine, I could take care of myself, and I think ordering me to stay in
camp is going too far!"  Sheba's temper was obviously still simmering,
and could easily boil over.

	"Apollo's just concerned--"

	Sheba made a disgusted noise.  "Athena, sometimes he forgets I'm a
warrior too--when he bothers to remember I exist.  I know he's your
brother--doesn't he treat you the same way?"

	"Yes."

	"I mean, when he-- What?"

	Athena shrugged ruefully.  "Yes.  He does.  So does my father.  They
forget I'm a trained warrior, and a pilot.  At least the Commander hasn't
confined you to the bridge of the -Galactica-."

	"Oh."  A beat.  "I'm sorry, Athena, I forget sometimes how hard you have
to fight for every mission..."

	The dark-haired woman nodded.  "With Mother and Zac dead--and
Serina--Father wants to protect me, too.  He tells me I'm most valuable
on the bridge, and maybe I am, but it's not where I always want to be. 
And Apollo has never stopped thinking of me as the little sister who will
never know as much as he does or be as competent as he is."  She pointed
at herself.  "Do you know what I had to do to get on this mission?  I had
to program the mission parameters to specifically include a comm
specialist with warrior training and pilot experience, and with a
Colonial history background.  I had to program it so the computers had no
choice but to pick me--and even guessing that, my father still doesn't
understand why I did it!."

	"Huh?"

	"You didn't know I had historical training at the Academy as my second
specialty, did you?"

	"No...  I knew Apollo had studied the law, but I didn't even think that
you probably had to have a second area too..."

	Athena smiled ruefully.  "One of the requisites for being one of Adama's
children, I guess.  It isn't enough to have one area of expertise.  So
Apollo studied the law at the Academy.  Zac studied music as an
expression of the sacred and the secular.  Me, I studied history and
education.  Did you know my graduation treatise on the history of
Caprican primary education in the fifth millennium was published by the
Kobolian Academic Society before the Destruction?"

	"Really?"

	"Yes.  On my graduation day, Commander Lyra offered me a staff teaching
position at the Academy!  I turned her down because I already had a
battlestar assignment.  That was what I wanted, to be on the -Galactica-;
I was good at teaching, but it didn't interest me very much."

	"So why are you teaching now?"

	"We need teachers.  It may not be what I really want to do, but it's
where I'm needed."  Athena smiled briefly again.  "Father asked me to,
and when I found out Boxey was in the class, I couldn't say no again. 
I'd already turned the offer down twice before, until my own
nephew--Apollo's son--needed me."

	"I never thought about it..."

	"See!"  Athena stopped and grinned at her.

	"See what?"  Sheba paused as well.

	"You underestimate me as well!  You're as bad as Father and Apollo!"

	She finally found a rueful smile.  "All right!  So I've got just as big
a blind side as Apollo does.  I still don't like it when he reacts like
this!"

	"Neither do I.  Let's go find Brie."

	"Okay."

	As they resumed walking, Sheba asked, "Have you talked with the
Commander about wanting more active assignments?"

	"Yes.  Several times.  He listens as well as Apollo does."

	"Ouch."  Sheba winced.  "So he no doubt thinks you're here because of
Starbuck?"

	"Yes."

	"Is it true?"

	"No!  Well," Athena quickly clarified, "not entirely.  I mean, I do like
Starbuck, and we have a good time together, and he's not making any
promises, and maybe I want to see how he'll be when we're all here
together for the mission...but honestly, I don't know if it's reasonable
to expect a commitment from him.  Maybe I'm fooling myself.  Maybe I
shouldn't expect anything more than a good time and a heartbreak from
him.   Knowing about Aurora and Cassie and Noday and Miriam, would *you*
trust him for a serious relationship?"

	Remembering Cassie's woeful confession a few days before, Sheba shook
her head doubtfully.  "Men."

	Athena echoed, "Men.  Especially those who claim to love you."

	>...those who claim to love you.<  That was frustrating to think about. 
Apollo didn't even make that claim.

* * *

	Apollo's headache had faded to a slight throbbing by midmorning, with
the help of one of Paye's potions, and the smooth running of the camp
helped him to relax.  Anubis, the criminal from the prison barge, and
Nidaba, the head of the archives and cultural study team, were gathering
their people for another expedition to the local village.  They were
using most of the same personnel as the previous occasion, on the theory
that the townspeople would more readily accept familiar faces.

	Cassiopeia, however, had joined them, to collect a few of the common
herbs that were for sale in the market square--the agora, a word very
similar to an old Caprican term--and to test them for medicinal value. 
There was also another pair of archivists, Jason and Melea, a middle-aged
married couple, to reinforce the impression that the group had been
together a lengthy time.

	He saw that Leander looked tired, but that wasn't surprising.  The man
had been up most of the night, and slept late in the morning, as had
several others of the Security team.  The redhead had been startled when
the captain greeted him in a deliberate attempt to be friendly.  Security
and warriors had been aloof the last few days, but at Hannibal's urging,
he was trying to set a good example for his own people.

	The team trudged off along the path, scuffing up dust puffs as they
passed.  Anubis took up his position next to Nidaba, as he'd done
previously.  Apollo thought the woman looked more at ease this time, but
he couldn't be sure.  He hadn't really known her before the expedition,
merely recalled seeing her in the Archives a few times, and substituting
for Thoth at some of the commander's briefings.

	Glancing around the clearing, he caught a glimpse of an inquisitive
coppery face peering out from a bush.  It looked very much like the
animal he'd seen near the camp several times already in the last two
days.  He wanted to yell at everybody to be still, not to disturb the
vulpine animal, but he was afraid the sound would only frighten it off. 
The dark nose quivered; it wasn't afraid of the activities of several
dozen humans.  In fact, it looked fascinated as its gaze locked on one of
the women near its hiding place.

	As Apollo watched, it suddenly darted forward, to seize something right
out of the warrior's hands and retreat instantly into the forest.  The
woman shrieked and threw herself back.  One of the other warriors threw
himself valiantly, if foolishly, at the animal, grabbing thin air as he
sprawled on the ground.  Brie's scream threw the camp into instant
turmoil, and everyone ran to see what had happened, most with weapons
drawn.

	Apollo intervened to end the fuss as quickly as possible.

	"That...that..."

	"You're all right, Brie," he assured her as Paye dashed over with his
allowed primitive medical bag in hand, his kilt swinging as he ran. 
"I've seen the creature before.  I don't think it'll hurt people..."

	"You're all right, you're not bleeding, you're not hurt," Paye repeated,
trying to calm the warrior.

	"I know I'm not bleeding!" the blonde woman squeaked with wide, angry
eyes.  "It didn't bite me, it stole my tapestry!"

	Apollo blinked.  "What?"

	The doctor looked equally taken aback, but the explanation seemed to
satisfy many in the crowd.

	"My tapestry."

	"I don't understand."  She had been doing something with the stuff in
her hands, but Apollo hadn't seen what it was.

	"I was stitching a design, and that animal took it right out of my
hands."

	"I still don't understand."

	His sister ended his confusion.  "It's simple, Apollo," Athena
explained.  "Since we knew we'd have time on our hands while the miners
are busy, some of us brought hobbies along, the kind that would fit in. 
Brie's hobby is stitchery.  The animal stole her embroidery."

	"Oh."

	Some of the warriors moved off to beat the bushes, trying to locate the
animal and its prize.

	"Embroidery.  Why would a beast steal embroidery?" he puzzled.

	"I'm sure it had a logical reason."

	Apollo stared at Athena's straight face.  After a moment, she laughed at
him.

	"I see.  Well, I guess we'll have to keep a close eye on things, then. 
Can't have the local wildlife spreading our goods across half the
country.  Take note, people.  Make sure you know where your things are,
and don't leave anything unattended.  You might as well get back to
whatever you were doing..."

	The group dispersed.  Athena helped Brie gather the threads and needles
she'd scattered when she fell back so precipitously, so Apollo stayed a
centon.

	"Sorry about that, Brie.  I saw the animal before.  Didn't think it
would stay around the camp with so many of us here."  It was absurd to
apologize for something he had no control over.  He picked up what must
have been a sample piece, with a bright nova design on blue.  "You're
very good," he acknowledged, impressed.

	"It seemed like something a society of this type would expect to find
women doing."  She sounded as apologetic as he had, as she grabbed her
materials and fled to one of the tents.

	Apollo glanced quizzically at Athena, who was staring at the ground. 
"Did I say something wrong?"

	"No..." she replied slowly.  "It's just...  I guess she was more
concerned about you, big brother.  She can design clothes, too, but Brie
hadn't done any sewing or stitchery since just after she became a Viper
pilot."

	"Oh?"

	"The last thing she created was Serina's sealing gown."

* * *

	"Scoot!  Get out of here, you little brats!" Ninive scolded as she
chased the young boys from her small stand of fruit trees.  She grumbled
as she returned to her hut.  Why the village boys took such delight in
stealing from her orchard, as far from Farshire as she was....!

	She settled herself on the rush-woven mat.  Spread around her was an odd
collection of grasses, leaves, and flowers, along with a number of clay
and leather containers, and a stone mortar with a wooden pestle.  Ninive
ground several dried herbs into a fine powder, then reached for a handful
of the second ingredient. She dropped them into the mortar and continued
preparing the medicine.

	A copper-colored animal appeared in her clearing, next to the spring.

	"Reyna," the old woman crooned, seeing that the beast had something
brightly colored hanging from its mouth.  The animal flashed its tail at
her once, then dropped the cloth and retreated into toward the forest.

	Creaking slightly, the midwife rose to make her way to the water to pick
up the material.  She studied it minutely, then frowned, uneasy.  It was
a fine weave, too fine for anything made in her land.  And the richness
of the dye was beyond anything even she knew how to make fast in any
threads.  The material was strong, and none of the edges had been torn. 
Reyna had stolen the whole piece.  The embroidery on it was a strange
design, in a fashion she couldn't remember seeing, but that somehow
seemed familiar.  The pattern was of a flame-burst, stars in a dark sky,
or maybe a nighttime fire...

	And then she remembered.

	Ninive looked up to the sky, her hands trembling.

* * *

	The main village of Farshire was a quiet, rustic scene in the bright
sunlight.  A collection of wood and stone houses clustered along a few
dirt paths and one stone-cobbled road left from some more prosperous time
a century before.  In the center of town, the steeple of its religious
structure rose in stone grandeur above the trees and buildings, visible
for some distance.  In the opposite direction from the Colonial camp in
the mountains rose the towers of the local arxon's bailey, with its
sheltered interior structures and the outlying buildings spread around
it.

	From their previous visit, the Colonials knew the citizens of the
agrarian community sent their overlord a regular tribute of produce,
leather, and some iron-working.  They also knew that from the highest
levels in the steeple, one could see the steeples of four other towns in
the area, each also obedient to the manor lord, Uthor.  They had likewise
been informed, through the local gossips, that Arxon Uthor, though still
in the days of his strength, was an ill man, and might not live to
harvest time.

	"Festival day, I think," Nidaba commented, observing the rushing around
them, and the clean, fancier clothing the inhabitants were wearing.  The
drab-colored kilts, trousers and skirts, and the common off-white aprons
had been replaced with brighter clothes, surcoats, and vests.  No one but
the traveling vendors and local produce sellers seemed concerned with
hurrying to work.  The bits of greenery everyone wore fastened to his or
her garments were unfamiliar to the Colonials, but several vendors had
baskets of them hanging in their makeshift shops.

	Anubis seemed distracted.  He suddenly joined in with, "Religious in
nature, too.  We'll have to be especially careful of mores and customs
today.  It's often easy to offend local deities, or their
representatives, on festival days.  Even when the deity or saint and the
festival are primarily benevolent in nature."

	Nidaba nodded agreement, forgetting for the moment that she didn't
particularly like or trust the man.  "I suspect an agricultural society
of this type, with the cultural level we've observed, would have rigid
strictures surrounding religious observances.  We don't want to offend
the wrong people."

	"Most certainly," Anubis added.  "It could be dangerous to all of us, if
the old Neo-Urrians of our own Cancera are any indication.  They dropped
back into near-barbarism after the settlement of the Colonies and the
abandonment of technology.  One of the things they don't usually mention
in history class.  As I recall, they brought back some very old
religious--or perhaps I should say, superstitious--associations of dirt
and rain as female and male, and in need of regular rituals to maintain
the holy bonds of the sacred marriage between them--"

	"Does this discussion go anywhere special, or does it just go forever?"
one of the warriors demanded, after staring blankly from the archivist to
the historian.

	"It goes, Starbuck," Nidaba answered darkly.  "And among the
Neo-Urrians, it sometimes ended in bloody sacrifices.  Human sacrifices,
supposed to fertilize the sacred union of man and nature in annual
ceremonies unequaled anywhere else in the Colonies.  Criminals and
outsiders were most frequently chosen for the honor, if there were no
volunteers from among the community."

	"Oh.  Wonderful.  Were there many volunteers?"

	"To be carved into little pieces and your blood scattered across
fields?"

	"I guess not.  That's not happening here, I hope?"

	She sighed and shook her head, as if he'd missed the point entirely. 
Anubis, watching her instead of Starbuck, smiled faintly but with some
pride.  It was as though a protege had set an ignorant student in his
place.  Starbuck knew he'd been dismissed as that student, and was
nettled, but decided to ignore the discussion.

	"Then do we attend the festival, or do we avoid it?" Siduri asked more
practically.

	Nidaba pursed her lips, studying the crowd around the village square. 
The other cultural scientists looked equally thoughtful, until Anubis
spoke again.

	"We attend," he replied decisively.  "A number of us.  We may be
pilgrims and gypsies, to these people's minds, but some of us are still
reverent and devout believers--in whatever or whomever.  It would be wise
not to be labeled as heretics or outsiders.  The best way to belong may
well be to participate in their services, at an appropriate distance for
outsiders."

	Several of the warriors looked pained, but the archivist responsible for
the team quickly laid down the law.

	"We attend.  We watch everything carefully, we take mental notes, and we
participate as necessary, and we *respect* their customs.  If we have to
light candles and attend ritual dinners or baths, we do it.  If they
spray us with sacred waters or waft foul-smelling thuribles at us, we
mutter prayerfully.  If everyone else kneels, or stands, or jumps up and
down, we do likewise.  We can explain any awkwardness by saying our own
customs are slightly different, but similar enough that we are
comfortable with them."  Nidaba studied them all.  "Anybody who feels his
or her own religious beliefs would be compromised, will of course be
excused.  Any complaints?"

	There were none.

	"Good.  Let's get our daily shopping done.  I'd recommend we first pick
up some sprigs of those herbs you see everybody wearing--and stay
together; as Apollo said, after what happened last night, I don't think
it would be wise for any of us to get separated from the rest."

	They scattered through the agora, staying at least in pairs.  If the
Colonials' clothing was still brighter than everyone else's, no one
commented on it.  Their baskets were soon filled the same as everyone
else's.  With the small twigs of greenery stuck in their hair and pinned
to their clothing, they at least looked as though they belonged.

	"You didn't have a whole lot to say about this evening," Nidaba told her
partner, speaking in an undertone.

	"You said it all quite well, Nia.  There was no reason for me to
intrude," the tall man answered easily.  He intently studied a bin of
produce, then selected a dozen large, round, tart green fruits to add to
their basket.  The fruit had become popular in their camp on first taste.

	"Actually, you haven't said much the entire time we've been on this
planet."

	Darkly secretive eyes met frank brown eyes.  "I'm a quiet person.  I
learn by listening."

	Nidaba thought she should shiver at that look, but instead turned her
attention to a vendor of smaller metal objects--some jewelry, but mostly
household tools and kitchen utensils.

	Anubis leaned over to pick up a thin gold comb.  "This would suit you." 
He set it against her hair.

	The vendor's eyes gleamed at the thought of selling so valuable an item,
and the haggling began, while Nidaba waited in stupefied silence.  When
the bargaining was concluded, both parties were satisfied.  The vendor
hadn't expected to find a well-off buyer in a place like Farshire, and
the actual cost of the comb was slight, for someone familiar with the
tastes and prices of wealthy Colonial society.

	"For my lady."  He twined a bit of herb into the tines, then pulled her
hair back behind one ear and fastened it with the comb.

	"But..."

	He took her arm.  "I think the local swains are giving gifts to their
sweethearts today.  One must try to fit in."

	She couldn't really answer that.

* * *

	Evening had come far too soon.  Bran shivered at the owl call above him,
then jumped when something pushed through the brush near him.  It was
Dark Moon Eve.  He should never have taken Ector's dare, should never
have taunted the other man so far.  In the village everyone was being
blessed, and were marching around the fields and celebrating the
eklekton's promise of another summer free of curses, crop failures,
epidemics, and general bad luck.  He should be there, too.  He needed
protection; everyone did.  The wild woods were full of evil, and there
were demons everywhere, especially angry this night when the sacred
blessings drove them from the village and confined them to the wilds.

	Instead, a poor blacksmith's son was testing fate and risking the
displeasure of the Great Father by braving the woods alone on the most
dangerous night of the year.

	And for what?

	Because his so-called friends dared him to take one of the strangers'
women.  And he was foolish enough to try it.  If he succeeded, he might
gain the respect of his companions.  If he failed, he might be labeled a
fool forever, mocked and taunted.  If he were lucky.  If he were less
lucky, he would be dead, or driven mad by the demons and changelings in
the forest.  Or maybe taken away to their dark realm, never to see the
sunlight or taste his sister's cooking again.

	The dubious pleasure of claiming a gypsy woman seemed less and less
important.

	His hands were trembling and sweaty, and every noise echoed and
magnified into the screams of damned demons.  At another sound in the
cloud-shrouded night, he dove frantically into the nearest bushes.  The
noise was followed by an unhallowed light...

* * *

	Reese flashed the altered torch across the shadowed woods.   "Nothing,"
he reported casually.  "I think you're hearing things, Deena."

	The woman frowned, but studied the area thoroughly.  "I guess...  But
I'm glad Croft let us bring torches tonight.  The woods are spooky, with
no moon."

	Reese laughed derisively.

	"Well, I'm glad we've got the lights."

	"I agree with that, I'm just recalling how Captain Apollo almost vetoed
them.  He doesn't like admitting a measly Security officer could be right
about anything.  Even after Croft spent half a centar explaining that
Engineering had fixed the torches, so all they'd show is red light, and
they couldn't be seen at any distance, so the natives wouldn't see lights
moving around the mountain, and they'd be so much safer than carrying
open flames, which could burn us out of camp and tent."

	Deena snickered at that.  "The locals think the place is a little bit
haunted anyway, even before we 'gypsy travelers' arrived.  I think it was
the idea of a forest fire that finally convinced him.  He doesn't like
being shown up at anything.  Remember that triad game he and Starbuck
lost to one of our teams?  Even though he was half-exhausted from patrol,
and it turned out Starbuck was coming down with that Aquaran flu, he
growled for a secton, I think."

	"Yeah.  And Blue Squadron made excuses for them that whole secton, too. 
But I think Leander and Phaeton would have won anyway, and that's what
griped 'em."

	The woman shrugged in unconcern.  "Over and done with.  And I guess I
was wrong--there doesn't seem to be anybody or anything out here, not
that beast that raided our camp today or anything.  Get that light out of
my face and let's get back to our post before, ahem, *somebody* decides
we're derelict in our duty."

	"Croft's as bad as that warrior about that..."

	Flipping the torch back to their path, the two Security officers
retreated up the hill.

* * *

	Bran slowly crept out of the brambles and leaves of the bush.  He stared
after the dimly-lit figures of the man and woman, shocked beyond belief.

	They carried a spectral light, red with all the wrath of hell's-fire, an
eye to the endless abyss of brimstone.  They carried it easily, used it
freely.

	>Demons...  They carry demons, and have a demon eye as their familiar...
 From the Evil One...  They're cursed, they consort with demons...<

	An owl hooted again.  Overwrought, the village boy fainted dead away.

* * *

	Bran groaned as he woke in the hayloft.  The nightmares had pursued him
to the village, to the barn, and into his sleep.  He wasn't well-rested. 
He uncurled and shook the sleep from his eyes as he sat up.

	"Told you we'd find him here," an incredibly arrogant voice shattered
his thoughts.

	The blacksmith's son stared blearily up at the other man.  Ector's
handsome face twisted in scorn.  He nudged with his foot, and Bran
realized his slept-in daily clothes were tattered and dirty, while his
friends were wearing holiday best to celebrate the passing of Dark Moon
and its accompanying dangers.  Ector, Balan, and Ien fastidiously brushed
straw wisps from their best vests and kilts, Ector flipping up his kilt
almost obscenely to show his undertrousers.

	In a flash he remembered the day before all too clearly, with its
challenge, followed by the dreadful apparition of the night.  The eye of
the Pit, searching the woods to claim his soul; the gypsy magickers, one
light, one dark, both tainted with hell's-fire; the awful nightmares that
pursued him home and left him quaking in a hayloft for half the night...

	"The Evil One!" he cried in panic.

	His friends laughed.

	"You never went up the mountain, did you?" Ector mocked.  "Heroic Bran,
gonna show us all how the gypsy women like their men.  Gonna prove what a
brave man he is, leaving the village and chasing strangers on Dark Moon
Eve."  He whirled to gesture across the barn.  "But what's this?  Who
have we found hiding in the hayloft, sleeping the day away?  Must indeed
have been a night--"

	Bran's temper flared, and his thin, pale face flushed with more color
than he'd ever had.  "I went up the mountain!"

	More laughter erupted.

	"Indeed, and what did you see?" Balan choked merrily.

	"Two magickers, and their demon familiar!"

	The mockery ended; his three friends stared at him seriously.

	"It was red as the Pit, and chased me through half the forest.  They're
magickers and consorters with demons, those gypsies.  They really are! 
Evil!  With familiars, and spells, and demon guards.  I saw them!  And
your wood sprite is one of them."

	Ector broke into uproarious guffaws again.

	"Of course!" he choked out a moment later, when he had his voice under
control.  "And you saw all this from the safety of the village, from the
heights of this loft?  I know you, Bran.  You never went up the
mountain!"

	"I did!  And we have to tell the Eklekton!"

	The others joined in the terrible laughter again.  Demons and magickers
had come to the mountain, and no one believed him.

	"Bran, it's a celebration day.  We survived the demons' night, and there
will be no vile magick threatening our village today.  The eklektons'
blessings are on us all.  Find some water to wash with, and put on clean
clothes, if you've got any.  We're going to the fair.  Maybe we'll see
you there--if a spook doesn't get in your way!  Next time, think of a
better story to tell!"

	"Maybe next time, tell it to a gypsy woman," Balan added snidely.

	"Could be..."  Ector leered as he considered one particular caravan
female.  "Maybe we'll see them at the fair!  Get another chance to look
them over.  You, too, Bran, if you're there before sunset.  The gypsies
go home then, and the boogies come out!"

	Bran stared hatefully after them as they made their sniggering way down
the ladder and out of the barn.

	"I'll show you, Ector.  Next time, you'll answer my challenge, and
you'll see the demons too.  Then you won't laugh.  You'll know we have to
tell the eklektons, and Arxon Uthor, if they haven't killed him by then."

	Struck with the revelation that he may have discovered the source of his
lord's worsening illness, he scrambled from the hay mound.


	Chapter Four


	Eklekton Padryce rode into Uthor's keep as if it were his own.  In a
sense, it was, for the elderly man was a temporal as well as a spiritual
overlord of this land.  Upon accession to his father's holdings, Uthor
had sworn allegiance and fealty to Padryce and the Second Sacred Covenant
he represented.  Farshire was the farthest parish of Padryce's religious
domain, against the mountains.  The only men within that entire realm to
whom the eklekton must bow were the basilis and the patriarch himself. 
Unlike ordinary men, he would never kneel to any mortal.

	Within the keep's smooth granite walls, he stepped out of his carriage. 
The old man made an imposing picture as he stood motionless for a moment,
while both servants and guards scuttled.  Straight-backed with
unconscious pride, he surveyed the courtyard.  He was clothed in rich
white woven robes draped with the gold-embroidered alb of authority, his
kilt similarly embroidered and the cloak trimmed with gold threads.  He
wore little jewelry, only the seal of the Covenant at his neck and a
simple woven gold cord through what remained of his hair.  He had always
been tall and ascetic.  Properly tonsured and with the burning eyes of a
fanatic, few indeed could stand up to his righteous stare.

	It was said he might one day ascend to the Patriarchate, and become
Guardian of the Second Covenant of the Great Father.  He had the
intelligence, dedication, and energy the position demanded.  He also had
the wealth and connections to convince others of his fitness to be
Patriarch.

	There were some shadows, but not many; it was still early afternoon. 
After eight days of travel, however, the old man was glad he wouldn't be
in a carriage again for some time.  Riding horseback in a saddle was
another matter; he had always enjoyed riding.  Uthor was known to have
many good, sturdy riding animals, a legacy from the freer, younger days,
before he had become arxon on the death of his father and brother.

	A young man came falteringly toward him, supported by a husky servant.

	Padryce studied the lord of Farshire.  Grayed skin, wearing a cloak
tossed over night clothes, barely able to walk.  Only a short harvest
before, Uthor had been a sturdy youth, proud of his skills, reveling in
the competition of a challenge, eager to display his youth and virility
in a number of ways.  How quickly he was aging!  It seemed the tales were
true, that he would soon be dead.  Perhaps it was also true that someone
was hurrying him on his way to Judgment, and he with no proper lady or
legitimate heir...  It was well he had been sent for, if it was not
already too late.

	"My lord Uthor."  Padryce condescended to approach the sick man.  "It is
good to see you again.  But you look very ill today; you should not be
out of your bed."

	The young arxon dropped to his knees and kissed the hand extended to
him.  "How could I stay abed when you have come to visit my humble home,
my lord Eklekton?  You are welcome here with great joy."

	"Perhaps not so much as you think, my dear young man. But we will speak
of great events later, when we have both rested and refreshed ourselves. 
Lead on, please.  My servants will carry my trunks."

	With a grateful nod, Uthor ordered his own servant to show them the way,
and called to a stabler to take care of the horses and vehicles of
Padryce's journey.  "Supper has been ordered, Eklekton.  I will see you
then."  A bowed farewell, and the young man hobbled back toward the main
keep.

	Padryce watched him go with some pity.  The sight of the once-vigorous
young man only reinforced his personal vow to discover the meaning behind
the triple omen just before Dark Moon Eve, eight days before.  He would
root out the vile weed of the Evil One--for surely only demon magick
could have caused such a foul change in the arxon.

* * *

	"What word from Mulciber today?"  Apollo asked.

	Hannibal looked up from the communication board he and Athena were
hunched over.  In the equipment-crowded wagon, 'hunched over' was their
usual position.  "Mining is continuing on the expected schedule.  The
veins are more easily accessible that we feared.  They'll have the next
load ready by nightfall, and using our hoverwagons, should be at the
landing zone before dawn.  They'll be away with the sunrise, as planned."

	"And Euclid reports that the ores are proving to be of unusually high
concentration and quality," Athena added.  "He also reports the tylium
mining is ahead of schedule.  He's very pleased with the way things are
going so far."

	"Good," Apollo commented, with an absent-minded smile to his sister.

	Hannibal half-crawled out of the wide wagon to join Apollo in the
sunlight.  Stretching the kinks out of his back, he fell into stride with
the younger man.  "Our expedition is turning out quite well, and I
believe Nia and Anubis are pleased with their study as well."

	"Yeah, they're getting along better after a secton of forced
association."

	"How about your warriors and Security?"

	He sighed heavily.  "Not much luck.  At least there haven't been any
fights down here."

	"That's because the booze is back in the Fleet, with only minor
exceptions, and the full days of work mean everyone's too tired to fight
after dark."

	"We're all on a regular schedule now, including the nighttime security
details.  I don't have people wandering around all night and dragging
through the day because their bio-clocks are set on shiptime."  Apollo
shook his head ruefully.  "I had to adjust a bit myself.  Now I know why
I was so tired and edgy those first few days."

	"And in another few sectons, when we've all had just enough time to
accept this planet's time as natural, we go back to the Fleet, and have
to start all over again.  Our bodies will be confused.  We've gotten used
to sunshine and starlight, and fresh air and terrestrial noises and
smells.  Ah, I'll miss it..."

* * *

	"Ready, Cassie?"

	She flashed a quick smile at Paye and patted down the long apron she
wore.  Each of its deep pockets was lined and sealable, to prevent
contamination of the contents.  "I'm ready.  If the bio-team's analyses
are correct, we should find a lot of valuable plant species in this
forest--they've certainly had enough time this secton to complete their
preliminary tests."

	"Plant gathering."  Ajax, the Security guard assigned to accompany the
doctor and the med tech on their sample gathering expedition, already
looked bored.

	The young doctor checked the sample bags on his own vest, and then that
of the guard.  "Be optimistic.  Maybe we'll find what we're looking for
in a hurry, and we can be back before dark."

	"Of course, Bio will have to double-check everything we find.  If some
of it's useful, we'll have to go out again over the next secton to
observe the plants in the wild, and collect living plants and seeds, and
make soil checks so we can grow the species on the agro-ship and in our
own pharmacy gardens," Cassiopeia contributed professionally.

	Ajax looked unconvinced, but resigned to his fate.  "Where do we start?"

	"Probably right here in camp," the woman said smoothly.

	"Oh?"  Even Paye looked questioning.

	"I think we should see if we can find samples of the herb the natives in
the village are still wearing, and then find some in the wild."

	"Yes!  That good-luck weed, some-bane-or-other, they call it.  There
should be some still around, and it's got to grow around here.  Do you
know of anybody...?"

	Cassiopeia had a definite source in mind.  On the visit when the
archivist had ordered everyone to wear the same herb as the natives,
Starbuck had purchased a quantity of it woven into a bracelet.  Athena
had worn the bracelet for days now, almost flaunting it in her face, to
Cassie's perception.  After this long, the stuff should be sufficiently
dried for pharmaceutical analysis, and since the possessor was currently
on duty at the wagon...  The med tech felt no compunction at having
Athena make an unknowing sacrifice.

* * *

	Apollo caught sight of several of his warriors--Boomer, Starbuck, Jolly,
Greenbean, and Giles--heading down river from the camp, silly grins on
their faces and small bags of gear slung over their shoulders.  He caught
up to them in a moment.

	"You gentlemen have a goal in mind?" he inquired.

	They looked slightly abashed.

	"We're going fishing, Apollo," Boomer told him with a straight face.

	He knew something was up.  "Boomer, you don't like fishing.  And
Starbuck, I notice you don't have any gear..."

	"Oh, uh, they're going fishing.  I'm, uh, going for a walk," the blond
man replied innocently.

	"What's going on?"

	"Actually," Giles finally broke down and answered, "we thought we could
trail our lines and play a little pyramid while we wait for something to
bite."

	"Why not do it in camp?"

	"Because Reese is watching me."

	"You don't want Reese watching you play cards?  Why?  Afraid he'll want
to play, too?"

	"Uh, actually, Apollo," Boomer interrupted, "it's Croft.  He's got
Security watching everybody who steps a meter out of camp--those of us
who are allowed to leave camp at all.  Reese is watching Giles, and
Kratos is watching me, and while they may seem to be watching each other,
Omfala and Priam are definitely following Jolly and Greenbean."

	"One couple following another," Greenbean quipped.

	"But he hasn't told us about it, so he doesn't think we know he doesn't
trust us to take care of ourselves, so..."  Boomer shrugged.

	"So you're leaving camp, naturally, because you *don't* want his people
watching you."

	"We may as well have a good time being watched," Giles responded with a
grin.

	"Are you trying to confuse Croft like you're confusing me?"

	"Yup."  Giles' grin broadened.  "While we're fishing and playing cards
and talking, the guys he's got following us will be sitting in the weeds,
fighting the bugs and snakes and whatever else lives there.  They'll hate
us by the end of the day.  And who knows, maybe we'll catch some fish."

	Apollo could see his squadronmates were reveling in the thought. 
Secretly, he liked the notion, since he disliked being tailed by Security
as much as his pilots did, and he'd argued strenuously against including
them in the mission, but been overruled by Commander Adama, who had most
likely been under pressure from the Council of Twelve.  But he knew he
couldn't tell his warriors that, if he wanted to control their
resentment.  He knew, also, that preventing their little bit of fun would
be demoralizing and maybe lead to some worse mischief.

	"Make sure you bring back some fish, or you won't be leaving camp
tomorrow.  I can't justify plain contrariness two days in a row. 
Starbuck, I presume you're leading your guard on an obstacle course,
since that's the only reason I can think of why you're not joining the
game?"

	"Maybe."  Starbuck suppressed a smile.

	"His 'protector' is Eris," Giles piped up.  "I think he plans to get her
lost, then 'luckily' find her and lead her home."

	At the mischievous glint in his friend's eyes, Apollo suspected there
might be more to it than that, but he wasn't about to comment on it,
beyond:  "I see.  Well, make sure Athena and Cassie don't catch you at
your...contrariness.  We all have to live together here for several
sectons yet, and there isn't room in this camp to avoid anybody for
long."

	"Yes, sir."  Starbuck was far too amenable for Apollo's taste.

	Apollo noticed several individuals following the warriors, trying vainly
to be inconspicuous.  Priam and Omfala were indeed walking together, and
in plain sight, but Reese and Kratos were skulking unsuccessfully to one
side.  A fifth Security guard, the plump blonde Eris, looked worn, as if
she'd already been on a romp through the thick shrubbery.

	"Starbuck," he demanded with foreboding, "how long have you been playing
follow the leader?"

	"I thought you didn't want to know," the lieutenant objected.

	He sighed.  "I don't.  Look, gentlemen, I've got nothing against a
little fun, but don't cause trouble.  Please...?"

* * *

	"...So what could I do?  They all said, 'sure, Apollo,' and went on
their way snickering.  I think I let them off too easily."  Apollo and
Siduri were carefully within sight of the camp, but out of hearing.  Thus
they could speak with privacy without worrying that they were being
followed.  They suspected Croft had people ready to report if they
strayed, despite their being captains and flight leaders.

	His fellow warrior laughed and splashed her bare legs in the creeks. 
She'd kicked off the heavy boots, and her bright skirt, pulled above her
knees, was spread on the lush grass.  The light scarf she usually wore
draped over her shoulders had also been discarded, displaying firm, deep
cleavage.  Her pose would have been condemned out of hand by the natives,
but in the Colonial camp it only earned an interested look by any close
enough to see.

	But I've gotten so used to long skirts and draping to the neck on women
these last few days, that I'm looking twice at what I wouldn't think
anything of, on the Rising Star.  I'm not sure I should be looking now. 
Apollo had removed his own boots and stockings and had pulled up his kilt
to keep it dry; he didn't catch Siduri's equally interested glance.

	"My people are doing the same thing," she informed him, drawing his
attention from her long slender legs to what she was saying.  "Only
yesterday, I caught Wilhelm and Hebe coming back to camp looking rather,
um, disheveled.  Deena and Eris were a little behind them, one more
flushed than the other.  Making a guess about what happened, I suggested
they be more careful with their rendezvous in the future, since they
might have an audience.  They just grinned and said that was the point. 
And I think Tammuz spent a centar looking for something he finally
decided he had left on the Galactica, just so Leander could follow him
through the tents and wagons, and stand in cold water."

	Apollo had to laugh.  "That would explain his ill temper," he agreed. 
"And that could be what gave Starbuck the idea for his...activity today."

	"Oh, yes, Eris again.  Poor woman."

	He stopped laughing and sighed ruefully.  "A few more days like this,
and our warriors could be beyond our control."

	Siduri leaned back on her hands, enjoying the feel of grass beneath her
and sunshine on her face.  "Maybe we have to give them more work," she
suggested contentedly.

	"Like what?  They're already doing more than their share of the upkeep
and maintenance chores, and helping the survey teams.  We give them any
more to do, and they just might mutiny!"

	She smiled ruefully and kicked a footful of water in his direction.  He
ducked the gleaming droplets.

	"Do you mind if I ask you a personal question, Siduri?"

	Still on the ground, she studied his sun-silhouetted profile.  "You can
always ask."

	"Why are you a warrior?"

	"What?!"  She sat up abruptly, frowning.  "What kind of question is
that?"

	He shrugged and pulled some grass to twirl between his fingers.  "Never
mind.  Just something I've been wondering since you first came aboard
from the -Solaria-, after the Destruction."

	"-Solaria-."  She wrapped her arms around her knees and stared across
the small creek.  "She was a good ship, with good people...  There were a
lot of good ships."

	"Is it the loss of your ship?  Is that why you sometimes seem like you
belong...somewhere else than in a warrior's uniform?  The way you and
your squadron..."

	"Oh, that's it."  She smiled sadly, staring back at him very steadily. 
"No offense at anything I say, Apollo.  We have different philosophies
about our people, I think.  You don't let many people get close to you,
because you think command has to be lonely, or you suspect their reasons
for wanting to be close to you, or you're afraid the ones you love today
might die tomorrow and you won't be able to let go of them or forget the
hurting when they're gone.  Maybe you're right, sometimes, with some
people, at some level...

	"But I don't like being lonely, unless or until I have to be, and my
feelings are, if my people might have to die tomorrow, I want to know
them today, and remember as much as I can about all of them.  I have a
lot of good memories from the Solaria, but I wish I had more, and I
didn't realize how much I was missing until they were gone."  She sighed.
 "I wish more of us had survived, but there was no time to evacuate, both
bays got it...  Hey, did I ever thank you for putting us all together in
Green Squadron?"

	"Yes, you did.  And I'd have been stupid not to.  Your people belong
together.  But..."

	"That's not what you meant when you asked?  I didn't really think so. 
You think I should have been a socialator, don't you?"

	"Ummm..."  He was taken aback.

	"I can tell, I've got the sensitivity for it.  Matter of fact, I took an
aptitude test for it once, on a dare, and the examiner said I'd had the
highest score he'd seen in yahrens, and that he thought I'd make a great
socialator. But I'm Aquaran, you know.  Socialators aren't respectable on
Aquara.  And my family has a tradition of joining the Military.  My
father's name was Napishtam, I suspect you've heard of him."

	"Most people have," he acknowledged.  Commander Napishtam has been a
hero of the previous generation, and Apollo recalled his father being
proud to have called him friend.

	"Mother was a warrior, too, and all my grandparents.  My brothers and I
never really contemplated being anything else."

	"I see."

	"I'm sure you do.  Did you ever consider anything but the Military?"

	"Seriously?  I guess not."

	They sat in understanding silence for a few moments.  Then Siduri gasped
and pulled her feet out of the water, falling toward him as she tucked
her legs under the skirt.

	"What?"

	"Something bit my toe!"

	Apollo leaned over to peer into the water, and caught a glimpse of
something small and gray scuttling under a stone.  Then he felt pressure
on the back of his head as she dunked him. He came up sputtering, but she
gave another push and he tumbled into the creek.

	Siduri smiled sweetly.  "We were getting too 'ose."

	"What?"  He sat up in the water, his feet still on the shore and dry,
but thoroughly wet everywhere else.

	"'Ose, 'ose, and morose."  She grabbed her boots and retreated toward
the wagons, where several individuals were pointing out what she had
done.  "Come to our campfire again tonight.  We're a rather cheerful lot,
actually, and you might have a good time, if you let yourself."

	By the time he pulled himself out of the water, Siduri's laughter had
brought plenty of attention.  With no other option, he shook himself off,
squeezed as much water as he could out of his kilt and shirt, and headed
back to his tent to change into dry clothes.  The assorted watchers
couldn't hide their amusement.  He tried for a moment, then gave up,
broke down, shrugged, and joined their chuckles at his own expense.

* * *

	Cassie pushed her way under another branch, then sat down on a heavy
root, utterly exhausted.  All of the forest looked the same to her now;
her feet hurt; she was sweaty and her hair hung loose from her scarf; her
hands and legs were scratched from all the brambles.

	"I'm still lost," she moaned.  "How did I ever get separated from Paye
and Ajax?"

	After a few moments rest, and catching her breath again, she stood up
and yelled at the top of her lungs, "Help!  Paye?  Ajax?  Anybody?" 
There was no response, only the startled calls of birds disturbed from
their perches near her, and small creatures scurrying away from her
presence.

	She was lost, totally lost--and obviously some distance from her
companions and their camp, or someone would have answered.  Remembering
the louts who'd attacked Sheba the second night on the planet, she
shuddered and wondered how close she might be to "civilized" lands.  The
natives might consider the forest to be haunted, but...

	She almost cried, too miserable to be brave.  They'd probably think they
heard a ghost, an apparition of some kind if they heard her scream.  "And
they'd know it if they saw me in this condition!"

	She patted the sealed pouch in her apron where she'd secured Athena's
herbal bracelet.  "I thought you were supposed to be good luck," she
moaned.  "Or is my getting lost supposed to be her good luck?"

	Something moved near her.

	Gasping, she threw herself against the tree trunk, poised to scream and
run.

	An old woman in a worn skirt and rough-fringed shawl stepped into view.

	Cassiopeia caught her breath.

	The crone studied her thoroughly.  "So you are the lost soul who's been
screaming in my woods.  And what is your name, child?"

	Since she'd made no threatening moves, the med tech relaxed a little. 
"My name is Cassie.  I'm with the caravan..."

	"Ahh.  And are you their herbalist or healer, to be out gathering in the
wild woods?"

	"Yes...I guess you could say that..."

	"I am Ninive, Granny Ninny to most of Farshire.  I'm the midwife for
much of this parish.  Come, child, my shelter is near here.  You can rest
a bit, and I will see you safely home."

	What choice did she really have?  She followed the elderly woman.

	Cassiopeia was glad to see the old clearing, only a few centons later. 
The small, crude hut was nestled among a thick, tall stand of some native
hedging.  There was a clear spring to one side, coming out of the
mountain and running cleanly through the garden and fruit orchard to
disappear in the wild underbrush of the forest.  Some furry
copper-colored creature was lying across the dirt threshold of the hut,
enjoying the sunshine, but it jumped up to run at the appearance of the
two women.

	"No, Reyna, stay.  This is Cassie.  She is a friend."

	Cassiopeia sat on a bench while Ninive went for a wooden cup of water. 
She watched in silent fascination as the creature moved inquisitively
nearer the young woman, creeping on its belly to reach her.  The
creature's nose touched her boots, then sniffed her ankles, then rested
on her lap.

	"Reyna likes you."

	Cassiopeia gratefully drank from the cup, realizing how thirsty she'd
become in a long day of wandering through the strange terrain.  She
didn't even care that bio hadn't checked out that individual spring.  If
'Granny Ninny' and Reyna drank with no harm, she was sure it was safe for
her.

	"Thank you."  She set down the carved wood.  "I should go..."

	"Rest, child.  I have herbs to store as well.  Sit in the sun until I
return."  She vanished into the hut.  Since the shelter wasn't large,
Cassiopeia suspected there was a root cellar or storage chamber of some
kind under it, perhaps burrowed into the mountain side.

	After a few moments, she stroked the fur of Reyna's head.  "Say, you
wouldn't be the one Apollo saw around camp, would you?  The one who took
Brie's little tapestry?" she asked softly.

	The beast seemed to wink at her, and she rocked back, startled.

	"Something disturbs you?"

	She saw Ninive coming toward her again.  "Reyna's a very smart animal,
isn't she?  Does she understand everything people say?"

	"Most things."  The woman smiled, and Cassiopeia noticed there was at
least one tooth missing in that generous mouth.  "She understands enough
to lead you home before the plants you gathered today spoil for lack of
care."

	"Yes, I should..."  She remembered the bulging pockets in her apron, and
stood up.  "My friends will be looking for me, too."

	"But here is a comb.  Fix your hair and refasten your scarf before you
go, or they will think you've been lost instead of gathering medicines
all day."

	The woman's understanding was a balm to her wounded pride.  She
untangled her hair, and took a moment to wash her face and arms before
preparing to leave.

	"Reyna, take Cassie home, to the caravan, the wagons."  Ninive ran her
fingers through the animal's thick, soft fur, then pointed off in one
direction.

	The copper beast rose at once, nose pointed eagerly toward the woods.

	"Thanks again, Ninive...and may I come back?  I'd like to talk to
you...about the plants here, and which are good for people, and which to
avoid."

	Ninive looked delighted.  Clearly, she had few visitors, and not many of
those were interested in her work, except when they needed her help. 
"Do, do come back.  There are few women needing me now, except Ygern,
she's due very soon, and hers is a first birthing.  I should be here--and
if you become lost again, just call for Reyna.  She can find anything,
and she knows you're a friend, and will bring you here or home again."

	"Tomorrow?"

	The old woman nodded.  "I will be here."

	"I'll see you tomorrow, then..."  Cassiopeia put her hand on Reyna's
head and followed her, waving a good bye to Ninive.

	>And I'll bring a recorder.  Her knowledge will save a lot of work, I
think, in the bio section.  And Nidaba will love to hear what she can
tell me of medicine and health customs in her society.  I don't think
Apollo or Croft will have much to say about my getting lost then,
either.<  That thought was just as satisfying, and a great relief.

* * *

	"I'm lost."  Eris sighed and stared about her unhappily.  "But I'll be
hanged before I yell for that warrior to find me!  The others will skin
me alive if Starbuck comes back with a story like that."

	Trailing the warrior hadn't been difficult at first.  He'd left his
friends at the river, with them setting out their gear and dealing a hand
of cards, and him heading out into the woods.  First, he'd followed some
animal path, then sat and listened to a bird song.  For a while, he'd
wandered some rivulet that fed the creek.  There'd been time to rest
between his bursts of energy--the warrior's legs were longer than hers. 
Croft obviously hadn't expected Starbuck to spend the day exploring, or
he would have assigned someone else to the task of keeping up with him.

	But then, it seemed Starbuck had decided to test his own limits.  He'd
struck out cross-country, through thick bushes and grass.  He'd taken to
the trees for a while, climbing several, balancing on branches as he
walked to another before jumping down and racing further on.

	Eris was soon out of breath, and suddenly discovered she'd lost her
quarry.

	But at least she was safer than most of Security would be under the
circumstances.  She had--

	There was a sound of something creeping up behind her.  She whirled,
pulling her laser in a well-trained motion--

* * *

	Starbuck stared in disbelief at the weapon held so unwaveringly by the
cute, plump blonde.  She looked so murderously ready to fire that he
slowly raised his arms as though in surrender.  "Hey, I'm one of the good
guys, remember?"

	For a moment her expression remained unchanged, and the warrior wondered
if she meant to get even--permanently--for the merry chase he'd led her
that day.

	"Eris?"

	She slowly relaxed and took a deep breath, letting the gun drop.

	"You had me going there--"

	"And you've had me going all day, you bastard, you know that?  You... 
You knew!  You knew I was watching you!"

	"Easy!" he yelped when the weapon raised again.  "We figured it out. 
And I'm sorry, I didn't mean for you to get lost--"

	"I wasn't lost!" she exploded.

	Starbuck knew her pride had taken a beating.  "Okay.  I'm sorry anyway. 
But I didn't mean..."  By her furious glare, he knew the famous Starbuck
charm wouldn't work.  But something else struck him.  "That laser.  None
of that type were cleared for this expedition.  What are you doing with
it?"

	Eris paled, caught.

	"How many of you brought lasers against orders?"  the warrior demanded
sternly.  "Or did Croft give orders the rest of us don't know about?"

	"No."  She stowed the weapon somewhere among her skirts.  After the long
day, and now this, she looked totally defeated.  "It's against orders.  I
guess you'll turn me in, and I'll be on report for sectars..."

	Starbuck could never resist a downcast woman, especially one who was
usually prickley about her capabilities, and he was starting to feel
twinges of conscience for the centars he'd made her endure for his own
sport.

	"Hey, I've bent orders a few times myself.  Besides, you never know when
a good laser can come in handy on a primitive planet."  And you'll never
know how we squawked about leaving our own behind.

	She blinked in disbelief.

	"Just don't let Apollo catch you, okay?  And if he does, this never
happened."  Not that he intended to deceive his friend, but he hadn't
been happy about the orders, and if the topic never came up, he wasn't
going to make an issue of it...  "Uh, you want to trail me back to camp,
or could we just walk together and talk a little?  It's been an awfully
quiet day!"

* * *

	Evening was approaching.  It was time to take the night shift, so they
could eat and relax a bit before going on duty.  Croft slipped into one
of the Security tents.  Leander was the only man asleep there, and the
former commander nudged him with his boot.  "Up and at  'em.  The sun's
going down.  You plan to sleep all day?"  It was a wry joke.  That was
precisely what the man had done.

	He nudged the pillow, and felt something hard.  He kicked a little
harder.

	Leander rolled with a mutter, and a laser was left sticking out of the
pillow, fully visible.

	The Security officer woke abruptly, as though aware of the nearness of
disciplinary action.  "Oh, frak..." he muttered, catching the direction
of Commander Croft's gaze, and knowing there was no way to hide or
explain away the weapon.

	Croft's seamed face was expressionless.  "Leander," he enunciated in a 
precise whisper, "I don't see that.  But you will stow it *immediately*
in the wagons, and I will not find it on your person at any time over the
next two sectons.  Is that clear?  If I must put you on report, I will,
but I hope it will not be necessary to put this on your record."

	"Yes, sir, thank you, sir."  The redhead looked very relieved.  "I just
thought it might be handy--"

	"I didn't ask for an explanation, and I don't want to hear one.  Now,
move it."

	Croft left the tent immediately, gritting his teeth.  The laser might be
handy, but it was against orders, and Apollo would string the man up if
he found it, before having to face his own superiors on the Galactica. 
Unfortunately, Croft himself would have to face the same superiors, or he
might have let Leander dangle.

	He'd been a warrior himself, and understood the enmity between Security
and Military.  But he also knew that defying orders, while occasionally
useful or even necessary, could land one in serious trouble, whatever
one's motives had been.  Time in the Fleet's prison barge had taught him
that well, and he had no wish to see a basically good man rot in that
Hades-hole.

	Sometimes, he thought the Security officers forgot that he'd been a
warrior, and that he was, technically, still a criminal.  And sometimes,
they treated him like he was still on the grid barge.

	>Just as well.  I know them, but they do not know me.<

	Dr. Paye and Security Sergeant Ajax barreled into view.

	"Is Cassie here?  Did she make it back?" the young doctor yelled
frantically.

	Croft reached the two breathless men at the same time as Apollo and
Hannibal.

	"What do you mean?  What happened?" Hannibal demanded before anyone else
could ask.

	Paye gasped for breath before answering.  "We got separated somehow--I
don't remember when we last saw her, but suddenly she wasn't there--"

	"Yelled for her, and thought we heard something back, but it echoed
funny," the black officer inserted.  "Been looking, thought maybe she
made it back--"

	"Oh, Lords," Apollo groaned with real worry.  "Croft--"

	>Now you look at me?<  "We'll need search teams.  Leander, get some of
those altered torches out--it'll be getting dark soon."  He raised his
voice.  "Security, warriors, anybody else who cares to help.  We'll have
to organize a shouting network, I think.  If she's been hurt..."

	His heart sank.  If she was lying injured somewhere in the woods...  He
saw the thought occurring to several of those gathered around.

	"Hello!"

	Everyone jumped at the voice.  Like a fairy creature from a child's
tale, the missing med tech walked cheerfully out of the thick, sun-rayed
forest.  And not alone--a familiar copper beast padded lightly beside her
until both were totally in view--then bolted.

	"Reyna, wait!" Cassiopeia called after the disappearing beast.

	"That's--"  Apollo pointed after it with mouth agape.

	"It stole my tapestry!" Brie piped in.

	Hannibal slowly joined the woman at the forest edge.  "Young woman, I
think you ought to tell us what you've been doing this afternoon."

	She flashed a brilliant smile and laughed blithely.  "I'd love to!"

* * *

	Nidaba was thrilled with their progress.  The natives were beginning to
accept her in the village, sharing gossip and answering questions. 
Cassiopeia seemed to have found an informant in her own specialty.  The
village rowdies who'd disturbed them earlier were keeping their distance
from the camp and the female personnel.  The mining portion of the
expedition was doing equally well, which the duration of their presence
was limited, but it also meant the commanding military officers were more
cheerful and easier to deal with.

	And she was blooming.  She loved the beauty of the peaceful rustic
world.  The primitive way of life had become second nature to her.  She
had a certain amount of authority; people came to her for instructions
and respected what she said.  She'd been told her newly-acquired tan
suited her well, and she felt better than she had since the Destruction.

	Then there was Anubis.  Nominally in charge of the cultural scientists,
he turned to her for discussion and confirmation, and backed her up in
many cases against the impatient warriors.

	And he'd given her a gold comb.  She'd had boyfriends and a few lovers
in her thirty-one yahrens, and some of them had given her gifts, but none
of those things had the same meaning to her as one plain gold comb, with
drying weed woven through it.  She thought he really liked her.

	But in a few sectons, when they went back to the Fleet, he'd go back to
the prison barge.  Or maybe he'd be assigned somewhere else, doing
something acceptable for an ex-prisoner, but very unsuitable for the
intelligent, courageous, wonderful man he was, some place where his
intellectual skills would shrivel, and his knowledge be wasted.

	She stabbed at something on her plate, suddenly unhappy.  She didn't
want that to happen.  She wanted the expedition to go on forever.

	"Mind if I join you?"

	"Anubis!  Sit down, I'd love to have you here."

	"You heard the gossip from Farshire?"

	"About that 'eklekton,' I think they called him, arriving at the manor? 
Yes.  It's exciting.  He's a very high figure in their religious
hierarchy.  We'll have to find out more about him, and the theology he
embodies."

	Anubis stared past her toward the campfire.  "I don't know, Nia."  His
voice was almost ominous.  "I don't like his being here when we are."

	"You have some suspicion about his arrival?  Do you think his coming is
connected to our being here?"

	He shrugged.  "I don't like the coincidence."

	"Well, we'll see what we can find out tomorrow.  Did you hear about
Cassie's adventure today?  She found a local midwife-herbalist-healer,
and struck up a rapport with her.  Could be a very valuable informant..."

	She couldn't tell for sure--with his eyes, one never knew--but she
thought his attention was on something or someone else.

* * *

	"Any word from the mining team or the -Galactica-?" Apollo asked Athena
when they met at the communication wagon.  Isolated as they were at their
encampment, brother and sister still saw very little of each other.

	"Umm, Mulciber talked to Hannibal a centar ago, and everything is still
going according to schedule.  We reported our progress to the
-Galactica-, and the mining ship will be in orbit by midnight, to pick up
the shuttle as soon as it's aloft.  Father sends his compliments on our
progress."

	"Thanks, Athena."  The message was cheering, if not especially personal.

	"Oh, and Apollo?"

	"Yes?"

	"One Cadet Boxey reports he misses his commanding officer."

	A lump rose in Apollo's throat.  He'd been away from his son for almost
ten days.  And he had a least a secton and a half, more likely two
sectons, before he'd see that little boy again.

	"Thanks, Athena.  If they call back, tell that cadet his father misses
him, too.  Hey, next time you're in the village, could you pick up
something special?  A souvenir of some kind?"

	"Another one?"

	Apollo had to laugh.  "Something from me this time?"

	"Sure, big brother."  She nodded understandingly, and left to get some
supper.

* * *

	Starbuck loved the starry nights.  Slipping off to the stream for a few
centons of solitude had become part of his evening ritual.  The Fleet had
the agro-ship, but it wasn't the same as this living world that extended
everywhere for an entire planet.  It was a rare pleasure to stare up
through an atmosphere and see stars as twinkling gems set in elaborate
patterns rather than random colored spots of cold light.

	He skipped a stone across the small creek, listening to it jump into the
air one, two, three, four, five, and six times before thudding into
silence.  He smiled in satisfaction; six jumps, then silence, meant the
smooth stone had completely crossed the water and lodged in the tall
bushy weeds on the opposite side.

	The shadowed warrior settled in his usual spot, safely cuddled between
an arching root and its parent tree, leaning against the bark and brushed
by low-hanging leaves.  Thick grass made a soft, natural cushion.  From
where he sat, he could hear the singing and musical accompaniment from
the camp, but both were distant, soft sounds, soothing but not intruding.

	Starbuck would have liked to be sharing his refuge with someone.  He was
in the mood for company, but the companions he would have chosen were
occupied.  Cassie and Paye were closeted with the bio-team.  Athena was
taking her turn monitoring the communication equipment.  Apollo seemed to
have found himself a comfortable spot at Siduri's campfire--which also
made her unavailable, if he thought he could fight his way through her
crowd of admirers.  Boomer and Greenbean were on duty.  Jolly was nowhere
to be found.

	"Uh, this seat taken?"

	He glanced out of the shadow to spot the Security officer who'd trailed
him all day, something awkwardly concealed behind her back.  "Still on
guard duty?"

	"Not exactly.  That was meant to be an opening line."

	"It's an old one."

	"I know.  Well, is there room for someone else?"

	As it happened, there was an ideal spot next to Starbuck, and he
smoothed down the grasses to show her.  "Right here, if you don't mind
getting close."

	He waited curiously as she sat down very close to him.  It would have
been easy to rest his arm over her shoulders, but he wasn't sure that was
appropriate for the moment.

	"Trying to get away from the crowd?" he asked.

	"That, too.  Actually, I wanted to thank you for not turning me in to
Apollo."

	"Think nothing of it--please--"

	"And I brought this..."  She pulled a bottle out of her shawl.  He
stared in delight as she held it up to the moonlight.  "Not ambrosa, I'm
afraid, but it's from the Alchemist, and it's very good."

	He chortled.  "Remind me not to turn you in more often!"  He let his arm
drop into a more comfortable, natural position over her shoulders as she
produced a small cup and poured a sample.

	Starbuck tasted eagerly.  The Alchemist, whoever he or she was, had
quite a reputation among the warriors.  This particular bottle, in the
telling, would add to that reputation.  He was quite certain there would
be no evidence left for direct sampling.

	Sighing contentedly, he stretched out his legs and passed back the cup
for a refill.  Almost shyly, she leaned against him as she poured.

	Staring at his feet, he remarked, "You know, Eris, for a drink like
that, I might just be willing to take off my boots..."

* * *
	
	Padryce stared through the high, slitted window to the torch-lit yard
below.  An occasional figure moved through the shadows, but most of the
servants had accomplished their tasks for the day, and had returned to
their families and their beds.  Around him, silence reigned in the
massive stone structure.  Even the countryside seemed unusually quiet, as
if in reverence for his presence, though he could see the lights in the
windows of Farshire's farthest village.

	The dusk candle ceremonies in the keep's chapel had been well-attended. 
Even Uthor had forced himself to attend, ill as he was; one of the
servants had informed him that the lord often took to his own bed by
dusk, and rose only well into mid-morning.

	His lips tightened.  Uthor had seemed better at supper, but by the
ceremony, looked even grayer than he had in the afternoon.  An anxious
cook's helper had passed along to one of his own people that it often
happened that way.  There had been some question of poison, for a time,
but a taster continued to sample everything the young arxon ate or drank,
and remained quite robust.

	Uthor had been healthy in his younger, wilder days.  Then his father and
brother had died of some mysterious, lingering illness.  It wasn't the
food.  Servants had ransacked the keep, cleaning everything and checking
every corner for anything unusual.  Eklektons had chanted exorcisms and
performed blessings in every room.  But they had died anyway.  Uthor had
been forced to return to Farshire and become its arxon.  And now he
suffered from disease as well, and would likely be gone by harvest,
leaving Farshire parish to a dissolute, beggared, distant cousin whose
sole good fortune in life had been marrying a wealthy merchant's only
child.

	Padryce summoned a servant.

	Ryence answered the call almost at once, bowing and scraping in the
presence of the eklekton.  "My most holy lord requires something?"

	"Information," he answered soothingly.  "Perhaps the knowledge to save
the Arxon."

	"Yes, holy one?"

	"The townsmen report there are gypsies in the woods, near the
mountains."

	"Yes, most holy one.  They are but recently arrived, however, and could
not have caused this illness.  And they seem shy, they keep to themselves
mostly, not like other gypsies who have been here and gone in the past."

	"Others have come and gone..."

	"Yes, holy one."  The servant hesitated.

	"When did these come?"

	"Two hands of days ago, holy one.  Just before Dark Moon."

	He jerked in surprise.  The very day of the omen.  A triple fire, coming
to rest here, in Farshire parish.  Triple fires...perhaps for three
too-young dead arxons?

	The servant's eyes were uneasy.

	"Something troubles you?"

	"My son has watched them, holy one.  He has seen nothing diabolical
about them, no spells or demons..."

	>If your son were magicked, you would not know, you blind fool.  But
that is why I am here.<  "Find out all you can about them, and bring the
information to me.  And bring your son here in the morning.  I will
question him, and know what he does not say."

	"Holy one."  The heavy-set servant bowed and lumbered his way out.

	Padryce returned to the window.  His eyes rested often on the mountain,
a deep fire ignited in their depths to test the hearts of the faithful,
and winnow out the followers of the Evil One.

	"I will know.  And if they are in league with demons, I will purge their
villainy from this unhappy parish.  Purge it with fire..."


	Chapter Five


	Dawn was bright and early, heralded by birdsongs and a brilliant orange
horizon that shaded through the rainbow into blue.  There were no clouds
to mar the multi-hued perfection as a bright yellow orb slowly cleared
the ground and majestically reached upward.
	Apollo cupped his hands over his eyes to protect them from the glare.
	"No rain today, either," commented one of the men next to him.
	"Not likely," the captain agreed.  "I'm surprised, Hannibal.  We've been
here for twelve days now, and it hasn't even sprinkled."
	"Someone out there must know we need dry weather for our mining," the
engineer joked.
	"The puddles in town have dried up," added Starbuck, sipping from his
mug.  He, along with many of the Colonials, had developed a taste for a
local, nut-based beverage that served as their version of caff.  "Some of
the local farmers are concerned about a drought."
	"Heading back into town today?" Apollo asked the fourth man, turning his
attention from the sun.
	Anubis shrugged, swirling the contents of his own mug.  "I think not. 
There's nothing going on today.  There's some big summer festival coming
up before long, and we'll keep our eyes and ears open for more about
that.  We'll make our usual visit to some of the dairy herders, get some
milk and gossip, not much else.  I don't really think there's much we can
learn at this stage.  Standard agrarian society on the verge of several
scientific explosions, but it'll probably be over a century or two before
it makes much of an impact this far from the real cities -- and we're
still centuries, more likely millennia, from anything technically
advanced enough to help us..."
	"Learn any more about that religious leader?" questioned Hannibal.
	"The Eklekton has power and wealth of his own, and respect and fear from
the people who count.  The locals are awed at his presence, which has
something to do with local arxon's illness, and some omen seen in one of
their important cities a few sectons ago -- Koinonia, I think it's
called, a blend of religious and secular authority."
	"About the time we arrived?"
	Anubis appeared equally bothered.  "Yes.  Strange, isn't it?"
	Apollo listened quietly to their conversation.  Arxon -- the local
leader.  Kalanthro -- a holy person, set aside from society for a
religious purpose, something akin to a prist or monk, in his own faith. 
Eklekton -- a higher level functionary in the religious hierarchy. 
Koinonia -- the word itself meant community, although differently
accented in old High Caprican.  It wasn't just the words in their native,
almost-familiar tongue that held his attention.  He'd discovered that,
sometimes, he could learn a lot by keeping his mouth shut when Hannibal
talked, and listening to what *wasn't* being said.  The ease between the
engineer and the historian suggested a close relationship of long
standing, and he wondered if maybe the two men were kinsmen, or had known
each other well in the past.
	"No evidence that the population here is aware of life on other worlds,"
mused Anubis.  "At least, there are no stories in the market place, and
we didn't pick up any artifacts indicative of other-worldly influence or
belief.  Cassiopeia may pick up something of their folk history from this
old healer she's been visiting."
	"If we were near a larger city, or some other center of knowledge, such
as Koinonia, we might have access to a library," Hannibal nodded with a
furrowed brow.
	Starbuck was losing interest, and made a quiet show of his mug being
empty as he sidled away; Apollo let him go without comment.
	The historian shook his head.  "Not likely.  From what we've heard of
this Eklekton Padryce and the hierarchy he represents, knowledge and the
written word are pretty much confined to a religious minority, the higher
nobility, and those they trust or can use.  If they ever had it, the
printing press isn't even in use here; they use scribes and hand-copying.
 Probably one of the things that'll be discovered or rediscovered in the
next century or so.  At any rate, a rag-tag band of Romany like us
wouldn't be allowed near such a valuable item as a book of history or
religion -- and I'm not sure there'd be anything going back far enough to
be useful to us, anyway."
	"So we won't be tracing the Thirteenth Tribe on this planet."
	That thought had a depressing affect on the remaining three, and the
conversation ended as they waited for the rest of the camp to stir for
the day.  Nidaba, the archivist, came out of her tent a few moments
later.  Anubis dropped off his mug, and the two of them trudged off
toward the dairy pastures, to gather with other villagers who bought
fresh milk every morning.  They were joined by a pair of Security
officers, per Commander Croft's orders.
	"Hannibal," Apollo began tentatively, "I don't suppose you'd care to
tell me how you know him?"
	Captain Hannibal cocked a thick gray eyebrow at him.
	"Anubis, I mean.  It's pretty obvious, from the way you talk, and some
of the references you make, that you two know and understand and trust
each other -- sometimes you even seem to be thinking the same thought at
the same time."
	"Very perceptive, Apollo."
	"Not something you'd expect of two men with such diverse backgrounds."
	"True.  An unlikely combination."
	"And my father seems to have put a lot of weight on the word of a man he
supposedly hadn't met before the Destruction, and hasn't had much
occasion to encounter since then.  Especially when the issue was the
usefulness and trustworthiness of an apparently common criminal."
	Hannibal grimaced acknowledgment that Apollo had raised valid points.
	"I wasn't blind and deaf while growing up, I know I never saw you or
heard your name mentioned in my house," the warrior elaborated.  "My
father has always been an excellent judge of character, but I can't see
him risking such an important mission when it wasn't necessary.  This
isn't Arcta, and Anubis is hardly the kind of man Croft is."
	Hannibal laughed aloud.
	"You're not going to tell me?"
	Hannibal seemed to reach a decision, and held his laughter.  "Why not? 
Commander Adama knows, as does Colonel Tigh, I'm sure, and Major Euclid. 
Let's take a bit of a stroll before breakfast, and I'll tell you a thing
or two about your father.  We've actually known each other for some time,
and worked together occasionally before, but there's a reason you never
met me, or heard about me, at least by my real name.  Those studies at
the Military Institute aren't the only secrets in Adama's past..."
	Apollo blinked in surprise.  It appeared Hannibal did indeed know a
great deal more than he told.

		* * *

	The morning was glorious, but its beauty was wasted on Sheba.  She stood
at the very edge of camp, staring dolefully down the path.  Not that
there was anything particularly interesting to see, beyond the eternal
green of the shaded woods.  But somewhere, at the other end, was a town. 
People who were strangers, not the same faces she saw every day. 
Ancient-style buildings that didn't reek of metal and tylium. 
Domesticated animals not quite like anything in the Colonies.  A castle
of sorts with a local governing lord and his primitive version of a
military force.  Living history that seemed an amalgam of every Colony
world, from what she heard from others of the team.
	People and structures and animals and history *she* was forbidden to
see.  By Apollo's order.
	She couldn't say there was anything there she really wanted to see or
experience -- history wasn't her greatest interest or strength -- but the
simple fact that she was under strict orders not to leave the camp made
that town enticing, a place of potential wonders.
	She'd already complained to Apollo, and then to Hannibal.  To no avail. 
Apollo had simply repeated his concerns about the local youths, and that
none of them were to go out alone after dark, particularly not the women
-- and she was not to leave the camp at all, because there was a rumor in
town that the leader of her attackers had sworn some kind of revenge. 
The fact that she was a warrior, as much as he was, seemed lost on the
Captain.  And Hannibal, while frowning and admitting she might have a
point about being a warrior, also repeated the rumor, saying it was
better to avoid any chance of trouble.  He emphasized that, since they
had to be be there a few sectons, it was better to stay on as good of
terms as possible with the locals--and that she wasn't really being
harmed by having to stay in camp.
	At risk of some farm kid's revenge.  Not really being harmed.
	No, just condescended to and mortified and fuming.
	"I'd ask if you cared to take a walk, but I don't think you would even
if you could."  Croft moved beside her.  "At least, not with me."
	"No, likely not."  She couldn't help glaring at him.  "So why are you
bothering me?  Making sure I don't break my parole?"
	"Ahh, I see you're going to take out your frustrations on me."
	She resolutely turned her attention back to the path.
	"Since the rightful target's not here.  Or am I mistaken that it's
Apollo you'd rather be taking them out on?"
	"Don't presume too much, Croft," she said coolly, having had time to
control herself.  "I've got plenty of frustrations for you too."  Then
she turned on her heel and left with as much dignity as her father's
daughter could dredge up.

		* * *

	Croft watched Sheba stride back into camp, the ever-present security
shadow right behind her.  He wondered if she realized how attractive she
looked, and how tantalizing.  She was always beautiful, but when her eyes
blazed like that, it stirred something in him that he'd tried to bury
even before his wife had died, and that he'd believed was gone since
Arcta.
	<She's like Leda, in some ways--the same fire, the same passion and
courage, the same fury when she doesn't get her way,> he thought, feeling
a deep ache. <Intelligent, determined, and a little prickly under the
skin, unforgettable even if you'd want to.  No one will ever leash her,
she'll always be her own woman.  If she doesn't agree with you, you'll
know it.  But I suspect the man she stands beside will never have to
worry about a knife in the soul.>
	As Leda had done to him, essentially, when he refused to go along with
Wolf's plan, back before the Colonies fell.  He'd tried to sneer and
pretend it didn't matter that she turned her back on him, but it had
hurt.  Ultimately, at Arcta, she had realized he was right, and saved his
life; he had known, at the end, that she still cared for him, and
respected his decision.  But that wasn't much comfort when he saw the
fire dying in her eyes, nor had it made his solitary bed any warmer since
then.
	Word was that Sheba was...interested in Apollo.  But there was no
indication that Apollo felt anything more than friendship for her.  And
the way things were going on this mission, there didn't appear to be
anything developing -- if anything, there was a gulf between the two of
them that was widening by the day.
	<Apollo doesn't realize what he might be passing up.
	<Maybe she could realize she's available if someone offered her an
option.>
	Some women were just impossible to ignore, and Sheba was one of them.

		* * *

	Anubis and Reese lounged around the fenced barn yard, imitating the
handful of local youths who tried to appear to be ignoring the diary
maids while at the same time watching them avidly.  The bright-eyed
lasses watched them in return.  For most of them, the only way out of
their current work would be to find a husband among the yeoman farmers. 
One of the women, heavily pregnant, was proof that not all of them waited
until marriage to dally with the farm lads.
	"Bovines..."  Reese muttered, after stepping in a small mound of
leavings.  "Ugh..."
	"They're called 'cows' here, and watch where you step," Anubis told him
from his balanced perch on the heavy rail fence.  "And if you don't move
away from the tail end of that animal, you're going to have more than
your boots to worry about."
	The Security officer swore and stepped back, grimacing at the state of
his boot.  He scuffed his boots on the grass before settling himself on
another rail, and then continued scraping his heel against the lower
board to remove the dung.
	Anubis held his laughter, and turned his attention back to Nidaba.  She
was stooped next to the pregnant dairy maid, watching her milk an
especially large animal.  He thought she'd never looked so good --
blooming cheeks, a nice tan, brown hair caught up in a bun with a scarf
of similar colors to her bright gown, surrounded by straw and animals,
dressed like something out of a truly ancient tale.
	She and the milkmaid laughed about something.  The girl had been very
friendly to them over the past few days.  It struck him that Ygern -- the
dairy maid -- had probably been shunned by many of her friends and maybe
even her family, since her pregnancy became obvious.  In a region like
Farshire, such activities as nonmarital sexual involvement and
illegitimate pregnancy were likely vigorously targeted by the religious
hierarchy, and there were few if any other social bond-groups to turn to
for reassurance.  Males would likely suffer less stigma, and the father
of the child, if known, was probably untouched by any scandal.  That the
pair hadn't sealed suggested he was either already married or of a
different, higher caste in their society.
	The milkmaid moved aside, gesturing to Nidaba.  The archivist settled
herself on the vacated stool and tried her hand at the bovine's udder. 
Anubis heard her laugh with delight when the splashing of milk from two
streams joined the foaming liquid in the wooden pail.
	Astonishment rippled through the group.  Several flirting couples broke
apart, and everyone came to a relative state of attention.
	"What the frak..."
	Anubis followed Reese's gaze to the elaborately gowned old man standing
at the gate, servants and acolytes on either side.
	"The Eklekton," he breathed.  "Reese, move toward Lysippa, casually, and
not too close, but be near if there's trouble."
	"Right."  For once, the impatient Security officer didn't argue.  He
stepped off the lower rail of the fence and sauntered nearer the female
Security guard, using the other farm youths for some degree of cover.
	The eklekton moved around the yard, staying outside the fence, away from
the animals and dairy workers -- and any chance of stepping in anything
that might ruin his costly garments.  He moved almost aimlessly, but
Anubis realized the man was actually coming toward him.  The Colonial's
past experiences told him the significance of the way the eklekton's eyes
seemed to focus just past him, and the reason the footsteps hurried a
little more when coming directly toward him, as opposed to another
direction.  Still, the eklekton was obviously a master of misdirection.
	Forewarned, Anubis drew out the appropriate, expected responses an
innocent, reasonably devout man would make to a holy man's presence and
questions.  Catching Nia's eyes, he gestured minutely for her to
concentrate on the animal and be silent.  She nodded fractionally and
bowed her head over the pail.
	The old patriarch stopped beside him.
	Anubis averted his eyes.  "My lord Eklekton," he murmured reverently.
	Padryce frowned.  "You are not from here."
	"No, my lord.  My people are travelers," he replied submissively,
calling up everything he'd learned of custom and belief in the last few
sectons.  The submissiveness didn't come naturally to him, but he'd had
to play the role often enough in the past to sound sincere.
	"You have been in the mountains for many days, traveler."
	"We had illness in our caravan, and lost our stock.  We delay to recover
our strength to continue.  The people here have been most courteous to
us, and we are grateful for their hospitality."
	Padryce nodded, eyes narrow and suspicious.  "See that you do not abuse
their welcome."  The words were a two-edged sword of warning.
	The Colonial kept his eyes on the ground.  "We would not think of doing
so, your eminence.  We will travel again soon, and offer prayers of
thanks and supplication for Farshire, in return for all they have done
for us."  He couldn't resist; the words were innocuous enough, but the
elder man stiffened at them, glaring at the modestly quiet young man.
	Then Padryce shifted his robes and moved haughtily away from the dairy
pens.
	Anubis watched him go, wondering if he'd said too much.
	"What in hades was that about?" Reese whispered in his ear.
	"I don't know," Anubis mouthed back.  He felt a cold shiver run down his
spine, and realized the locals were staring at him.
	"Officious bastard, isn't he?" Reese continued as if he didn't notice
the farmhands' expressions.
	"Reese, if you know what's good for all of us, you'll speak more
politely of that fellow, if you speak of him at all.  Now, can you
possibly appear quiet and reverent for a few moments?  At least until we
get out of here?"  Anubis didn't realize how sharp his voice was.
	The historian felt better when the joking and jostling started up again,
and the young men seemed to have forgotten the eklekton's visit.  He
caught Nidaba's eyes, and knew she'd noticed it too.  At least there
would be no trouble today.  But they both knew that, if the eklekton
willed it, the Colonials would no longer be welcome in Farshire.
	And Anubis knew the cleric was only looking for a reason to make it so.

		* * *

	Boomer lazily contemplated the small float bobbing lightly in the water.
 The stream's current gently tugged it into a spiraling swirl in the side
eddy, but it couldn't go far, tied to his pole as it was.  Beyond the
"fishing hole," the waters of the main current made their easy way
downstream -- clear, clean water, dotted with occasional leaves or twigs,
a few trapped insects, the intermittent bubble and ripple from something
under the water touching the surface for just a micron.  
	The morning sun shown full on his face, warming his skin as it warmed
the ground and vegetation around him.  He propped the pole more tightly
against the half-rotted stump, securing it with a couple of rocks and his
boots, and leaned back to sprawl full in the grass.  He rested his calf
against the pole so he could tell if he got a bite -- his bare leg would
feel the slightest tug on the flexible native wood rod -- but knew he
wasn't too concerned with whether or not he caught anything.  Laying
back, he rested his head on his crossed arms and closed his eyes against
the bright sun.  He wriggled his toes, enjoying the feel of sun and
breeze and the tickle of grass against the soles.  The low gurgle of the
stream slowly making its way to somewhere else was almost a lullaby.  He
contemplated a short morning nap.
	<And to think I used to dislike fishing.>  Boomer sighed with unexpected
contentment.  Fishing was wonderful.  Fishing was a great way to enjoy
the outdoors.  Fishing was the perfect way for a city boy like him to
totally relax.
	"Hey!" he heard a voice from the grass near him.
	"What?"  He didn't feel like sitting up, but figured he'd better answer
Giles's call, since he sounded less easy-going than he had a few moments
before when they'd stashed away the pyramid cards.
	"Did you see him?"
	"Did I see whom?  Nessus?  Or Deena?"
	"No, not our playroom monitors, the kid!"
	That brought Boomer to sit up.  "What kid?"
	"There!"  Giles pointed across the stream.  "He was there, some kid, a
little guy, watching us."
	Boomer squinted, studying the stand of shrubs that came almost down to
the water's edge on the other side.  "I don't see anybody.  You sure you
saw somebody?  Not one of our security detail?"
	"No, couldn't have been.  Looked about Boxey's age..."  Giles was
standing now, shading his eyes with his hand as he continued to scan the
opposite shore.
	Boomer still didn't see anybody.  "You sure you were awake?"
	Giles gave him a pained look.
	Boomer hated having to make a decision just now, but reluctantly, duty
kicked in to remind him he was a Colonial warrior.  "Well, we know
there's kids around the town, I suppose one of 'em could have come up
this far.  Let's see what happens if we move upstream a little.  And
better warn Nessus and Deena too, maybe they can take a look around the
other shore, if they can be spared from protecting us from things that go
boo in the night..."

		* * *
	Moriathe held the torch as Ryence leaned over the arxon's bed.  "My lord
Uthor?"
	The young liege lord barely stirred, his face gray, his breathing
labored.
	The alarmed servant glance at his wife.  "He is worse.  I'm afraid he is
dying," he whispered unnecessarily.
	The woman wanted to suggest what every mother knew -- that fresh air and
sunlight would do more for the sick man than the incense the eklekton had
set smoking in the corners and the blessed candles burning around the bed
chamber.  Instead, she said, "There is nothing more the Eklekton or his
thaumaturge can do.  All they do is prattle about the will of the
Covenant.  Ryence, call the woman--"
	He hissed in outrage.  "Call the herbalist when the Eklekton is here? 
We will both be given to the fire to avenge an insult like that!"
	"Then the Arxon dies!  Ryence, I work in the kitchen!  If he dies, we
may all be given to the fire as poisoners -- our sons too! -- though on
the Great Father's knees, we have done nothing to deserve it.  And
remember, your sister's daughter carries his child -- how quick  will the
Holy Court be to claim we poisoned him to avenge her honor?  They will
take us both."
	The husky servant looked doubtful, still unprepared to risk both their
lives through such a dangerous action as calling old Granny Ninny.
	The castellan slipped into the chamber, an elderly man who had held the
keys of Farshire Keep since Uthor's father's youth.  With him were the
captain of the guard and a pair of younger soldiers.  Both servants bowed
quickly and stepped away from the bed, watching uneasily as the
castellan, too, checked their lord's pallid brow.  He slowly turned and
gestured to the captain.
	"The responsibility is mine.  Go to the mountain where the midwife
healer Ninive lives.  Tell her that her services are needed here."
	The man was startled, but masked it and bowed out of the castellan's
presence, his guardsmen following docilely.  Ryence and Moriathe hoped to
follow, but the castellan stopped them, his eyes too bright.
	"The old midwife may be all that can save Uthor.  It was she who brought
him into the world, perhaps she can keep him here.  I am old; if the
Eklekton holds me responsible, I will miss nothing.  Your children will
not be orphaned.  And if Uthor dies anyway, at least I will know I have
tried everything I could."  He didn't add that if Uthor died under the
woman's care, only she would die, and the household staff would be safe. 
He waved them out.  "Attend your duties.  Ryence, you are needed in the
chandlery.  Moriathe, go back to the kitchen."
	The old castellan kept vigil next to his arxon's bed.

		* * *

	Cassiopeia studied the chalked runemark on Ninive's door.  The old woman
had been teaching her the basics of the shorthand writing system, and she
knew this mark meant that Ninny had been called away for a healing of
some kind, but she wasn't familiar enough with the secondary marks to
know what kind of illness or injury had occurred, or at what centar the
healer had been called or had expected to return.
	She did know it wasn't for a birthing, so it wasn't likely to be a
several-day absence.  Knowing also that she was now quite welcome in
Ninive's home, Cassie pulled off the latch-string and pushed open the
door.
	Inside, the air was dim but rich with the scents of drying herbs and
several small baskets of fruit and fresh flowers.  The med tech drew
several appreciative breaths -- it was so much sweeter and more alive
than the sterile emptiness of the -Galactica-'s pharmaceutical storage
chamber.
	"And I have it all to myself for a little while."
	Determining quickly that she was truly alone, Cassiopeia pulled several
small devices from hidden pockets in the heavy skirt and apron.  With her
small bio-analyzer, she'd be able to take readings of these plants for
their chemical formulas and structures, which would be an important step
in determining their actual medicinal value.  Some herbs were used mainly
for perceived ritual or religious value; others for the scent, color, or
flavor they provided in a concoction.  But a few, at least, undoubtedly
had real value against illness or speeded healing, and those were the
ones she was most interested in.
	Among the herbs was a small, feathery-leaved plant, with star-shaped
flowers and deep blue veins through the petals and roots.  Ninive had
told her the flower reminded her of Cassie -- probably because the blue
matched her eyes, she thought.  Because the plant was used in a variety
of ways, and from a little personal vanity, the med tech paid special
care to its analysis.
	Cassie was also interested in obtaining a copy of Ninive's book of
herbs, charms, spells, healing, and miscellaneous bits of information. 
It hadn't surprised the xenoanthropologists and historians to hear of
such a combination of beliefs and practices; it was amazing to find the
old peasant woman, living alone in the mountains and usually shunned by
the locals unless they needed her, was actually literate.  The book was
huge, and hand-copied with material from a dozen different sources, if
one could judge from the few pages Ninive had shown her.  It was also
hidden away under the floor of the small shelter, carefully wrapped and
concealed from profane eyes.  It was only Ninny's perception of Cassie as
one of her own trade, and a personal trust and liking, that convinced her
to allow the med tech access to the book.  Anubis and Nidaba both had
requested, several times, that she take images of the pages for their
study, and expressed their amazement that any of the writing was actually
in a form the Colonials could read.
	She checked outside one more time, hiding the bio-analyzer in its
pocket.  Then she pushed aside the weed-woven mat and reverently
extracted the leather-bound book from its hiding pit.
	Carefully turning the pages one by one, she made a computer print of
each, even copying the sheets and covers that seemed to have nothing but
intricate doodles and primitive designs on them.  There were pages of
descriptions of herbs and assorted plants, often with carefully drawn
illustrations, with information about growing seasons, preferred soil and
growth conditions, where to find the plant, how to preserve and use it,
what it was good for.  There were lists of charms to protect an
individual from any kind of illness or misfortune, love and fortune
charms to bring good luck and myriad blessings in this world and the
next; some of these had additional notes on how well they worked in
certain circumstances, or that it had never worked for Ninive.  Recipes
listed the necessary ingredients for healing potions, sometimes
accompanied by instructions for procedure that sounded like magical or
religious rituals to the Colonial.  Several pages appeared to be simple
diary entries of events in Ninive's life, and other entries were snippets
of history and discussions of philosophy, possibly copied from other,
more ponderous tomes.  Among the loose pages in the back, she found
copies of the rune system, and copied that too; several of the symbols
caught her eye, and she studied them for a few moments before closing the
text.
	"A little bit of everything," Cassiopeia mused as she rewrapped it. 
"And Ninny wrote it all down herself.  I wonder where she found it --
it's not just personal experience or observation.  Almost like an
individual journal, the whole thing, or a record of her own growth, the
things she found important or worth knowing.  Everything there is to know
about one old woman and her life.  I'm sure Nia will spend yahrens
studying it."
	After flattening the mat, she moved to the door and waited in the
sunshine.  It had been well over a centar, and Ninive should be back
soon.
	There were several small creatures playing in the grass at the end of
the clearing, where the small orchard began.  She watched them with
pleasure until something spooked them.  The three little animals froze,
noses lifted in the air, then bolted for the trees, bushy brown tails
flying behind them.
	Suddenly Cassie heard something too.  She caught her breath as four
mounted men in primitive armor, carrying equally primitive but lethal
spears, and leading two other animals, appeared in the clearing.  She
shrank back nervously against the hut, edging toward the woods.  She was
unarmed and without any Security back-up, not expecting to need any on
this side of camp, visiting a woman she knew and was comfortable with. 
If these men had the same intentions as the ones who'd attacked Sheba...
	One of the men dismounted and approached her.  She tried to bolt for the
forest, but he caught her arm.  Scanning her up and down, he growled
suspiciously, "We have come for the healer Ninive.  She is needed at the
keep."
	Cassie should have felt relieved; instead, her tension increased. 
"Granny Ninny isn't here.  She answered a call this morning, and hasn't
yet returned."
	Dark eyes bored into hers.  "And who are you?"
	After a moment, she replied, "Cassie."
	"What are you doing here, if the healer is gone?"
	There was a rustle in the hedge.  The man holding her arm gestured, and
the other three dismounted quickly, their long spears at the ready.
	The leader spoke again.  "Come out of there!"
	A small, grubby face peered fearfully out of the greenery.
	The man laughed heartily.  "Dynas, aren't you?  Ryence's boy, from the
keep?  Come out, boy.  What are you doing here, so far from home?"
	The youngster scuttled out of the hedge, shamefaced.  It was obvious why
-- bulging pockets gave an odd shape to his kilt, and he carried a heavy
handful of large, ripe fruit.
	"That little thief!  He's the one..." Cassie muttered.  Ninive had
complained of local youths who helped themselves to her orchard.
	"Captain Galhan," the child squeaked, looking considerably cowed by  the
arxon's guard.
	The big man's expression was stern, but something twinkled in his eyes,
and Cassie found him immediately less threatening.  "Loch, take the
little thief on your mount; we'll turn him over to the custody of his
father."
	The boy's eyes brightened as he gazed in wonder at the magnificent
animal he was to ride.
	Captain Galhan turned back to Cassie.  "But we still haven't settled who
you are," he stated firmly.
	"She's Granny's apprentice!" Dynas popped in unexpectedly.  "She's been
here every day for a long time!"  To the small boy, a few sectons was
almost forever, and since he hadn't seen her leave at nights, it seemed
that she must be living with the old midwife.
	Cassie swallowed and nodded at Galhan's questioning look.  She was,
after all, a med tech, she reminded herself with a deep, fortifying
breath.  She could handle a birth or illness or injury, probably better
than Ninive herself.  And far better to be taken for Ninny's apprentice
than a thief in her home!
	Galhan nodded briefly.  "Then you will do.  Leave your mark, witchwoman,
and gather what you need.  You will come with us.  The Arxon needs you."
	"Mark...?  Oh, yes."  She searched hastily for the chalk piece Ninny had
used, and shakily scribbled the sign for "medical emergency," with the
mark specifying a high place, the closest sign she could recall that
might identify the keep.  After a moment, she added a stylization of the
blue starflower, matching the design from Ninny's book, as her personal
signature.  She mentally crossed her fingers that Granny would understand
and hurry to the keep when she returned.  She was sure she could deal
with the emergency, but the customs and beliefs of these people were
still very strange to her, and she didn't want trouble for making a
mistake in curtseying.
	"What is the emergency?" she asked.
	"Our lord is not well."
	That was little help, but the soldier said nothing more to enlighten
her.  Cassiopeia ducked inside the hut for several long moments, catching
her breath and gathering a small bag of assorted dried and fresh plants,
as she had seen Ninive do, along with a small mortar and pestle.  Almost
as an afterthought, she threw in a healthy handful of the blue
starflowers, vowing to look up the proper name of the plant in her
computer records before using it.
	Galhan stooped in the low doorway, impatiently waiting for her.  Unable
to think of any reason to delay, she joined him, and let him swing her
up, sidesaddle, onto one of the other equines before mounting his own
beast and leading off.

		* * *

	The farmers were worried about the lack of rain these last sectons.  The
pastures were already looking dry, when this should have been the season
when grasses grew the fastest.  The grain fields were in an equally
perilous time.  If it didn't rain soon, the heads would shrivel, develop
fewer, harder kernels, potentially costing half the crop.  The shire's
needs would be greater this summer than usual, with the eklekton and his
entourage with the arxon, and it was a drain on the local economy.  If
taxes were greater in the fall to make up for it, and the harvest poor,
these people would suffer greatly in the winter.
	Anubis shook off his anxiety, staring across the fields at the
collection of farmers trudging toward their homes.  They were so easy to
understand, these simple people, especially when heavily preoccupied with
such a threat to their families and lives.
	"Let's go," he muttered to Reese.  The Security officer grimaced as he
shouldered the yoke with its balanced containers of milk and baskets of
vegetables.
	"You sure we rested enough?  I could use a few centons--"
	"I think we'd better get back to camp with these lunch supplies, or a
few people will come looking for us."
	"Like Jolly..."
	"Him, too."
	"Why didn't Lysippa and Nidaba come back with us?" Reese complained. 
"They could help carry a few things."
	"They're taking a walk with Ygern.  She's a good informant, and there
are a few things I think we ought to find out, especially with the
Eklekton checking us out so carefully...  Better get out of the way,
Reese, we got company.  Frak, what in hades--?"
	A group of large equines and riders galloped briskly down the dirt path.
 The animals shied briefly at nearly trampling the two Colonials, who
scurried aside as fast as they could.  The mounted soldiers quickly
controlled their beasts, but the woman riding sidesaddle on her own
equine had a more difficult time.  Finally, one of the men caught its
bridle and dragged it under control.
	Anubis and Reese stared at Cassiopeia for a slack-jawed moment.  Her
expression was worried as she mouthed, "Don't recognize me!"
	The soldiers didn't catch the words, concentrating on their mounts as
they were.  Reese blinked at her in astonishment, not realizing what
she'd tried to tell them.  Anubis caught his elbow and jerked him back
when he almost stepped forward to ask her to repeat it.
	"Show some respect," one of the soldiers growled, waving his weapon
rather wildly in their direction.  Both men flinched back at the
erratically pointed spear.
	"But..." Reese began.
	"Pretend we don't know her!" Anubis snarled under his breath.  "You want
to get us killed?"
	They moved back and the animals galloped past.
	"What the frak are you talking about this time?" Reese exploded.  "After
what nearly happened to Sheba, we can't let them take one of our women--"
	"*Let* them?  One of *our* women?" Anubis hurled back.  "Reese, you're
in Security; think a micron before you babble.  Those animals were bred
for war and fighting.  And those men were soldiers.  Do you think Cassie
goes riding with a group like that because she wants to?  Do you think we
could stop them anyway, just now?  And what position would that leave the
rest of us in, if we caused trouble over this?  We've got to get back to
camp, talk to Hannibal...and probably that old woman Cassie was supposed
to be visiting today.  Maybe we can find out what's going on..."
	Hoping they weren't leaving the woman to some dreadful fate, the two men
abandoned their yokes and headed down the path at a dead run to reach
camp the quicker.

		* * *

	Ninive touched the chalked symbols.  Cassiopeia had gone to the manor,
in answer to an emergency.  From the signs around her clearing, men and
horses had come to fetch her.  It must be Uthor, then.  Ninny was well
aware of the arxon's illness and the rumors, especially the claim that he
was magicked, dying of some demon curse.  One of the young men from town
insisted the curse had been caused by the gypsies -- Cassie's people --
though most of the town laughed off anything that young man said.
	But with Uthor still so ill, perhaps dying...  The young healer was in
grave danger, especially if the arxon did in fact die under her care, and
if Padryce chose to act against her and the others.
	Ninive felt a surge of hatred and fear at Padryce and all he stood for. 
Then she cast her eyes upward in the bright noontime sky, imagining she
saw many night stars instead of one flaming day sun.  She had to speak to
them, warn them.
	Smearing out the runes, she called, "Reyna!" and left.

		* * *

	Cassiopeia stared at the aged and incredibly massive gray, brown, and
off-white stone walls of the keep, and the heavy wooden doors, crossed
with metal bars, that could seal the gate.  Light gray, well-worn stones
paved the clean-swept courtyard, and several high towers capped both the
outer walls and inner structures, the towers apparently of differing
ages.  Inside the walls, at the opposite end, a series of large, wide
steps rose to a broad, open arch on one of the more imposing buildings,
which had no apparent entrance, exit, or even windows at ground level.  A
row of graceful columns, of stone and logs, supported a roof over the
patio before that high entrance -- obviously newer, in design and
materials.  Smaller wooden buildings camped around the old stone
construction, along with several corrals and pens that probably held
animals at night, and under times of siege -- which likely hadn't been a
threat in over a century, as Ninive had referred to at least that long a
period of peace in Farshire, in one of their conversations.
	It was all very primitive and very imposing, and, she imagined, very
threatening if one were brought in as a prisoner.  She hoped she could
help the master of this place, and wondered how she would be treated if
she failed.  Maybe success wouldn't be enough, the way the soldiers
talked among themselves, almost as though she weren't there.  If they
believed their arxon was being destroyed by a demon, maybe they would
believe only a demon-master -- or demon-mistress, in her case -- could
remove it.  They might consider her a threat no matter what happened.
	The equines drew up before the broad steps, and she noted that they
actually stopped short of the tall structure; one of the soldiers offered
her his clasped hands to step down from the huge animal.
	The boy on Loch's mount was quick to jump the distance to the ground,
then strode off self-importantly as a group of wide-eyed children
gathered around him to learn how one of their own had come to be riding
with the lord's cavalry guard.  Cassie had to laugh at that.
	Surprisingly, Galhan's lips twitched with amusement as well.  "The
children will play, Cassie, and I'm sure Dynas will have some story
greater than stolen apples to make them brim with jealousy over his ride.
 But you are needed..."
	She nodded and set her foot in his strong hands to step down.
	"Oh..."  She almost sat down on the paving stones, feeling stiff and
sore.
	"Not used to riding, witchwoman?"
	"Not in a long time..."
	He took her bag and her arm, and guided her quickly into the keep.  She
noticed the stares of some of the women working about.  They watched the
handsome guard captain, too, with some longing, which told Cassie he was
considered attractive to them, and probably a valuable "catch" as a mate.
 There was also jealousy in some of the glares directed at her, and his
arm guiding her.
	Inside, Galhan stopped a moment to pick up a torch from the gatewatch,
then quickly led on.  The first few broad halls were easily recalled, but
then Galhan led her up several flights of stairs and through such a maze
of corridors and doors that she lost her bearings.
	Finally they entered another hall.  The large chamber was smoky with
incense, and darkly illuminated with a few candles and a hot fire. 
Several steaming bowls of water had been set around the room, adding a
dampness to the air and slickness to the hard, cold floor.  She squinted
as her eyes watered, unable to see anything clearly.  Then Galhan's arm
pulled her forward again.
	An older, gnarled man barred the way.  "Where is the witchwoman Ninive?"
	The guard captain answered for her.  "The witchwoman was gone, Castellan
Kai.  This is her apprentice, Cassie.  I didn't think there was time to
wait for Granny Ninny to return."
	"There isn't.  Witchwoman, this is Arxon Uthor.  Tend him."
	Cassie was sure she'd have to find her way around the room by feel
alone.  Blinking, she made out the pale man in the canopied bed she'd
been led to.  She also noted that she, the castellan, and Galhan were the
only others in the room.  In a momentary panic, she wondered what to do
in this primitive place.
	The medkit in her skirt brushed reassuringly against her leg as she
moved closer to the bed.  She surreptitiously unsealed the pocket. 
Another smell hit her nose and she quailed, then realized it came from
the abandoned meal that had probably been at the man's side since this
morning.  In the stifling heat and humidity of the room, it was already
going bad.  At least it wasn't rotting human flesh; that was reassuring.
	She was wondering why the bowls of hot water, when the castellan
informed her, "We have set laves for your herbs, witchwoman.  Tell us
which will sweeten the room and ease our lord."
	"Uh..."  Galhan handed over her bag.  She thought fast over what Ninive
had told her and what she'd seen in the woman's book, then pulled out a
cluster of dried leaves and starflower roots from the healer's bag. 
"Crumble these into the water.  Remove those incense burners and set a
few more candles close to the bed so I can see.  Then leave."
	"Witchwoman!" the castellan protested.
	"You will leave," she repeated, drawing herself up to her full height. 
With the medkit, she might be able to find out what was wrong with the
arxon, and help him.  But she couldn't have these primitive humans around
to see it.
	Kai studied her, in some anguish, then nodded.  "As you wish, healer."
	In a few moments, a sweet, fresh smell from bruised and simmering roots
began to clear the stale air.  The two men bowed out of their unconscious
lord's presence, leaving Uthor and Cassiopeia alone.
	Her first step was to lock and bar the door, dropping the heavy key into
one of her skirt pockets.  Feeling safer and more confident already, she
leaned over the bed, medkit in her hand.  She pulled back the blanket to
check the man's color, temperature, breathing, and pulse.  None were
good.  Hesitating only a micron, she took his arm and drew a blood sample
for the analyzer.
	After long centons and several cross checks, she drew back, frowning. 
"Poisoning of some sort."
	She glared at the abandoned dishes and food.  She took samples of what
was on the plate, then another from the metal chalice.  The answers came
back quickly.  "Hmm.  That's a possibility.  But the question is whether
it was in the food, or the man's metabolism.  I think I can do something,
if I'm in time.  The question is, if I tell him, will he understand? 
These people aren't advanced enough, medically, for this to make
sense..."
	Somebody tried the door.  When it wouldn't open, the person gave it a
hearty shove, followed by an imperious knock.  She ignored it.  The knock
was followed by the thud of something heavy against the door, with a
thundered, "Open this door, Castellan!"
	"The castellan isn't here," she called back patiently.
	After a momentary silence, the masculine voice came back, carefully
controlled.  "Open this door, woman.  I am an Eklekton of Koinonia, and
overlord of this manor, and I order you to open the door to your rightful
lord and master."
	She wanted to answer, <"I don't care if you're overlord of the Council
of Twelve and Eklekton of Cylon.">  Instead, she responded, "I am too
busy to be disturbed.  The castellan isn't here, and I don't know where
he is.  Why don't you go find him, and tell him what you need."
	"You are the witchwoman?" the now-ominous voice demanded.
	"I am a healer, and I have a sick man on my hands.  Please go away and
let me do my work."  She raided Ninive's bag for several additional
supplies, thinking with amazement that some of their primitive doctoring
would actually be helpful in the situation, in more ways than one.
	"Have you no fear of God and the Kalanthros of the most holy Second
Covenant?" the voice demanded, almost aghast.
	Recalling without effort the variety of religious sects and cults within
the Colonies and on other worlds they'd visited, the trained and
experienced former socialator almost laughed, <"Which one?"> but held
that thought, too.  What she said was, "God would not call a healer from
the task he had set her.  Nor would I hear the man who tried to tell me
otherwise."   <That should silence him.>

		* * *

	The ice-stiff eklekton gestured at one of his personal acolytes.  "Find
the castellan and order him here, with the keys to this room.  I will
wait, and pray that this evil woman does not damn the Arxon while we are
forced to wait out here, unable to reach his side and save him!"
	To the other, he commanded, "Sing the Office of the Blessed Olwen.  His
divine intervention has protected the sick from the claws of demons many
times; surely he will stand beside us now."
	A youthful soprano echoed solemnly in the tapestried hall as the other
acolyte hurried away.
	The eklekton muttered as if to himself; the voice formed a dark
undertone to the young singer.  His eyes gleamed too zealously.  "The
Arxon needs a new castellan, if the old man is so insane or bedeviled as
to turn to a witchwoman.  And the guard who carried out such orders
rather than come to me...  I will have to set a guard over Uthor, have a
kalanthro with him at all times of the day.  That witchwoman...if Uthor
dies, she goes to the fire.  And there will be a trial for her, for what
she dares..."

		* * *

	Athena dismally studied the pans of crockery and spoons.  "Why did I
ever think this expedition was going to be fun?" she groaned.  It had
taken over a centar to cleanse their breakfast dishes, and now it was
time to prepare for the noon meal.  Her fingers had been wrinkled half
the morning from mess duty, and she was developing callouses that she
thought she might never get rid of.
	"Fun?" Siduri quipped, wiping her hands on her apron.  "We are not here
to have fun.  And I might point out you deliberately joined this mission,
with ulterior motives -- getting off the bridge to prove yourself, and
making sure a 'friend' of yours didn't spend too much time with another
woman.  Which has not happened because the other woman has been spending
all her time with someone else.  Which leads me to wonder why you and
Starbuck haven't been keeping company these past few days."
	Athena's expression went from doleful to grim.  "It's not important,"
she muttered through clenched teeth.
	"He's been quite pleasant to you.  Even tried to be close several times
that I've noticed."
	"That...snake, I don't care if..."
	"Oh, my."  The captain made a face.  "Shall I take him off your hands?"
	"Why not?  Everybody else has!"
	Starbuck chose the wrong moment to approach the supply wagon.  "Would
you ladies be in need of some assistance?  I could carry something, keep
you company, perhaps..."  He smiled at Athena, as charming, attentive,
and easy-going as she knew he could be when he tried.
	Almost against her will, she smiled back, ready to consider forgiving
him -- again.
	The winsome blond took the weight out of her hands, balancing it on his
kilted hip, the fingers of his other hand lingering on hers.  His voice
dropped as he spoke to her alone.  "By the way, Athena, are you on duty
tonight?  I was thinking of a bit of star-gazing, and thought you might
want to join me.  Maybe get away from camp for a bit, for a clear view? 
The stars are as entrancing as your beauty, with a light like the gleam
in your eyes--"
	Siduri began to glide out of hearing.
	Forgiveness vanished with the wrong reference.  "Well, I don't know,
Starbuck.  I'm sure the stars would be lovely, but the companionship..."
	"It'd be just us."  His expression was too self-assured.
	"Yes, but would you take off your boots for me?"
	Siduri choked as Starbuck's eyes widened.
	"What?  Who--"  He fought off a normally attractive blush and stuttered
for words.
	"If it were *just* Cassie, or *just* Eris, or anything less than half
the woman in the Fleet...  I was better off when you were ignoring me!"
	"I never ignored you!  I -- Athena--"
	"Oh, what's the use?"  Shaking her head, she pushed away from him and
ran toward the water, catching up her long skirts and ignoring the
startled questions of those she passed.  One of the Security officers
hastily dropped what he was doing and followed.
	Starbuck glanced at Siduri as if asking what he'd done wrong, or how
he'd been found out.
	She almost choked on laughter again.  "Starbuck, sometimes..."
	"How did she--?  I mean, we--"
	"Nature is supposed to abhor a vacuum," she eventually forced out
through snickers, trying to restrain herself.  "Why hasn't your head
imploded by now?"
	"All right, I get it!  So who saw us?"
	"Leander.  He thought he owed Eris, and he's none too fond of warriors
anyway."
	"The big redhead with the chip on his shoulder?"
	"That's the one."
	"Oh.  And he couldn't wait to tell her, either, could he."
	"No."
	Starbuck sighed like a little boy caught out.  "Think she'll forgive
me?"
	"Eris?" she asked angelically.
	"No, Athena."
	"I don't know.  But I suggest, since you're responsible for her
abandoning her duty, that you pick up the slack -- and the dishes."
	He stared glumly down into the pan.  "I don't suppose you'd be
interested in a little star-gazing?"
	She sent him a wicked grin.  "Only if you'll take off your boots for
me."
	"I think I could arrange that..." he responded in kind.
	Apollo drifted over, looking puzzled.  "What's wrong with Athena?"
	"Uh, I don't think you want to know..." Starbuck replied apologetically.
	"Oh, you again.  I'll stay out of it.  Is Anubis back from the village
yet?  I was hoping to talk to him before lunch.  Giles thought he saw one
of the local kids over at the stream this morning."  The captain was
preoccupied; Starbuck wondered why he cared about the criminal historian.
	"Haven't seen him," Siduri replied with a shake of her head.  "Nia's not
back yet either.  But Hannibal's at the communication wagon.  Will he
do?"
	"I already talked to him."
	"Hannibal!"
	All three warriors jumped at the yell, and spun to see the historian and
Reese pelting back into camp, out of breath and minus their supplies. 
The spry Captain Hannibal appeared out of the wagon, striding to join
them.
	"What is it?" he demanded.
	"Cassie," Anubis gulped.
	"Again?" Apollo asked, not quite irritated.
	"What about her?" Starbuck demanded at once.
	"The Arxon's guards have her.  We met them outside of Farshire, taking
her into town.  They were probably taking her into the keep, their lord
is worse..."
	Hannibal's eyes were sharp.  "Over here, Anubis, before we start a
riot."
	Apollo and Starbuck followed toward the wagon, but the older man waved
Starbuck off.  "We'll take care of this.  Finish lunch, and we'll call
you if need you."
	Apollo cut off his protests and sent him back to Siduri.  Hannibal
glanced at him, then said, "You can talk in front of him, Anubis.  What
happened?"
	"Like I said, we met a group of soldiers, riding back into town with
Cassie.  Some medical emergency with the Arxon, from what they were
saying, and they think she's a healer like that old Ninive, so they took
her.  They don't suspect she's from our caravan, and she's safer that
way, but I suspect we'd better be ready if there's trouble or if she
needs us."
	"She will need you."  An elderly woman with a copper-colored beast at
her side slowly joined them; it was Ninive.  No one else in camp had
noticed her arrival.  She looked the three men up and down.
	"You hold many secrets, and tell little," she slowly said to Hannibal. 
"But you haven't forgotten how to laugh.  Many people think they know you
for what they see in your open smile, but they know nothing of who you
truly are."
	The older Intelligence man started.
	She turned to Anubis.  "You cannot be read at all, and that frightens
many people -- they don't know what they see in you, and don't realize
what they fear is their own reflection."
	Dark eyes narrowed, but he held his peace.  After a moment, Ninive
sighed and nodded.  "As I said, you show nothing."
	Finally, she faced Apollo.  "You who lead these people are easily read,
stranger.  Your soul is in your eyes, with all you are and may become. 
And you have come from so far that only a few of my people could
comprehend, and none would believe.
	"So why have star-voyagers come here?
	"And how will you protect your healer?"


			Chapter Six


	The "Romany" encampment bustled with preparations for the noon meal. 
Several small fires scented the air with the rich, comforting warmth of
burning fruit woods.  The odors of an assortment of mouth-watering foods
proved that the Colonials were not merely adjusting to the world and its
variety, but appreciating it.  Warm sunshine and the natural rhythms
carried in a light breeze added to a sense of contentment with life. 
Easy laughter and anticipation in scattered voices indicated no one had
noticed the old woman standing between the three men and the
communication wagon.

	Hannibal scanned the circle with quick eyes, then grabbed Ninive's arm
and thrust her out of public view behind the wagon.  A glance at Anubis,
answered with a nod; the historian hurried Apollo out of sight as well. 
The small animal belly-crawled under the wagon.

	Attention focused on the calm midwife.

	"Do you want to handle this, or shall I?"

	It took Apollo a moment to realize Hannibal was speaking to him.  He
shook his head.

	"What makes you think we're star voyagers -- whatever that is?" Hannibal
demanded with the stern arrogance of an inquisitor.

	Ninive faced him without flinching, smiling a little.  "You all gave
away what I had already surmised.  I have seen you here, many times,
watched you.  The image on the cloth Reyna stole was of the stars.  There
are wild things on your clothes that do not grow here, in colors like
nothing we can create.  And everything is whole and new, not patched or
worn, too finely woven for our looms."

	The men glanced involuntarily at each other's costumes.  There were
designs on their perfectly clean, untattered, brightly-colored vests and
kilts that had seemed generic to them; they hadn't thought anyone would
get close enough to look and wonder -- and they hadn't expected a woman
with such an intimate knowledge of her own world and sharp-enough eyes to
see a difference.

	"The children watch you, too, but they don't understand what they see
and hear.  Gypsies without animals, strangers who settle and watch and
mingle, but have different customs and do not act like other gypsies. 
There are tales among our people..."   Her voice held yearning, and her
eyes became sad.  "Old tales, things the Covenant does not approve of, or
permit to be spoken or written for the people.  They say our people came
from a far place, from the heavens themselves, sent here to prove
ourselves worthy of rejoining the kalanthros..."

	All eyes lifted to the cloudless sky when the woman looked up.

	Apollo realized he was holding his breath, and let it out very slowly
and carefully, almost afraid to speak for fear of shattering some spell
or dream.  "Your people came from the heavens?" he finally whispered.

	"That is what the old books say."

	"Do you have such books?" he had to ask.

	"No.  The common people are not permitted.  It is sacred knowledge, from
very old times."  A bitter memory surfaced, and her old blue eyes glazed
with anger or hatred.

	He swallowed and closed his own eyes.  <They came from the heavens.  The
Thirteenth Tribe.  Old books.  Lords of Kobol, we *have* to see those
books...>

	"Where must we go to get such books?"  Anubis had taken up the
questions.

	She looked him up and down, then laughed sharply.  "You would never be
allowed near them.  They would kill you for the magickers you are, yes,
especially one like you."

	"I am not a...magicker."

	"No, you are more than a magicker, and a worse danger than all the demon
conjurers of this world.  The eklektons would kill you to silence you. 
All of you.  You are a threat..."

	"Why?" he asked.

	"You were not cast out of heaven by the kalanthros and the Great Father.
 You are not sinners, as the eklektons say we were, who turned from evil
and begged a chance to prove ourselves.  You might break the Second
Covenant, and the power of the Patriarch would be ashes.

	"Tell me, why have you come here?  I do not believe you come with words
from heaven; you would be shouting from the towers and steeples of every
village if you were.  You come in silence; I believe you mean to leave in
silence, if you can.  Why have you come?"

	They exchanged glances.  How did she know what she knew?  And how much
more did she know?

	"We came because we needed...something from the mountains here,
something from the ground, a mineral.  We also hoped to learn of some of
our people who passed here long ago..."  Apollo didn't realize he'd
fallen into the same speech pattern Ninive used, and was saying more than
his father and Thoth might have approved.

	She watched him unblinkingly, her eyes still dark and brittle with
memory.

	"We search for the Thirteenth Tribe, a lost group of our people.  We
don't know where they went, or why--"

	"The mystical thirteen..."

	They all stared.  "What?"

	"The College of the Covenant has thirteen major eklektons.  And over the
eklektons is the Patriarch.  It has always been that way, back through
the ages of our people to the first Patriarch, the Blessed Son of Sagan,
lord of the heavens, who came to us and stayed with us, though blameless,
to show us the way to redemption."

	"What do you call your world?" Apollo demanded hoarsely.

	Now she blinked, taken aback.  "It is the world, the place of the
fallen, the cast-outs.  We were sent here as sinners, to rectify
ourselves -- if one believes the stories of the ancient books."

	"We *have* to get those books," Anubis groaned feelingly.

	"What do the stories say?" Hannibal interrupted intensely.

	"That we chose to leave the gardens of Eden--"

	"Eden!"

	She stopped, staring at Apollo's pale expression.

	"I'm sorry, go on, please..."  <The capital city of Kobol...!>  
Memories flooded in so painful that he almost staggered.  He put a hand
on the wagon to keep his feet.

	"We left the gardens of Eden, following one who had turned from the
kalanthros and the First Covenant.  But away from the light of heaven, we
realized we were committing a great wrong, following one who sinned
against the kalanthros.  We turned from him, but knew we could not return
to Eden, so we begged Sagan to let us prove ourselves faithful to him. 
He sent us here, with his son to guide us, under the Second Covenant.  If
we are faithful in our lives, the day will come when we may return to the
heavens and see Eden again, and rejoice in her light and beauty."

	There were tears on Apollo's cheeks; he could see betraying brightness
in Anubis's eyes as well.

	"The exodus from Kobol?" Anubis murmured in a low, almost awe-struck
voice.

	"It must be, and this Second Covenant -- a second chance, a new world...
 They turned from their leaders -- a part of the Tribe, maybe?  Ninive,
are your people the Thirteenth Tribe?"

	She shook her head decisively.  "No.  The books say we turned away from
the Thirteen, and were banished, cast out, and that our names would no
longer be written among any of the tribes of Eden.  We could no longer be
named among the Thirteen.  That is why there are thirteen eklectons in
the College of the Covenant -- thirteen to remind us of the ones who
remained in Eden, and the Patriarch to stand between us and the evil of
the darkness, Sagan's betrayer, the false leader of our own tribe."

	Apollo nodded, unexpectedly relieved and shaken.  <Only part of the
Tribe, a splinter group, maybe...>

	Hannibal held Ninive's fingers too tightly.  "Where can we find the
books that tell of these things?  Where must we go?"

	Ninive's smile was tight and malicious.  "It will help you to have these
books?"

	"Yes.  We must have them.  It is why we came."

	<But at what price?  You have a price, healer, it is in your eyes.>  
Apollo saw recognition on Hannibal's face as well.  There was an old
grudge here.  Anubis was concentrating, staring intently.

	"You must go to the Arxon's manor."

	"I thought you said--"

	"There are no such books in the Arxon's manor.  But Padryce is an
eklekton, one of the Thirteen.  He has such books. And he never travels
without them.  They are as much a sign of his rank as his alb and great
seal.  The books you want are in Uthor's keep, as long as he is here.  Go
and take them."

	"Why are you telling us this?  Why do you hate him so much?" Anubis
asked softly.

	Chipped nails dug into Hannibal's palm; he still held her hand.  "I
lived in Koinonia when I was young.  I loved a kalanthro of the Covenant.
 He was a friend of Padryce, but he read books forbidden to one of his
rank, and worse sin than that, he shared their knowledge with me, and
with others.  His thoughts were on forbidden things.  Padryce told the
Patriarch.  They took my love to trial."  Her voice trembled with sorrow
and anguish.  "Padryce pronounced the public writ, and himself commanded
the stake that impaled my lover.  His dearest friend...was his murderer."

	The breeze seemed suddenly cold, darkened with sounds of lost souls.

	"They did not kill you?"  Anubis was gentle.

	"I fled.  I left Koinonia and my family, and came here, with forbidden
knowledge.  I learned more from the witchwoman who dwelled here in the
mountain.  I took her place when she died."  Self-loathing touched her
voice.  "I fled.  I hid.  I hide to this day.  I was afraid to face trial
with him, and share his death.  Others of our friends died with him,
others he had taught in secret, but I was afraid."

	"Will you help us?"

	"For the books?"  She smiled, but it twisted into a horrid grimace. 
"But what of Cassie?  Will you leave her to die?"

	That sank in, overwhelming the importance of the human presence on the
planet, and where they had come from.

	"They really kill people -- for *teaching*?  For *knowledge*?"  Apollo
was still stunned.

	"They do.  They hang them, they burn them, they drown them, they impale
them.  And when it begins, it spreads, a wildfire of hatreds and
heresies.  Many people die, innocent and guilty alike -- seventeen died
with my love.  And your Cassie, Padryce will call her a witchwoman and a
heretic, and murder her.  It wounds his pride that any woman could have
knowledge greater than his."

	"We won't leave Cassie behind," Apollo vowed intently.

	"They don't know she's one of us.  They were looking for you," Anubis
began slowly.  "She may not be in as much danger as you think.  And she's
in the keep.  If we could contact her, she could look--"

	"For the patriarch-be-damned books?" Ninive cried stridently.  "I should
never have told you!  Padryce will hate her for being a woman and having
knowledge, for refusing to obey him and look at him as if he were a god
himself!  He will hate her.  He will kill her."

	Anubis was silenced at her venom, seeing that she meant every word, and
remembering his own brief meeting with the eklekton.  She was right; he
would not let Cassiopeia live, if he realized she was more than she
appeared to be, or if she said the wrong thing at the wrong time.

	Apollo leaned against the wagon, thinking for a micron how realistic the
nonwood felt, then recalling how real wood burned.

	Hannibal resumed the lead.  "We don't know how much danger she's in at
present.  She is, however, in the keep, and we don't know how long
they'll keep her there.  We must contact her somehow, maybe get in to see
her.  Ninive, would you be willing to--"

	"The name I use now would mean nothing to him, but Padryce would
remember me.  He would recognize me.  He never forgets those who have
stood against him.  I do not dare go near the town or the keep while he
is there."  Her voice was uncompromising.

	"Then we have to reach her ourselves.  Anubis, can you find a way to get
in, locate her?"

	He hesitated only a heartbeat.  "I think so.  Yeah, there should be a
way."

	"Good," Hannibal said briskly.  "We'll want to set some of Croft's
people to watching the keep, for now, to see what's going on.  Any
problem with that, Apollo?"

	"What about warriors?"

	"Most of your people are friends of Cassie's.  They might be too close
to her to keep a clear head."

	"You can't keep it a secret that Cassie has been taken prisoner; she'll
be missed.  People will want to know where she is.  And as soon as the
word is out, my people will want to do something.  Speaking for myself,
I'd rather at least be trying to help her than sitting here twiddling my
thumbs.  And if you think any of us can keep Starbuck out--"

	"You've got a point."  Hannibal glanced at Anubis.  "All right, then,
mixed teams.  Anubis, find Croft.  Team leader briefing first.  Then he
can deal with security.  Apollo, you'll take care of your warriors--" He
stopped abruptly, studying the native woman, who continued to listen
calmly to what must have been incredible orders.

	Her expression was unchanged.  Hannibal found himself wondering,
briefly, just how much she had learned, as a young woman, of the history
of Kobol, and her own people's origin.  He suspected she hadn't told them
everything, and probably wouldn't even if they asked her.

	"Meanwhile," he continued aloud, "we'll figure out how we can get our
hands on copies of those books of the Eklekton's.  And for our med tech,
we'll proceed under worst-case scenario.  This lord of theirs dead,
Padryce in charge, Cassie condemned.  If she's allowed to leave the keep,
gets out of this herself somehow, we won't have to use it, but we'll be
ready--"

	"She will not be allowed to leave.  And you will not have much time!"
Ninive warned.

	Eyes met.  "We'll be ready."

		* * *

	"And what happened then?" Siduri demanded.  She saw that Boomer kept a
hand on Starbuck's shoulder.  The blond warrior seemed to be in shock;
his whole body was tensed as though he meant to take off for Farshire
that very micron -- he might not be admitting the depth of his feelings
for Cassie, even to himself, but those feelings were obvious to her. 
Athena and Sheba looked equally pale.  The other two warriors just looked
grim.

	Reese shook his head.  "They rode back toward town, and we came back
here."

	"You didn't do anything to help her?" Starbuck yelped.  "You just let
them--"

	"I didn't just *let* them," the Security officer interrupted.  "It was
that gridrat's decision not to even try to help her.  But there probably
wasn't anything we could have done anyway -- there were four of them, on
equines.  And they were armed, if you can call those pikes and blades
weapons."

	"Weapons enough to hurt someone," Siduri murmured, brushing a lock of
hair back into her scarf.

	Starbuck and Sheba both flinched, while Athena drew a quick deep breath.
 Boomer and Giles exchanged clenched-teeth glances.

	"What're we going to do about it?" Athena asked.

	"I don't know.  I assume your brother and Captain Hannibal are planning
something right now."

	All eyes turned involuntarily toward the wagon -- where no one stood.

	"I'm gonna find Croft," Reese announced.

	"Good idea," Siduri cut in.  "And until you've talked to him, don't tell
anyone else what happened."

	The officer was taken aback.  Starbuck was more vocally so.

	"What do you mean, we've--"

	"Apollo and Hannibal and Croft will come up with a plan.  Until then, we
don't need half our people running off half-cocked and unarmed, with no
strategy beyond running into town in a panic."  Her captain's authority
was almost a tangible aura around her.  "So we say nothing until we hear
from our commanding officers.  Reese, find Croft, tell him to join Apollo
and Hannibal -- and stay with him in case there are questions.  Boomer,
you and Giles make sure Starbuck doesn't do anything stupid.  Sheba,
Athena, let's find Apollo."

		* * *

	The pounding on the door was frantic.  Cassiopeia looked up calmly,
mentally tallying how long she'd been here, how long the others had been
barred out, how much longer she could keep them at bay before they
decided to batter in the door, how long it had been since she'd given
Arxon Uthor the injection.  Over a centar, from the narrow shafts of
sunlight shifting slowly across the floor through the now-opened
tapestries at the windows.

	Uthor looked better already, less gray; his breathing was deeper, his
heartbeat steadier.  She'd reached him in time.  The young lord would
live.

	Satisfied, she repacked everything she'd taken out of the medkit, and
was about to replace it in her skirt pocket when she hesitated.  She
would be searched, she was certain.  If the guards found these...they
wouldn't know what kind of devices the medkit held, or how to use them. 
But she could well suffer from primitive fear and superstition.

	She quickly scanned the long chamber, noting details as she searched for
a hiding place.  The fireplace, wide enough to hold half the wood from an
entire tree, was blackened with soot; the flames currently tongued wood
and the last bits of charcoal from the morning's leftovers -- burning had
been the quickest and easiest way to dispose of garbage.  The bin next to
the hearth had a layer of ashes not yet removed that day.  The granite
walls, with slits for windows, were covered with tapestries, banners, old
shields, and weapons from unknown generations of lords of Farshire. 
There were only a few pieces of heavy wooden furniture -- the bed, a few
chairs, several chests -- with ornate carvings and embroidered cushions. 
A scattering of torches circled the bed, adding their flickering light. 
Without their smoke, natural sunlight would have had a better chance, but
with the long, skinny windows, the centars of available natural daylight
would seem short anyway.  A pile of somewhat mildewed rushes lay against
one wall; in the winter, the entire floor would be carpeted with them. 
For summer, a few heavy mats were considered sufficient, especially as
rushes would decay too fast in the moist air.

	No immediately obvious hiding places.

	<Well, if they were obvious, that guard captain would probably find them
too.  I suppose I could hide it under the bed...>  She laughed lightly to
keep from panicking, then began checking behind the tapestries.

	"Cassiopeia!"  The aged voice held deep anxiety.

	"What is it, Castellan Kai?" she called back.

	"The door...  Open the door, please.  We are concerned for our lord!"

	"I will only be a moment..."  <Frak!  No more time...  Risk their
search?  Throw the medkit out a window?  No, I might need it.  Besides,
they could find it.  The window!  Yes, it's loose...>   A piece of stone
crumbled, pulled away, revealing an empty space in the wall beneath it. 
<A built-in hiding place!  What kind of secrets did they hide here?  So
much dust...  No one's used it in yahrens.>

	She shoved the kit into the cavity, then carefully shoved the stone back
into position, mentally marking its location.  She almost tripped over
her own skirts in her haste to reach the door and unbar it.  The first
thud of some sort of battering ram, awkwardly handled in the hall,
startled her, but she recovered and pulled the key out of her pocket. 
She hastily inserted it into the keyhole before a second blow could land.

	"I'm opening the door!  Please don't ruin the beautiful carving!"

	The first thing she saw was the forbidding visage of the eklekton.

	"Witchwoman, what were you doing in there?"

	"Tending Arxon Uthor, as I was instructed.  Castellan Kai, there are
some things we need to discuss--"

	"Captain Galhan, set two of your best men as guards in this chamber, and
two more at this door.  Witchwoman, you will pay for your crimes."

	She stared at him.  The elderly man's face was livid with rage; his
fingers shook as he raised his hand to point at her.  The guards shifted
their feet nervously, and Kai looked uncertain how to react to Padryce's
usurpation of authority.  But Cassiopeia had dealt with all kinds of men,
before and after the Destruction, including warriors and councilors, and
she wasn't about to be cowed by this one.

	"Lord Uthor will recover," she stated flatly, staring at the eklekton
for a moment before visibly dismissing him from her mind and turning to
Kai.  "And now, Castellan, we have things to discuss concerning his
health.  We must speak to whomever prepares the arxon's food."

	Kai pushed past her to Uthor's side, leaning over the bed to check the
truth of her words.  She followed him; none of the guards tried to stop
her.  Padryce deigned to follow as well, vainly trying to regain control
of the situation from the young blonde woman who refused to bend her will
or her knee to him.

	"Guard captain," the eklekton stated ominously, "you have not yet
arrested the witchwoman."

	Kai faced them all with amazement and joy shining on his face.  "The
arxon is sleeping easier!  And his color is better!"

	"I told you, he will recover.  And if you guard his health properly, he
won't suffer any recurrences."

	"Poison?" Kai asked tremulously.

	She hesitated.  "Of a sort."

	"But he had a taster!  And I myself have eaten from his plate at
times..."  The old man choked into silence.

	<How do I explain?>   "The food that was poisoning him did not affect
his taster."

	More fear showed in the old man's face.  "Magick?"

	"No.  An allergy."

	"What sort of magick is that, witchwoman?" demanded the eklekton.

	"It's not a spell, it's...a sickness that can come on a man or woman
when they eat a food their bodies can't...  It's like a mushroom that
some people can eat and enjoy without pain, while it makes other people
sick, and still others die."

	"God's will, then," Padryce intoned.

	Cassiopeia was annoyed.  "God's will?  Punishment for sin?  Eklekton, an
allergy doesn't ask if you've been good before affecting you!  It can be
carried in your body for...years, from your parents, or it can come on
you--"

	"The vileness of a generation shall bear fruit in its children..."

	She was ready to throw up her hands and forget it.

	"What must we do to protect Uthor from this...allergy, healer?"

	Cassie smiled at Kai.  The difference in attitude toward her told in
more than the terms "witchwoman" and "healer."  It was inflection and
eyes and the attention each gave her.  Just now, Kai had a great deal of
respect for and perhaps even fear of her.

	"We must check the kitchen stores, Castellan, to find the food that
makes your arxon so ill.  Then I will come back here to watch my
patient...your lord."

	"You will not leave the keep!" Padryce announced loudly.

	She studied him coolly.  "I would never leave one I was tending until I
was certain he was in no danger.  Kai, will you show me to the kitchens?"

	As Kai led the way, Cassiopeia had to fight to keep from trembling,
feeling the eklekton's cold glare at her back like a dagger.  She
remembered the contempt and hatred of the Otori, back in the Destruction,
in those terrible first days before  Starbuck brought her to the
-Galactica-.  Her arm had been broken, there had been no medical
treatment, the little available food or water had been rather obviously
kept from her, and she had honestly feared she might be murdered and her
body thrown out with the garbage.  The feeling from Padryce was too
similar for comfort.

		* * *

	Hannibal left the encampment with the old woman, supposedly to make sure
she reached her home safely, with the arxon's guards potentially close,
but just as much to make sure she didn't head for the town or the keep to
tell anyone what they'd told discussed.

	Apollo went looking for Croft, and found him almost instantly, just
beyond the edge of their circle of tents in the first grove, out of
general hearing, leaning against a tree and staring up the steep slope
toward the mountaintop.  A breeze had sprung up; it whispered through the
trees around them and hurried along the clouds overhead.

	"Croft, we've got a problem."

	"So I expected."  He stood up straight, absently brushing bits of bark
from the back of his kilt.

	"Send someone into town for Nia and Lys.  Make sure they get back here
safely."  He couldn't read the man's expression -- to Apollo, Croft
always managed to wear a sardonic expression that suggested he was
secretly sneering at a world that wasn't worth his time.

	"Already done," Croft replied briefly.  "When I saw Reese and Anubis
coming back at a dead run, I realized there had to something going on. 
Ajax and Priam are on their way down, with instructions to hook up with
Nidaba and Lysippa and get back here as soon as possible without causing
trouble or raising suspicions."

	He nodded.  "Good."

	"So what's the problem?"

	Apollo quickly explained.

	By the time he was finished, Croft's expression had lost its distant
mockery.  But before he could say anything, they were disturbed.

	"Apollo!  Croft!"

	They froze at Siduri's voice.

	She ran up to them, panting.  Athena and Sheba were right behind, their
colorful skirts flying behind them.

	"We heard about Cassie!  What are we going to do?" Siduri asked.

	"At the moment, we don't know," Apollo admitted.

	"You don't *know*?" Sheba broke in.

	"No, I don't know," he responded evenly.

	They locked eyes.  They were both worried for their friend, both
stressed at being in an alien environment, in unusual circumstances.  But
Sheba's anger and bitterness had been simmering and building since the
night the native youth had accosted her.

	Croft's gaze slid from one to the other.   He crossed his arms and
waited for the fireworks he knew were coming.

	Sheba exploded.

	"Well, that is a first, isn't it.  All your vaunted concerns about
protecting the women in this group, and look what happened," she shouted
furiously.  "Cassie's a prisoner, stolen away by those men in broad
daylight!  Carried off to the castle by this planet's version of knights
in not-so-shining armor!  Where was her security?  Why wasn't she
confined to camp like me?  She was out wandering the country alone, every
day, and you let her.  You never said a word!  And Hannibal thought it
was a great idea!"

	She rounded on Croft.  "And you, Croft, why weren't you protecting her? 
Why weren't you following her around like you do me?  Oh, don't think I
haven't noticed -- you were the first one there that night, you've been
two steps behind me every day for sectons!  All that felgercarb about
protecting me -- why weren't you protecting Cassie?"

	"Sheba--"

	Apollo had her attention again.  "And now you don't know what to do. 
Well, I'll tell you one thing you *won't* have to do -- you won't have to
worry about me, Apollo.  Ever.  Here or later.  For any reason.  I'm not
yours to worry about.  And I'm not going to stop worrying about you as of
this moment.  Frankly, I don't know why you bothered to bring me along on
this mission -- you probably just didn't know what to do then, either."

	The captain felt like he'd been pole-axed, and looked it.

	"Lieutenant!"  Siduri snapped, regained her tongue.  Athena was still
staring at Sheba, not expecting this at all.

	Sheba turned on her heel and stalked away, leaving four stunned
companions.

	"Sheba!"  Athena took one step after her.

	The other woman glanced back long enough for one poisonous shot,
directed at Athena, but her eyes remained contemptuously on Apollo.  "I'm
sorry for you, Athena.  At least *my* father let me do what I wanted to
with my life."

	Then she was gone, leaving Athena looking as wounded as Apollo.

	"Uh...she's just worried about Cassie as we all are..." Siduri began.

	He stared at her, something building in his green eyes.

	"And she's been under a lot of stress, and angry about the security
restrictions," she hazarded, glancing at Athena before turning back to
Apollo.  "I'm sure she didn't really mean all that...and when she cools
down--"

	"Well," Apollo interrupted, "I guess that was inevitable.  Cain's the
better warrior, he's the better commander, he never makes mistakes -- now
he's the better father.  As far as I'm concerned, she can jump into a
supernova and stay as hot as she likes for as long as it lets her."

	He brushed past her.  Siduri realized she wasn't surprised when Athena
joined him, her mouth just as set, her eyes just as blazing.  Sheba had
publicly attacked their father, and however much Athena might privately
grumble about her brother's personal need to protect her and sympathize
with Sheba's feelings at being kept out of the action, this would ally
her to Apollo completely, for the duration of this particular fight.
*This* was family.

	Silence reigned in the grove for a long centon.

	Then Siduri turned to Croft.  "I notice you didn't say a word to defuse
this," she accused.

	He grimaced at her, no real humor in that half-smile.  "You think I was
gonna get in the middle of that firefight?" He shook his head.

	"So what about Cassiopeia?  What do we do?"

	Croft shrugged.  "I suspect Hannibal and Anubis have already got
something in mind.  They're the experts, after all.  They're the spies."

		* * *

	They'd returned from town at a pace that had all four Colonials panting.
 The two men didn't know what the problem might be, but when they told
the women Croft had ordered them back immediately, with no explanation,
they'd complied.  They were almost back to camp when they were met by a
second pair -- Anubis and Pollux.

	"Nia."  Anubis caught Nidaba's arm in a none-too-gentle grip.  He waved
Pollux to take the others back to camp ahead of them.

	"What is it?  Is something wrong?" she asked as he held her back.

	"Uh...no...not that we know, anyway..."  He relaxed slightly, but she
read the rare tension in his body.  "Um, did Ygern know anything
interesting in Farshire today?  Was there any word from the keep...any
news of their sick lord?"

	"Oh, nothing unusual -- concern for the drought, worry about Uthor.  Oh,
there was word that some new healer had been brought, but the villagers
seem pessimistic about the woman's ability to do anything -- no one could
help their previous two lords.  I'm inclined to agree with them, although
not for the claim of a magicker's curse -- Uthor's quite ill, from the
sound of the gossip, and I doubt if anybody from this planet has the
medical expertise...  Ouch!  What is it?"  Irritated, she pulled her arm
free and rubbed the sore spot above the elbow where his grip would show.

	His expression was grim.  "Nia, that new healer is Cassiopeia."

	"Cassie!"  She was stunned.  "But...what...?  Well, then the lord might
have a chance."

	"He might, but will Cassie?"

	"What's that supposed to mean?"  She had a sudden suspicion of her own. 
"Anubis, what's going on?"

	"Padryce doesn't like country healers, especially female ones.  And he's
certain to resent Cassie's attitude.  She hasn't been to town with us,
she isn't a sociologist or historian.  She hasn't been exposed to many of
the local customs, and she's certain to offend him in so many ways..."

	"Oh, Lords, she won't know how to act at all!"

	"He's certain not to like that," he said grimly.

	"So what if he doesn't like her?"  Anubis was too concerned with the
other woman.  Nidaba felt her spirits inexplicably plummet.

	He answered dryly, "She could be terminated for his dislike."

	She stared.  "That's barbaric!"

	"Perhaps.  But tomorrow we're going to keep our ears open for any news
about Uthor and his healer."

	"Of course...  Is she still at the keep?"

	"As far as we know.  Some of Croft's people are going down to the
village this afternoon.  We're posting a guard of our own on the keep, to
know if Cassie leaves or is taken away."

	"I understand.  Will you be going too?"  She couldn't keep an edge out
of her voice.

	He looked at her sharply, and she had the odd feeling that he could read
her thoughts without trying.  She colored, angry and confused.

	"Nia, there's more involved than you know..."  His voice was strangely
tender for an instrument so tense.  He was silent a moment, then nodded
decisively.  "Come on, Nia.  You've got to talk to Hannibal and Apollo. 
You're the trained archivist with the history and linguistics background.
 We may need you, too."

		* * *

	Joy surged through the keep and spread through the village and farms as
the soldiers passed the word.  Uthor would recover -- the young
witchwoman was healing him.  Amazement and awe were tempered with some
restraint, but the locals were relieved for many reasons -- they loved
their lord; they despised his current, distant heir; they feared what
might happen to their parish without a resident manager who cared about
his people.  The curse, if that was what hovered over their parish, might
be breaking, and it was the witchwoman who was responsible -- who better
to breaker a magicker's curse than another magicker?  They also feared
the eklekton, and some were secretly glad it was someone besides him who
could claim credit for Uthor's salvation.  Others wondered if the fair
healer would be a greater threat.  Still more stared at the mountain
forests, and remembered the gypsies there, and wondered what part they
played in all that was happening.

	Nightfall and moonrise tainted the elation with uncertainty.  Bright
stars and biting wind seemed tokens of heavenly notice.  No farmers or
herdsmen tarried in their fields or pens; they all hurried to their homes
or huddled in summer field shelters, avoiding the skies.

	If some noticed darker shapes moving through the sharply-defined shadows
of the full moon night, they blessed themselves and closed their eyes,
hurrying to their own doors.  If dark powers gathered to contest over
Uthor and Farshire, they were terrified of being sucked into the spectral
battle or betrayed by the moon into ghostly spoils.  In their homes, they
prayed, afraid without knowing why...

		* * *

	Ninive mourned.  She knew what Padryce could do.  She had seen it so
long before, and still felt the terror his name could invoke, the soul
dread his eyes had always caused her.  Padryce would have recognized her,
she was sure.  And he would have invoked a warrant thirty years old and
ordered her death.  But by some chance the guards had found Cassie and
taken her to the keep instead.  So she now stood in the path of the
eklekton's furies and ambitions.

	Ninive paced in her hut, unable to sleep.

	What could she do for the sweet child who'd shared her life those few
days?  Who'd been interested in all she did and knew?  Who came from the
stars as the others did, but who knew and understood the way she lived,
and the ones she lived it with?  The strangers had asked her help.  Was
there anything she could do?  How could she help Cassie?

	Reyna whined at her feet, nuzzling her bare toes.

	The tired old midwife sank to the floor and buried her face in the
small, intelligent creature's fur, blood-red as harvest leaves and
tongues of fire.

		* * *

	It was a bright, mostly-clear night, with a myriad of stars flaunting
themselves in the sky.  A handful of clouds moved languidly among them,
occasionally veiling the moon in wisps of gauze.  From her room, high in
the keep, Cassie could see them all very clearly.  She stood at one of
the narrow window slits, where she could also feel and hear the breeze
that blew down from the hills on the mountain-facing side of the castle.

	Behind her, the castellan kept talking.  "I have spoken with Moriathe;
she will do as you instructed with the water, and in the morning, she
will make sure all the myris has been removed from the stillroom--"

	Something came with the breeze, something wild and eerie, with a steady
thump underlying it.

	"Music," she murmured, interrupting him.

	"Healer?"

	"I hear music..."

	Kai left the door to stand beside her, lowering his balding head and
closing his eyes.

	After a moment he smiled.  "On some nights, when the wind is just right,
you can hear sounds from the mountain.  When there are gypsies camped, as
there have been the last moonpass, you can hear them from here, if they
play.  Nowhere else in the keep but here and my lord's personal chambers,
no one knows why."

	The woman couldn't hide a smile.

	"Healer?"

	She collected herself.  "It's beautiful."

	Kai was taken aback.  "I would not have described it so, but..."  He
shrugged.  "My lord Uthor enjoys the zitar.  I prefer the harpson. 
This--" He gestured toward the mountain, invisible in the night except
for the sudden black edge on the horizon where stars ceased to be.  "--is
nothing I have ever heard before."

	"I have," she said softly, still smiling.  "But let's finish the
instructions..."

	When Kai left a few moments later, Cassiopeia was alone in the room. 
She blew out the taper and peeled off her excess clothing in the dark,
then stood at the window for a long time, feeling the breeze on her bare
skin, listening, and taking comfort in the haunting music, so alien to
this planet.  Kai was quite right that he had never heard anything like
this before -- this world would never have heard Jolly playing "Caprica
the Brave" on his piob before; and that was certainly Mikal on the
bodhran marking the beat to accompany him.

	She closed her eyes, imagining the scene -- her friends scattered around
a campfire, its glow reflecting off their faces as they laughed and
talked or listened intently.  The sweet smoky smell of the burning wood,
the warmth of the fire and each other's bodies, cooler fresh evening air
at their backs, the music keeping out the undercurrent of night sounds. 
Jolly would be standing, tapping a beat with one foot, the long pipes of
his piob over his shoulder, the bag under his arm, fingers dancing over
the chanter, their dance eliciting a wild call that would not be denied. 
Mikal would be standing nearby, but back a step; the firelight would
occasionally reflect off the painted drumhead, but mostly he would be in
darkness, one wrist and hand moving with amazing speed to create a pulse
in the music and throw it forth like a net to catch the hearts, hands,
and feet of the listeners.   Siduri would start vocalizing, just letting
her rich voice roam up and down its range in syllables that were music in
themselves.  After just long enough to know the flavor, Athena would
harmonize with her as if the two women had planned it.

	 Somebody would start dancing -- probably Brie, she could never resist
music; she would be whirling around, barefoot, her eyes closed and her
long skirts and blonde hair flying, tracing the intricate steps of some
old Aerian folk dance, her body swaying with every note -- and if Cassie
were there, she would join in, along with others.  Siduri would pull off
her scarf and turn it into a circle dance, each of the women joining in,
grabbing the ends of their own scarves and that of their neighbors to
form a chain around the fire.  No surprise, Paye would be the first of
the men to join -- in dancing, at least, he impressed the ladies as much
as he thought he did, and he was welcome as a partner.  More
surprisingly, the generally shy and a little awkward Greanbean would be
next, showing unexpected grace as he followed the beat of the music. 
Starbuck would profess that he would rather watch than dance, unless he
couldn't get out of it, and then he would allow himself to be dragged
into the circle with good grace.  Jolly would grin through his mustache,
and his brown eyes would twinkle, and suddenly the pace would pick up...

	Cassie sighed contentedly and smiled at the pleasant memories of earlier
nights in camp.  She found herself swaying along to the faint echoes from
the mountain.  It was comforting to hear the familiar tunes.  They 
reminded her that her friends were not too far away, and she didn't feel
quite so alone or afraid.

		* * *

	At the Inn of the Lazy Ox, a few lingering stragglers stayed to drink a
few last tankards of the famous ale.  Ector was as moody as he'd been
since the night the gypsy woman sent him sprawling; his silence meant
Balan was equally mute, waiting for a cue to react.  Bran had been
withdrawn from his friends ever since the morning in the hayloft after
Dark Moon Eve.  When Ector complained of the gypsies, Bran glowered, his
lips tight with concealed emotions -- with demons in the woods and the
lord dying unless the witchwoman healed him, all Ector worried about was
his reputation because some bitch not worth the time had spurned him. 
With his friends lost in their own thoughts, Ien found it hard to keep up
any kind of conversation, so he gradually fell into their silence, and
the four young men simply drank another round.

	The proprietor wasn't eager to be open late, but with his servers
leaving early out of acknowledged fear or other excuses, neither was he
looking forward to being alone for clean-up after his last customers
left.  So he let the youths continue to drink past his usual closing
time.

	"The lord is recovering, is the word from the keep," Ien repeated as
he'd announced several times.

	This time, it earned a response.  "An' why not, with the Eklekton here?"
demanded Bran with carefully enunciated words.  He still managed to sound
relatively sober, something he had picked up as a defense against
friends' and strangers' gibes alike.  "What magicker's curse would dare
face the wrath of a man of the Cov... Covenant?"

	"The' Covenenn..."  Ector snorted through a gulp.  "Not th' Covenenn,
th' new youn' wi'shwoman i'the keep."

	"You think too much of witchwomen, Ector," Ien told him.

	"Hey, th' wi'shwoman tookara th' lor...an' th' Eklek'on tookara th'
magik'a th' gypsies.  No danger now.  Ev'r'thin's fine now..."  He
sounded bitter.

	"You still want that woman?" Bran asked dreamily.

	Ector glared.

	Ien tried to avoid trouble by snapping his fingers for another pitcher. 
"Whose turn?" he laughed.

	Ector and Bran still locked gazes.

	"You still say there's wi'shes on th' mo'ntin?" Ector sneered.  "Demons
wi' fire from th' pit?  Wi' haylof' wi'shes an' drunk'n demons..."

	For once, Bran was drunk enough, or had been humiliated enough, that he
answered with a challenge of his own.  "We could go up the mountain
again, the four of us.  We can see if there are demons there.  With the
protection of th' Eklekton--" He broke into a sudden hiccup, followed by
a snigger.  "--we should be safe.  An' maybe we'll find your little gypsy
bitch, see if there's anythin' you can teach her...   We c'n learn from
you too..."  His eyes crossed and uncrossed as he stared into his mug,
then drained it unsteadily.

	"Hey..." Ien tried to interrupt.

	Ector guffawed viciously.  "Mebbee.  An' mebbee we fin' th' demons ya
say 'r up th're som'ere."

	"We can go mad together, and chase gypsy bitches for the rest of our
lives, and never worry about anythin' again, even when they drag us to
the spear for offering ourselves to witchwomen and demons..."  Bran
laughed dementedly.

	"Les go."

	Too many challenges and insults had been delivered.  Dangerously drunk,
Ector and Bran rose from the table.  Balan threw down a coin purse and
got up to stagger after his friend.   Ien, least drunk of the foursome,
felt he had no choice but to go with them.


		Chapter Seven


	Mulciber made his third trip to the landing zone from the mining camp. 
On the return, he made a side trip to the main encampment for check-in
and a personal report to Captain Hannibal.  Apollo, Croft, Anubis, and
Tammuz  were also present for the briefing -- Apollo because he was in
charge of the expedition, Croft and Anubis because they'd been at the
meeting to discuss possible rescue and robbery scenes, Tammuz simply
because he had been there when the miner appeared out of the darkness in
his silent hovercraft.  At the late centar, there were only a few others
still awake and about, outside of the group at Siduri's fire, and they
were mostly Security guards -- who were obviously lax in their duty,
since Mulciber's arrival had gone unreported until he actually drove into
view.  Apollo and Croft both hoped the team watching the keep for Cassie
were more alert.

	Mulciber was concerned about Cassie's capture, and promised to keep his
people extra alert, but when the talk turned to his part in the mission,
he brightened considerably.

	"It's very high quality bastnasite," he reported enthusiastically.  "I
figure, and the major agrees, that we've filled over half our current
needs, and we should be able to fill the rest in a short time, now that
we have the equipment set up and have settled into a routine."

	Mulciber passed around several samples of rock.  Hannibal studied the
material intently.  The other were less interested; Apollo barely glanced
at his rock before passing off to Tammuz.

	"Beautiful," Hannibal agreed.

	"Very nice," was Tammuz's disinterested comment.

	"It's not gneiss, it's schist!" the miner replied with feigned
indignation; his dark eyes gleamed.

	The warriors looked startled, but Hannibal choked and cut in quickly
with, "I don't think we're talking about this on the same level.  Apollo,
I can take care of this if you'd care to bow out..."

	"No, I should be here, even if I don't understand it all.  Uh, Tammuz,
do you...?"

	The younger warrior was still glowering at Mulciber.

	"Sorry, kid," the engineer finally relented.  "I've got a one-track mind
at times, I heard what made sense at the moment."

	"Right."  Tammuz stalked away with what dignity he had left.

	"So, Mulciber.  How is everything at the site?  Good vein?  Playing
well?" Hannibal inquired after a discrete cough.

	"Oh, wonderfully.  I don't think I've ever worked an easier mine!  Of
course, in the Colonies and most of our usual sources, we've been working
the sites for a number of yahrens, so the more easily accessed ores have
long ago been removed and processed."

	"Any sign of the locals in your area?"

	"Nope.  Not a trace.  No habitations, no footpaths, no campfires.  Just
us up there."

	"Personnel morale?  Any problems with two dozen people working and
living in close proximity on this world?"

	"None!  It's amazing.  Of course, this is a beautiful place, and we
picked people we knew could function well together for extended time
periods.  You have to recall, too, that my team has worked together many
times in the past; we know our own limits and safety valves."

	"And the ores themselves?  How about trace elements?  I recall Euclid
mentioning something--"

	"Yes!"  Mulciber waxed enthusiastic again.  "Marvelous percentages! 
Euclid reports they're able to use the ores with a minimum of refinement
necessary.  In fact, they've already begun growing the oxide crystals, so
they'll soon have the Viper fleet restocked, along with the -Galactica-'s
main laser turrets.  And they've discovered some interesting
characteristics in the yttrium ores in particular.  We may in fact have
discovered a new trace element..."

	Relieved at knowing their Vipers were almost combat-ready again, rapidly
becoming lost in the engineerese, preoccupied with anger at Sheba and
worry about Cassiopeia, and what they were going to do to help their med
tech, Apollo found himself tuning out.  The rustling of leaves in the
evening breeze left an indelible mark on his memory, and turned the words
to an unintelligible jumble before drowning them out entirely.  The scent
of something newly blooming carried in the breeze almost like an
intoxicant.  He discovered he was very tired, and left the others to
their specialty.  Croft took the opportunity to disappear as well,
leaving only the enigmatic Anubis with the engineers.

		* * *

	Four drunken rustics staggered through the woods, encountering no one in
the solemn night, disturbing only a few night birds and foraging rodents.
 They finally stopped in the shadows around the gypsy camp, miraculously
unheard and unseen.

	Bran pointed blearily at the silent *thing* floating easily above the
ground.  "There!"

	It had dim red lights more like feline eyes than torches gleaming on all
sides of it.  Its sides looked like wood, and were painted like a gypsy
wagon, but there were no oxen or horses to pull it, and no gypsy wagon
ever floated above the ground with eyes from the Pit.

	 Several gypsy men stood around it with the ease and familiarity a man
might show a favorite cow or ox.  Some of them had been seen in town. 
One of the others was the patriarch of the gypsies, from the way he was
treated by the others, and the younger man with him was probably his son,
to be leader in future days.  The most brightly-dressed man was a
stranger.  The other man was the one who'd been with the woman the first
night they'd come, the one she called Croft.  Ector saw red.

	"The demons," Bran stated clearly and almost too loudly.  Ien clapped a
hand over his mouth in fright that they be discovered.

	The fairest-haired of the men left in apparent dudgeon, disappearing
into the woods near them.

	"He wuz wi' ona th' bi'shes...shoulda brough' ma knife..." Ector 
slurred in rage.  His fingers twitched as if considering disposing of the
lone stranger in another fashion.  Balan nodded determinedly and groped
for the weapon he wasn't carrying either.

	"No!" Ien whispered tensely; attempted murder might wake the caravan,
and it would become far more likely that four villagers would vanish,
unquestioned on a night like this.  "Let's tell the Eklekton.  Let's get
out of here before the demon discovers us."

	"What I been saying since Dark Moon," was Bran's self-righteous and
disgusted comment, muffled by his friend's hand.

	They froze as two others detached from the group around the demon-thing
-- the dark-haired younger leader and the scarred man, Ector's personally
chosen worst enemy.  They vanished into tents, leaving only three gypsies
in sight.

	"We coul' take 'em now..." Balan offered helpfully.

	"No!  We tell the Arxon and the Eklekton.  Let them send guards and
kalanthros.  It's their duty to per'tect us from evil."  In panic, Ien
shoved Bran along the path, then grabbed Ector's arm and began dragging
him away, knowing Balan would follow.  He had to get his friends out of
here before they were all caught and murdered -- or worse. 

		* * *

	They broke up early around the campfire.  Siduri watched Jolly pack away
his piob, and Mikal his bodhran.  They were the only ones who had played
that night.  No one else had been in the mood, and except for several
repeated renditions of "Caprica the Brave" and "Braeland Reel," a lively
dance tune known to be one of Cassiopeia's favorites, most of the music
had been on the melancholy side.

	She glimpsed Boomer crossing the camp.

	"Boomer!" she called softly.

	He heard, of course, and paused.  "Yes?"

	A few quick steps brought her to him.  "Wait up, I need to talk to
you..."

		* * *

	Ien forced his staggering friends through the haunted forest, stumbling
through that fateful night.  The fresh breeze woke him, a little, enough
to keep him going, keep him thinking.  They'd found out where the evil
was...if they lived to bring home the tale.  He kept Bran moving, looking
back any time Ector and Balan stopped alternately muttering curses
against the gypsies, threats at what they were going to do in the
morning, and pleas for divine intervention to protect them.  Silence
meant they were slipping behind or stopping, and he couldn't let them
fall behind.  Whatever was behind them, whatever demon magick the gypsies
had, might find them, catch up to them.

	Somehow he kept them stumbling along.

	"Tell the Eklekton..." he repeated to himself, straining to see through
the trees ahead of them.  That had become the mantra that kept him
focused when his drunken body wanted to drop where he stood, and sleep. 
He gasped in a deep breath, hoping the breeze would clear his head a
little more, wishing it would do the same for his friends.  They'd been
fools that night, they'd drunk too much of Palamar's ale, they should
never have gone up the mountain.

	Patriarch save him, tomorrow would be hell.  Ector might be the mayor's
son, and therefore somewhat limited in his current responsibilities, and
Bran, as the blacksmith's son, had some flexibility, but he would have to
be at work in the morning, and Kai would have his hide if he wasn't back
at the keep by morning to join the rest of the foresters.  He would have
to be there by sunrise...and ready to work...  He needed to sleep, his
body and brain cried out in anguish against the continuing tramp through
the woods.

	He tried to keep a memory of the demon-spawn creature foremost in his
thoughts; fear kept him moving.  The memory seemed to shift as they got
closer to town, seemed less fearful as the wild woods gave way to
orchards and good farm land, softly rippling in the breeze with the
year's so-far robust crops of fruits, grains, tubers, and vegetables.

	They were safe, they were out of the woods, but they had to get to the
keep.  Ien felt adrenaline slowing, exhaustion winning.

	"We're safe now, c'n we slo' down...?" he heard Bran demand
aggressively.

	"We got to tell the Eklekton..."

	A shape suddenly appeared in front of them in the night, dark and
menacing, its face rippling in eerie light.

	"Tell him what?"

	The four gaped at the apparition.  It moved closer.

	"You will say nothing."  The deep voice rumbled with threat and anger. 
"Or all will pay."

	There was no safety.  With assorted whimpers and open-mouthed stares,
all four fainted away.

		* * *

	The night was interminable.  Starbuck had never felt so helpless, nor so
uncertain of his feelings.  He stared out into the darkness, not really
seeing anything, his entire body poised to move, but with no idea what to
do or where to go.

	Cassiopeia.

	They couldn't just sit up here and do nothing.

	Yet that seemed to be exactly what they were doing.  The camp was quiet
now, but all night, it seemed, he'd heard music, Jolly and Mikal, playing
just as if nothing were wrong.  Maybe there had been fewer people around
the fire, listening and talking, but it still seemed very callous to him.
 She was down there somewhere, with who-knew-what happening to her;
everyone should be worrying.  But everyone was trying to act normal.

	At this moment, the only thing that mattered to him was having
Cassiopeia back, safe and sound.  The shadows matched his thoughts. 
Worry gnawed at his gut and twisted him up in knots.  He hadn't been able
to eat; he knew he wouldn't be able to sleep.  He had to do something.

	But he couldn't.  He was ordered to stay in camp, for now, while Apollo
and Hannibal came up with a plan; and if he knew Reese, the man would be
gleefully waiting for the chance to pounce the micron Starbuck disobeyed
that order to wait.  He couldn't help Cassie if he were locked up or
ordered back to the -Galactica-, so he had to obey, though all his
instincts protested.

	"Wanna talk, Starbuck?"

	He barely moved at Jolly's quiet words.

	"Sorry, Jolly, not really."

	"Missed you at the fire."

	He shrugged.  "Wasn't in the mood for company."

	"We're all worried about Cassie."  A hand rested on his shoulder for a
moment.

	He squared his shoulders against that touch, unwilling to admit...what? 
"Thanks, buddy.  But I'm fine."

	"If you say so."  Pause.  "See you later, then."

	"Yeah."  That was the most he could acknowledge, at the moment.

	Jolly left, and he was alone again.

		* * *

	Starbuck didn't realize it, but Athena was only a dozen paces away, her
body hidden beside one of the huge-trunked trees, staying to the dark
side opposite the feeble light of their few campfires.  She watched him,
her expression thoughtful, if he could have seen it.  She heard his
rejection of Jolly's offer, and watched the big man walk away.  She
wasn't surprised; there were a lot of things Starbuck didn't share,
verbally, at least.  She knew that from the yahrens of her relationship
with him, and his friendship with her brother for yahrens before that.

	After that, Starbuck just stood there for a long time.  He was still,
far too still.  For Starbuck to simply *stand*, without fidgeting,
without reaching for a fumarello, was wrong.  A breeze caught his hair,
blowing it across his forehead and into his eyes.  He didn't even try to
brush it away, as if he didn't notice.  A gust of the wind caught his
kilt too, lifting it almost indecently.  He didn't seem to notice that
either.

	She pushed back her own hair, caught in the same blossom-scented breeze.

	She knew who he was thinking about.

	After a while, she quietly slipped away and returned to her tent.

		* * *

	It was a night from hades and Sheba thought it would never end.  She
stared up sleeplessly at the tent roof, feeling every pebble and blade of
grass through the sleepsack and the padded floor beneath it.  Her eyes
burned with weariness and pent-up emotion.  She'd started out the night
tossing and turning, but the third time she woke up Brie and Hebe --
Athena had switched tents without a word of explanation given or needed,
and Siduri hadn't come in yet -- her two remaining tentmates had
threatened to throw Sheba out if she woke them again.  After that, she'd
forced herself to lie still.

	After blowing up at Apollo, she'd managed to keep busy the rest of the
day, giving herself very little time to think about what she'd said or
the frozen expression on his face afterward.  She'd seen the man several
times -- how could anyone avoid anyone else for long in the small camp?
-- but he'd rather pointedly looked through her and gone in different
directions.  Not a word had been exchanged.

	Athena's absence from the tent reminded her that she'd thrown a few
words that way too, which were obviously not going to be immediately
forgiven.  She knew how close Athena was to her father -- closer than she
had been to Cain, much as she hated to admit it.  Adama frequently turned
to Athena for support and to share his thoughts.  For Commander Cain,
Sheba was his baby and his prize warrior -- his proof, she thought
bitterly, that his genes were as good as his tactics.  But she wasn't an
adult equal to be consulted and leaned upon, not really, not like Adama
consulted and leaned on Athena, now that his wife was gone.

	She realized that Athena played the role for Adama that she had once
wanted to play for Cain -- the role she had hated Cassiopeia for
assuming, for so long.  Yes, Adama wanted to protect his daughter, but at
least he listened to her in other things, he turned to her for comfort,
they still had each other...

	Her lip twitched, and she forced back the tears that threatened, again,
to spill out.

	In spite of her promise to lie still, Sheba rolled over to her stomach,
burying her face in the small thin pillow, crossing her arms under it so
she wouldn't feel like she was banging her face directly against the
ground.

	She was miserable.  The day and the situation seemed to cave in on her
completely.  She regretted what she'd said to Apollo and Athena.  She
missed her father.  None of her relationships gave her what she wanted. 
She knew temper and pride were her banes, and she'd let both get away
from her, she'd lost control.  Something in her felt awful about what
she'd said, and the way she'd said it -- taking her frustration out on a
friend, alienating the man she cared for, using her dead -- <only absent?
 Oh, Lords, make it so!> -- father's name as a weapon to wound.

	Something else in her rebelliously argued against guilt, telling her
that her father would never have treated her as though she were
incompetent, reminding her that she'd been confined to camp after proving
she was quite capable of taking care of herself, that her best friend was
being held prisoner and she was denied the right to help save her, that
Apollo didn't seem to care about her feelings, and why should she care
about him or his feelings when anger was the only way to get through to
him?

	Her feelings.  They were a roiling whirlpool of anger, grief,
frustration, guilt, regret, and a childish desire to run to Apollo's tent
right now and say she was sorry and didn't mean it -- as she would have
done to her father, after a tantrum.  But how would Apollo react?  If
today was any indication, he wouldn't even notice she was there, even if
she tried to apologize, she concluded mournfully.

	She could apologize and explain to Athena tomorrow or the next day, and
they would work it out between them, but Apollo...

	She sighed heavily and flopped over to her back again.

	"*Get out!*" she heard two growls in unison, at the same time receiving
an elbow in her ribs from Hebe.

	Gathering up her sleepsack and extra blanket, Sheba left the tent.

	It was a clear night with no danger of rain.  The air was delightfully
scented, enough that she noticed it through her emotions, but not enough
to soothe them.  It was merely another sign that this world delighted in
tormenting her.  Sheba found a spot near one of the banked campfires, and
finally fell asleep there, half under the peering stars and half under a
concealing shrub, wallowing in the added self-pity of having been exiled
by her remaining friends on a world that insisted on going on without
her.

		* * *

	Nidaba woke up suddenly, reflexively batting in alarm at the hand over
her mouth.

	"It's all right, Nia.  Are you awake?"

	Even half-awake, she relaxed at the familiar whisper.  Anubis.  But it
wasn't morning, it was still dark--

	"Nia?" he whispered again, still with one hand over her mouth, nudging
her shoulder with the other.

	She woke up enough to nod her head.  He shifted.

	"Come on."

	The tent flap opened with a rustle.  She caught a glimpse of stars
before it closed again.

	Slithering out of her sleepsak, Nia crawled toward the opening.  Diedre
grumbled and rolled over when she accidentally kicked her in passing, but
didn't wake up.  Nia was more careful the rest of the way.

	She stooped under the flap and stepped outside.  It was cool for a
summer night, and she wrapped her arms around herself in the light
breeze.  She wondered if she should have grabbed a blanket.  But it was
brighter than she expected, and the first deep breath was a perfume that
made her want to laugh and run just for the sake of running.  The fires
had burned down to little more than coals, but the stars were more
brilliant than she remembered them being.  It was bright enough for a
person to see where she was walking -- and maybe even running -- without
stumbling.

	"Care to go for a walk?"  Anubis materialized beside her.

	"A walk?"  Despite the air, she couldn't stifle a yawn.

	"I need to talk to you."

	"About what?"  She yawned again, but was rapidly becoming alert.  "At
this time of night?"

	"It's the only time there's any privacy around this place."  He took her
arm and began leading her away from the tents.

	"But..."  Nia blinked herself fully awake.  His arm on her hers was
warm, but she felt a tingling from the touch, all the way down to her
toes.  She suddenly didn't want him to let go.  "But security won't let
us."

	"I already told Reese to mind his own business.  He agreed."

	"What'd you do, threaten to break his arm?"

	"Something like that."  She could see his smile in the starlight.  It
was warmer than his touch, and his dark eyes seemed to be staring back at
her from inside her own soul.  "I need to talk to you.  Alone."

	She let him pull her along, away from the camp.  They were barely into
the first grove of trees before he pulled her into his arms and into a
passionate kiss.  To her surprise, she discovered she'd been expecting
it, and in delicious anticipation, returned it.

	He was the one who broke away.  "First things first..." he breathed.

		* * *

	Morning came with memories of music floating down from the hills. 
Cassiopeia woke to slanted rays of sunrise across her bed and in her
eyes; the memory dissipated like mist in that sun.  Since it was high
summer, the centar was early, but she heard footsteps and voices outside
her room that indicated the keep was in full swing for the day. 
Stretching, she glanced around the stone walls of her room.  A tower
room, simple and plain, but fairly near the lord's chambers, airy,
bright, and far better than what the eklekton had planned to give her --
he'd sputtered about a dungeon cell, but the castellan had insisted she
be treated with some respect, at least until they had a better idea of
Uthor's condition.

	She slipped out from under the rough coverlet and almost tumbled out of
the bed, having forgotten how high the mattress really was.  Rubbing a
stubbed toe, she hopped to the old clay washtub and washed as best she
could with the tepid water and no soap -- these people had a lot to
relearn about personal hygiene, and she thought with longing of a nice
turboshower on the -Galactica-, perhaps with a companion.

	Thinking of Starbuck, she giggled, then frowned, recalling that Athena
was probably making the most of her absence.

	If it really mattered.

	She had shrugged into the petticoats, blouse, and skirt of her costume,
and was working on her stockings and boots when there was a knock at the
door.  An older, work-and-weather-worn woman entered without waiting for
a response, and set a tray on the washtable.

	"Your breakfast, witchwoman," she stated with mingled awe and
nervousness.
 "Thank you, Moriathe, but I believe I'll check on Arxon Uthor first." 
It was better than facing the heavy-looking, lumpy concoction in the
bowl.

	"As you wish."

	"Was this boiled as I instructed?" she asked, picking up the cup of
water.

	"It was, as was all the water using for drinking, and the pots and
spoons were boiled clean too."  Moriathe sounded mystified by the strange
order, but Cassie was satisfied.  Boiling the drinking water and the
utensils used in food preparation might not be enough in a world where
most cooking, bathing, drinking, washing, swimming, and livestock water
came from the same sources, but if it saved even one person in the keep
from a bacterial illness or a recurring infection, it was worth it.

	Cassiopeia descended two levels of stairs to Uthor's room, ignoring the
guard who'd been stationed at her door, and who followed her at a
none-too-discrete distance.

	Castellan Kai stood before the door.  "Good morning, healer," he said
gravely.  "I trust you slept well?"

	"Quite," she smiled graciously.  "How was Lord Uthor's rest?"

	"Peaceful."

	The room, facing west, was still shrouded in shadows.  A quick glance at
one of the windows showed it was undisturbed; her medkit was still safely
hidden.  In the bed, a young man still slept, breathing heavily.  She
finally took a good look at him as she leaned close to check his pulse
and heartbeat.

	<Kobol, he's rather handsome when he's not at death's door,> she thought
with unexpected pleasure.  Longish dark brown hair, full matching beard
and mustache, carefully trimmed despite his illness, strong but not
overwhelming cheek and brow lines, narrow, even nose.  He was thin from
the reaction-illness to the allergy, but there was more color in his face
and shoulders already, and she thought he would fill out quite well, when
the last of the myris had been flushed from his system and he'd had time
to recover.

	With Kai present, she couldn't use any of her advanced medical
equipment, so she pulled back the blanket.  She heard a sharp intake of
breath behind her, but ignored it.

	As she'd expected, the muscles of Uthor's upper body suggested strength
and easy grace.  She rested her ear on his chest to monitor his
heartbeat, at the same time checking the pulse at his throat with a free
hand.

	"Healer!"  Kai pulled her back, shocked.

	Startled, she blinked at him.  "What's wrong?"

	He stammered, drawing together his dignity while glancing at the pair of
young, wide-eyed soldiers in the doorway.  "Your...a woman's
sensibilities...  Why, only a lover or a wanton..."  He hastily
rearranged the blanket.

	"Don't be ridiculous!  I'm a...a healer.  I have to check my patient."

	"But...but..." he stuttered, more amazed at her matter-of-fact attitude.

	"Kai," chuckled a deep voice from the bed, "I have felt a woman's hair
lying across my body before, and I rather like it.  Let the fair one tend
me."

	"Uthor!"

	Sleepy eyes, brown as rich warm earth, focused on Cassiopeia with
obvious approval.  A smile played on an animated, sensual mouth.

	"I'm hungry, Kai.  Send for some breakfast."

	"At once, lord!"  Kai grabbed the young man's hand and kissed it quickly
before moving to the door, catching Cassie's arm as he did so, intending
to pull her out with him.

	"Is this the witchwoman I heard you say you would summon?  The one who
saved my life?"

	"She is, lord..."

	"Leave her with me."

	"As you wish."  Kai glanced at her once more, torn between worry and
relief, then hurried out, calling for servants, drawing the two soldiers
out with him.

	Uthor glanced at her lazily, then moved to sit up.  Reflexive concern
pulled her close to help him, and he chuckled again at her touch on his
shoulders.  "So, fair one to whom I believe I owe my life, what is your
name?"

	"Cassie."  She knew those presuming tones, and just how to handle them,
whether to encourage or to chill.  Under the circumstances, she decided a
certain neutrality was best for the moment.  However, she couldn't stop
the easy smile or the faint flush that pinkened her cheeks.  Uthor saw,
and smiled more broadly, to her consternation.

	There was a commotion at the door.

	"My lord Uthor!" boomed forth in icy thunder.

	"My lord Eklekton Padryce," Uthor responded jovially.  "How good of you
to come see me so early in the morning.  But as I think you might see, my
healer tends me, and I have not yet eaten.  Will you have services at the
regular hour?  I believe I shall be able to attend them, I feel so well. 
And we may speak later."

	Padryce hadn't expected any such response -- the weakness of a man on
the verge of death, yes; meek subservience, yes; perhaps even the vacant
eyes of a doomed, bespelled creature.  But not strength and a smile and
dismissal.  He glared at the Colonial med tech.

	"The witchwoman--"

	"Is my healer, and has preserved my life from a dreadful malady."

	Eyes met in silent competition.  Shocked, Padryce drew back slightly.  A
look at Cassie, and his eyes narrowed in understanding.  The lord, with
his reputation for the ladies, found the witchwoman attractive.

	"I will speak with you after services," he snapped, then turned and
stalked out.

	Cassie understood that look, too.  Padryce saw her as an even greater
threat than before, and intended harm to her, as he had the night before
-- even more, because for some reason he saw her as a rival to him,
ridiculous as she found the very thought.  But Uthor found her
attractive, and wanted her near him.  Would he protect her from the
eklekton's rage?  His gaze rested on her admiringly -- and with the
self-confidence that proclaimed successful experience.  She wondered if
her position was safer or more tenuous with his personal interest.

	<At least he's still too weak to try anything, but a few more days...>

	Kai reappeared at the door, a laden servant in tow.  The servant settled
a tray on a small table, and the steams and aromas of a substantial
repast filled the room.

	"I'll check that," Cassie insisted before they could set the lord's
table.

	"We have a taster," Kai said hastily, pointing to a second servant.

	Her glance was withering.  Poison wasn't what concerned her, but she let
the other man taste everything while she looked it over.

	"There's myris in this!" she suddenly exclaimed, spotting the
finely-ground red-brown powder still being absorbed into the breakfast
grainmush.

	"The lord is fond--"

	"I told you last night, that's what made him sick!  I thought I made
that clear to you and the cook.  Uthor, you cannot eat myris -- it makes
you ill and it nearly killed you!  Would you please consider--"

	He stared at her.  "Myris?  The spice?"

	"Yes!  And don't ask me to explain how.  Some people simply cannot eat
myris, it's an illness called an *allergy*, and it means you can't be
exposed to certain foods or substances, like this spice."

	"Allergy."  The word rolled around in Uthor's thoughts for a moment. 
Then he waved the tray away.  "I feel better this morning than I have
felt in many days.  No myris, if my healer ordains it.  Bring something
else."

	He smiled as if he'd done something to win her favor, and she groaned
inside.  He was going to be worse than Paye at his absolute lowest...

	"My healer must remain to see that my food is good," Uthor announced. 
"Let the menu be of her choosing from now on.  And only from her hands
will I feel safe taking food."

	<Much worse,> she concluded.

		* * *

	Padryce returned to his chambers, his shoulders rigid and his expression
cold.  It was intolerable.  That woman remained in the keep, with free
access to the arxon's chamber and person -- and no doubt soon his bed and
body as well, if he knew Urthor.  He had no expectation that the woman
would turn down such an opportunity.

	How could she have saved his life, when no physickian and no thaumaturge
sanctified by the Covenant had been able to save Uthor's father and
brother?  He paced the floor.  This could not be endured.  He had to show
the arxon what kind of creature that magicker really was.

	Padryce stopped at the window slit, peering out into the bright morning.
 At this early hour, he could see the long shadows still cast by a bright
sun.

	<Such brightness should drive evil into its burrows until the return of
night,> he thought grimly.  <The Great Father did not give us days like
these for demons to flourish.  I must find a way to fight the evil that
has taken hold here.  It killed Ambros and Gareth, it tried to take Uthor
as well.  This woman...she knew how Uthor was dying -- how could she
know, unless she had communion with the evil that caused it?  Whatever
she may have done, she cannot be anything but evil, she is not a daughter
of the Covenant.  I must find-->

	"My lord Eklekton, it is almost time for morning ablutions," a
respectful voice interrupted.

	The eklekton schooled his features to calm before turning to the
acolyte.  "Thank you, Kyot.  I will be with you momentaily."

	The youth nodded respectfully, and began bowing his way out.

	"Kyot."

	"My lord Eklekton?"

	"The weather...does it appear the drought continues?"

	"It does, my lord.  The sky is cloudless.  There is no wind," the youth
replied respectfully.  "The old people wake each day hoping their joints
will ache with the coming of rain, but they are as spry as children."

	"The people will suffer if the drought continues much longer," the
eklekton said thoughtfully.

	"The people say the orchards and fields are starting to wither, and the
cows and pigs are reduced in their milk because the pastures and woods
are not replenishing them, for scarcity of water."

	Padryce stared over the boy's head for a moment.  Then he said, "Tell
the Arxon's man that we will offer prayers for rain for his people, on
the quarter-moon."

	The acolyte nodded.  "I will."

	Kyot padded out again, as silently as he'd entered.

	Padryce had the beginning of a plan.  Break the drought.  Rain would be
the first step to cleansing this place.  It would bring new life.  Heal
the people as well as the arxon.  Then he would deal with the other
evils, with the gypsies on the mountain, and the woman who had taken
Uthor in thrall...

		* * *

	Apollo hadn't slept at all well.  He had too much on his mind.  As if
Cassie's captivity in the keep weren't enough to gnaw at his thoughts,
add the discovery that these people were of the Thirteenth Tribe, and
that proof of it rested in the custody of the eklekton who hated anyone
who appeared to challenge his power and position.

	To ensure his sleeplessness, throw in Hannibal's past as an Intelligence
operative, and his amazement that his father, too, had functioned as an
operative, before his marriage and the birth of his children -- the
warrior had occasionally been called upon to contribute his mental
disciplines to those of others, in obscure, classified experiments that
Hannibal stated frankly he still would not discuss, for many reasons both
personal and supposedly for the public good.

	With Hannibal was Anubis, another...spy, and more -- a product of other
ongoing government research over the last two centuries, one experiment
among many that had actually accomplished something of what it had been
intended to do.

	And the Fleet waited above, low on essential supplies and perhaps
vulnerable to attack at this very micron.

	He deliberately refused to acknowledge that Sheba's outburst of the day
before might have had anything to do with his restless night.

	<Priorities,> he reminded himself.  The first priority still had to be
resupplying.  Then, somehow, they had to keep track of the med tech's
moves and status in the keep, and find a way to sneak in and steal the
ancient books.  As long as Cassie was safe, they could hardly do anything
until they were ready to leave the planet, since their actions would
undoubtedly draw attention they didn't want, and perhaps retribution from
the local authorities.  Hannibal and Anubis really weren't problems --
they were in fact assets -- but it was amazing how much he had never
known about his own government's methods of operation among their own
people as well as on other worlds...

	Leaning moodily against the tree, he ignored his half-eaten breakfast. 
So many things seemed very petty with everything that was at stake.  He
pulled a few blades of tall grass, rolling them idly between his fingers.

	Boomer joined him, entirely too frisky.  "Morning, Apollo.  You look
like somebody who spent the night curled up with one of the Alchemist's
bottles, and now you're enduring the after-effects."

	"I'd *feel* better if I'd spent the night curled up with one of his
bottles," the captain acknowledged wryly.  "It's not a hangover.  I
didn't sleep well.  A lot on my mind..."

	"Again?  And here I thought that even you were beginning to unwind a
little."

	His raised eyebrows asked the question.

	"Water sports, spending time in the nightly songfests, flirting with
Siduri occasionally, laughing a little once in a while -- you even
admitted to having a hangover.  You're acting human, picking up a few
vices."

	"Wonderful.  Just what I need, some vices to complicate my life."

	"You could take lessons from Starbuck," Boomer suggested with another
wide grin.

	"He's got enough problems these days.  He doesn't need me following him
around taking notes!"  Apollo laughed outright.

	"Yeah, between Athena and Cassie and that Security officer and...and
speaking of Cassie, any news?"

	"Nothing since last night."

	"Any progress on a rescue plan?"

	"Not yet, Boomer."  Apollo stared at him very intently.  "We're counting
on you, buddy.  You've got village duty today; keep your ears open down
there.  Don't start anything, but pass along everything that might be
useful, anything that might have the slightest connection to Cassie or to
us."

	"You know me better than that, Apollo.  What about Starbuck?  He can't
be taking this well."

	"He's not.  But like Sheba, Starbuck is now on special assignment in
this camp, for the time being.  I don't want him causing any trouble. 
The villagers don't know Cassie is one of us, and we'd prefer to keep it
that way, for now."

	Boomer's expression was now more grim, his eyes solemn.  Apollo was glad
his steady friend was along.  He needed the long yahrens of proven
friendship between them.  He needed somebody he could trust absolutely,
somebody he also knew wouldn't let his emotions dictate his actions. 
There was too much at stake for any personal distrust or feelings to
color decisions.

	Boomer thought for a moment, then made up his mind and asked, "Apollo,
how about Sheba?"

	The grass dropped, unnoticed, from suddenly still fingers.  After a
moment of astonished silence, Apollo responded, "What about her?"

	Boomer chose his words carefully.  "It's pretty well known that she blew
up at you yesterday--"

	"I don't think that's anybody's business," he answered coldly.

	"No, probably not.  But that doesn't make it any less known and
whispered about."  He studied his captain.  "You've been pretty testy on
this mission, about some things."

	"I thought you just got done saying I was developing some healthy
vices."

	"Other than those vices.  You were temperamental, even before this
mission.  Ever since we took on that basestar."

	"Boomer--"

	"You and Starbuck both.  It's like you're ready to jump out of your
skins if someone says boo."

	Apollo studied his half-empty plate, not meeting his friend's eyes. 
"Just because I may have been a little preoccupied with our current
problems -- and I would think the safety of the fleet because of a raw
materials shortage would preoccupy everyone--"

	"And what's Starbuck's excuse?"

	"Is this going somewhere, Boomer?"

	Boomer stared at the ground for a moment, then sighed and looked him
straight in the eye.  "Apollo, I know that just before the basestar
mission, Sheba talked to you about her feelings -- and I know Cassie
talked to Starbuck about hers.  They've...shared.  Since then, you guys
have been acting different.  You're avoiding Sheba like a plague, and
Starbuck acts like he's trying to set a new galactic record for notches
on his holster."

	"I have not been avoiding her."  Apollo grabbed his utensil, and,
focusing intently on his plate, scooped up a spoonful of the morning
grainmush and lifted it toward his mouth.

	"Have you been alone with Sheba?  Have you really sat and talked?"

	The spoon paused.  "Talked?  About what?  How great her father is?  How
unfair and insensitive I am?" he asked sarcastically.  "I don't have to
talk with her about that -- she tells anybody and everybody who'll
listen.  And that's not a topic I care to discuss."

	"Have you discussed your feelings?"

	The spoon dropped, bounced off the plate, and spattered mush on Apollo's
leg and the grass.

	"My feelings?"  Taken aback, he stared at Boomer.

	Boomer shifted to one foot, ready to stand up.  "Look, buddy, I don't
know what you feel, and I'm certainly not going to try to tell you what
you *should* feel, because it's not my life.  But Sheba cares about you. 
That was obvious even before the mission.  She took a chance on telling
you, and now she's hurting, that's why she's reacting the way she is. 
And I can see you're hurting.  If you don't love her, let her down easy
-- she's my friend as well as yours -- and you can both move on.  But if
you *do* love her, well, it's time to think about what you want."

	"What I want?" he repeated numbly.

	"Yeah.  Well, like I said, I'm not gonna tell you what you should be
feeling."  He glanced over at Siduri.  "And right now, I think the
group's waiting to head into town.  See ya later, Apollo."

	"Later," he echoed.

	A nod and quick wristclasp, and Boomer was gone, leaving Apollo alone
with a whirlwind.

		* * *

	"Well?" Siduri asked.  She took Boomer's arm as they headed down the now
well-worn and dusty path that would take them into Farshire.  She held
him back just far enough that they were able to talk without being
overheard.  "Were you able to talk to Apollo?"

	"A little," the dark warrior acknowledged.  "I'm not sure if it made any
impact or not."

	She frowned, her mouth twisting a little to one side.

	"Were you able to talk to Sheba?"

	"No," she admitted, shaking her head.  "She wasn't in the tent last
night, I think she slept outside, and she seems to be avoiding everybody
this morning."

	Boomer acknowledged with a brief nod.  "They're both proud, mostly in
the right way, if you know what I mean, and they're both stubborn, not
always in the right way.  Neither one of them is going to be able to
pretend this never happened."

	Siduri sighed heavily.  "I can understand that.  She was upset before
this, but those were awfully hurtful words she used.  He's hurt and
feeling attacked, she's got to be feeling guilty.  And neither of them
responds well in that situation.  They're both feeling self-righteous
anger and justifying their own actions, and neither one of them will want
to be the first to give..."

	"Apollo's more likely to than Sheba," Boomer commented.

	"Maybe.  On some things."

	They walked in silence for a while.

	"Maybe we should be staying out of this."

	"There's no way we can stay out of this," Siduri shook her head.  "Stuck
down here all together, with another two sectons minimum to go, this kind
of thing...  There's no place they can get away from each other to let
their emotions subside and move past them.  If we let it go, with them
rubbing each other raw every time they see each other, by the time we get
back to the -Galactica- there won't be anything left of their
relationship to save."

	Boomer nodded somberly.

		* * *

	Bran woke up with bright sun in his eyes.  He squinted against the
light.  Great Father, but it hurt!  His head was trying to explode, his
stomach threatened to throw up everything he had eaten in the past
quarter-moon, and he was thirsty...more thirsty than he had ever been in
his life.

	He tried to sit up--

	--And the world spun.  The fruit trees in the orchard began to drift. 
He got queasy trying to watch them.  He was surrounded, they were getting
closer, waving, waving--

	He threw up.  Then again, bile this time.  The third time, there was
nothing left in his stomach, but his body convulsed as it tried to vomit
out the dreadful hangover.  He clutched a handful of weeds to keep
himself in one place, then another handful to wipe his mouth and chin.

	He fell over, feeling sicker than he could ever remember.  His eyes hurt
so bad he couldn't keep them open.  He rolled to face the ground, feeling
some comfort in soil and grass against his cheek -- at least it didn't
spin, and it was cooler than the sun, darker.

	What had he done?  He'd been drinking at the Lazy Ox, late into the
night, he remembered.  None of them had been willing to go home.  Some
unvoiced fear or uncertainty had kept them there...

	What had happened?

	He didn't know.  They'd gone out into the dark, he remembered
that...then only a jumble of bawdy singing -- or was that earlier, at the
Ox? -- firelight -- or was it? -- and fear, a fearful rush through the
woods...then something...  He couldn't pull in the memory.  It retreated
as he tried to make it out, until there was no memory there at all.

	He groaned in misery.  Bad enough to feel like he had died yesterday,
but to not remember why he'd done so or what he'd done later...

	Blearily, he forced his head up to see where he was, and if he was
alone.

	The sun hurt too much.  The world wouldn't stop spinning. He closed his
eyes tightly and dropped his chin to the dirt again.  Another wave of
nausea overtook him and he retched again, his entire body heaving with
the violence of his illness.


	Chapter Eight


	Morning.  And it was another beautiful one, Hannibal thought, studying
the sky, one hand shielding his eyes against the bright sun.  A few wispy
clouds drifted over the mountain to spread out through the wide blue
expanse above him.  Other than those, the sky was clear.  There had been
a time, he recalled, when he was a boy and had lived in the country, when
he'd been able to read the Canceran seasons and weather in every
morning's sunrise.  A hundred yahrens ago, life had been simple, and he'd
never thought of anything beyond the planting and harvesting of his
father's agron fields and knowing every single bovine in their herd.

	As if in response, he heard a distant, familiar bellow -- the call of a
male bovine challenging something in its field.  He felt a wave of
nostalgia at the sound, and an old memory that warned him when bulls
started to threaten like that, it was time to get rid of them before they
really turned dangerous...

	The farm boy was a hundred yahrens gone.

	<How things change,> he thought wryly.   <None of my family would have
expected the path I've followed through life.  They wouldn't have
understood it either.  They were honest people, they expected honesty
from others, they raised all of us to believe our word was our bond and
there was no excuse for deception.  They didn't want me joining the
military, but at least they believed it was an honorable profession. 
They wouldn't have believed all that I've done.>

	Hannibal shook his thoughts clear and continued on his way.

	After observing Siduri and Boomer leading a team toward town, his next
stop was the communications wagon.

	Athena was on duty there; all was in order, as he would expect from
Adama's daughter.  Her emotions might be close to the surface at times,
and she had her mother's temperament, but she knew her job; military
discipline had been good for the impulsive little spitfire.  She reported
all was proceeding well for the -Galactica- and the tylium mining team. 
He double-checked the outgoing reports from Mulciber, Croft, Paye, and
Nidaba, but deliberately didn't scan Apollo's.

	Then he sought out Croft, nominally in charge of the mission's security
team.  He found him with Dr. Paye, a little away from one of the
breakfast fires.

	"So you reported that little escapade last night," he said jovially.

	The two men started; they hadn't seen his approach.

	Croft recovered first.  "Yes."

	Paye looked guilty; he couldn't quite bring his gaze to meet Hannibal's.

	"Do I detect some concerns about it?" Hannibal continued.

	"Not from me," Croft replied with a shrug.

	"Paye?"

	The doctor finally looked up at him.  "I shouldn't have given them those
injections.  Those kids were drunk enough as it was, they probably
wouldn't have remembered anything they might have seen.  We had no
guarantee that the drugs would have the same effect on them as they do on
us.  The human brain is a delicate thing -- and frankly, I'm not
comfortable with using that stuff anyway.  Messing with someone's
memories is...unethical, for you, me, or anyone else."

	"What if they did remember?  What if they talked?  Are you willing to
take that chance, with their culture and our lives at risk?  Are your
personal ethics more important than the psychological survival of a world
and the survival of what remains of the Colonies?"

	"There should have been another way."

	"Are you suggesting we could back out now and undo our presence here?"

	Paye pressed his lips together, his unhappiness clear.

	"It was only a short term memory scrambler, and a very mild one at a
minimum dosage.  As you said, with the alcohol in their systems, it was
enough," Hannibal assured him gently.  "This stuff, as you put it, been
part of our nation's Intelligence arsenal for over fifty years.  We know
what it does to humans on every planet and satellite in the Colonies, and
the effect it has on nearly two dozen intelligent species.  There was no
risk in using it -- and a great deal of risk in not using it."

	Defiance glinted in the medic's eyes for a micron.  "If there had been
risk to them in using it, would you have ordered me to do it anyway?"

	"Yes."

	"I shouldn't have done it.  I should have refused."

	"I would have ordered Croft to do it and sent you back to the
-Galactica- last night, on report and in shackles," Hannibal returned
with brutal frankness and half a smile.  "I will not allow anyone to
endanger this mission and these people for their personal scruples."  He
glanced at Croft, then back at Paye.  "I trust I don't need to remind you
both that you are under strict orders not to discuss last night with
anyone else, now that your reports are made."

	"Understood," Croft replied quietly.

	Paye stared moodily past him.

	"Good," he finished briskly, then smiled.  "See you later, gentlemen." 
He walked away.

* * *

	Croft watched the engineer walk away from them, calling jovial greetings
to various individuals, just as though there had been no confrontation
between him and the doctor.

	"Would you?"

	It took a moment for Paye's question to penetrate his thoughts.  "Hmm?"

	"If I had refused, would you have given those boys the injections?"

	He thought.  "Probably.  But I'm glad you did it."

	"I thought you didn't care for filling those boys up with drugs."

	"I didn't.  But that part wasn't my job."

	The doctor's expression darkened.  Obviously biting back comments, the
man walked away too.

	Croft let him go.  Last night, when Anubis had first pointed out the
four figures in the grove, he had wakened the doctor and two others of
the security team and taken them along to track down the village youths. 
They had been easy to follow, drunk, vocal, and staggering as they had
been -- it was almost a miracle they'd stayed no their feet as long as
they had.  Croft had expected them to pass out long before.  Probably a
sign of just how frightened they had been at what they'd seen, he
concluded.

	Hannibal had caught up with the security team about the time the locals
reached  an orchard outside of town.  With a spectrum lamp to project the
shadow of the already-threateningly-sized and dark-featured Ajax, and
Hannibal projecting his most commanding and awe-inspiring voice, the
foursome had fainted away.  The engineer had ordered the four dragged
further back into the grove, then quietly commanded Paye to inject each
of them with a chemical that would interfere with their short term
memory.

	If Paye had been completely awake, he would likely have objected.

	Croft wasn't quite as cavalier as he'd pretended to Paye.  It would have
been a tough call for him, if he'd harbored any suspicions about the
substance Hannibal had given them to inject the youths with.  As it was,
seeing that one of the locals was the one who'd first accosted Sheba, he
took a bit of satisfaction in knowing the young men were not going to
remember what they'd seen in the Colonial camp.

	He wasn't going to ask where Hannibal had obtained the highly classified
drug, or why he'd brought it on this mission.  He didn't think he wanted
the answer.

	Croft wondered if he should mention it to Apollo, in spite of Hannibal's
order...

* * *

	Boomer's words that morning still echoed through Apollo's mind.  If they
had come from just about anybody else, he would have told that person to
mind his own business.  But from Boomer, he had to take them seriously
and think about them.  The man was more than a friend, and Apollo had
always counted on and trusted his discernment.  That Boomer thought it
necessary to talk to him about it meant he regarded the situation as
significant.

	<"The situation."  What a way to think about a relationship. 
Relationship...well...that might be stretching things...>

	He continued to make his way along the stream, picking his way among the
rocks and tree roots -- the running water came from mountain snow and
from deep springs, and, as he'd already learned, was cold, no matter how
bright and warm the sunshine.


	<It never gets any easier,> he thought.  When he thought about Sheba, so
many things came to mind.  The way they'd met, when she'd nearly shot him
down before realizing he was a warrior too, and leading him back to the
-Pegasus-, where the sight of her holo-picture bowled him over before he
even met her.  Her proud defiance and loyalty whenever anyone mentioned
her father.  Their arguments, from Cain's battle tactics to Starbuck's
relationship with the old wagerer Chameleon, how quick she was to mount
her equine and stare down at the universe.  Yet how quickly he'd come to
depend on her as a friend and fellow warrior, almost as much as Starbuck
and Boomer.  Her sharp tongue, the way she defended herself, her friends
and her father -- and yet, she could admit when she was wrong, set aside
her anger, and open her heart, the way she and Cassie had become almost
sisters, after being rivals.  The hurt and confusion he'd felt when she
turned to Iblis, and the humiliation she'd felt because of it -- she
hadn't talked about it since, avoided any topic that might lead to the
Dark One.  The way her eyes gleamed when she smiled, and the way they'd
melted into his frozen heart when she told him she cared, before he and
Starbuck headed for Baltar's Cylon base ship...

	And suddenly everything had been different.

	Suddenly his emotions were on the edge of something and he wasn't sure
what it was or if he wanted to step over that line.  Suddenly he knew she
had feelings that were waiting for him.

	It had been different with Serina.  Serina hadn't waited.  She had
simply reached for him, and he had been more than willing to respond.

	And thank the Lords he had, for he'd lost her so soon.

	It had been a yahren.  Only.  Already.

	What was he afraid of?

	Being hurt again.  Either by losing another woman like he'd lost Serina
-- and like Karisha, he recalled, another warrior, the first woman he'd
loved as a man, more than the crushes of an adolescent.  She'd been
killed too, by the Cylons.  Or by enduring these kind of accusations and
temper tantrums any time Sheba didn't get her way--

	<No, that's the not the way to think about her.  Not now.  This isn't a
usual situation.  But if we can't live with our behavior and reactions in
unusual situations, when every day now is an unusual situation-->  He
scolded his emotions back under control.  As Boomer would have told him,
this decision had to be made, but it had to be made with a clear head. 
So first, they had to get past what had happened yesterday.  Then he
might be able to look at the situation logically.

	<"Situation."  "Logically.">  Apollo had to laugh ruefully, shaking his
head.  Looking for a logical moment to decide if he was ready for an
emotional reaction.   <Sometimes I'm not surprised she finds me so hard
to deal with.  Why would any woman want to love someone as mixed up as
me!>

	He blew a deep breath.  All right, he would try to set things straight.

* * *

	Sheba had mess duty again.  Confined to camp, most of her chores
involved housekeeping, and she was getting heartily sick of it.  She was
especially tired of washing fruits and vegetables, cooking them, then
washing the pots and pans, and she privately swore to herself that once
she was back on the -Galactica-, she was never going to so much as boil
water again.

	However, as long as Apollo was convinced her "honor" was in danger if
she stepped out of camp, she was stuck with this kind of chores for the
duration -- and since she'd publicly taken Apollo to task for it, she was
convinced there was no way he would back down or change his mind. 
Meanwhile, he seemed to be spending more time with Green Squadron's
captain that she'd expected, and was still looking right through her. 
She told herself she didn't care; she no longer cared about him at all. 
She might regret her choice of words -- <then again, maybe I don't!> --
but it had been inevitable.  It was obvious he didn't care for her the
way she'd thought she cared for him.  Her mistake, but now corrected, she
told herself, after contemplation during a long and mostly sleepless
night.  He was just her commanding officer and an annoyance she had to
endure.

	She yawned and tried to blink the grainy sleepiness from her eyes.  She
decided she would take a nap this afternoon; she needed some sleep, after
tossing and turning more than half the night.  And maybe now she'd stop
dreaming about him, now that she'd seen his true colors.  Grimly stirring
the pot of simmering fruit sauce, she didn't notice the object of her
thoughts beside her.

	"How is it?" Apollo asked unexpectedly.

	She pulled herself together stiffly.  "It'll be about twenty centons
yet, Captain."

	"No ranks, remember?"

	She didn't bother to respond, only stirred more vigorously.

	The silence stretched a few more awkward centons.

	"Do you want something else...*Apollo*?" she finally asked, deliberately
exaggerating his name.

	He looked at her, pursing his lips.  It took nearly a centon of obvious
struggle before he said, "I'm willing to forget about the other day if
you will."

	She almost glared.  Forget?  Forget that she was a prisoner in this
camp?  "No.  I'm stuck here while everybody else is ranging all over the
countryside, enjoying what amounts to shore leave."

	He seemed to consider relenting, and her hopes rose unexpectedly, but
then he shook his head.  "With Cassie a prisoner, I'm not risking anybody
else.  I hoped you would understand that.  Nobody is treating this like
shore leave!"

	"You wouldn't let me leave before this happened.  And now you won't even
let me be involved in saving my best friend!  Sometimes you can be so
insensitive!"

	"Sheba, I'm trying--"

	"Of course, you don't seem to see it as a problem that Siduri leaves the
camp.  Or Nia or Eris or Deidre or Brie or any of the other women on this
expedition."

	Apollo simply walked away without another word.  Unfortunately, she was
not to be left alone for long.

	"Hello, pretty lady."

	She glanced up at Croft.  "What do *you* want?"

	He gestured at the distant Apollo. "I noticed somebody else sent
packing."

	"Why don't both of you just get off my back?"

	"Intriguing possibility.  Think he'd be interested in a threesome?" he
leered.

	She wanted to throw the near-boiling-hot metal pot at him, but the
murderousness suddenly cooled and she was able to smile.  "Oh, I wouldn't
want to interfere between the two of you.  Don't let me stop anything you
have planned!"  She waved the ladle with a vicious airiness that almost
spattered him with the hot sauce.  Croft took that hint and beat a hasty
retreat of his own.

	She stared into the sauce.  Her eyes stung.  She told herself it was
only the steam from the pot, or the smoke from the fire, or from being so
tired.  The despondency of the night before began to well up in her
again, as the sauce began to boil up to the edges of the pan, and just as
furious.  She resumed stirring furiously, wishing she could control her
emotions as easily.

	The sauce slopped over the side.  She hissed as a large smear of light
orange sauce scalded its way down the side of the heavy pan and dripped,
sizzling, into the fire.  The sweet fruit smell turned sickening as the
sauce burned into bits of charcoal ash.

	Muttering to herself, Sheba forced herself to slow her stirring.

	It didn't help.

	A moment later, Sheba asked Hebe to take over her mess duty, and
vanished.

* * *

	"I tried," Apollo muttered to himself.  He felt himself flushing at the
memory of the sneering anger in her shadowed eyes.

	<Insensitive!  Look who's calling who insensitive!  She's not willing to
see things from my perspective at all!  She's not even willing to
consider it!

	<Well, Boomer, I tried!  If she wants to fix things between us, it's up
to her!>

* * *

	The market team had safely returned.  Athena saw them returning, and
quickly ran out to talk to Siduri before the group scattered throughout
camp, under the guise of needing information for her next report.

	"Any news on Cassie?" she demanded, lifting one of the baskets off the
yoke the other woman had been carrying.

	The captain shook her head, and carefully settled the other basket on
the grass, then stretched her arms to work out the shoulder muscle kinks
from the load she'd brought back.  His attention obviously elsewhere,
Boomer slung the emptied yoke over his own, and carried both of the
wooden poles to one of the supply tents.

	"Depends what you consider news, I guess," Siduri told Athena as they
carried the produce baskets toward the circle of cookfires.  "The
villagers are ecstatic about their arxon's sudden recovery, which appears
to be Cassie's doing.  They're less happy with the drought, but the
eklekton has announced some sort of religious ceremony in a couple of
days."

	"Oh.  But nothing about her being locked up or accused of any crimes?"

	Siduri shook her head again.  "Nothing.  Of course, we couldn't go up to
the keep and ask, we just hear what the common people hear and speculate
about."

	"I understand that," Athena nodded agreement.  The women set the baskets
next to the large dairy flasks from the morning expedition.  "So, any
speculation?"

	"Uh..."  Siduri shrugged a little uneasily.  "From what the herders hear
of the rumors from the servants in the keep, the eklekton is furious at
Cassie having helped the arxon.  But the arxon knows he owes her his
life, and supposedly is making sure she's protected.  The
people...support their arxon.  They don't seem to care one way or the
other about Cassie -- which is probably good for her and for us."

	"Well, Starbuck will be pleased to hear she's okay, so far."  Athena 

	The other warrior did a speculative double take.  "I'm sure.  Gotta make
our report...  See you later, Athena."

	"Later," she echoed.

	"Oh."  The woman paused and half turned.  "Will you be back in our tent
tonight, or are you bunking with Omfala's group for the duration?  Leaves
us at half-strength, with you out and Cassie gone."

	"I don't know yet."  She shrugged, with a small, rueful smile.  "I'll
probably be back.  I don't think I care to hear any more...gossip."

	"Oh?"

	"They're teasing Eris about Starbuck, and giving me sideways looks like
they're really trying to provoke me -- except Omfala, of course.  And
everybody heard about Apollo and Sheba yesterday, and they keep hinting
that I should give them details, which I wouldn't do anyway.  Besides,
Deena snores," she finished indelicately.

	Siduri laughed outright.  "So I heard!  But those women are used to it
from bunking together on the -Galactica-.  And I'm not surprised they're
sticking together against us warriors."

	"I suppose that's why they had room in their tent.  See you later."

* * *

	Another gorgeous day.  It had been almost three full sectons since the
Galactica expedition landed on the planet, and it still hadn't rained. 
Colonial instruments detected no precipitation in the immediate future,
although there was a promising front moving toward the mountains from the
south.  Nidaba contemplated the cloudless midday sky and stifled a yawn.

	The last day had been anxious and long, with Hannibal absorbed in his
considerations, Apollo constantly worried and silent with thoughts he
wasn't sharing, Croft wearing a mocking expression that dared anyone to
interrupt his thoughts, and Anubis wearing an expression like a sealed
datacrystal -- unreadable.  She was privy to some of their concerns,
however, and knew what was going through all their minds.  How were they
to rescue Cassie if it became necessary?  Was their med tech in real
danger?  How were they to find the ancient books of Padryce's?  Nia's
hands tingled to touch them, and she longed to read them, to translate
the old words into meaningful history and philosophy.  Everything they
had learned so far paled in the face of that potential knowledge.

	Her last night had been disturbed, too, and she hadn't slept much -- but
it had been a good night.  Nia felt a hot blush at recalling how he had
awakened her and led her out of the tent to a private spot in the woods
"to talk," and how it had progressed to more.  She knew, now, that she
had no reason to be jealous of Cassiopeia.  The man beside her in the
high meadow was personally interested only in her, not the med tech.

	Anubis stared toward Farshire, at the clustered towers of the keep and
the commanding single spire of the temple.

	"What do you see when your eyes are so far away?" she mused.

	"Something ominous," he replied distantly.

	"In Padryce, or Uthor?"

	"Perhaps both."

	She gazed across the kilometrons.  "What can you sense from here?" she
asked.

	"Nothing."  He sighed.

	Anubis had told her something of his life, his abilities, last night. 
The man was empathic, able to sense people's moods, truthfulness, strong
thoughts, a few other things.  Sometimes he knew what was happening
elsewhere, but that was less under his control, even after yahrens of
military training.  His parents had been military too, and had been part
of experiments and training that he'd only hinted at, to her.  She knew,
however, that his abilities weren't entirely of natural origin.

	It was an awesome surprise, but somehow, to her own amazement, it didn't
make a lot of difference.  It was a privilege that he had confided that
secret to her.  He told her that the commander and Hannibal knew, maybe
one or two others.  Beyond that, she suspected she was the only one.  And
while she would never willingly undergo the treatments his mother had, or
do that to her own child, she could see what he had become because of it.
 It had made Anubis what he was; therefore she accepted it.

	They sat.  In the bright warm sunshine, the scarf seemed unnecessary. 
She finally took if off and shook down her long brown hair.  The man
didn't even seem to notice.  "Can you tell if she's all right?" Nidaba
finally asked.

	He seemed hesitant.  "She was all right last night; I could tell that
when I was near the keep.  I think I'd know if she was being hurt,
but..."  He shook his head.

	She took his hand; he didn't pull away.  "Will you be on guard tonight?"

	"No.  Croft's people, Leander and Pollux."

	"Good," she stated lightly.  "You could probably use some rest, after
the last few days, and last night in particular..."

	His eyes shifted to her, and a slow knowing smile spread across his
face.  "And the villagers are calling *Cassie* a witchwoman?  If they
only knew what went on in their lands after dark..."

	She blushed again.

	"Anubis?"  Someone called from not far off.

	"Here, Hannibal," he called back strongly.

	The older man stepped out of the woods.  "Ah, you're both here.  That'll
make this easier to discuss.  And if you don't mind, I'll have a seat." 
Slightly out of breath, he picked a likely spot and sat down in the
grasses.

	"What is it?" Anubis asked.  As easy as it would have been, he would
never probe the thoughts of his older superior.

	"Siduri and Boomer took the dairy mission this morning.  There's a new
development in Farshire, something possibly requiring your expertise."

	"Yes?" they replied in unison.

	"It seems the Eklekton is holding a special evening ceremony or ritual
at their temple, three days from now.  Appeasement of their local
spirits, and a plea for rain.  Mean anything?"

	Anubis gave him a pained look, and Nidaba responded with, "A very
logical occurrence, considering the level of their society.  And I do
wish you'd stop being so obvious about considering the local religious
beliefs as so much superstition and mumbo-jumbo.  They're quite advanced
on any of the sentiological spirituality scales I'm familiar with.  And
since their theology is descended from the same Kobolian belief systems
that spawned most Colonial philosophies and religions, I would think even
you would find something in it to respect -- its age if nothing else!"

	Hannibal raised an eyebrow in amusement at her spirited defense and
turned his attention to Anubis.

	The man smiled.  "She's quite right -- their belief system appears to
have a relationship to some of our own theologies, especially when one
takes into consideration the cultural and historical variables of their
society and the effect of several thousand yahrens of separation.  As for
the proposed prayer for rain, I'm rather surprised they waited this long
for a rain ceremony -- but I suppose the local priest - kalanthro --
didn't feel it was his place to arrange such a thing with the Eklekton in
residence.  The Eklekton probably didn't think of it until now.  Fear of
conflicting arenas of authority..."

	"I see.  So you don't feel it's of any importance?"

	Now the younger man frowned and shifted.  "I didn't say that.  The very
fact that the Eklekton called for the ritual instead of the local holy
man could be very significant.  Especially with the feelings I've been
receiving from some of the locals, and on the one occasion I had the good
fortune to speak with his eminence personally."  His mouth twisted wryly.
 "Not my favorite person, far too ambitious and egotistical, but you
can't argue with a fanatic, especially when a deity is on his side."

	"Then I take it this ritual is something we should attend?"  With a
double chastisement, Hannibal settled into at least the appearance of
taking the local religious beliefs more seriously.

	"Yes, like we did before," Nidaba cut in before Anubis could respond. 
"As outsiders, the locals don't expect us to follow their beliefs in the
same way.  We are, however, naturally as concerned about the lack of rain
as they are, and our presence at the ceremony will confirm their feelings
that we are as changeable as the weather in almost everything we do,
wherever we go, but that at least we are believers."

	"You're sure they won't consider us blasphemers?"

	"Only if we start practicing our own rites in their presence or where
they might see us.  And we'll appear less suspicious--"

	The sigh and look on Hannibal's face told her he'd resigned himself to
another long-winded lecture on how the locals viewed travelers and how
they must fit in with expectations or risk raising the wrong questions
and bringing unwanted attention to themselves.  Rather wickedly, she
decided to give him exactly what he expected.  Anubis understood, of
course, and cheerfully played his part.  They managed to ramble on for
nearly half a centar before Hannibal was driven beyond endurance and
walked out on them.

* * *

	They gathered for a late-afternoon meeting for that day at the bend of
the stream -- Hannibal, Apollo, Anubis, Nidaba, Croft, Siduri, and
Starbuck -- the ranking officers and civilians in charge of the
expedition and the warrior with the most personal interest in one aspect
of the current situation.  The place was safely near camp and clear
enough on all sides that no one could approach without being seen, or
listen in unwanted.  It was also very pretty and restful, with the
murmuring water sparkling in the bright sun, the tufts of deep green
grass as cushions, and the distant leaf-songs and caresses of the mild
midday breeze.

	Thus far, nothing had been accomplished.

	  "The worst of it," Starbuck stated in moody opposition to the day, "is
that we can't even communicate with her, for fear of those primitive
xenophobes finding out she's one of us!"  He sent a wrathful glare at
Apollo, who only sighed.

	  "Starbuck, we've been through this--"

	  Nidaba suddenly blinked.  "Maybe we can...!"

	  There was a short silence.

	  "How?" Hannibal demanded, echoed by most of the others.

	  "Well, that village girl, the pregnant one, Ygern...she has relatives
in the keep, nobody would think anything of her stopping by to visit them
-- she's done it before.  I saw the guard captain pass her one day
without any questions."

	  "How does that help us?" Apollo asked.  "We can hardly tell her who
and what we really are, and shake her beliefs in her society and her
religion, everything she's ever known and been taught."

	  "No, but she could carry a note for us!  None of those people could
read Colonial script -- most of them can't read at all!"  She held the
captain's eyes.  "She'd do me a favor, I think.  Or if you're really that
worried about anyone knowing she's with us, maybe Ninive would pass the
note, tell her it's medical or something.  She'd believe it.  And she'd
do it."

	  Hannibal was intent.  "Are you sure?"

	  Anubis replied for her.  "Of course."

	  Croft frowned.  "But what if she's caught?  From what we've seen and
heard of that Eklekton, he wouldn't like it.  We'd be endangering her
life as well as Cassie's and that old woman's.  That's why this Granny
Ninny won't go near the place."

	The reminder silenced them all for a few moments.

	"Would this Ygern be at the rain ceremony?"  Apollo asked slowly.

	Nidaba's face showed disbelief.  "A pregnant, unmarried farm girl? 
You've got to be kidding!  They haven't let her in the temple since she
started showing!"

	"If the Eklekton is performing the ceremony, and Ygern has access to the
keep, she could carry the message then," the captain continued.

	"Assuming Cassie isn't required to attend," Starbuck muttered, obviously
having little faith in the idea of a native girl being their messenger.

	"I don't think Padryce would permit her to be there," Anubis mused with
a slow frown.  "His opinion of her isn't high, and he could see her
presence as an affront."

	All the talk of Cassiopeia being in danger wasn't setting well with the
lieutenant.  "What'll we tell her if this girl *does* take the note? 
'Hi, Cass, hope you're having a great time 'cuz we can't even think of
rescuing you 'til we finish mining and incidentally could you steal a few
books for us while you're waiting?'"

	"Starbuck--"

	"Not a bad idea," Hannibal interposed.  "Nia, take that down--" Starbuck
choked as the older man breezed on.  "Except instead of stealing the
books, just have her look around for them, discretely, if she can.  A
floor plan of the keep would be nice too.  And ask Ygern if she'd be
willing to pick up a note from Cassie if she finds anything..."

	"An inside spy and a courier, female, in a society that doesn't expect
much from females but babies," Croft grinned.  "Hannibal, sometimes I
wonder about your sense of strategy."

	The engineer smiled back without explanation, but he was nowhere near as
sure the plan would work as his expression suggested.

	Apollo didn't even pretend.  "We can't put those women in jeopardy, not
in a society that threatens termination of anyone deviating from its
norms in any way."  He remembered the infiltration mission on Gamoray,
racing through explosions and around a corner to face a trembling,
white-faced Cassie kneeling next to her patient with a laser pointed at
him.  She was courageous, and as a medic she would do whatever she had to
do for her patients, but fighting and espionage were beyond her sphere --
how could they ask her to do this?  And the native girl would have no
comprehension of what was going on or how to protect herself.  There had
to be another way to locate the books, and there certainly had to be a
way to get Cassie to safety before the eklekton could act against her.

	"Hey, if everybody's going to be at the rain ceremony, why don't *we*
just sneak in?" Starbuck asked.

	Croft laughed almost mockingly.  "Right.  So they'll terminate *us*
instead of the women.  At least Cassie and this kid have valid
excuses..."

	Hannibal and Anubis exchanged glances.

	"We'll try the girl first," the older man announced.  "Maybe we can
learn more about this place before we try breaking and entering.  Having
a floor plan and knowing the guard rotation schedule will make the raid
easier -- and put the ladies in less jeopardy.  Nia, this is going to
sound terribly stereotypical, but can you encourage gossip in your daily
visits the next day or so?  We'll plan our course of action when we know
more...if that's all right with you, Apollo?" he interrupted himself with
a glance at the young man, suddenly wondering if giving cadet
instructions to seasoned warriors was earning annoyance.  The captain had
been awfully quiet the last few days, and Hannibal was starting to wonder
if anything he was doing was contributing to it.

	Apollo deferred without comment, but Starbuck had a complaint.  "We're
not planning anything, we're putting it off!"

	"All in good time, Lieutenant."

	Something in Hannibal's tone finally silenced him, along with the
unexpected and pointed use of the younger man's rank, but Apollo didn't
like the look on Starbuck's face.

	He caught Starbuck afterward.  "Are you planning something of your own?"

	"No."

	"Starbuck--"

	"Will you quit saying that as if I were some errant kid?  I'm not Boxey.
 I'm just frakkin' tired of being told I can't do anything to help Cassie
-- and I'm tired of being confined to camp as if I were going to run into
town and start shooting and I'm tired of feeling like I'm at the losing
end of every bit of felgercarb that happens here.  Come to think of it,
I'm tired of this entire frakkin' planet."

	Apollo stared at his blond friend, and finally nodded his head.  "Yeah,
this trip hasn't been much fun for you, I guess, with Cassie gone and
Security getting on all our nerves -- it hasn't been fun for any of us. 
Would it help if I promise you'll be in on whatever we do?"

	"I'll hold you to that promise, Apollo."  He looked scarcely mollified
as he stalked away.

	"You're up to something, Starbuck," he muttered after that departing
blue-clad form.  "Be careful -- better yet, don't do it."

	"Don't do what?" asked someone beside him.

	He was startled.  Croft hadn't said much during the meeting, and he
hadn't realized the erstwhile commander was still there.  "Uh..."  His
gaze strayed back to Starbuck.

	"Right.  We'll keep an eye on him."

	"Just what he needs, I'm sure," Apollo groaned.

	Croft sniggered.  "Yeah, he'll love it."

	"Are you *trying* to provoke him?"

	"From what I hear, Eris can provoke something in him, all right, but
it's not a fight."

	"Croft..."

	"I'm not your kid either, Apollo.  But speaking of personal lives, I
made a pass at Sheba after she sent you packing at midday.  She told me
she wasn't interested but we were welcome to each other.  Think it would
work?"  He leered easily.

	After a sharp first glance, Apollo had to laugh and shake his head. 
"You're not my type.  We do seem to have some things in common though,
don't we."

	"Maybe too much."  Croft couldn't help thinking of Leda, and saw some
similar memory in Apollo's suddenly melancholy eyes.  "How about a little
truce?  You stop glaring at me, and I'll stop making passes at a lady who
isn't interested anyway, much to my regret.  Then maybe our people will
stop glaring at each other too."

	Humorously put, but seriously meant.  "We can try it."

	He extended his hand and arm.  After a moment's hesitation, Croft
responded in kind, and they clasped wrists on it.

		Chapter Nine


	The sun began to set with nothing changed.  As always today, when
Starbuck found himself without something immediate to preoccupy his body
and mind, he found his thoughts wandering toward Farshire, to the place
where Cassiopeia was a prisoner, and a fanatical religious leader had
decided she was an enemy.

	But he was ordered to "stay out of trouble."  And the best Apollo and
Hannibal could think of was to send her a note telling her to spy on her
captors!

	Moodily, he crossed his arms over his knees and stared into the
campfire.

	"Hey, buddy, you're gonna burn those fish."

	Starbuck looked up at Greenbean's casual warning.  The other warrior was
stirring together some kind of sauce for the fish -- local dairy products
and herbs.

	"What?"

	Greenbean pointed to the grill that Starbuck was supposed to be
watching.  "The fish?"

	"Oh, yeah..."  He shifted position to turn the row of fish filets on the
makeshift grill -- Boomer and Giles's contribution to the evening meal,
which would be made as delectable as anything on the -Rising Star-‘s best
menu, when drenched with Greenbean's creative sauce.

	If not burned by his inattentiveness.  He felt a moment's resentment at
having to help with the kitchen chores, but reminded himself that
everybody in the team had to take his or her turn with the daily
housekeeping tasks.

	He didn't notice Athena stooping to kneel beside him.

	"Ummm," she sniffed the air appreciatively.  "I don't know which smells
better, those fish or that sauce."

	"My sauce," Greenbean responded definitively.  "And if Starbuck doesn't
keep an eye on those fish, they'll be too burned for anything to help
them!"  His voice rose just a bit on the last.  The warrior's culinary
experimentation seemed inevitably successful, but he wasn't about to risk
his newfound reputation and source of pride on someone else's
carelessness.

	"Oh, yeah."  He shifted forward to turn the filets.  Leaning back again,
he brushed a few pebbles out of one knee, and let his thoughts return to
brooding again.

	Starbuck was surprised when Athena knelt beside him, and was even more
surprised when she stayed there.  After she found out about Eris, and let
him know it, rebuffing his overture, he'd kept his distance.  The last
day, he hadn't thought much about it.

	After a moment, she tentatively murmured, "Starbuck..."

	"Yes?"

	She drew a deep breath.  "I think we need to talk."

	Astonished, he glanced at Greenbean.  The other man's eyes had widened
visibly, and he quickly bent his head over his pot.

	"Uh, I don't think this is a good time--"

	"I don't mean this micron.  But today.  Tonight.  After evenmeal."

	"Uh...okay..."

	She smiled, strangely, he thought.  "Okay.  Watch the fish, Starbuck, I
like 'em too."

	Athena stood up and walked away.  He couldn't help staring after her. 
Her hip movements and the swish of her colorful skirt held his eyes. 
What did she want to talk about?  Why now, of all times?  He could feel
his hands break out in a cold sweat.

	"Starbuck, the fish?"

	"Huh?  Oh, yeah..."  Flustered, he quickly began flipping the filets,
nearly losing several in the process.

	"Can I ask what's going on?"  Greenbean tried to be casual.

	"I wish I knew, buddy..."

		* * *

	"This is worse than cooking," Diedre concluded darkly, taking a centon
to study the wrinkles in her hands, caused by too much time in the water.
 "Why couldn't we bring a laundry unit?"

	"'Cuz we couldn't bring any support techs to run it?"

	"Get lost, Tammuz."

	"Is that an order?"

	"Yes -- wait a centon, you're not going anywhere, kid," the lieutenant
growled when the young blond warrior hopped to his feet, showing every
indication of fleeing the laundry detail at factor four speed.  With
three women glaring threateningly at him, and all of them outranking him,
he meekly settled back down on the riverbank and continued rinsing out
the massive collection of socks.

	"This is the wrong time of day for this kind of chore," Omfala muttered.
 "It's getting dark.  These things will be all night drying.  Why
couldn't we do all of this in the morning when the sun's out?"

	"Because the sun will fade them," Brie said briskly.  She had drifted
into the position of laundry mistress by popular acclaim and because
nobody else would admit to knowing much about fabric care.  "This is our
explanation why our bright and colorful clothes look so much newer and
better than the townspeople."

	The security officer rolled her eyes.

	"The light and time of day also help hide the fact that our cleanser is
more ecologically sound than anything they're using here, looks and acts
differently from their animal fat and lye-based soaps, and still gets our
clothes clean."

	"Why not just use theirs, if we're supposed to fit in?"

	"Contaminates the water."  Brie held up the apron, inspecting the seam
where the stain had been.  Satisfied, she set it aside in the "clean"
basket and picked up another.

	"If they don't worry about it, why should we?" Diedre asked.

	"Because *we* know what happens if we don't take care of our planet. 
These people are hopelessly damaging this planet with their agricultural
methods and the way they're handling their technology, such as it is. 
You heard the stories of old Kobol, the same as I did, back in school."

	"I also know that most of those stories are myths," the woman objected. 
"If anybody knows what might be the real history of Kobol, it's Athena,
between the Commander and her own studies.  And according to her, it
wasn't runaway technology that destroyed Kobol and made us leave, it was
when the star started pulsing.  The changes in the star itself made Kobol
uninhabitable for us -- and we *didn't* cause that."

	"Which doesn't change the fact that we know better, and we're not going
to contribute to the pollution or contamination of this planet."

	Diedre would have continued complaining -- she and Brie were good
friends, and this had really been an ongoing discussion since the
rediscovery of Kobol -- but with one of the security team among them, she
would rather show a united front, so she shut up.

	"Well, Nia was supposed to be on laundry detail too.  How come she's not
here?"

	Brie shrugged.  "All I know is, after the officers' briefing this
afternoon, she and Hannibal and Anubis disappeared, and Siduri told me
there had been a change in the schedule."

	"Which is how I wound up here," Tammuz grumbled.

	"Well, then, I guess there was some good came out of it," Diedre
remarked wickedly.

	He gave her a sideways glance as he stroked his mustache once -- then
stuck out his tongue.

	"Not unless you mean it, sweetie!" she shot back.

	"Try me!"

	"You've been spending too much time with Starbuck!"

	"Some things I don't need Starbuck to tell me," Tammuz responded
suggestively.

	"Ummm," Diedre shook her head.

	"Can't we find something better to talk about?"  Omfala rolled her eyes
again.  "I think this stuff is clean -- I'll go hang it up on our drying
lines.  Tammuz, give me a hand, since you've obviously got nothing better
to do..."  The security officer wrung one last squeeze of water out of
the scarf, threw it in the basket, and headed off to the series of ropes
strung between two pairs of trees beyond the first row of tents, where a
number of shirts and other apparel were already flapping in the breeze. 
Tammuz trotted along behind her obediently.

	Brie was smiling, her thoughts elsewhere and her hands still.  "Remember
the training sessions when we first joined up at Kobol?" she reminisced. 
"Starbuck's reputation then -- he flirted with half the women in our
squadron!"

	"Unless Athena was in sight," the other woman rejoined.

	"For a while."  Brie frowned as she rinsed the skirt, watching its
bright colors ripple in the running water.  "Then he seemed to be
singling it with Cassiopeia."

	"Also for a while.  But don't forget that civilian tech -- Aura or
Aurora, wasn't it?"

	"I remember.  And now he's back to his old tricks -- and back to Athena,
too, it seems.  I think he'll stay this time."

	"I don't know," Diedre pondered, staring back toward camp for a moment. 
In the dusk, outlined by the fire, they could make out the cluster of
warriors with evenmeal detail.  Starbuck was one of them.

	Brie reminisced, "I remember when Apollo and Serina were sealed, Athena
told me she'd been thinking about a sealing gown for herself, and after
seeing Serina's, I was the only person  she'd trust to make hers."

	"A lot has happened since then.  And just because *she* was serious --
and I know that she was -- doesn't mean *he* believed the relationship
was as serious as she did."

	"But it's as though life has come full circle.  Starbuck wants her
back."

	"Maybe.  For the moment.  But remember, this last while, we all thought
Cassiopeia was going to be the one -- now, I don't know if anyone will. 
Between Athena and Cassie and Eris, he doesn't seem to be settling down."

	"We'll see."  Brie waved her off.

	"Brie, you are hopelessly naive.  Have you seen the way he's been
mooning around since Cassie was taken into the keep?"

	Brie just smiled mysteriously, as though she had a secret she wasn't
about to share.

		* * *

	Sitting next to one of the campfires, Siduri joined Anubis and Nidaba
after evenmeal.  Nidaba caught her quick look, and for a micron wondered
if she should stop leaning against Anubis's shoulder -- but she liked it
there, she concluded, let the warrior stare if she wanted to.  She could
tell the woman was wondering about their relationship.  *Let her draw her
own conclusions.*

	"Another journey to the village tomorrow," Siduri commented to open the
conversation.

	Nidaba frowned, considering her new assignment in light of the events of
the last few days.  "It's not so easy now, getting these people to open
up and talk to us."

	"I haven't had any problem," Siduri returned lightly.

	"With the young men, no, I've noticed, but most of the natives have been
a little reserved around us, just because we're strangers, wanderers --
and we asked a lot of questions.  With their lord having been ill, and
the Eklekton coming here, and this drought dragging on so long, the
atmosphere is getting distinctly chillier."  She sighed and shook her
head.

	"At least the drought is almost over," the warrior shrugged.  "I
understand there's a proper front coming through in a couple of days. 
Their rain ceremony will be a *thundering* success."

	Anubis grinned, and Nidaba actually laughed out loud.  She understood
why everyone liked this woman -- even other women who by rights should
have been jealous -- but what inspired the loyalty and obedience that
kept her squadron functioning as a whole?  There were actions and motives
in being a warrior that she would never comprehend, but she appreciated
them.

		* * *

	Camp was too confining this evening, and Apollo found he couldn't be
still.  After a restless centar wandering from campfire to tent to grove
to riverside, feeling the shadow of security behind him all the way, he
had to get away.

	He had no desire to head for Farshire.  There were too many problems
there.

	Instead, Apollo turned away from town, and began making his way up the
mountain.  It had been yahrens since he'd done any serious climbing, but
this was no real challenge.  Still, it was good exertion, and with the
sun setting, and only deepening shadows of light remaining, he had to be
careful.  He flushed out an occasional bird and stirred up some small
animals in the shrubs, grasses, and smaller bits of vegetation that clung
to the rocks; after the first bird startled him by flying past his face,
and he nearly fell backward, he paid attention to what he could hear as
well as what he could see.  Moving in the dimness, finding a path up the
steep hill, occasionally making his way across small ledges, he was
forced to listen intently and concentrate on what he was doing.

	He found a jutting rock outcropping with a clear view of the camp and
the river.  The camp was cluster of dark shapes surrounding a circle of
campfires.  Shapes moved around that circle, weaving between the tents
and wagons.  He could hear the sounds of musical instruments and some
singing as the team settled in for the night.  The river was a gash of
silver, surrounded by a featureless mass of trees, waving lightly in the
breeze.  No village lights were visible from here; it was as though their
camp was the only trace of human presence on the planet.  Scents of
burning wood overlaid the spicey aromas of the flowering woods around
them.  He breathed them in deeply, then sat down to try to find a little
peace.

	He lay back, resting his head on his crossed arms as he watched the sky.
 The last light of twilight faded, and the stars began to peak out at
him.  The evening breeze continued to cool his face and tease his senses.
 He breathed in deeply, practicing focus exercises to help him enjoy the
night without mentally wandering through the events of the last two days.

	"It won't be fun climbing back down this hill now."

	He half-rolled and jumped to his feet, ready to face whomever was there.

	"But it'll be possible."  Croft sat down cross-legged beside him,
staring out over the valley.

	"No offense, Croft, but I was hoping for a little quiet time..."

	"Alone time, or thinking time?"

	"Both."

	"Does that mean you're not interested in sharing a little of this?" 
Wearing a half-smile that Apollo couldn't decipher, Croft held up the bag
he'd worn slung over his shoulder.  Then he pulled out a bottle -- more
like a jug -- of something.

	"What the...  Something from the Alchemist?"

	"Nope.  Local buzzer.  Second-best stuff the Lazy Ox tavern has to
offer.  Cleared the bio-team.  It's drinkable.  Not too bad-tasting,
either, leaves a nice aftertaste."  He shrugged.  "It's not ambrosa, but
it does the trick."

	"I'm not interested in getting drunk--"

	Croft shrugged again.  "I didn't figure you would be.  But you said this
afternoon that  you'd be willing to give truce a chance.  I thought this
might be a start."

	This was the first real overture of friendship that Croft had made to
him -- or to anyone, that Apollo could recall.  Rather than stay alone
with his restless thoughts, he decided to go along with it.

	"All right," he smiled.  "Got something to drink from, or are we doing
this straight from the bottle?"

	Croft pulled out two chalices, also local manufacture, wide and deep,
more like bowls than cups, but eminently suited to the task.

		* * *

	Starbuck completely forgot that he was supposed to meet Athena that
night.  The local version of jiminies were chirping merrily away by the
time he remembered -- by virtue of Greenbean asking him what Athena had
wanted to talk about.

	"Frak, I forgot--"

	There was no one at the cluster of trees beside the path that Starbuck
had claimed as his privacy spot -- most of the team had informally staked
out personal places in the surrounding groves and along the river, and
those were generally respected by the rest of the mission.  Even security
had begun to allow a certain berth at those known areas.

	*Hades, I just assumed she'd be here...  Where would she go?*

	He headed for the tents, looking around to try and spot Athena among the
people variously settling in for the night or for an evening at a
campfire.

	No sign of Athena.

	"Hey, Brie!"

	The slim blonde, on her way to Green Squadron's nightly music session,
paused at his call.  "What is it?"

	"Seen Athena tonight?"

	"Not since evenmeal, Starbuck.  Why?"

	"I was...looking for her."

	"Oh."  She wore a peculiar smile as she asked, "Any particular reason?"

	"Uh, no, not really...  Uh, do you happen to know...where she might be?"

	"No.  But if I see her, I'll tell her you're looking for her."

	"Thanks..."

	She wasn't in her tent, she wasn't at any of the campfires, she wasn't
in one of the wagons, no one would admit to knowing where she might be,
and he didn't know where she might have gone for privacy.  Strangely
enough, Starbuck felt a wave of relief that he wasn't able to locate
Athena, and was therefore spared whatever potentially dangerous,
presumably  personal topic she wanted to discuss.  This was instantly
followed by a rush of concern -- where was she?

		* * *

	The stars wheeled majestically overhead in the unclouded night sky.  The
warm day had cooled only slightly as the night deepened, and a light
breeze sprang up.  Several raptors flew overhead in their nightly hunt. 
Around them, small self-luminescent insects dotted the air and shrubs for
a micron at a time before flying on in their own quests.  The two men
perched on the ledge above the camp continued to share thoughts and
memories as they shared the local buzzer.  They didn't bother to turn on
the torch Croft had brought up with him; the starlight was enough to see
their faces and the bottle as they refilled their cups.  Neither of them
were concerned about seeing anything more, and the night made it easier
to talk.

	"...I dated a couple of girls in my secondaries, nothing serious.  Not
many -- I grew up with this sense of..."  Apollo thought for a moment,
then shrugged.  "I knew I wanted to be a warrior, and I had a sense of
duty to my father and my family and my Colony, and I wasn't interested in
anything that would get in the way of that."

	"I can understand that -- not having anything get in the way of what you
want."  He flashed a crooked smile, barely visible to his companion. 
"Although you might not approve of what I wanted or how I got it, when it
came down to certain things."

	"We won't get into that," Apollo managed to laugh.  "But it meant, being
that focused, for so many yahrens, that there were things that, uh, fell
by the wayside."

	"Like girls."

	"Yeah."

	"And how about at the Academy?"

	"The first yahren, it was the same.  Then...I discovered girls with the
same interests and focus as I had, and the same goals, and I...made up
for a little lost time."

	They laughed together, and Croft poured another round.

	"Of course, they weren't serious -- I wasn't ready to commit, when I
didn't know where I'd be assigned or what I'd be doing," Apollo said,
after the first sip from the refilled chalice. "And they all pretty much
felt the same way.  The first woman I think I really loved was aboard the
-Galactica-."

	"Yeah?"

	"Yeah."  He sighed, a thoughtful expression on his face.  "You know, I
hadn't thought about Karisha in yahrens, until this trip...  She loved
mountain climbing, as much as I did, and rafting, diving, swimming,
anything in the water."  A quick smile crossed his face.  "I remember
once when we were new lieutenants, still first orbit, we were loaned out
to one of the ground teams for a search mission, I forget what for.   A
full day hiking up and down the Purinos Mountains on Sagittara -- and she
wanted to spend half the night in one of those mountain lakes.  Brrr. 
Took the other half of the night to warm each other up," he admitted
sheepishly, the grin returning.  "I think we both sleepwalked through the
next day."

	"So what finally happened between you?"

	Apollo had already steeled himself to give the answer.  "Cylons. 
Battle.  The usual story.  We'd...slept together, but I didn't realize
just how much more than a friend she was...how much I really cared for
her...until she was gone."

	The silence hung over them for long centons.

	"And then?" Croft prompted.

	"There were a few casual relationships.  I married the next woman I
loved.  Serina."  He took a very deep breath, followed by a deep gulp of
buzzer.  "It happened so fast, meeting her, getting together, surviving,
realizing how much she meant to me, how much her son meant to me, getting
married -- I think I was still in shock over thinking Starbuck was dead,
when we were sealed.  Things were in such turmoil, everywhere, for us,
for the fleet.  We didn't have time for...many memories, good times, much
of anything...  And then, just as fast, she was gone..."

	"You know, news of your marriage even made the rounds of the prison
barge."  Croft shook his head.  "Heard some really nasty comments about
that."

	"Why?"

	"Hatred of you, hatred of Adama, hatred of the military in general, envy
that the most beautiful and well-known and respected celebrity in the
fleet had become a warrior and was marrying you."

	Apollo hadn't considered that.  "I suppose there was rejoicing when she
was killed," he said flatly.

	"No.  Just a lot of wishes that it had been you instead."

	"There were a lot of times I wished it had been me instead, too."

	"I know what you mean..."  The raw pain in Croft's voice matched that in
Apollo's.

	"So how about you?" Apollo asked after a few silent moments.  "Before
Leda?"

	"Before Leda?" Croft repeated.  "There was no one before Leda."

	"No one?"

	"No one," he repeated with a long sigh, his expression softer than
Apollo had ever seen on him.  "There was no one before her.  Leda was one
of a kind, and I waited a long time for her."

	Taken aback, Apollo considered for a centon, before chuckling ruefully. 
"And some of the cadets used to torment me for being inexperienced, when
I first got to the Academy.  But honestly, you don't strike me as
the...one-and-only-one type."

	Croft shrugged.  "I was a kid.  Still idealistic.  I got over it.  But
how'd we get off on this, anyway?"  He poured himself another drink and
tried to steer the conversation to something less painful and personal.

	"We started out with how things were going between our teams, why
warriors and security don't seem to get along, and what's happened in
previous missions we've been on.  I'm not sure how we got from there to
here."

	"Let's go somewhere else.  Whaddaya think of Sire Domra's proposal to
change the way the Quorum representatives are elected in the fleet?"

	"I think he's just trying to find a way to get himself re-elected,"
Apollo said frankly.  "After that mess with the Terran Enforcers and
Baltar nearly escaping..."

	"Hey, we're talking about civilians with short memories!  All they'll
remember is that your father said he'd release Baltar anyway!"

		* * *

	Jolly's music seemed especially rich and poignant that night.  He played
sad airs, lonely songs that keened through the trees and made them all
think of home and family and friends long gone.  The layers of sound that
he laid down with his piob entranced the listeners, and it wasn't long
before nearly the entire camp was arrayed around Green Squadron's
campfire.

	Mikal joined in with a solemn beat, low and measured, on the bodhran. 
Siduri played her zithra, its mellow tones reverberating back through its
carved and painted wooden box.  Tammuz had taught himself how to play the
native, fewer-stringed kithara, and he soon took up the tune in another
octave.  Ajax had picked up a long sort of native horn; his musical
talent had earned the security officer a welcome among the
musically-inclined warriors, and tonight he drew out mournful notes that,
while not overloud to his companions around the fire, resonated almost
palpably in the woods around them.

	After a while, everyone was quiet, listening.  No one spoke.  No one
sang.  The music alone serenaded the forest, and everything seemed to
grow still before it.

		* * *

	The wind was just right, that night, to carry the sounds of the mountain
down toward Farshire.  

	Ien was late coming home from a day in the forest because of his late
arrival that morning, and because he'd had to take three breaks to be
sick.  At the curve in the river, the sounds from the gypsy camp danced
through the wind-dancing shrubs.  He froze, listening to the haunting
sounds, almost feeling its thrum pass through his body.  He knew it was
strange music, and didn't come from instruments he knew, but it was
almost familiar too.  It frightened him to his soul, and he threw down
his grubber and began to run, until he'd left the river and the music
behind.

	Most of the people in town couldn't hear the music, but the kalanthro in
the temple could, as it seemed to catch in the high steeple and swirl
around down to him as he lit the sacred thirteen vigil candles; he
shivered, staring up into the darkness of the spire, wondering if the
caterwauling was the Voice of God speaking to him, or a voice from the
Pit.

	In the keep, Moriathe was making her evening rounds, checking candles,
torches, and doors.  In the empty wardrobing room just next to the
arxon's, the one that would normally be used by the lady of the keep, she
paused at the eerie sounds creeping through the solitary window slit that
faced the mountain.  The music fascinated her, and her feet carried her
to the window, where she stood and listened, wide-eyed and open-mouthed.

	Padryce had come to see Uthor, but the young lord wasn't in his chamber.
 The eklekton frowned at the empty bed and the empty chair and benchess. 
The arxon wasn't at chapel; he wondered where Uthor might be.  Almost
immediately, the thought came to him that he was in the company of the
witchwoman.  At the same moment as that thought, came the sound of
strange music through the windows, echoing from the hills in a mockery of
all he held precious and sacred.  He forced himself not to cringe back
from it, to hold firm.  After a moment, he turned abruptly, almost
catching the fringed edge of his long emboidered stole under his boot as
he strode out in search of Uthor.

		* * *

	Hannibal had a feeling of being watched.  Gazing around, he caught
Anubis's eye.  The other man glanced past the engineer's his shoulder, a
gesture without motion.  Hannibal turned his head just enough to see
Ninive standing in the shadow of the nearest wagon.  Her attention was
focused on Jolly, and she was so motionless she seemed almost a statue.

	After a few microns, she realized she had been seen.  She met his stare
for a micron more, then slipped away into the darkness, leaving him with
the distinct feeling that she wanted him to follow.

	He glanced at Anubis, who nodded the smallest amount, another gesture
almost without motion.

	Casually, Hannibal got up and left the crowd to follow Ninive.

		* * *

	They covered fleet politics in about a centar.  By then, the two men had
discovered they agreed on ninety-five percent of the current topics of
political interest in the fleet.  Then, with a certain inevitability,
their thoughts returned to deeper subjects -- and with the aid of two
bottles of buzzer, emotions close to the heart spilled out, including
grief.

	"I never thought I'd share this with you or anyone else..." Croft said
thickly.  "Wolfe and Thane were the closest friends I ever had, I
thought.  But when our interests weren't the same, on Arcta, they left me
behind.  With them gone, and Leda dead, I haven't...  I haven't confided
in anyone or really even talked to anyone, since then..."  A tear crept
out of his eye, made its way down his cheek, then detoured when it was
caught in the seam of the scar and slid off his cheek.  He brushed it
away with a quick, surreptitious gesture.

	"Were they really friends, or were you a good contact for them?"

	"It used to be friendship, when we started out together," Croft
admitted.  "I guess by the end, I don't know any more.  When I got
command, things seemed to change.  And they held it against me, when we
wound up on the Prison Barge, especially at first.  Some of their
comments, then...  After a while, I think they started to remember that
we had been friends, for a long time."  He sent a wintery smile in the
other man's direction.  "Sounds like you've questioned a few people
yourself."

	"Friendships are tough when you're in command...when their lives are in
your hands.  I...since the Destruction, I haven't let many people get
closer to me.  I've mistrusted motives, I've been afraid of loss. 
Starbuck and Boomer, of course, and Jolly, they've been good friends for
yahrens.  Serina..."  Apollo sighed heavily.  "I suppose that's why... 
Oh, I don't know.  Sheba got close, closer than I realized.   But it was
friendship, I thought, that's all I was looking for, that's all I
expected..."

	"Did it turn into something unexpected?"

	"Love?"

	"Yeah."

	"I don't know if I love her..." Apollo admitted distantly.  "It doesn't
feel the same as with Serina..."

	"It's not the same situation," Croft suggested.  "You've had time to
adjust to the new way of life in the fleet, and time to adjust to your
losses."

	He shook his head.  "No, it's not just that..."

	"You still love Serina."

	"Yes.  I do."  Apollo stared down into the wide-mouthed chalice.  A
single star reflected back to him from the dark brown buzzer.  He blew
across it.  Small waves rippled to the edge of the chalice.  He touched
the reflected star with his finger.  It vanished for a small micron and
then reappeared in half a dozen ripples across the surface.  A quick
movement of his hand, and the ripples began to circle.

	"I can't see Sheba playing second to another woman.  She doesn't deserve
to play second.  She's too good a woman for that.  She's like Leda,"
Croft concluded fervently.  "She deserves to be a one-and-only-one.  Or
at least to have a man who can treat her that way."

	He'd lost the reflection in the ripples.  Apollo tilted his chalice to
catch the image of the star again.  Alone and bright, as as the buzzer
calmed back to smooth again.  A single bright light reflecting in the
darkness.  As Serina had been in the darkness of his life since the
Destruction.  Her reflection in his memories, a consoling brightness... 
"A single star..." he murmured.

	"Huh?"

	"I'm not ready," he realized.  "Serina's been my single star, and I'm
not ready for another light in my life..."

	"That's poetic."

	He shrugged.

	"But is it right?" Croft pressed.

	"Depends who you're asking," Apollo replied drunkenly.  He set down the
chalice; half its contents spilled onto the ground.  Not even noticing,
he lay back to stare up at the bright,clear stars.  "I'm not like
Starbuck, I don't need a constellation to keep me happy.  I just need one
bright star.  Like Kobol in the Void."

	"We're not in a Void now, Apollo," Croft observed.

	The warrior shook his head.  "Doesn't matter.  We might as well be.  We
should be, in relationships.  Iblis said one didn't have to be enough,
that there was no reason for fidelity.  But I knew better.  Serina was my
Kobol.  For now, that's all I need.  I don't have to join her, I just
have to know she's waiting for me, eventually.  Not today, maybe not
tomorrow -- and maybe there'll be somebody else in my life before then. 
But she's my star.  I'll know when her light dims, and another lights my
night.  But until then, I'm not ready."

	Croft looked up, staring across a sea of light, wondering which of those
many stars were the focus of the warrior's attention.

	A moment later, he heard a gentle snore.

	"Sounds good," he managed to mumble.  Then he laid his head down on the
bag he'd brought.  It seemed only a centon later, under the stars, that
he too was asleep.


			CHAPTER TEN


	"Hey, Boomer!"

	Boomer glanced up at Starbuck's whisper as the other warrior nudged
himself a place next to him.  Greenbean grumbled as he was pushed aside.

	"What's up, Bucko?" Boomer asked.

	"Is Athena around here somewhere?"

	Boomer looked around quickly.  Athena's face was nowhere among those
gleaming in the firelight.  "I don't see her," he reported.  "Why?  Oh,
that's right, she wanted to talk to you tonight."

	"Kobol, does everybody know?  I can't find her."

	"Think she's dodging you?"

	Starbuck shook his head.  "No.  Why would she do that, when she wanted
to talk to me?  C'mon, Boomer, I've been looking for her nearly a centar,
and she's nowhere to be found!  Not in her tent, not anywhere around the
wagons, not in the grove, not along the river, nobody's seen her -- I
don't know where else to look."

	"Isn't Deena on security detail tonight?  Did you ask her?"

	Starbuck made a face.  "I asked.  Hasn't seen her.  And Eris is Athena's
guard for tonight -- I'm certainly not asking her."

	"Not if you want to keep your head."  Boomer looked around again, still
not too concerned.  "Maybe she's with Apollo."

	"I couldn't find him either."

	"Shhh!"  Greenbean looked annoyed as he booted Starbuck in the shins. 
"Brie's gonna dance!"

	Starbuck pulled his friend back toward the shadows.  Greenbean eagerly
took the vacated place, putting him that much closer to the small, tamped
dirt circle where their fellow warrior had stepped into the firelight and
was beginning to sway in time with the music.

	Out of the others' hearing, Boomer began, "Maybe Hannibal-"

	"Gone, too," was the grim, equally low-voiced response.

	Astonished, Boomer looked around again.  He couldn't see their
engineering officer.

	"How about Croft?"

	"If you see him, you're doing better than I am.  According to the
security log, he assigned himself as Apollo's watchdaggit tonight."

	"Apollo, Croft, Hannibal -- maybe they're having another meeting and
Athena's with ‘em?"

	"So why is Siduri still here?" he countered.

	Boomer had to agree that made no sense.

	"At this rate, Boomer, we're gonna be the only senior officers left and
we'll have to take charge."

	"Let's talk to Siduri."  Boomer had faith that Green Squadron's captain
could put some order to things.  "She might know what's going on."

		* * *

	Ninive was all but noiseless as she moved through the dark forest that
had been home to her for decades.  Hannibal was impressed; he had thought
he was good -- but then, she was familiar with this area from those
yahrens, and he had been here only sectons.  She could have eluded him at
any time.  She would certainly have gone unnoticed by the majority of
their security people.  Yet she left just enough of a trail, made just
enough noise, that he could continue to track her, but not catch up with
her.  She obviously meant for him to follow; where might she be leading
him, for what purpose?

	A warning tickle had been in the back of his head since he saw her
standing in the shadows.  It nibbled at him more strongly now, as he
moved further away from the Colonial camp, further from possible
assistance in the case of trouble, further out of hearing of even a
shout.

	Finally, he simply stopped.  If the native woman had something to tell
him or show him, she would have to backtrack and talk to him before he
would go a step further.

	Hannibal glanced around the thick shrubs and grasses for a suitable spot
to wait.  In the darkness, it was hard to see his way around. 
Fortunately, his eyesight had always been superior.  He quickly spotted a
substantial-girthed tree heavily vined with a sturdy hedera-type plant
that grew as high as the thick lower branches.  He eyeballed the vines
and their arrow-pointed leaves, then decided to go ahead.  The thick
ropey-stemmed hedera supported his weight as he climbed to the first
branch, and from there to a higher perch.  A thick growth of some kind of
moss cushioned the fork; it was an ideal perch.  And there he waited,
among the leaves, fighting off the soothing lullaby of the wind and the
night.

		* * *

	Cassiopeia sat at the window on one of the rough three-legged stools,
listening to the Colonial music from the camp.  She was fortunate, she
considered, that the prevailing seasonal winds funneled this way through
the valley.  The single candle on the night stand remained unlit.  She
knew her way around the room now, and could see more clearly what was
outside without the little pool of candlelight, as her eyes became more
and more used to the nearly-complete darkness inside.  If she squinted,
she could almost convince herself that she saw one of their campfires
just up the valley where the trees began to give way to a series of
steeper mountain ledges...

	She heard someone at the door, and turned on her stool.  She figured it
must be Moriathe, to see if there was anything else she needed yet
tonight.

	"I'm here-"

	The door was flung open and hit the wall with a deep boom.  Cassie
gasped and flinched - it sounded as though the heavy wooden door would
shatter into splinters with the force behind it.

	The ascetic form of the eklekton stood in the doorway, outlined in the
glare of several torches.

	"What do you want?" she called, reflexively shrinking back against the
stone wall.  She knew her voice was shaking, and had to steel herself -
what did he want here, at this time of night?

	"Light!" his cold voice commanded.

	A micron later, several of those torches were thrust into the small
room.  Cassie had to hold her hand before her eyes against the
brightness.

	Padryce's eyes were cold as they swept the chamber, starting at the
empty bed, and finally settling on Cassie where she sat at the window.

	"Where is the Arxon?" he demanded.  His voice echoed threateningly
against the walls.

	The absurdity of such a question, when there was so obviously no place
in the room for anyone to be hiding, hit the Colonial, and she couldn't
help a laugh, half-fueled by her uneasiness.  "I'm hiding him in my
pocket, where else?"

	He glared at her, and she saw hatred in the twist of his mouth.

	"I don't know where he is," she admitted, then said more strongly, "but
I know he isn't here."

	Padryce whirled without any further comment.  A snap of his hand, and
the two guards followed as he stalked away as abruptly as he'd come in. 
Another guard grabbed the door and slammed it closed after them.  She
heard it lock from the outside, and what sounded like a stern order to
stand guard, delivered in the eklekton's unmistakable voice.

	Suddenly left in blackness, Cassie found herself shivering as if from
cold.  She tried to stand up but her legs almost gave way under her, and
she had to catch at the wall with one hand.  After a few microns, she
made her way to the bed and fumbled for her scarf, pulling it around her
shoulders.  It didn't help much.  A chill hung over the room, and settled
in the pit of her stomach.  She clutched the scarf with cold hands,
holding it even more tightly.  Padryce's hatred was becoming more
tangible every time she saw him, and she was becoming more certain that
he only needed an excuse to...to...  She didn't know what he would do. 
She didn't want to think about the possibilities.

	She noticed the music had stopped.  In the silence, she felt utterly
alone.

		* * *

	It didn't take long for Boomer and Starbuck to catch Siduri's attention
and call her away from the music, and then to explain what was going on -
what little they knew.  She was equally surprised at the absences of so
many senior officers, and equally concerned.  She had mixed feelings
about Athena dodging the officer who'd been assigned to her.

	By then, several others had gathered around them, including Reese.

	"This sounds like a security issue," the dark-haired officer proclaimed.
 "I'd better set up search teams-"

	"Wait-" Siduri interrupted.  "What do you mean, *you'd* better set up
search teams?"

	He caught his thumbs in his belt.  "Well, I'm the ranking security
officer now, with Croft gone."

	Boomer rolled his eyes heavenward; Diedre and Tammuz groaned.  Starbuck
was more vocal.

	"Of all the rotten...  You couldn't wait for Apollo and Hannibal to be
gone from camp, could you, Reese?"  Starbuck's voice was rising; others
were gathering around them, or listening with varying expressions on
their faces.  "You knew if you waited you'd get a chance to step all over
us-"

	"Gentlemen," Siduri enunciated with false delicacy.

	"-like this is some sort of-"

	"Starbuck!" the captain hissed.  It finally got through and he shut up. 
She glanced at Reese.  "All things considered, Reese, you're out of your
depth."

	He bristled, but she was through paying attention to him.

	"Maybe Anubis could help, he usually knows what's going on," Nidaba
began, catching Siduri's attention, then glanced around, puzzled.  "Where
is he?"

	A moment more, and they knew he was gone too.

	Siduri sighed deeply, fingers on her forehead, trying to rub away an
incipient headache.  "Considering the attitude of the locals, I think
Athena has to be the focus of our search for the moment-"

	"But-" Nidaba objected.

	"He probably just went to bed early," Diedre cut in.

	Something hooted in a nearby tree, and the group jumped almost as one.

	"Reese, if you want to do something useful, get a perimeter team out --
now," Siduri drew people near with a gesture, then continued more
quietly, so no one outside the immediate group could hear her.  "Ajax,
Deena, with him, and grab a partner, each of you.  The rest, break into
teams, quietly, and start checking your tents and the wagons for anything
suspicious.  As soon as we're sure the camp is secure, we'll break out
the torches and spread out."

		* * *

	Athena paused long enough to look up at the stars.  A swath of sky was
visible through the trees, and dozens of stars gleamed there, a river of
light following the river of water she walked along.  She could still
hear the music from the campfire behind her, when she thought about it,
so she couldn't have gone too far.

	She was supposed to have met Starbuck tonight, to talk about some very
serious matters -- their past, and their future.  Not wanting security
witnesses to spread any gossip, she'd first eluded her escort.  Then
she'd walked out to Starbuck's usual spot, the cradle of tree roots and
grass along the river where she knew he'd once spent the better part of
an evening with Eris.

	But at the last centon, suddenly uncertain of herself and what she
planned to say, she'd kept on walking.  She'd been walking for two
centars now, following the river.  As long as she could hear the music,
and stayed beside the water, she knew she would be fine.

	She found herself reliving so many moments of the yahrens she'd known
Starbuck, the growth of their relationship.  The way they'd met, when
Apollo first went to the Academy, accidentally running into her brother's
new roommate.  Apollo had complained for three sectons straight about
him, they grated on each other so badly that their cadet commander had
switched them to different dorms.  A senior officer had seen it
differently - Lyra, then only an instructor and not the dean, had
deliberately stuck them together for a survival course.  By the end of
the course, they were fast friends.

	Athena had to smile at the memory, as she carefully pushed through a
small grove of something with thorns.  Commander Lyra had been one canny
officer, who understood people better than they understood themselves. 
She'd taken Athena under her wing early, and been her mentor in a lot of
ways.  Athena had asked, once, why she'd ever thought to put her brother
and his former nemesis together.  Lyra had responded that they
complemented each other, their strengths and weaknesses, that they made a
good team.  So why hadn't they gotten along at first?  Because, the older
woman had chuckled, they weren't mature enough to recognize how well they
would work together, or desperate enough that they had to.

	Apollo might not remember Hannibal, but Athena did - she had seen the
man with Lyra.  She didn't know if he remembered her from those times.

	Academy days had inevitably passed, and Athena had come to the
Galactica.  She paused long enough to run her hand through her hair and
pull out a small, leafy twig of something that had got caught when she
ducked through the branches.  That led to the discovery of more twigs and
thorns in her scarf; it took several centons to pick them all out without
snagging the fabric.

	Every twig seemed to carry a memory of Starbuck.  Happy times, and angry
times.  The initial family and duty-related conversations that quickly
turned flirtatious for both of them.  She'd heard of his reputation with
women, but confidently figured she would be different -- no man she'd
ever dated had broken off the relationship with her, and with Starbuck's
closeness to her brother, how could he play false the sister?  It seemed
ideal.

	First it had been meals together in the mess hall, drinks in the
Officers' Club.  The furlon on Libra, ostensibly with Gaya and Zemora,
but actually spent mostly with him at the chancery -- so much so that
they hadn't consummated their relationship that leave.

	A brief smile crossed her face as she remembered his fumbled apology
that things hadn't gone as she expected, that she was the daughter of his
commander, the sister of his best friend, maybe some day to be his
commanding officer if she stayed on the bridge, that it made him unsure -
and her assurances that she understood, that it was all right, that none
of that mattered if they cared about each other.  It had been what she
expected, what she was used to hearing from men who wanted to be part of
her life - that her family background and personal intelligence made her
a formidable woman to approach.  It was the reason she was used to having
to make the first move in her relationships.

	They'd become lovers about a secton after that.

	She'd confided her feelings to her big brother, expecting him to be
happy for her.  Instead, Apollo had asked her what she wanted from
Starbuck, and if he loved her; she had been indignant, replying that of
course he did; Apollo'd asked again if Starbuck had ever actually said "I
love you" or mentioned a future.  When she thought about it, he hadn't. 
Then her brother had said he would be happy for them, if it worked out,
but if it didn't, he warned, he was not going to be caught in the middle,
because they both meant too much to him.  The argument had ended with a
mutual agreement not to discuss the relationship again until things were
decided.

	She had, however, discussed it with her mother.  Ila had fondly agreed
that Starbuck was a fine pilot, a good friend to Apollo, and might
someday make a good husband, when he was ready to settle down.  Athena
had assumed her mother meant he would be a good husband to her, when the
time was right.  Thinking about it, maybe her emotions had blinded her to
what her mother was really trying to say...

	It was right after that she first heard about a civilian Caprican named
Aurora.  She'd quietly raged at being betrayed by the man she loved --
and worse, she'd been furious at herself for not realizing Starbuck could
have been seeing somebody else.  It had shaken her self-image too, more
than she had admitted to anyone else.  She'd felt humiliated.  She'd been
wrong about a relationship for the first time in her life, and it seemed
to send her whole personal life careening out of control.  True to her
personal vow to herself, she didn't approach Apollo, either to involve
him or to find out what he might have known of this other woman.

	She hadn't confronted Starbuck about it either.  Her wounded pride
wouldn't let her.  What was there to say?  She'd vowed to herself that
she wasn't going to be beaten in a battle for Starbuck's heart -- and,
her emotions in turmoil, she'd been equally certain he was going to pay
for hurting her.  So she'd tried to hold in the hurt, to see where things
would go from there.

	Things had continued quietly for a time, with Starbuck behaving as he
always did, and she almost convinced herself that whatever there had been
with Aurora was short term and long past.

	Then came word of the offer for peace negotiations, and her world had
spiraled into destruction.  Her worlds destroyed.  Their defense reduced
to nothing but ashes and drifting space debris.  Her brother dead, her
mother dead, the rest of her extended family dead, so many friends dead.

	And Starbuck had picked that moment, of all times, to offer a future, a
moment when she could see no future, because trying to envision the
future meant tallying all that the present had erased from it forever. 
She said no.  Later, believing he had finally revealed his true feelings
in that moment of desperation and grief, she had taken every
straightforward step she could to give him another opportunity.

	Right about then, Cassiopeia entered his life.

	In the close confines of the fleet, there had been no way for Starbuck
to hide the relationship for long, even if he'd wanted to.  Any more than
there'd been a chance to hide the brief later affairs with Noday and
Miriam and the woman called "Adulteress," who'd taken the name Aina; or
his response to the reappearance of Aurora, not dead after all; or the
half-dozen or so women who'd come and gone so fast in the two sectars
since the base star mission that she didn't even remember all their
names; or finally, here on this planet, with Eris.

	It had stung her to learn of each of those short relationships.

	Cold wetness around her feet made Athena realize she had been standing
in the wrong place in the marshy bank for too long.  Her long skirts had
become waterlogged and water was starting to seep into her boots.

	Holding up her skirts with one hand, she tried to pull her feet free of
the grassy muck.  One foot slipped; she flailed for a branch, but still
landed on one knee in the mud, then slid toward the water.  Her skirts
quickly began absorbing water, getting heavier by the micron.  Quietly
cursing in words her parents had never heard from her, Athena gripped the
branch more tightly for leverage.  With her other hand, she pulled her
skirts up and scrabbled back up the bank, then moved a few yards away
from the river.

	She stood there for a few centons, shivering in her half-soaked and
mud-caked clothes.  She squeezed out as much water as she could,
grimacing at the picture she must present at the moment.  Waterlogged,
muddy, brambles in her hair and clothes...  Living in the past could be
like that, she contemplated, a cold and mucky excuse for life that slowly
sucked you under and froze your soul, if you didn't keep moving.

	She should take off her boots and stockings, she thought.  With wet
boots and soggy stockings, her feet would be in awful shape if she walked
this way for long.  On the other hand, there were rocks, sharp grasses,
thorns, twigs, insects, serpents - a myriad of things that would hurt
even worse, if she tried to walk back barefoot.

	She couldn't do it.  She couldn't live in the past.  Neither could
Starbuck, if he would be honest with himself for a few centons.  It was
up to her, as it had always been up to her, to make him face that.

	She realized she couldn't hear the camp music anymore.  How long had it
been since she recalled definitely hearing Jolly's piob?  Was it that
late?  Another glance at the stars told her she'd been gone too long -
the shifting constellations suggested she'd been out here at last two
centars, and probably had a long walk back to the camp, likely with a
reprimand from her brother at the end.  She began the miserable walk
back, wet boots, clothes, and all.

		* * *

	It was about twenty centons before Ninive appeared out of the shrubs
below.  She was moving cautiously, as quietly as before.  The elderly
woman paused at the base of the tree, head bent, apparently listening. 
He grinned, and kept as silent as he was capable of, in his perch among
the leaves, hedera vines, and tree moss.

	It was inevitable, since she knew he was somewhere near, that he would
have to shift position or catch himself against a vagrant breeze.  After
several very long centons, it happened.  The wind brushed his branch
against another, and his boot must have scraped against the tree.

	Ninive looked up.

	For a micron she didn't seem to see him.  Then he gave up the game and
dropped lightly down beside her.

	She stepped back, startled, catching her breath in a gasp, her hands
tightening visibly on the small scarf she carried.

	He smiled congenially.  "I'm assuming from your appearance in camp that
you wanted to talk to me," he said simply.  "So I came here and waited
until you found me."

	She smiled, slowly, wryly, unwillingly.  "I should have expected that
you, of all of them, would be able to track me and hide from me at the
same time.  So, Hannibal, who they call captain even when they don't,
what are you going to do to save Cassie from him?"

	"From the Eklekton?"

	"Yes."

	"We haven't decided."

	Her hands twitched, continuing to work at the scarf.  "So you have done
nothing."

	"We have the beginnings of a plan.  But for now, we watch, and wait."

	Ninive cocked her head, studying him with narrowed eyes.  "I can see you
are doing more than that, but you aren't telling me."  She shrugged. 
"All right.  I have come to offer my help."

	Now he was taken aback.  "I thought you wouldn't have anything to do
with getting near Padryce."

	"I won't."

	"All right," Hannibal said patiently, "then how are you going to help?"

	Ninive pulled a small phial out of her scarf.

	He stared at it.

	"This is moonbane," she said simply.

	"What's that?"

	"Moonbane is a poison, from an herb that grows wild here in the
mountains.  It doesn't grow in the valleys, and it is rare and little
known.  I picked the herbs myself, under the full moon.  I distilled it
myself.  No one knows I have it.  If it is given to him, he will be dead
overnight."  She held up the phial.  The simple little jar was ceramic,
fired a dark cobalt-blue color, with an image of a single full moon
painted on it.  "If you cannot get to the keep yourselves, I will go
there and speak with Moriathe.  She trusts me; she can give this to
Cassie, with a message in your writing, telling her to prescribe it for
the Eklekton for some false malady, or--"

	"So when he dies, Cassie will be held responsible!"

	"No, no one will know--"

	Hannibal's face grow grim.  "Don't lie to me.  You hate Padryce so much
you'd risk Cassie's life to avenge your lover's death -- you'd sacrifice
her--"

	"No!" she said more strongly.  "No one has to know, it can be slipped
into his wine, or--"

	"So even if Cassie isn't accused, this Moriathe could be?  Or one of the
other servants?  Ninive," he said, holding his voice cold and steady and
dagger-sharp, "if we wanted to poison anyone here, believe me, we are
quite capable of doing it ourselves.  And I assure you, we would
accomplish it without being detected, and without leaving an innocent
person to take the blame."

	"So long as he lives, she will be in danger--"

	"We will take care of Cassie.  And we will *not* be the instrument for
your hatred."

	They glared at each other for a long centon.  Then, with an inarticulate
cry of frustrated rage, Ninive shoved the phial back into her scarf,
turned on her heel, and disappeared among the tall dark trees.

		* * *

	They were beating the reeds along the river.  Starbuck could be heard
muttering viciously under his breath every time he kicked, breaking off
the plant stems at ground level; Diedre tried to ignore it.  Siduri kept
Starbuck within sight and sound distance from her, in case he needed to
be reined in.  Tammuz was her search partner, staying near his captain as
he tended to do anyway.  Eris and Leander were a hundred yards away,
their torches flaring redly among the section of head-tall reeds they'd
been assigned to search.  Beyond them was another team, skirting the
riverbank for any evidence of what might have happened to Athena.

	"Wait, what's that!" Tammuz pointed.  Everyone turned in the sergeant's
direction.

	At that moment, Anubis and Athena stepped out from the shadows of a
cluster of trees that grew almost to the river's edge.  The woman moved
slowly, trying to hold her sodden skirts above the ground.  She looked
exhausted, with twigs and leaves caught in her hair and snagged in her
clothes.  She was limping and leaning heavily on the tall man, who had
one arm around her waist.  His long vest was wrapped around her
shoulders, but she was still visibly shivering.

	"Athena!"  Starbuck outran Tammuz and reached her first.  He scooped her
off her feet and into his arms, practically jerking her away from Anubis'
reach.  She wearily put her arms around his neck and leaned on his
shoulder, closing her eyes.

	Siduri was already bellowing, "Paye!  Get over here!" as she joined
them.

	A centon later, and a number of the personnel had gathered, trailing
behind as Starbuck carried Athena protectively back toward camp, with
various cries of concern, relief, and annoyance.

	"Athena!"

	"Are you all right?"

	"Where were you?"

	"What happened?"

	Dr. Paye had been pacing in front of his tent, ordered to stay at their
base until there was word, since, as Siduri put it, they had no way of
knowing when or where or in what condition Athena might be found, and
they might need to know exactly where to find him.  He'd heard the yells
and come running.  One look, and he sent Brie scurrying for a blanket to
wrap around her.

	Starbuck lowered her onto a stump that had been burned smooth to make a
seat.  He knelt beside her as the doctor quickly began murmuring
questions, then bent over her foot.  Brie returned with a blanket,
thoughtfully pausing long enough to hold it before a fire to warm it
before draping it over Athena's shoulders. 

	Paye pulled off Athena's boots and socks, already certain he knew what
he would find.  He whistled disapprovingly.  "Nasty blisters and chafing.
 You should have taken off the boots."

	Athena smiled wanly.  "This planet has too many prickly bushes and
insects."  She continued to droop against Starbuck as the doctor quickly
determined that she was suffering no strains, sprains, or broken bones,
only blisters and weariness.  The most important part of his prescription
was to stay off her feet for a few days, and keep them dry, with a light
anaesthetic salve to ease the soreness.  His prescription for the rest of
her was to stay warm and get plenty of rest for a day, to ward off
hypothermia.

	She thanked him, then stood up to head back to her tent.  "Thanks, Paye.
 I think I'll take you up on that prescription and get some sleep."  She
couldn't help wincing as she took the first step in her bare feet.

	"Here, I'll help you--"

	Athena stuck out her arm, planting a palm on Starbuck's chest.  "No,
I'll be fine.  But...thanks for asking."

	"Athena, I think you owe us an answer about what you've been doing,
we've got most of the camp out looking for you..."  Siduri managed to be
stern and considerate at the same time, but the tone of her voice said
Athena wasn't getting off without the anticipated reprimand...eventually,
if not this moment.

	"I went for a walk, forgot the time.  When it got dark, I accidentally
stepped in some marshy water.  Slowed me down.  Nothing else happened. 
I'm sorry I upset everyone.  But my feet are sore, and I'm tired, and I'd
like to get some sleep."  She looked at Starbuck for a micron, then
quickly looked away.  "I'm tired," she repeated softly, as much to him as
to Siduri, and headed for her tent, one  edge of the blanket trailing in
the grass.

	For a micron Starbuck looked like he was going to follow her, but Brie
shook her head at him and hurried after her friend to make sure she was
all right.

	The captain let her go too, sensing there were personal reasons
unstated, and respecting them, for the moment, in the middle of the
crowd.

	Starbuck watched her go, too, looking taken aback and almost hurt that
she had pushed away his help.  He barely felt Boomer's brief clasp on his
shoulder.

	"Well, do we recall the search teams?" Reese asked gruffly after a
moment of silent milling.

	The captain shook her head.  "No.  We've still got three missing--"

	"Missing what?" interjected a calm voice.

	"Hannibal!"

	The senior engineer appeared almost jovial as he strolled toward the
group.

	"We thought--"  Siduri put her hands on her hips.  "Well, we didn't know
what to think.  But welcome back, you've saved us the trouble of another
search team.  So where've *you* been hiding all night?"

	"Up a tree, where else?"  In the general laughter that followed, he
continued to grin as he scanned the collected personnel.  The captain
caught his brief nod at Anubis, but then his attention turned back to
her.  "So what did I miss?"

	"Oh, the usual.  Superb music, missing personnel, search teams, power
struggles, the chance to spend a centar slogging through the weeds.  So,
did you happen to see Apollo and Croft in that tree?" she asked wryly.

	"No, but I did see them doing look-out duty up on one of the bluff
ledges.  They'll be back later tonight or tomorrow morning.  Not a
problem.  Anything else?"

	"Uh...no, I guess not..."

	"Good."  Hannibal affected a huge yawn.  "In that case, I'm going to go
to bed...and I suggest the rest of you who aren't on duty, do the same." 
He smiled briefly at Siduri.  "I think I'll check the wagon first."

		* * *

	Anubis hung back, sensing that there were some things Hannibal needed to
discuss with him, planning to follow the older operative to the wagon as
soon as the crowd had dispersed a little.

	Nia caught Anubis' arm.  "How'd you find her?" she asked.  He knew she
meant Athena.

	He shrugged.  "I thought about it a bit, figured out the most logical
direction for an intelligent woman to go if she wanted to be alone with
her thoughts, and still be able to find her way back.  Made sense. 
Follow the river."  He grinned tightly.

	She smiled back with a little possessive pride.  "Smart man."

	"Smart enough."  He glanced at Hannibal. <I hope.>

		* * *

	After Padryce's unexpected visit, Cassiopeia hadn't slept very well. 
She'd tossed and turned for centars before falling into a fitful, haunted
sleep, and she'd already been awake for half a centar when the morning
sun rose.  Afraid of another intrusion, she'd slept with her clothes on
-- the thought of the eklekton walking in on her half-naked was more than
she cared to face.  She fixed her hair and washed quickly with the
morning light, half afraid of what the day would bring but determined to
look as well as she could.  Her door remained locked until she heard
Moriathe outside speaking to the guard who'd apparently been there all
night.  Then, finally, the door was opened.

	The guard followed them as they made their way to the extensive kitchens
of the keep.  Moriathe already had the dishes set out and the food
ingredients ready for her examination, as the arxon had ordered the past
few days.

	Cassie couldn't help yawning as she inspected the tray of breakfast
foods prepared for Uthor.  No myris, per her instructions.  She noticed
several other little things, too, that she had rearranged or suggested in
the past few days, which Moriathe had done without repeated instructions.
 She knew the woman respected her, and was becoming more friendly every
day.  From the woman's appearance, she'd been under a lot of stress,
probably related to their arxon's illness and perhaps to their guest.

	While she was in the kitchen, a new guard replaced the man who'd stood
outside her door.  His mission appeared the same, however.  The new guard
continued to follow no more than two steps behind as the servant brought
breakfast to the arxon.  She trailed along with the sturdy young
kitchen-girl for lack of anything else to do.  The alternative, it
appeared, was to go back to her chamber and spend the day behind the
closed door.

	Uthor was already awake and on his feet, but only half-dressed, with a
full-length robe over a simple morning tunic.  He smiled invitingly as
the two women came into his chamber.  "Ah, breakfast!  Good!  I have an
appetite today.  Gwynna, you may go.  Cassiopeia, set out my meal, I have
spent the night looking forward to speaking with you again."

	The servant set down her tray and quickly bowed herself out.

	The guard stayed.

	Uthor eyed him.  After a moment, he said coldly, "You are also
dismissed."

	The man shifted nervously.  "My lord Padryce ordered-"

	"Your name?" Uthor interrupted.

	"Pardur, my lord Arxon."

	"Well, then, Pardur, I am master of my own keep."  He drew himself up;
he was taller than the guard by several finger-thicknesses, and had the
advantage of place.  "I am not a feeble sapbrain who cannot govern his
own abode, and I am well capable of determining my own prisoners, and my
own *guests*.  You may wait outside - or you will leave my home and
lands.  Now."

	Faced with Uthor at his most haughty and self-confident, Pardur slunk
out, His expression was troubled, but Cassie knew every word the arxon
had just said would be faithfully transmitted to the eklekton.

	Who would no doubt blame her for this, too.

	"You are troubled."

	She heard Uthor's murmured words as he stepped closer to her - too
close; he definitely considered her personal space to be his personal
space.  She raised her hand between them.  "I'm fine, just tired.  And
I'm sure the Eklekton won't approve of his men being ordered around
by...anyone else."

	He caught the hesitation in her last words, and grinned, a warm and
mischievous expression.  "By a man he thought to find helpless and dying,
and would have, except for you?"  His words turned to a caress.  "I saw
weariness in your eyes, your starflower-blue eyes, and I could not let
him stay if he was the cause of it."

	"I didn't sleep very well last night, that's all."  She tried to turn
maternal.  "I understand you weren't where you were supposed to be."

	He chuckled.  "I wasn't where *he* expected me to be.  But that does not
matter.  We were speaking of you."

	"Oh, I'm sure you can find other things to speak about.  And I'm sure
you have many duties to attend to, things to take care of, after being
ill for so long.  Perhaps I should be preparing to go back to my home-"

	Uthor suddenly swayed.  She reflexively stepped close to catch him
before he could fall.  When his arms came around her shoulders, she had
the uneasy thought that it might not have been the best idea to put
herself within his reach.  She stiffened as he pulled her even closer. 
His beard was soft against her forehead, and she realized just how tall
he really was.  After a moment, she realized his long robe had fallen
open, giving her a good view of most of his chest and his strong, bare
legs -- and perhaps an invitation, if she felt so inclined?  The
beginning of seduction?  Well, she should be able to handle that, for the
time being...

	"It would seem I am still not up to strength," he commented.  "Perhaps I
should have breakfast.  But I think I will need your help, little
starflower, at least for another few days..."  He dropped one arm, but
kept the other around her shoulders and leaned on her, forcing her to
walk with him to the low table where Gwynna had left the breakfast tray.

	It was the beginning of a day that would be spent in Uthor's company,
and not all of the eklekton's glowering seemed to make a bit of
difference to the arxon.  The only point Uthor seemed ready to give on,
was when Padryce absolutely banned Cassie from the evening ceremony.  On
that point, Cassiopeia was quite willing to agree, and retired to her
chamber with relief in late afternoon, to speak with Moriathe again on
her arxon's needs.

		* * *

	The temple of Farshire was lit with candles and the dying curtain of
sunset from outside the narrow, colored-glass windows.  The flickering
tapers and the last stained rays of natural light weren't enough to
brighten the place.  Dark, heavy walls rose to an arched high ceiling,
shrouded in dimness.  Boughs of snowgreen looped the frontstone and
wreathed the feet of the stone images of ancient holy men and women
guarding the walls.  Simple strips of blue cloth cloaked those same
statues, and similar-hued tapestries with gold-and-gem embroidery,
brought by the eklekton, were spread over the dark-veined marble tiles of
the sacred circle.  Against one wall next to that circle stood the
makeshift chorus, a half-dozen acolytes from Padryce's personal service,
dressed in long blue tunics instead of everyday kilts.  Several youths
from Farshire were scattered through the long chamber, tending braziers
of thick incense and relighting any candles gutted by gusts from outside
as the people came in and took their places; two more boys entered the
circle from hidden niches and filled each of the basins with water from
the temple's own well.  Each was wide-eyed and scrupulous in his duty. 
The local kalanthro, a middle-aged man, blessed the basins, then took a
place outside the circle with his serving boys.

	The gathered population was reverently silent, awed and frightened, and
hoped the ceremony wouldn't last half the night.  In the huge,
high-ceilinged, stone chamber, small coughs and shuffling feet echoed and
re-echoed.  Occasional gusts of wind down the temple spire hooted like
mournful night raptors.  The ponderous, eerie atmosphere cowed them all.

	After all the local citizens were settled, and had waited long enough, a
series of low chimes heralded the entry of Arxon Uthor.  His people
brightened visibly at seeing their lord walk under his own power, dressed
in his own clothes again, alternately smiling at them and lowering his
chin with devout solemnity when he glanced at the images of the ancient
kalanthros or the sacred circle.  A few of the people ducked their heads,
as fearful of his sudden health as they had been of his mysterious
illness.  Uthor ignored those gazes, and took his place at the carved
wooden seat traditionally set aside for Farshire's lord.  Next to the
circle, he sat back and waited with the rest.

	Finally, there came the clear, high notes of a shaken sistrum, followed
at once by the pealing of the temple bell in the spire.  Within the
structure, sweet pipes took up a tune, and the singers began a chant of
welcome.

	Finally Padryce entered, resplendent in robes such as had never graced
Farshire's simple temple before.  He strode through the people, preceded
by incense and candles.  Stepping into the circle, he turned and raised
his arms to begin the ritual.  His voice was deep and commanding; the
language was incomprehensible to most of the people, but familiar from
regular services.  Some of the Colonials, discretely remaining in the
rear of the gathering, recognized words, and knew that the ancient high
tongue of Kobol had mothered this baser speech.

	<"May the Sealers of the Covenant and the people of the Lords draw
near...">

		* * *

	The sound of the bells echoed over the town and the surrounding
countryside.  At her mountain shelter, Ninive heard it and trembled. *He*
held services that evening.

	Staring up into the heavens, she was startled by the sight of a falling
star -- no, a light, moving *up* as the lights had done when the
strangers arrived.  Maybe some of them were leaving, going back to the
stars?  The stars...  The sky was going dim, and there were no stars to
the lower half of the south.  That meant clouds, and maybe clouds would
bring rain.

	But rain would not soothe her angry soul, or silence the cut-off scream
that had echoed in her dreams since Padryce came here.

	She pounded her fists on the ground floor of her hut, screaming out
against the night in helpless fear and fury.

		* * *

	Cassiopeia heard the pealing of bells, and knew the ceremony had
started.  Her room was already dim, with only a few candles.  The evening
was hot, the atmosphere close.  A breeze from one window did little to
ease the sweltering heat.

	<They've all gone to the temple.  The place is almost empty, except for
the regular guards and servants, and the man the Eklekton has following
me everywhere I go.  He escorts me back to my chamber if he thinks I
don't belong somewhere -- under Padryce's orders, of course, unless Uthor
directly countermands him, like he did today.  It would be a good time
for a walk but he'd probably block the door!

	<Even Uthor left the keep to show how well he is.  He's back on his feet
and moving with spirit -- almost recovered, thanks to the miracles of
modern medicine and no more of that frakking spice.

	<I don't know if I can avoid his "invitations" much longer.  He keeps me
here like a prisoner -- won't let anyone hurt me, but won't let me leave
or see anyone he hasn't approved.  I don't know which is worse to deal
with, Uthor's lust or Padryce's hatred.>

	"Healer?" asked a timid voice.

	She started at the unexpected intruder.  "Yes?"

	It was Moriathe.  The gaunt woman edged into the room, pulling a
much-younger, heavily pregnant girl with her.  "Healer, this is my
husband's sister's child, Ygern.  Her time is near.  She cannot walk up
the mountain, and there is no one who will go to the mountain to bring
Granny Ninny here.  She asks if you will see if the babe is ready..."

	The med tech had started at the introduction, recognizing the name of
Nidaba's primary informant, and jumped again at hearing she might be in
labor.

	"Of course.  Lie down on the bed," Cassie ordered.  "I'll check..."  She
took Ygern's hand to help her.

	Moriathe looked relieved.  "Shall I fetch anything for you, healer?"

	Cassie, who had the medical know-how and had delivered several babies in
the Fleet, almost asked Moriathe to stay, to help soothe Ygern, until she
could tell how far into labor the girl was.  Then the young woman leaned
on her and whispered, "Nia said we must be alone..." followed by a very
realistic groan.

	"Go!"  She waved the aunt out.  "What is it?  What did they tell you?"

	With a troubled glance at the door, Ygern fumbled with her bodice and
pulled out a rolled sheet of paper.

	Cassiopeia snatched it and moved closer to the candle on the washstand. 
She scanned the note quickly, and felt her heart skip and her hands grow
cold at the same moment.  But she had a patient to tend; she returned to
Ygern.  Pushing the girl firmly to the bed, Cassie gently began probing
her heavy belly.  The child hadn't dropped yet; she shouldn't be having
contractions.  "I assume you're really not in labor?  I mean, the baby's
not coming tonight?  You just wanted to talk to me?"

	"My time will be soon, but not tonight.  Nia said you were a friend, and
asked me to bring that to you.  She has been...kind to me.  I am to meet
your friends by the temple after the ceremony, if everything is well.  Do
you wish me to tell them anything?"

	"Tell them thank you, and that I will try."  She moved to one of the
windows and squinted out into the darkness.  "And tell them which tower
my room is in.  I'll set a candle in the window...  How archaic."

	Moriathe returned at that moment.

	"Her time will not be for at least several days, I think.  Just get
plenty of rest, and don't overdo it..."  Useless instructions, in this
culture.  And fortunately, Ygern was probably much tougher than she
looked.  "But visit me again tomorrow, and we will see how far the baby
moves in a day."

	Cassie sent the women on the way with a reassuring smile, but with
shaking, cold hands.

	<They are from the Thirteenth Tribe, a small, rebellious, deliberately
backward sect of it.  Get a floor plan, look for the books, see the girl
again and have her smuggle out messages.  You don't ask much, Apollo, do
you?

	<Uthor.  Kai said the room adjoining his was the lady's room, with some
sort of library beyond.  And what Moriathe chattered about this
afternoon...  From Uthor's room, I could find the way.  But getting to
his room and having the chance to get to the other rooms...  Maybe... 
Well, I know there's a way...

	<But Starbuck...>

	Indecision nibbled at her as she chewed her lower lip for a few microns,
considering a brief retrieval of old skills.  There was more at stake
here than her personal feelings -- or Starbuck's, if indeed his feelings
for her at this time went deeper than surface attraction.  The last few
days, she'd had a lot of time to think, and time to become used to this
society and to learn what would help her survive in it -- and with
Padryce so against her, she would need every edge she could find.  Uthor
was a handsome young man, and pleasant, and definitely interested, even
if his idea of "cultured" didn't match what she was used to.  It might be
an opportunity to get a better view of another portion of this culture...

	<What duty requires...

	<But I left that behind when I became a med tech-

	<No, that's not what Apollo meant, but they don't know what I'm up
against here...

	<Oh, lords, I don't know what to do...>


	Chapter Eleven


	Uthor was obviously delighted, the morning after the ceremony, when
Cassie asked him to show her around the keep.  She solicitously took his
arm.  "The exercise will be good for you, but I want to make sure you're
up to all the walking."

	"With your support, I can go anywhere."  Instead of just letting her
hold his arm, he put it around her shoulders, leaning closer.

	<Oh, brother!  Well, at least he's dressed this morning!  I suppose I
have Kai to thank for that -- he's still a little scandalized at me, I
think, even though he seems to respect my medical ability.  Or whatever
he considers it.>

	Cassie had already checked in at the kitchen that morning.  After
reviewing the morning menu and preparations, she'd pulled Moriathe aside
for a brief conversation about Ygern's condition.  She'd given the woman
a data crystal with the stern instruction to give it to her niece
immediately, that it would help her get safely through the last days of
her pregnancy.  The woman had taken it eagerly, assuring Cassie she would
do so, undoubtedly believing it was some kind of charm -- probably not
the wisest thing to allow her to believe, but the only thing she could
think of that fit the circumstances.

	Cassie hoped Ygern would follow through on her promise of the night
before, and carry the crystal to Nidaba.

	"You seem far away.  Does something trouble you?"

	She looked up at Uthor's question, and shook her head, smiling.  "I'm
just trying to remember my way around.  The keep is so large, and I
haven't seen most of it yet."  She shrugged.  "I wouldn't want to get
lost."  <Especially since my orders are to find my way around enough to
tell Apollo and Hannibal how to get around.>

	A quick frown creased his brow.  "I thought Kai had shown you everything
you needed to know."

	"Oh, he did, but I'm sure you can show me more."  <And without being
stopped by the guards or Padryce.>

	The frown flipped into a broad smile and his arm tightened on her
shoulders; she realized he was taking her words as flirtation.  She
resigned herself to fending him off.

		* * *

	Mulciber was back in camp that morning, walking down from the mining
camp.  He appeared out of the dissipating morning mist as though stepping
out of a historical holovid, perfectly at ease in the local clothing. 
Throwing back his cloak, he glanced around long enough to spot the
mission commanders, then joined them.  He gave Apollo a token glance, and
handed his report computron to the warrior, but it was clear from his
expression that Hannibal was the one he was really reporting to.

	The mining aspect of the mission was still proceeding well -- in fact,
was even further ahead of schedule; the most recent shipment of
bastnasite had been sent back to the fleet the night before, and the
hovercraft returned to camp for concealment before dawn, which was the
reason the mining team leader had come to the main mission camp to check
in, and was on foot.  Mulciber's people were well-trained, but they'd
been a little rusty; now, they were back up to speed and everything was
going smoother than their most optimistic projections.

	By now, Apollo was used to Mulciber's methods -- and since he didn't
have that great an interest in the day-to-day running of the mining
operation anyway, or much more than a cursory understanding of the
process, once he knew that it was going well and there were no problems,
he half tuned it out.  Especially considering the depth and speed of the
other captain's questions.  He spent a quick centon reviewing Mulciber's
notes, then passed the small computron over to Hannibal, and let the
debriefing continue without comment on his part.

	He did notice the miner glance around at one point, with a slightly
puzzled look, but that passed with Hannibal's next rapidfire question.

	It wasn't until after Hannibal headed to the communication wagon with
the report that Mulciber actually addressed Apollo.

	"No Athena this morning?" the miner asked unexpectedly.  "What's keeping
her out of sight?"

	Apollo blinked.  "Hmm?  What about Athena?"

	Mulciber shrugged.  "I just realized something was missing, that's all. 
 Every time I've been here, she's been with Hannibal when he's taken my
report.  It's like walking into the mess room in the morning and there's
no caff brewing -- even if you don't drink it, you know something's
missing.  A detail thing."

	"She's on medical leave.  She...had a little fall the other night." 
Apollo felt a little self-conscious talking about his sister, and
surprisingly, a little guilty as well.  While she'd been out wandering in
the woods, he'd been sharing a little too much of the local buzzer with
Croft half-way up the mountain.   "Paye ordered her to take a rest.  She
was hobbling around yesterday, but Hebe said she was taking advantage of
the 'prescription' today and sleeping in."

	"Nothing serious, I hope?"

	"No.  Just nearly fell in the river in the dark, sprained her ankle,
then got a little chill from too much time in the woods.  Headache, sore
foot.  Paye said she'd be fine after a couple days rest."

	"Ah."

	"I wish I'd known you were sending a load back last night -- I might've
sent her back to the Galactica.  But she'd probably have refused," he
concluded more to himself.

	The man laughed.  "Vigorously, from what I've seen and heard of her."

	Apollo had to admit, Athena would have rejected any suggestion that she
return to the fleet at this point.  But:  "Oh?  And just how well do you
know my sister?"

	"Before this trip, I'd never met her."  He grinned again.  "But I knew
her voice.  She directed the tylium landing teams at Carillon, kept us
out of the way of your hotshot pilots and Cylon attack force both.  Same
at Gamoray.  Kept her cool the whole time."

	He did a double-take at the admiration in the miner's voice.  <Lords of
Kobol, not another complication-->

	"She's good at her job."  Mulciber gestured around the camp.  "She's
earned the right to be here.  And I certainly feel better knowing she is.
 Although the tylium team might be grumbling that she isn't there for
them."

	<Professional reasons only?  Athena?  Well, of course she's good at her
duty...she's my sister, she's...>

	"Well, back to the mines.  I hope Athena's feeling better."  The miner
nodded a cheerful farewell and turned toward the mountain side of camp,
but paused long enough to call back, "And tell Hannibal I haven't
forgotten the bet -- he owes me."

	"Right..."

	Mucliber headed back up the trail to the mining camp, striding
energetically out of sight.  Apollo watched him go.  After a moment, he
realized that he'd just had the longest personal or non duty-related
conversation with the miner that he could ever remember -- and it had
been in praise of his sister.  Why was that such a surprise to him?

	"What bet was that?" somebody interrupted.

	He glanced up at Boomer's approach.  "I don't know.  And I'm not sure I
should ask."

	"Afraid he'll tell you?"

	"Maybe."  Considering everything he'd learned about Hannibal in the past
sectons, that was almost the truth. But rather than raise those issues,
he said, "You know something, Boomer?  I just had a man tell me how
wonderful Athena is."

	"Starbuck trying to get on your good side?" his friend asked wryly. 
"What did he do now?"

	Apollo shook his head, chuckling.  "No.  Not this time.  One of the
miners.  Mulciber.  The guy that just left."  He paused.  "It got me
thinking."

	"You needed a civilian miner to tell you what a talented woman and
warrior your sister is?"

	He flinched.  "Boomer, it seems like half the people on this mission are
telling me things I don't want to hear, or should have seen for myself,
or ought to be thinking whether I want to or not.  Don't join the
list..."

	Boomer shook his head.  "Too late, Apollo.  Siduri already enlisted me."

	They fell into stride together.

	"Didn't see much of you yesterday," Boomer began conversationally.

	That called for an honest response.  "I...wasn't feeling the best
myself.  Tired."

	"A little reconnaissance duty the night before, up the mountain, from
what Hannibal said," Boomer probed.

	Apollo wondered what he was angling for.  "Well, partway.  Out later
than I thought I'd be."

	"The local buzzer is nasty stuff, from what I hear, if you have too much
of it."

	"True."

	"Didn't see Croft around, either," Boomer continued carefully.

	"All right, Boomer, Croft and I had a talk and got drunk.  I was as
surprised as you are about it.  Then I spent part of yesterday sick as a
daggit, and the rest of it sleeping.  Anything else?"

	"That's what Siduri thought."

	That nettled, and Apollo suddenly found his temper straining at its thin
leash again.  "You're spending a lot of time with Green Squadron these
days, Boomer.  Thinking of asking for a transfer?"

	The sharp tone put Boomer on the offensive, and he tried to mollify his
friend.  "You know better than that, Apollo--"

	"Oh?  About the only thing I know these days is that everybody seems to
be blaming me for things beyond my control or questioning my orders or
looking for answers I don't have -- and I find it pretty sad that the
only people who seem to understand me and aren't pushing me aren't my
friends, but an ex-criminal temporary security chief and an
ex-intelligence agent engineer."

	"Now just a centon--"

	He held up one hand; Boomer shut up.  For a centon Apollo just tried to
cool down and figure out where his unaccustomed anger was coming from. 
Rubbing his forehead with the other hand, he said wearily, "Sorry.  Look,
Boomer, it's not you...it's just...I don't know.  I've got a lot to think
about, and I'm trying to look at things from a lot of perspectives.  You
didn't help, talking about Sheba like that, but you're right, I need to
make a few decisions.  It's just...not easy.  Not for me."

	"Not for anybody, my friend," Boomer replied sincerely.  "Like I said,
I'm not trying to push you or make your decisions for you.  But you're
the kind of guy who gets moody and retreats into yourself when you're
hurt or scared, emotionally.  You put up this wall around yourself to
keep the rest of us out, and you try to find a reason to blame yourself;
we all know when there's something bothering you.  Not like Starbuck, he
just pretends nothing matters and scurries on to something else to hide
his feelings.  I care about you.  I care about Sheba.  You're my friends.
 I don't want either of you hurt -- and I don't want to see that wall
come up again.  Not like at the Destruction.  Not again."

	"I...appreciate that, Boomer."  Apollo felt wrung out.  "Sorry."

	They resumed walking, their feet unconsciously carrying them along the
same trail the miner had taken, into the woods, following the river
upstream.

	Apollo finally asked, "Did Siduri tell you to keep an eye on me?"

	Boomer shrugged.  "She...suggested I make sure you have someone to talk
to if you needed it.  And that I encourage you to need it."

	"That woman...  She should have been a socialator.  She's wasted as a
warrior."

	"I doubt her squadron would agree with that."

	Recalling her military record, Apollo admitted, "Yeah, you're right. 
Let's say, she could have accomplished *more* as a socialator."

	"I wouldn't know about that."

	"You guys going fishing again today?"

	"Might."

	"Let me know if you do.  I'll go along.  I could use some quiet time." 
He glanced behind them, where the sound of rustling leaves and occasional
cracklings of branches told them their security escort was trying
unsuccessfully to be discreet.  "But for now," he sighed, "we may as well
change the topic and head back to camp."

		* * *

	Eris sat on the bank of the stream, watching the water burble on its
merry way.  Her eyes were vacant, unfocused.  She rested her chin on her
arms, crossed over her knees.  Every now and then, she sighed heavily. 
This mission had been rather disruptive, in a lot of ways...

	"Hey, blondie, what's up?"

	She started as Leander pushed his way through the rest of the brush to
take position beside her.  She glanced up at him.  He seemed even taller,
towering above her, arms akimbo on his hips.  The angle was just right
that the midmorning sun caught his red hair like a firebrand.

	"What's up?" she asked.  "One of the captains call a briefing?"

	His laugh was a little rough.  "No.  Like they'd tell us, anyway, unless
they needed cannon fodder.   Even if Croft had a say.  I just wondered
what had you so preoccupied."

	"Me?  Nothing," she replied shortly.

	He cocked his head.  "Oh?"

	"Nothing," Eris repeated, then let her eyes wander across the water
again.

	After a centon, Leander asked, "Starbuck?"

	She jumped a little.  "What?"

	"Thinking about Starbuck?"

	She turned as red as his hair.  "What about him?"

	He looked like he couldn't decide whether to snigger or offer sympathy. 
"I hope you're not thinking about him...seriously."

	"Why would I do that?"  Her cheeks were still red, and she wouldn't look
at him.

	"Everybody's heard about you and him that night."  Leander seemed to
decide on sympathy; warriors were, after all, mutual antagonists.  He put
a hand on her shoulder for a few microns.  "Look, Eris, I'm not trying to
be cruel, but consider the competition.  Our heroic Commander's daughter
who's also beautiful and intelligent, and the socialator who had Cain
ready to prance to the Elders at his next port call, if rumors be true. 
I mean, come on, between those two?  Who'd turn either one of 'em down? 
And those are just the front runners!  Don't forget the other women he's
been rumored to have been with.  One of those wild Protean prisoners and
the leading Aerian rope dancer in the fleet.  Not to mention that Libran
so-called minor princess and that Beta technician and the dealer from the
Rising Star."  He shook his head.  "He's not serious about anybody.  And
if he were going to be serious about anybody...well, face it, it wouldn't
be you.  Even if he weren't a warrior and you weren't security.  You're
not his type."

	Eris slowly rose to her feet, her expression grim.  "Leander.  You are a
jack's astrum.  What you know about women and warriors would fit in one
of Brie's thumbcaps.  And what you know about me couldn't be detected
with one of Euclid and Wilker's molecular-level scanalyzers.  And what's
more, you can go to hades and turn your backside to one of Diabolis's
minions."

	With the grim dignity of a Sagittarin matriarch, Eris marched away,
leaving a flush of red on Leander's face almost the hue of his hair.

		* * *

	The young man groaned and rolled over, nausea taking over again.  His
stomach constricted fiercely, but there was nothing to expel; he hadn't
eaten for three days.  Bran hadn't even been able to swallow water since
the day before.  His nightshirt and sheet were damp and smelled rancid
from days of stale sweat; he hadn't left his bed since the morning he
staggered home drunk from the mountain.  The two younger brothers he
usually shared the straw-stuffed mattress with had been sleeping in the
loft above the forge since that day.  A lone candle on a metal spike was
the only light in the small room.  Even that was too much light for his
eyes.  A rough hand wiped his forehead with a damp rag.  He didn't
recognize his mother's touch, and weakly flinched away from it,
whimpering.

	Ysin looked almost as haggard as her son.

	"He is no better this morning?"

	She shook her head, and tried again to wipe her son's brow.

	Eldo was a tall, sturdy man, broad-shouldered and thick-muscled, even in
middle age.  He had wielded the hammer and stoked the forge for all of
his adult life, and a good part of his life before adulthood; in
Farshire, he was known for his strength, his smithing skills, and his
inventiveness with metal.  Staring down at his wife and son, seeing the
despair in one's eyes and the sunken pallor of the other's face, his
shoulders dropped in grief.  His son was dying, and the strong man was
helpless against that.

	"Granny Ninny will not come?" Ysin pleaded.

	"We could not find her.  Her door was latched, but there was no mark to
say where she had gone."

	"The kalanthro?  Will he come back?"

	The blacksmith's thick hands clenched and reclenched.  "He would only
sign the Covenant, and tell me it is beyond him, that this was no illness
he had ever seen before."  He fought for control.  "Marth told me the
kalanthro believes this is the trade for our Arxon's life, that one of
our own must die his death.  That the new healer could not have saved our
lord without giving the Evil One another life in return.  He's afraid to
come near our house."

	"No!" Tears welled up again, as they had so many times over the last,
endless night.

	Eldo carried a sensitive soul.  He shared his wife's grief and love for
their son, but the years had forged a shield between emotions and their
expression as sturdily as they'd hardened his body; he could think of
nothing to say in the face of death, and he wouldn't break down in front
of Ysin.  He ran one calloused hand through his hair.  "I've got to get
to the forge.  Yder has the gift, but he's too young to handle it alone."
 The curtain dropped behind him, and she heard the creak of his weight on
the ladder as he descended.  A gust of air from the room below rippled
the curtain and caught the flame of the lone candle; Ysin was left alone
in the darkness at her son's deathbed.

		* * *

	"Athena?"

	The woman in the sleepsack opened her eyes slowly, and lazily stretched
her arms over her head.  The murmur in the back of her throat sounded
like a purr.  A sleepy, contented smile played on her lips as she rolled
onto her side.

	"Must have been a nice dream?"

	"I wouldn't want to make you jealous," Athena replied languidly, still
smiling as she sat up and leaned on her elbow.  "Wilhelm wouldn't be able
to compete."

	"Don't bet on it.  So, was it sweet dreams of Starbuck?" the woman asked
teasingly.

	"You know an officer and a gentlebred never tells.  What is it, Hebe?"

	"Well..."  The young warrior who was crouched half in and half out of
the tent stuck her head out again for a micron, then back in.  She asked
hesitantly, "Do you feel up to company?"

	"Depends who."  Athena stretched again.  Sleeping late was definitely a
treat, now that yesterday's headache was gone and she felt good again. 
She rolled her ankle experimentally.  Not even a twinge.  Paye could
really be good, at medicine.  She drew a deep, refreshed breath.

	"It's Sheba..."

	Athena sat up, all trace of the pleasant dream and languor abruptly
gone.  "Sheba?"

	Hebe's position gave her a quick escape - a shift of leg muscles, and
she was gone.

	A long centon later, a hand reached hesitantly into the tent and pulled
the flap aside.

	"Hi, Athena."

	"Hi, Sheba," she replied after an awkward micron's silence.  The
reflexive wave of resentment was tempered by her pleasant, relaxed mood,
but she wasn't going to leave any openings for more accusations, or
pretend nothing had happened.

	"I was wondering how you were feeling today...after the other night."

	"Well..."  Athena hesitated.  "A lot better."

	"Good."  Sheba smiled tentatively.

	She guessed, by the shadows under her eyes, that the other woman hadn't
slept well the night before or maybe the last few nights.  The smile
suggested Sheba wasn't going to attack anyone at the moment, but Athena
still wasn't sure how she wanted to respond - or what Sheba really wanted
by coming to her.  To apologize for that unwarranted broadside against
her whole family?  To deliver a message to Apollo?  To pretend nothing
had happened or was wrong?

	"Uhm..."  Sheba moved further into the tent, taking position next to
Athena's sleepsack and sitting back on her heels.  She pulled a ceramic
jar from behind her back and held it out.

	Athena automatically reached for it.  "What is it?"   It was a small
round jar, only a hand tall but almost that wide, barely large enough to
hold about a tankard's-worth of liquid or solid contents.  It was
smoothly  glazed in a swirling blue-green pattern, almost exactly the
color of her eyes, with a similarly-glazed plug of the same material,
ringed with a local flexible plant gum, in its wide round mouth. 
Well-made and evenly proportioned.  A common design in the village, and
probably from the local ceramist - pottery maker, she reminded herself. 
It was pretty.  She glanced at Sheba with a question in her eyes.

	"It's a local salving lotion.  I thought maybe you'd like a little
something for that ankle."

	Athena did a double take.  "You went to the village?"

	"No."  A quick flash of some emotion ran across Sheba's face, then was
replaced by weariness.  "Greenbean picked up the jar for me.  The
lotion...it's one of the...recipes from the herbalist woman."

	"Cassie's friend."

	Sheba nodded.  "Yes.  I had one of the bio-techs make it up.  With a few
additional ingredients that Ninive had suggested in her notes.  It smells
sweet, and it's very soothing on the skin, feels like it goes in deep. 
Dr. Paye and Bille both said it actually seems to do some good, and it
doesn't do any harm, so I thought...I thought you might like it.  For
your ankle."

	Athena studied it thoughtfully.  "Yes...I think I will..."  She tugged
gently at the plug; it came out easily.  Almost immediately, a sweet
floral smell permeated the tent.

	"Mmm!"  She smiled in spite of herself, inhaling deeply.  "It's the same
as those flowers that have been blooming at night!"

	Both women silently enjoyed the scent for a few centons, from the small,
richly aromatic orange flowers that had opened every night the last few
days, and perfumed the entire camp with their almost intoxicating
fragrance.  The flowers grew in long clusters on a type of vine, hanging
almost like rows of beads from the branches of the trees that supported
them like a trellis.  The little blossoms, only the size of a thumbnail,
were like miniature cups when they were fully open, from just after dusk
until the first light of dawn, full of a watery nectar; during the day,
they sealed up like hard pellets.

	"I didn't think there'd actually be anything in that old woman's book
that was any good for anything," Athena finally said, thinking of all the
centars Cassie had spent with the local healer, and wondering what she
was doing now, in the keep.

	Sheba had to laugh a little.  "Me, too.  I was surprised when Bille said
some of the stuff looked useful, from the bio-team's preliminary studies
coupled with Paye's work.  But half of the medicines in our own
pharmacies come from ancestors just as primitive as these people are.  Do
you know how old some of our basic analgesics are?  We might even have
brought some of them with us from Kobol."

	The other woman, with her background, had to smile.  "Oh, I believe you!
 But I thought you hadn't studied history."

	"I didn't.  But I haven't had a lot to do in my off-centars, once set-up
was done and our schedule was in place.  So I've been helping out where I
could.  Between the bio-team and Paye, I'm getting an education I'll
hopefully never have to use."

	Athena dipped a finger into the thick lotion and stirred it, then
scooped some out and rubbed it between her fingers and thumb.  "Feels
good."

	"Still smells good, too."

	Her hands were chapped and a little calloused from the manual labor and
exposure of the last few sectons.  She smoothed it over her hands; they
felt better almost instantly, smoothed and a little bit tingly. 
Grinning, she asked, "Have you tried it?"

	Sheba shook her head.  "No, this is the first batch, and Bille just made
a little to test it."

	She paused.  "You mean no one's tested it yet?"

	"Not the final product."  At Athena's expression she added hastily, "But
they did test the original recipe - before he added the floral essence,
he said it smelled so bad, no one wanted it - he said it worked great on
callouses from those heavy boots, but we didn't want to know what it
would make our feet smell like!"

	Athena couldn't stop laughing.  She pulled her own bare feet free of the
sleepsack and began to smooth  the lotion on her ankle, and then her
feet.

	"Umm!  Hey," she said, "if you want some, Sheba, this stuff feels even
better after a couple centons.  Try it!"  She scooped out another few
finger's worth, then, impishly, reached out and smeared it on the tip of
the other woman's nose.

	"Athena!  That's supposed to be medicinal!"  Sheba rocked back,
laughing.

	"Well, I'm feeling better so it must work!"

	Sheba wiped off her nose and began rubbing her hands together.  After a
few microns, she said quietly, "I'm sorry about what I said the other
day.  I was worried about Cassie and angry at Apollo and I took it out on
you.  Peace?"

	Something unwound in Athena; she hadn't realized how tense she'd been. 
"Peace."  She finished rubbing the extra salve on her elbows and stood
up.  "Any word on Cassie?" she asked.  She pulled out the common basin
and splashed in a little water, then stripped off her nightshirt and gave
herself a quick morning scrub.

	Sheba shook her head.  "Nothing.  Not that I've heard.  Although I'm not
sure how much anyone would tell me anyway."  Pause.  "How's Starbuck
doing?  I haven't seen much of him the last few days.  Have you...seen
him?"

	It was Athena's turn to shake her head, sending a few water drops
flying.  She reaching for the towel.  "No.  It seems like every time I
plan to talk to him or try to catch him, something gets in the way." 
Face dry, she undid her hair from its night braid -- it was the easiest
way to keep their hair neat -- and began to brush it smooth.  "Like me
hurting my ankle the other night.  Either he's with Boomer or some of the
pilots, or I'm on duty in the wagon, or there's some other kind of
emergency that has priority.  And we're in different mess groups."  She
tied the band of the first petticoat around her waist.  "We haven't even
had the same town duty, now that he's more or less confined to camp."

	"Like me."  Sheba sighed heavily.

	Athena felt something tense up inside - was Sheba about to attack again?
 She pulled out the underthings and petticoats that local custom demanded
women wear under their skirts.  As the silence continued, she shimmied
into her simple chemise, pulling her hair free of its straps.  She forced
herself to relax and carefully asked, "Have you talked to Apollo?"

	"No."

	More silence.  She tied the first petticoat at her waist.  "Are you
going to talk to him?"

	"No."

	The second.  "Do you want to work things out?"

	"I'm...not sure."

	Athena pulled on her blouse and secured it at her throat with a pair of
simple metal pins of local manufacture.  She used that moment to ponder
the meaning of Sheba's uncertainty.  "I think you should talk to him,"
she finally said.

	"I've tried."

	More silence.  The long silences had her searching for the right words
as she searched for her thick stockings.  Finding both, she sat down on
her sleepsack to pull the socks on, saying, "I know my brother.  What
lingers, festers, even if it's on a subconscious level, and the wall gets
harder to bring down.  Once his initial anger is past, well, I found out
a long time ago, that's the time to go to him.  The longer this goes on,
the harder it'll be to work it out.  If you want to make things right
between you, don't let it go on too long."

	"I don't think there is any way to make it right, Athena," she
responded, low-voiced.  "It's already too late."

	"You're not afraid to talk to me, why are you afraid to talk to him?"
Athena asked directly.  "We  worked things out.  My brother's not a
monster, most of the time."

	"It's not..."  Sheba sighed deeply, shaking her head.  "It's not the
same."

	"He's..."

	"I can't bring him lotion to smooth things over."

	"But..."

	"No."

	"Sheba..."

	"Athena, when you've worked things out with Starbuck, you can tell me
how to work things out with Apollo."  With that flat, enigmatic
statement, she backed out of the tent and let the flap fall, leaving the
other woman alone.

	Athena felt a mixture of frustration and sympathy.  She felt sorry for
Sheba's obvious unhappiness, and annoyed with her brother for several
reasons, on this mission.  But Sheba wasn't making it any easier to work
things out either.  She realized she didn't know what her brother was
thinking or even doing - the last few days, she hadn't seen much of him. 
He was silent, introspective, seemed to be avoiding most people.  Which
might mean he was trying to think of a way to work things out with Sheba
himself -- or might mean he was wallowing in his anger or unhappiness,
while the distance between them became more and more uncrossable.  Athena
knew Siduri was keeping an eye on both Apollo and Sheba, which was
probably a good thing, and trying to encourage some kind of resolution to
their stand-off.  But...

	And then there was her own stand-off.  That Sheba knew or suspected she
had a reason for wanting to talk to Starbuck, probably meant everybody in
camp knew and was speculating.  She winced, imagining all the gossip that
might be going around.  Lords only knew what Starbuck might be hearing
from the others, or what they might be thinking of her.

	"Something kept getting in the way."  Feeling a little introspective
herself, she wondered if that something was really their schedules and
circumstances, or something inside herself that was afraid of going
through with it, of forcing the issue.

	She quickly finished dressing, deciding to skip her vest this morning -
from the warmth of the tent and cheery ray of sunshine sneaking through
the edge of the tent flap, it was a glorious day outside.  A day to
enjoy.

	A day to get some things out of the way, and get other things decided.

	She added a light smear of the fragrant lotion behind her ears in lieu
of perfume, and headed out.

		* * *

	"Apollo, we'd like to talk to you for a moment...if you've got a centon
to spare."  Anubis was unusually thoughtful and quiet.  He'd been aloof
from everybody else that morning.  The captain glanced at the equipment
wagon.  There was no one in sight, but he assumed Hannibal would have
things well in hand.  Boomer seemed to have vanished - probably reporting
to Siduri, Apollo concluded wryly.  He decided he may as well see what
the mysterious historian wanted.

	"Sure.  What is it?"  Apollo changed direction to fall in step with the
man, who led the warrior slowly apart from the rest of the camp.

	"I wanted to ask you about something I noticed last night at the rain
ceremony."

	"You were there; I wasn't.  How can I...?"

	"In a centon."

	There was a small sandbank at the edge of the creek, part of it natural
and part of it formed by many feet and various activities over the past
sectons.  When they reached it, Anubis halted, then knelt and traced a
design in the dirt and sand.  "Does this look familiar to you?"

	He had to stoop to see it clearly; long double triangles, joined along
one side; together they shaped a diamond, which was surrounded by a
jagged-edged circle.  Familiar, but not quite complete, teasing his
memories.  Anubis took a twig, and, watching the captain's face, added
some finer detail.

	Apollo stared, blinking.  "That..."

	"You know it, too?"

	"The outline of the symbol of the Lords of Kobol," he realized.  "My
father has one...  He used it to open the tomb of the last Lord in Eden. 
It's the Great Seal..."

	"That's what we thought, Nia and I," Anubis said steadily.

	Apollo was entranced.  "The Great Seal of Kobol!  They are from the
Thirteenth Tribe!  It's proof, even if we don't get the books..."

	"Well, it makes it more likely they're descended from a colony of Kobol,
anyway," Anubis said more cautiously.  "Whether they're from the
Thirteenth Tribe or not may still be debatable."

	Apollo gleamed like a boy with a surprise treasure.  "Both you and Nia
saw it?  Where is she?  Did you get an imagescan?"

	"She took the dairy trip today, took Siduri with them, figuring she'd
get more answers that way.  But yes, she saw it too.  We both recognized
it at once, since your father wears one, and we know its significance in
our history.  We thought you'd want to know.  Your interest and knowledge
of history are refreshing, coming from a warrior."

	"Where did you see it?" Apollo demanded abruptly.

	"Two places.  Above the temple frontstone, carved into the wall and
inlaid with some kind of quartz in a more intricate pattern.  We wouldn't
be able to lift it if we could cut it away intact.  The second place was
embroidered on Padryce's robes, in gold on lapis blue.  We couldn't see
it the last time in the temple because the seal was veiled, and only
uncovered during the rain ceremony because the Arxon and Eklekton were
there - I guess it's one of those elite things.  The local kalanthro's
robes are much simpler than the Eklekton's, they don't have the same
detail as Padryce."

	The warrior's gaze shifted to him with a calculating expression.

	Anubis raised an eyebrow.  "Are you thinking of taking the vestment as
well as the books?  I wouldn't have expected that from you."

	"If there's a way...  What do you mean?"

	He laughed outright -- an unexpectedly delighted and refreshing sound. 
"I never thought you'd be one to steal the shirt off a man's back!"

	"Maybe I've been spending too much time with you!" he retorted,
provoked.  "After all, you should be just the man to show me how it's
done!"

	Something fierce flashed through the other man's dark eyes, but
dissolved into another hearty guffaw.  "One of many little things you
could stand to learn."

	The brief look had chilled Apollo.  Rather than push the issue any
further, he decided to let it go.  Damping down that ever-present short
fuse he felt cursed with on the mission, he laughed with Anubis.  The
immediate easing of tension told him it was the right decision.

		* * *

	It was almost two centars later, after a leisurely stroll through one
sparsely-furnished stone-and-wood room and windowless, torch-lit hall
after another, that Cassiopeia sent Uthor to his chamber to rest before
the midday meal, sternly telling him he needed to build up his strength.

	He'd responded with a comment about not being used to following orders
in his own keep, and a sly suggestion that he might need someone to
enforce it.  She'd offered to call as many guards as needed.  He'd
playfully capitulated, which told her in several ways that he really was
tired.  She could also tell from the gleam in his eyes that he expected
to continue the flirtation later that day.

	She headed back to the kitchen, noting that one of the arxon's guards
stayed a few paces behind her, after being more discreetly distant while
she was with Uthor.  Cassie couldn't help feeling as though a net were
tightening around her - or a noose.  The guard was living proof. Apollo's
orders seemed even less tenable today.

	Things seemed more subdued in the large kitchen than they had earlier
that morning; the staff were silent, moving quietly, almost hunched in
fear, not meeting anyone's eyes as they hurried through their tasks. 
Cassie's personal tension increased.

	"Is something wrong, Moriathe?" she called.

	"It..."  The middle-aged woman shrugged sadly.  "In Farshire, one of
Eldo the blacksmith's sons has been ill.  They fear he is dying."

	"I should go to him-"  She stopped.  She doubted either Padryce or Uthor
would let her out of the keep, even to tend another sick man.  And she
would likely need privacy, to be alone with the young man, if she was
going to be able to help him, so she could use her advanced medical
technology.  "Can he be brought here to the keep?" she asked instead.

	Moriathe shook her head.  "The kalanthro believes it is some dark
illness, a taint of the Evil One."

	Not again, Cassie thought exhaustedly.

	"Bran has never been strong.  And this illness, it came on him after he
spent a night wandering the woods.  He is banished from temple and keep
until he recovers...or dies.  They will not risk Uthor's health so soon
after his own illness, or risk bringing an evil taint into the House of
the Covenant."

	Cassiopeia froze, shocked anew at a display of what seemed to her to be
the worse kind of superstition - and continuing misunderstanding of what
an allergy was.  "Granny Ninny, can she...?"

	"They cannot find her."  Moriathe shook her head again.  "She seems to
be gone.  We...fear for her too.  She is an old woman, she has lived
alone on the mountain for...many years, since before our lord was born,
since his father earned his manhood.  She may have wandered off to die,
or met some accident."

	Oh, no, not Ninny...  The thought of the old woman being dead brought
grief.  But a young man might be dying in the village...

	"Moriathe..."  She leaned close.  "If I tell you something that might
help the young man, will you tell his family, or someone else who's
willing to risk helping him?"

	The woman blinked.  "I...what do you mean?"

	She swallowed, hoping she wasn't doing the wrong thing - but she
couldn't do nothing, and she knew that Paye couldn't, either.  For all
that he could be difficult to deal with, at times, there was no question
of his medical skill or dedication.  "There is...a healer among the
gypsies.  I know he will try to help, if someone tells him."

	Moriathe almost backed away, her hand moving in a reflexive gesture, but
Cassie caught her arm.  "I can't go to him, and he can't come to me. 
Ninny is gone.  There is no one else."

	"But...one of them?  One of the gypsies?"

	"I am one of them, I was learning from Ninive, but I am one of them.  I
know he can help, I know he will at least try.  But..."  I hope I'm not
setting him up for disaster, and I know Apollo's not going to be happy
about this...  "His name is Paye, he's a healer, he will help.  Send
someone to the gypsies, or talk to one of them in the village."

	Her eyes were wide.  Moriathe reluctantly began to nod.  "Ysin...his
mother, she is my cousin.  She has lost three children already, she has
lost enough.  I will tell her."

		* * *

	Starbuck was in no mood for company.  He was feeling isolated in a way
he couldn't even have explained.  And he had other reasons for not
wanting any of his buddies hanging around.  Since they'd gone fishing,
the ones who weren't in the village team for the day, avoiding them
wasn't a problem - he just had to make sure he didn't run into any of
them as he headed for his personal spot, to make sure he didn't get
invited along for the day in something he couldn't refuse.

	He took his time going through the trees, taking a different route than
he usually did, pausing often to listen for any following footsteps and
to look around for anyone who might be watching him - like security.  He
knew who was supposed to be his guard for the day.  Reaching the creek,
he turned upstream and followed it, several times stepping into the water
and wading for a distance to prevent any footprints that someone might
follow.

	Finally, he reached his private space.  It was empty, as he'd expected.

	Nonetheless, he spent several centons glancing around in all directions,
to make sure he hadn't been followed.  Sighing in relief, Starbuck
finally sank down into the grasses between the two largest tree roots. 
It felt like he was cradled away from the world there, safe and protected
on almost all sides, only the stream in front of him, alone with his
thoughts.  He thought about taking off his boots and socks, but he didn't
know how long he'd be there - and there was always the possibility he
might have to make a rapid retreat.  So he simply sat there.

	Waiting.

	He didn't have to wait long.  He'd been clear to Eris where he expected
her to meet him.  And since she was his minder for the day, she had no
choice but to follow through, even if she really didn't want to see him -
and she hadn't been happy when he'd given her the ultimatum that morning.

	He heard Eris approach before he saw her.  She'd never mastered the art
of silent passage through the underbrush, even after he'd worn a path
just detectable enough to spot if one knew it was there.  Along with her
passage, he heard her muttered curses at every snag of a thorn on skin or
clothing, every branch that snapped back into her face or caught her
hair, every root or grass that threatened to trip her up and send her
sprawling.

	She sounded exhausted - she hated the woods, he knew.  That someone kept
assigning her to follow him was probably their idea of a joke, the result
of her difficulty with the terrain, his propensity to duck into the
forest and its underbrush anyway, and a gibe at the one night they'd
spent together.

	"Starbuck?" he heard her call breathlessly, long after he already knew
she was coming close.

	"I'm here."

	"All right, so am I."  She tried to step over one of the cradling tree
roots, but stumbled as her skirt caught on the wood, and nearly fell
face-first into his arms with a yelp, arms windmilling and legs flailing.
 He caught her and helped her to sit.

	"Well?"

	She glared at him as she gasped for breath and pushed the lop-sided
remains of her blonde braid off her face.  "I don't know why you...had to
meet out here, we could've...talked anywhere in camp..."

	"And been heard or seen.  I don't think either of us wants that.  Nobody
knows where we are, nobody's likely to overhear, and nobody's going to
carry speculation back to camp.  You wouldn't want Hannibal and Apollo to
know you brought an unsanctioned weapon down here, do you?"

	She shook her head, fury in her eyes.  "You promised you wouldn't
tell..."

	"And I haven't," he reminded her.

	"No, you're just...taking it away from me for...your own purposes!"

	He shrugged.  "I'm confiscating it for the good of the mission."

	"What are you going...to do with it?"

	"Oh, just hang onto it for safekeeping."

	"Felgercarb...  You've got something up your sleeve."

	"I will have now."

	"And if I tell Croft that you've got a weapon?"

	"I tell him where it came from.  And we both sit in the brig.  Fun,
huh?"

	She glared.  But he hadn't really given her any choice.  Hand over the
laser, or risk the consequences if he told their superior officers.  Not,
he admitted guiltily to himself, that he really would have done it.  But
she didn't know that, not for certain.

	"Well?"

	She shifted position to pull the laser out of a sealed pocket in her
second petticoat, then slammed the weapon into Starbuck's waiting hand. 
Without another word, she shoved herself to her feet and climbed back
over the thick tree root, then back into the woods.

	He didn't call after her.  If she got in trouble for leaving her
assigned charge, well, that was her problem.

	No, it wasn't.  It was his fault; he couldn't blame her.  He'd been
cruel.  Admitting he felt guilty about that too - but not guilty enough
to give back the weapon or apologize for taking it - he quickly secured
the laser in an inner pocket of his own vest, and began following her.

	"Eris..." he called, feeling a need to say something, he wasn't sure
what.

	She didn't seem to be stopping.

	"Hey, Starbuck?  Is that you?"

	The call brought him up short.  Athena?

	She ducked into view from under one of the hedera-type vines, pushing
aside one of the long strands of small orange flowers whose scent
currently permeated the nights.

	Athena glanced in the direction Eris had gone, where the brush was still
disturbed on the sides of the small path Starbuck had worn through it.

	"Eris?" she asked, nodding that way.  "How'd you get rid of her?  Or
don't you want to get rid of her?  Maybe I should leave?"

	"No..."  He waved dismissively after the security officer, half
concerned that Athena might have witnessed or heard them arguing about
the laser, and half relieved that she hadn't blasted him for being with
Eris, out here and alone, after her reaction to finding out about that
one night.  "She doesn't really like it out here anyway.  But how'd you
get rid of yours?  Isn't Omfala supposed to your guard today?"

	A quick smile crossed her face.  "I convinced her I needed some time
alone for a private conversation.  She was willing to back off for a
little while."

	"Yeah, I guess if any of them will give us some space, she would.  You,
anyway.  You two always got along."

	Athena shrugged.  "Her sister was a civilian shuttle pilot.  Died at
Carillon.  Some of the shuttle pilots who joined the squadrons at Kobol
trained with her, and liked her, and knew Omfala too.  So she looks at
some of us a little differently than the rest of them do, I guess."

	"I didn't know that."

	"There's no reason you should."

	"Did you- I mean, how did you sneak up on me like this?  I didn't hear
you."

	"Apollo isn't the only one in the family who used to enjoy the outdoors.
 We used to go on family vacations, camping in the preserves, back on
Caprica, before we all wound up at the Academy.  I used to be pretty good
at the planetary survival courses, too."  She glanced back toward the
stream, and Starbuck's personal tree.  "We have to talk, Starbuck."

	Oh, no...  "Ah, Athena..."  The laser felt heavy against his side.

	She just smiled, that most glorious expression that lit up her face and
her eyes and put the stars to shame.  When she turned up the voltage like
that, he had never been able to resister her.  His only chance would have
been an immediate retreat- 

	She took his hand and turned back to his tree, leading him back to his
quiet spot.

		* * *

	Athena stood on the shore, focusing on the water rushing by.  There was
a breeze rippling across the surface, contrary to the current, and she
watched a leaf scuttle by, swirling in the current, then catching the
wind and rushing sideways until it turned against the breeze again and
hurried forward unimpeded once more.  Then there was one gust too many or
too strong, and the leaf tipped up and over, the stem dunking under
water.  It rolled again; the curve of the leaf now filled with water.  It
hurried on, lower in the water than before, and now heavier, no longer
subject to the whims of the breeze, only the current.  She found herself
smiling, wondering if her emotions were following life's proper current
or the disrupting passions of a capricious breeze.  It didn't matter
which, she'd made a decision, and was risking the result.

	Starbuck's refuge was a beautiful and private place.  It was surrounded
by lush underbrush, scented from a nearby tree that was overhung with the
sweet orange flowers, protected by the tree roots and a low branch of the
huge tree behind them.  The thick soft grass between those sheltering
roots made a good pillow  or mattress, if one were so inclined.  As the
humans stood in silence, the birds were vocal about their presence,  a
full-scale harmony of assorted chirps, tweets, and whistles.  The breeze
through the leaves made its own rustle, occasionally magnified by the
movements of the local wildlife through the grasses and shrubs.  Droning
buzzerbugs moved through the orange hanging blossoms and other flowers
carpeting the ground or clinging to vines, adding a pleasant undertone to
the natural chorus.  Bright flitterbys darted through the leaves and
paused on twigs to spread their wings, their colors and patterns
contrasting with and highlighting the green.

	"Ah, are you sure this is a good time?"

	"It's got to be at least as good a time as in the shuttle pilots' billet
after losing the biggest battle of our lives," she replied pointedly. 
"It's certainly a more pleasant time and place."

	"Oh."  Starbuck looked distinctly uncomfortable - rather panicked, in
fact.  Well, that meant he had a good idea what she wanted to settle
between them.

	She tilted her head for a moment to catch the warmth of a ray of
sunshine that had found its way through the leaf canopy overhead.  It
wasn't easy finding the right words to get started.  When she opened her
eyes again, she found Starbuck's eyes locked on her face.  The expression
on his face...  She felt her pulse quicken at that look.  It was a look
she knew well from their first days together, an almost dumbfounded look,
as though a man had discovered an amazing treasure and couldn't quite
believe it was all his.

	At least, that was how Zemora had described it to her, in envious tones.
 It was a good description; she just wasn't sure it was a true reflection
of the emotions behind it.

	"What is it?" she asked.

	He started, blinking.  "Oh, just...thinking..."

	"Of what?"  She smiled, inviting him to continue.

	Starbuck breathed in deeply.  "Remembering.  Other times and places. 
That furlon on Libra.  The afternoon we went on that picnic..."

	"You hated that picnic - couldn't wait to get back and head to the
chancery."

	"And the night you wore that gauzy pink thing...  I spent half the night
wondering what kept it on."

	"And the other half trying to get it off, I remember."

	"You were beautiful.  You glittered like a star.  But now...  You know,
Athena, with the sun on your face and hair, and the trees and water
behind you, I don't think I've ever seen you more beautiful."

	No, no, if she let herself be led down this road, she would never say
what had to be said...

	He took a step closer, eyes fixed on hers, as though he'd discovered
something for the first time.

	"I didn't realize just how becoming this place was, to you, those
colors...when we get back to the fleet, you have to have a dress made of
that shade of green, it matches your eyes, with silver embroidery, and
enameled flitterbys in your hair..."  He reached up to touch her hair. 
"You'll look like a forest nymph..."

	Her pulse was almost out of control.  No, not now, not when she'd
decided - she couldn't let herself be distracted...  But some little
voice inside whispered, what if her decision was wrong?  What if those
delays had been for a reason, her subconscious frantically stopping her
from going forward with the wrong decision?  What if Starbuck really was
undecided -- what if he was just waiting for her to make the final move,
as she'd had to make the first - what if this was the moment of destiny? 
What if the past had all led up to this centon, and all she had to do was
nod and everything would be what her girlish dreams had once desired...?

	"Umm, that smell...you found perfume here?"

	She shook her head to drive away those thoughts, then forced the issue
for herself as well as for him.  "Starbuck, do you love Cassiopeia?" she
demanded abruptly.

	"What?"  He backpedaled so fast she thought he was going to fall over
the tree root.

	"You do, don't you?" she said softly.

	"Where did this come from?  I thought..."

	"Why don't you admit to yourself what's so plain to me?"  She had to
steel herself to keep going.

	He looked panicked again.  She reached for his hand to keep him from
fleeing.  His flesh was as cold as hers.

	"Starbuck, don't run.  Not this time.  I don't want you to.  If you run
now, you may never stop."

	"Look, Athena, I..."

	"You what?"  The fantasy of only a moment before lay shattered around
her feet, and seemed to take all uncertainty with it.  She felt for all
the stars like a big sister consoling a little brother, as though it were
Zac she were explaining something to.  "You don't want to hurt me, I know
that.  You don't want to hurt anyone.  But you don't want to commit,
either.  You don't know what you really want - or you just won't admit
it.  So tell me, Starbuck, tell yourself, what do you want?"

	The expression in his blue eyes turned tormented; his fingers were
clenching around hers so hard it hurt.  "What do you want from me,
Athena?" he begged.

	She'd known she'd have to be the one to make him face it.  "I want you
to be honest.  With me.  With yourself."

	"I..."

	"I want you to admit you love Cassiopeia.  And stop being so terrified
of committing."  She laughed a little sadly.  "Do you realize the only
time you try to really get close to a woman, emotionally, is when the
universe has hurt or scared you somehow?  But as soon as the woman wants
to get close to you, you panic."

	He flinched.  "No, I..."

	"You can to me right after the destruction - you wanted to get married,
but two sectons later, when I thought I was ready to talk about
commitment, you and Cassiopeia had plans for the royal suite on Carillon.
 You ran to Aurora when you discovered she was alive, talking about how
much she meant to you back on Caprica."  This laugh was rueful.  "That
would have been from the same time you were ‘discovering' I was the only
woman you had real feelings for.  Was you running to Aurora, or away from
Cassie?

	"And I know that Cassie told you what she felt, when you and my brother
took on that base star.  Since then, you've rushed from woman to woman as
if some demon was at your back and the only way to outrun it was to prove
you didn't really care for any of us deeply enough to stay."

	He was frozen, staring past her, just over her head.  "Athena, stop..."

	"You were an orphan.  I know you've always yearned for a family.  Yet
you're afraid to form your own family for fear of losing it again, as if
committing to one woman means you'll lose something else.  You don't want
to be hurt."  She drew a regretful sigh from the bottom of her soul.  "I
think you stayed with me so long because of Apollo - he was like a
brother to you, after Lyra was done with you both, and it was easy to see
me as part of that family, until you realized what it would take to
really become part of our family, Apollo's and mine and Zac's.

	"Starbuck, I know I'll never be able to hold you.  And I know I don't
want to have to.  You don't love me.  You never did.  Not me, for me. 
And right now, I don't think I love you any more, either.  I need
somebody who's going to love me as much as I love him.  Who can commit to
me, totally.  Emotionally and physically.  For all the universe to see
and know."  What was this feeling?  Relief?  The hardest words had been
said, for her, now to finish them, for him...

	"But I do care about you.  I want you to be my friend.  On an honest
level, not with all these crazy  undertones of wondering what you really
feel.  I want you to be happy.

	"You love Cassiopeia.  Really love her.  I know that.  I can see it in
you.  I want you to be honest with yourself and with her so you can both
be happy.  Together.  To make your own family.  Starbuck, admit it.  You
love her."

	Oh, Lords of Kobol, are those tears?

	"Could you really be happy without her?"

	He swallowed.  "I've been a fool," he said hoarsely.  "And now she's a
prisoner and she may die and I can't help her and I never admitted to her
how I feel.  All I would tell her was that it was a lousy way to live and
I couldn't...I couldn't tell her.  Hades, I could tell you I wanted more,
why couldn't I tell her that when it mattered?  How did I let it come to
this?"  He sank to his knees.

	Starbuck was crying.  She'd never seen Starbuck cry like this.  Not in
the Destruction.  Not at the deaths of a hundred friends, not when they'd
clung to each other after Serina's death, when he was already spending
time with Cassie.  Not in all the times of grief and guilt.

	"I denied her, I denied myself, I was afraid, I played all these games. 
With her, with you, with Aurora, with Eris, the others, God, she must
hate me, you must all hate me..."

	She knelt beside him, putting her arms around him, holding him close and
tight as a child.  It felt natural to start rocking him back and forth. 
It felt equally right when he put his arms around her and kept sobbing.

	"It's all right, Starbuck," she whispered.  I'm sorry, this is cruel,
this was no time for force you to see it, but maybe it was the only time
time you'd be vulnerable to enough to admit it.  "We'll get her back. 
You know we will.  We won't go without her, we won't let anything happen
to her.  You know Apollo, you know it..."

	"We couldn't save Serina...  How can I feel sure?  It hurts, Athena, it
hurts so bad sometimes...  I can't...I can't tell anyone, not her, not
even Apollo or Boomer or Jolly, not you...I told Chameleon, but I'm not
sure why or if I told him the whole truth even then...and I don't even
know why..."

	Something was digging into her stomach.  She shifted position.

	"You've been afraid.  But you don't have to be afraid any more.  And you
can always tell me.  You can tell me anything," she tried to assure him. 
"And you can tell Cassie."

	"Cassie..."

	"We will get her back," she pledged.  "All of us together.  And then
you'll do whatever you have to convince her you've been a total snake,
and you don't deserve her, but the demon is gone, and you love her, and
you'll never be happy or whole without her, and you want to spend the
rest of your life with her, and she'll forgive you, because she loves you
too..."  She had to pause for a breath, and realized the tears that were
matting his hair were falling from her cheeks.

	I wasn't sure, until I saw him cry, that he really loved her.  Or I
couldn't admit it to myself, until then.  And until I cried, I didn't
know I could live with that and be happy for them.  He loves her. 
They'll be happy.

	And I'll go on, too.

		* * *

	"I don't like these bovines," Siduri sighed to herself.  "Far too large
and messy and smelly."  No one seemed terribly concerned when she moved
toward the fence.  In the freer air, she rested back on her elbows on the
top rail to watch and wait.

	A very preoccupied Nidaba was talking to Ygern apart from the rest of
the dairy maids and local swains; the girth of a large, especially gentle
bovine gave them some privacy.  The two Security representatives - Nessus
and Croft himself - lounged to one side as if waiting for their women in
a time-hallowed morning ritual.  Some of the locals were still friendly
and chatty, and a few seemed fascinated by Croft's scarred but smiling
face, but a definite coldness - almost fear, definitely dislike - held
others away.

	Those "others," the warrior noticed, were part of the clique often seen
with the red-headed youth who'd accosted both her and Athena in the
village several times, and Sheba in the forest near their camp.  He was a
person of some prestige, the son of a local man of some minor authority
and wealth.

	"Ah, one of the enchantresses returns," she heard a smooth voice say.  A
quick glance showed the handsome Ector on the other side of the railing,
leaning familiarly close to her, almost breathing on her hair.

	"Enchantress?" she returned lightly.  "I didn't know you thought so
highly of me.  Or was that meant not to be a compliment, since magick is
most often of the Evil One?"

	"Oh, most definitely a compliment, for one so fair and sweet..."

	"Then I am still insulted."  She twisted her lips into a sad pout and
sighed dramatically.

	"In what way?" he demanded, truly puzzled.

	"You said I was but one of the enchantresses.  It seems I must share
your compliments with others.  And what woman wants to know she has
competition?"

	Ector appeared to be on firmer ground; being the most eligible bachelor
in Farshire, he understood flirting and female jealousy.  What he didn't
understand was Captain Siduri, who enjoyed the game immensely, and who
was far more experienced at it than he could have known.

	He twirled a lock of her rich auburn hair between his fingers, tweaking
back her kerchief in the process.  "Competition?" he repeated.  "And who
could compete with such a woman?  Your hair is as bright as the brick
earths of Hestashire, and as fine spun as flax.  What man of any blood
could resist the urge to touch it, to be with the woman who possesses
it?"

	"Or to possess her?" the woman demanded archly.  "Sir, you presume."

	That put him off-guard for a moment, but he still felt in control of the
situation.  "Nay, I do apologize, sweet lady.  I but hoped for a few
moments of your time, perhaps a stroll.  Let me show you I am not so
vulgar as I must have seemed at our first meeting.  We could talk, there
are many places around the village and the woods I could show you..."

	She glanced at him sidelong, a smile easing her features.  "I am sure
there are many things you could...show me..."

	"Siduri, we're ready to leave."

	Croft had approached without their seeing him.  Leaning on the fence, he
rather presumptuously took Siduri's arm.  His eyes locked on Ector in
recognition and disdain.

	The young man's face flushed in remembrance.  "If the woman chooses to
spend such a pleasant morning in pleasant company rather than--"

	"That's why she's with me," Croft cut in.  "What would you know of
pleasant company?"

	"One would think," Ector snarled through gritted teeth, "that you would
have enough with the blonde woman I saw you with.  Or does the enchanting
Siduri know you aren't satisfied with one woman?"

	"How can I restrict myself like that?  Where else can they turn, if
you're the alternative?"

	If the fence hadn't been between them, Ector would have gone for Croft's
throat.  Croft knew it, and  grinned the more mockingly.  The boy had no
chance against the trained warrior, as their previous encounter had
proven.  Ector recalled that meeting in a micron; humiliation and fury
stained his face.

	"Sirs," Siduri cut in with some spirit, trying to defuse or at least
divert the situation.  "I am no one's property to be fought over in this
way.  Croft, of course I'm ready to go back to camp, if our chores here
are finished."  She pulled her arm free, then sent an apologetic smile at
the other man.  "Ector, I am sorry.  I have things I must do today. 
Perhaps we may stroll and talk another time.  Thank you for the offer..."

	Ector nodded grimly.  His eyes still burned on Croft.

	"Croft, we're supposed to be avoiding feuds!" she hissed as soon as they
were out of range.  "There was no reason to provoke him!"

	"Yes, there was," he returned unrepentantly.  "I felt like it.  And I
doubt if Apollo would be pleased at what you were provoking!"

	Nessus and Nidaba, who hadn't seen the incident, joined them at that
moment, and she decided to let the matter drop.  It wasn't as if anything
would come of it nor was it worth quarreling over.  While she did find
Ector attractive, he was younger than she usually found interesting, and
likely to be less experienced than he chose to let on.  The fact that the
Colonials would be leaving the planet soon also told against him - and
frankly, she was really only contemplating him as an informant.  As for
Croft, he was overzealous in carrying out his security duties.  But he
had no right to be concerned about her personal life.  They had no
relationship, and the forced closeness of their current assignment would
end on the day they left.

		* * *

	Croft grinned as Siduri turned away impatiently to greet Nidaba and
Nessus.  The captain was a spitfire, there was no question of that - too
much so, really, for his taste.  One hades of a woman, but too much of a
flirt for his liking.  It might make for an interesting friendship or a
short term relationship, but that wasn't for him.  Leda had never been
like that.  Sheba wasn't like that.  It might be harder to get to know
women like them, more difficult to love them, but oh, once won, their
love could be the prize of a lifetime.

	Moodiness crept over him slowly with memories.

	As he turned away, he saw one of the older village women watching him. 
She was middle-aged, he presumed, although people aged faster here from
their hard lives, she could be anywhere from thirty yahrens old to
eighty, compared to Colonial appearances.  A little scrawny.  If she'd
ever had a figure, it was gone now, maybe from childbearing.  Her face
looked worn with more than time, with a new grief, he thought.  What he
saw of her dark brown hair under her scarf was streaked with gray, a deep
metal gray.  She rubbed her thin hands nervously, working at the fabric
of an everyday apron with a collection of light stains and a few holes
that almost looked like they'd been burned in.  She could have been
mother or grandmother of anyone here.

	Seeing his gaze directly on her, she hunched her shoulders and looked
away.

	Siduri and Nia had their heads together over something or other; Nessus
was peering back toward camp, so obviously bored it oozed out of him.

	Croft glanced back at the woman.  She looked like she wanted to talk to
him, but was afraid to.  Abruptly, she turned and walked away.  Then, at
the gate to the dairy pen, she stopped and looked back.  He saw the
uncertainly on her face, coupled with...a plea.

	He sauntered over, keeping his eyes on hers.

	"It's a beautiful day, goodmother," he addressed her with appropriate
courtesy for the region.

	"Yes.  You...are from the gypsies."  Her voice squeaked a little.

	Croft looked past her for a micron, then back.  "I'm with the camp on
the mountain, if that's what you mean."  He regretted the mocking tone
immediately.  "Yes, I guess that's what you mean," he amended.

	She swallowed.  "I am Ysin...  My husband in the blacksmith, Eldo... 
One of our sons...Bran...he is ill, he is dying..."  The words rushed out
before she could run.  "My cousin Moriathe, she serves the Arxon, she
spoke with the Arxon's healer in the keep, she said the woman told her
there was another healer with your caravan, a man called Paye, who might
help.  Please, please, my son is dying, no one here can save him, not the
kalanthro, we can't find the midwife.  He has no other chance. 
Please..."  Her voice died away with the last of her breath.  One hand
almost reached for his sleeve, but pulled back.

	"Bran...  He was one of the boys who wandered the woods, one night?"

	She nodded mutely.

	"Oh, God..."  Hannibal swore it wouldn't hurt them!  "What illness?"

	Ysin shook her head.  "No one knows.  I have never seen its like. 
Please..."

	"I will talk to...our leader."

	"Please, it must be soon..."  Tears were rolling down her cheeks as she
begged.  "He doesn't have long, he hasn't eaten, he can't drink, the
fever gnaws at his body...please..."

	To hades with Hannibal, this is medical, it's none of his business. 
I'll talk to Paye.

	"Tell me where you live.  I'll go now, we'll be back as soon as we can."

	She looked ready to faint.  "The blacksmith's forge...we live behind the
shop, the house with the rhodon bushes and three kerasos trees, one for
each child we have lost, please, we do not want to add another..."

	"We'll go now."

	With long, purposeful strides, Croft returned to his teammates.  "Let's
go."

	Nidaba looked surprised, and Nessus looked pleased as he caught the
captain's arm and began leading them back toward the dusty road the
connected to the path to the expedition camp.


			Chapter Twelve


	Starbuck and Athena walked back to camp together down the narrow path. 
He felt so drained he thought he wouldn't be able to walk.  The first
time he stumbled, she put an arm around his waist to support him.  She
didn't object when he draped his arm around her shoulders.  They kept
their heads close, ducking  to avoid the branches they had to keep
pushing off to one side or the other.  Athena looked drained too, her
eyes red and tired.  He probably looked worse.  The conversation had been
draining in many ways.

	Kobol, he hadn't cried like that since he was a child, the day he
realized he was probably never going to be adopted into a real family of
his own, but would spend all his growing yahrens in the Caprican
fosterage system.  It had shattered so many youthful dreams.

	"Athena?" he asked, low-voiced.

	"What is it?"

	"I'm sorry..."

	She smiled indulgently at him.  "For what, this time?"

	"For...well...for trying to make a pass at you, back at the water."  He
had to make light of it.  He had been frighteningly close...to what?  To
running to Athena because I was afraid for Cassie and afraid of really
admitting what that meant, and what I might have done?  To proving how
right she was when she said I loved her because everything about her
represented the ultimate in family to me?  That I run to women to keep me
safe when I'm scared or lost or hurt?  Well, a lot of women when I'm just
scared, and one when the universe has punched me in the gut and my own
breath sears my lungs and it hurts worse to breathe than not to...

	"I...almost changed my mind.  You're good, Starbuck, you're really good,
when you want to be."

	Starbuck winced.  "No, it's not like that, Athena, I wasn't..."  He
paused.  "I really felt...something, I'm not sure what, but I thought... 
I don't know, I can't find the words..."  He gazed into her eyes, his
expression puzzled and a little troubled, but his words and voice as
sincere as she'd ever heard.  "I think...if you had said anything else,
if you had said you wanted...to make us permanent...  I think I would
have agreed.  I think I would have wanted it..."

	She nudged him on again.  "Maybe for a few moments or a day, you would
have.  Because it would have been easier than hurting or admitting your
real feelings.  But sooner or later, I'd've caught you giving Cassie your
rank pin again...or taking off your boots for her."

	He flushed, and stared at the path in front of them for a few centons. 
"You...might be right...  I always knew you were pretty smart, and
stronger than a lot of people give you credit for.  I guess...that might
be another reason why I came to you after the Destruction."  It was a
sudden revelation about his own motives and needs.  "You were right.  I
was feeling pretty damned helpless and weak and like a failure,
and...alone...and guilty.  I thought I'd lean on you.  I thought you'd
fill the void for me, I didn't...take into account your own void, maybe
except for somehow thinking in my crazy way that it would make up for
Zac, somehow, give you something to replace what...I felt I was
responsible for you losing."

	"Oh, God, Starbuck, let's not go there.  You weren't to blame, you know
that, he wanted that patrol more than anything.  You and Apollo both, you
insisted on being guilty for that..."

	"And you insisted on feeling guilty for the Colonies, I remember," he
said softly.  "Weren't you the one who said we failed the ones who
trusted us to protect them?"

	"We did fail them by not protecting them, but we did our duty.  It was
Baltar and the Cylons who are to blame.  The guilt lies on them.  Not
us," she said firmly.  "I won't carry their guilt for the rest of my life
--  I'd rather live.  Althought it took a little while to remind Father
of that..." she finished quietly.

	He hugged her closer with his arm.  "I underestimated how smart and
sensitive you are, as well as strong.  I should have known better.  After
all, you are Commander Adama's daughter, and Apollo's sister."

	She sighed.  "Can't I be smart and sensitive and strong just because I'm
me?"

	"Sorry."  This time he smiled, and she smiled back.

	"Starbuck," she asked a moment later, "what is that?"

	She stared down at his vest, tight against her side.

	"Uh, my body?"  He was half serious, half joking.

	"No...this..."  She patted the vest, then gripped--  Her eyes widened,
and she gapsed.

	The laser.  He'd forgotten completely.

	She held his gaze.  "You were going after Cassiopeia, weren't you?"

	That had been what he wa considering, in some nebulous way, to face down
the entire garrison, if need be...  He looked away, fumbling for words.

	"Shh!"  She touched his lips with her finger.  "I won't tell.  But in
return, you have to promise me, Starbuck, that you won't do anything
crazy.  Trust Apollo and Hannibal.  Wait."

	He nearly collapsed with relief, and breathed a heavy sigh.

	"Promise me."

	"I promise."  Lords, how many people are going to know about this
'secret' laser before we get back to the fleet?

	"And in the meantime, I'm going to put that weapon where it belongs. 
Give it to me."

	"Hey--!"

	"You promised, Starbuck."

	"But you'll feel better about my promise if I don't have this?"

	"Yes."

	There was no room for argument in her tone or her expression.  Starbuck
wordlessly handed over the laser.  It took Athena a centon to figure out
a way to stash it in her clothing, then they continued on their way back
to camp.

		* * *

	Free of mess duty that day, Brie had settled in the shade of a tree that
resembled a pale quercus from her home world of Aeries.   Her hair was
pulled back with a simple scarf to keep it out of her face in the light
breeze.  Her voluminous skirt was spread widely around her, providing a
secure place to set her embroidery box and thread kit.  She had spare
needles, threaded with bright colors, stuck through her skirt fabric to
make them easy to find and close to hand.  Her attention was primarily on
her fingers, flying busily as she worked at her small tapestry in its
frame.  Every now and then she finished a strand or a design, and would
reach for her thread kit or one of the other needles to select another
length of thread or a new color with which to continue.

	She was working alone, just outside of camp.  Diedre, the
undomesticated, had teased her several times about the fierce pilot over
Kobol and the talkative comrade of the O Club turning into an
old-fashioned seamstress out of some classic Second Millenium,
beta-grade, romantic tale.  Brie was usually one of the most patient of
souls, but today she didn't want an audience or running commentary. 
Solitude would help her focus on her design and keep her stitches even.

	She kept an eye out for the intelligent, mischievous companion-creature
of Ninive's, which had stolen her first design.  She had seen it around
camp a few times, although not in the last few days; it seemed to
continue to have an interest in her work.  She wasn't interested in
having another piece of the fine blue fabric disappears into the woods.

	Finishing an intricate starburst meant to symbolize the human origin
planet of Kobol, she leaned back against the trunk for a few moments to
rest her eyes.  Glancing around, she saw Athena and Starbuck appear out a
thicket at the side of the camp.  They had their arms around each other,
and looked very cozy.

	Her eyes widened in suprise and delight.  They did it!  They finally did
it!

	Dropping her fabric and threads, Brie jumped to her feet and hurried to
join them.

	"Athena!  Starbuck!  Hi!"

	"Hello."  Starbuck sounded subdued, although he tried to paste on one of
his usual wide, suggestive smiles.  He looked exhausted.

	So did Athena -- along with a little bit flushed.  She and Starbuck
quickly dropped their arms from each other.  Her smile, at least, looked
genuine.  "Hi, Brie."

	They faced each other.

	"Did you have a nice walk?" she asked brightly, excitedly hoping that
this had been the day, that Starbuck and Athena had finally talked, and
that she would be the first one to hear of their engagement.

	The pair looked at each other.

	"Well..." Athena began.

	"Uh, I'd better get going...uh, promised Boomer...I'd join him and the
guys...  I'll let you gals talk..."  Starbuck quickly retreated.

	Brie glanced at her friend.  "Well?"

	"I think he needs a little time to think," she said, smiling after him. 
One hand remained firmly against her side, holding her skirt in place as
though to keep the wind from catching it.

	"Yes?  Yes?  C'mon, Athena, tell me!  Did you two have that talk?"

	"Oh, yes, we did, finally."

	"And?"  This is worse than waiting for the Commander to give us a
dressing down!

	The other woman finally seemed to focus on her.  "And what?"

	"Are you going to need that dress?"

	"Dress?"  Her eyes suddenly lit up.  "Oh, yes, the dress!  Yes, Brie,
I'm going to need that.  Variable shades of  green, I think..."  Her
expression turned thoughtful.  "...and with silver embroidery.  That was
Starbuck's idea, and it sounds more beautiful every time I think about
it.  I'll have to find some enameled flitterbys for my hair..."

	Brie was taken aback.  "Green?  For a sealing?" she nearly shouted. 
"You're not Canceran!"

	"I think it'll be lovely."

	"But..."

	Realization dawned.  "Oh, you think--  No, Brie, I'm not going to be the
bride.  But I might be a bride's maid," she mused.  "We'll see.  And then
I'll have to see if green works with Cassie's gown."

	"Cassie?"

	"Um-hm.  Yes, green, for Starbuck and Cassie's sealing..."

	Brie was totally stunned.  "But...but...when you said you needed a
sealing dress...I...I thought it was for..."

	"For me and Starbuck?"

	"Well, yes!" she shouted back, astonished.  "You lied to me!  You
said--!"

	"I said I needed a dress to wear to a sealing.  I didn't lie, Brie." 
She linked her arm with her friend's -- and prompty pricked her palm on
of the needles shoved through the fabric.  Neither woman noticed. 
"I...maybe I wasn't sure then, if it would be me...but now I know.  I
won't be the bride--although she may need a dress too.  Do you think you
could do one for each of us?  Oh, look, you've scattered your thread. 
I'll help you pick it up."

	Brie didn't know whether to be delighted or angry with Athena as she was
steered back toward the abandoned tapestry.

	"How...  Were you able...  Did he...  Is it...  I don't even know what
to ask!"

	"We talked, Brie.  About a lot of things.  And I made him realize what
he really feels.  And I'm happy for him, for both of them, really.  It's
the right thing.  And, please, let that be a secret, for now, until he
has a chance to talk to Cassiopeia?"

	She felt dubious, but it was obvious that Athena was sincere.  "You're
really...happy about this?  I mean, you're not just putting up a front? 
And he's not just..."  She shrugged.  "...Playing another game?  Putting
you off again?  And he'll be back to you when Cassie's around again and
he might actually have to go through with it?"

	"He means it, Brie.  And so do I.  I'm happy!  Well, wrung out, but
happy."  She giggled.  "And I'm not going to let him get away with any
more games!  Not when I know better."  She stooped to right the tipped
over box, then reached for several scattered skeins, then froze.  "Ouch! 
I stuck myself!"

	"You're bleeding...  Here..."  Brie quickly found a scrap of cloth and
wrapped it around her hand.  A small splotch of red slowly bled through
the white.  "You'll have to check with Paye.  We'd better get these
things picked up -- no, I'll pick them up, do you know how hard it is to
get blood out of fabric when it's soaked in?  I swear, the laundry
service winds up recycling more uniforms because of bloodstains than
anything else..."

		* * *

	Croft's expression was grim as he hurried his team back to camp.  His
thoughts matched.

	It wasn't until they nearly reached camp that Nidaba caught up with his
long strides.

	"What's wrong?" she asked breathlessly.

	"Hopefully nothing that can't be fixed," he muttered back.

	Nia looked puzzled, but forgot it as they left the wooded path and
entered their own meadow.   They were quickly surrounded by the day's
mess crew for supplies and other personnel simply curious to see what was
going on in town.  The archivist glanced around the crowd.  "Is Anubis
around?" she asked.  "And Hannibal?  Ygern gave me a data crystal to pass
along, it's from Cassiopiea."

	Excited calls brought more attention.

	Apollo and Hannibal both appeared seemingly out of nowhere, from
different directions.

	"From Cassie?" Apollo repeated, reaching for the crystal.

	"We can review it in the wagon," Hannibal said smoothly, catching
Apollo's arm and palming the crystal himself.

	"Right."

	Croft watched the two captains hurry to the equipment wagon.  Part of
the collected personnel, mostly the military, following behind, milling
around outside the wagon and talking in excitement.  Their comments
attracted others.  The civilians seemed less concerned with trailing the
warriors, but equally excited and spreading the word just as fast.  Nia
was in for her share of questions, from the crew clustered around her,
but that scattered when Anubis, also apparently out of nowhere, swept in
and drew the woman toward the wagon as well, for the obligatory
debriefing.

	Well, he wouldn't have to worry about Hannibal or Apollo walking in on
him, or noticing that something was bothering him - they'd both be
totally absorbed for at least a few centars.  And there'd probably have
to be some kind of comment from the senior officers to satisfy the
interest - curiosity, concern - of the others.  And Anubis, whoever he
really was, was probably going to be part of the official cabal as long
as either Apollo or Hannibal had questions for Nidaba.

	That left him free, for the moment.  He glanced at the tents, wondering
where Paye was most likely to be found at this time of day.

	There.  He spotted the doctor, through a pair of tents, standing beside
the water.

	"‘Scuse me."  No one paid much attention as he left the crowd.

	He paused abruptly as he passed between the tents.  Paye wasn't alone. 
He was carrying the bag that concealed his med kit, and had just joined
Apollo's sister.  The woman was holding out her hand, and the doctor
seemed to be studying it intently.  After a moment, he looked up,
smiling, and nodded toward one of the clustered tents.  The pair headed
for the tent.

	Knowing Athena wasn't involved with Paye, and therefore the quick duck
out of sight was unlikely to be for any extended or private interval,
Croft edged near the tent and waited impatiently.  As he'd expected,
Athena came out a few centons later, shaking her hand a little, then
joining the growing crowd around the main wagon.  After another moment,
the doctor stepped out of the tent.

	Croft grabbed Paye's arm before he could step out around the edge of the
tent into view of the crowd.

	"Just a micron, Paye."

	The doctor nearly tripped over his own feet as Croft muscled him back
again.  "What the-?"

	"Get your bag," Croft ordered abruptly, low-voiced.

	"What?"

	"Remember that night Hannibal had us track those kids?"

	Paye's glance dropped sideways guiltily.  "What about it?"

	"How much do you know about the stuff he had you inject them with?"

	The doctor froze, his eyes darting back to Croft's, his mouth half-open
with an unvoiced question.

	"I talked to one of the town women.  Her son was one of the boys.  She
says he's sick, dying.  And I think it's probably our fault," he finished
harshly.  "And we can't allow that.  Do you know enough to treat him for
whatever reaction he may be having to that chemical?"

	Paye swallowed hard, then nodded.  "I'll think so.  I'll get my kit."

	No argument, no questions.  Croft hadn't expected any.  Paye was back in
a micron, the large bag slung over his shoulder, his medkit concealed
among the collections of local herbs and what passed for medical
equipment.

	"Hannibal swore it wouldn't hurt them," Paye muttered in an undertone as
they headed into the trees.  "What did he say when you told-"

	"Hannibal doesn't know.  Neither does Apollo.  And I don't think that
kid in town has time for us to be answering questions up here."

	Paye looked shocked.  "But that's-"

	"Maybe," Croft cut him off.  "But there's an old maxim about asking
forgiveness being a lot quicker than getting permission."

	The doctor snorted in disbelief.  "Isn't that how you wound up on the
prison barge in the first place?"

	"Save your breath for running, doc, that kid may not have long."

		* * *

	Captain Apollo took it on himself to handle the afternoon watch on the
town, relieving Lieutenant Mikal.  There were plenty of spots with clear
views of the small community, under the right magnification - meadows
with drop-off bluffs, with especially high and sturdy trees.  None of the
local foresters had been working near their camp the last secton or so,
so they had no real fears of anyone coming on them unexpectedly, but
Croft had a handful of security officers scattered through the woods on
this side of camp, staying in direct contact with each other and the camp
by comlink.

	He took position in the thick branches of the hedera tree they were
using as an overlook - they'd built a small platform, reasonably
concealed by the branches, and with one of their precious scopes, had a
clear view of the majority of the town, and the entire front courtyard of
the keep.

	Apollo tried to sit down and focus, but discovered he couldn't.  He kept
mulling over what Anubis had told him, coupled with Ninive's earlier
information.   The Great Seal of Kobol, part of the religious symbolism
of this backward, primitive world.  A world with myths of being cast out
of Eden, being led by a son of Sagan, establishing a covenant to regain
the heavens, after sundering from the rest of the Thirteenth Tribe.

	He buried his face against his knees for a few moments.

	Those books, they had to get those books...  And they had to get them
back to the Galactica.  His father could very well be the only person in
the fleet who would understand them and who could compare them to their
own Books of the Lords and make sense of them.  Adama would understand
what they meant, and find the clues that had to be there.

	He would have liked another chance to question the old healer, but the
woman hadn't been seen in days - and Apollo could tell that Hannibal was
worried by this.  By this time, if Hannibal was worried, Apollo knew he
should be concerned too.

	Nidaba had brought back a data crystal this morning, from Cassie.  There
had been some thought at first that their med tech had already located
some information in the keep.  It had proved, however, to consist
primarily of image scans of Ninive's book - journal, diary, collected
wisdom, whatever.  His own hope had been that it would contain some of
the old knowledge the old woman had admitted learning, all those yahrens
ago, from her educated lover with access to their planetary history.  But
none of that information had apparently been committed to Ninive's
writing.

	Maybe it had simply been too dangerous to admit, in her own handwriting,
what she'd learned, in case her book fell into official hands, or the
wrong hands.  Maybe it had been too traumatic to put down the knowledge
that had cost his life.

	Apollo sighed, looking up again, not really seeing.

	Cassie only had the one data crystal.  Hopefully Ygern would be able to
give her a replacement this afternoon.  And hopefully Cassiopeia would be
able to get access to something more useful than healer's salves and
illustrations of herbs.

	Restless, he got back to his feet, wishing the platform was big enough
for a good pace.  Three steps or two long strides would cross it from end
to the other, and with the wind in the tree branches, set the platform to
swaying.  Never-the-less, he took those steps, catching the double rail
any time the swaying gave his equilibrium a scare.  There was a safety
net strung through the branches under the lookout, but that was intended
to catch any equipment that might slide off, and he wasn't interested in
confirming that it would hold his full, falling weight.

	He paused every now and then to peer through his scope down at Farshire
or the keep.

	"What the-?"

	Apollo had been scanning along the main "street" through Farshire,
across the agora square and the cluster of sturdy buildings that composed
the "industrial" part of town.  Two figures had caught his eye.  He
recognized Croft and Dr. Paye, coming out from behind the blacksmith's
shop.  He watched them for a moment, wondering what had taken them back
into town.

	*The glazer and ceramist are back along that lane too, along with a
lighter metalworker.  Maybe Paye wanted to check out something there... 
Croft's with him, he's in safe hands, I don't have to worry about him
getting into trouble.*

	Apollo watched the two Colonials pass across the agora square and out of
sight.  Then he swung the scope back-

	And froze again, staring intently.  Two of the soldiers from the keep -
the eklekton's men, he could tell from the embroidered strip on the sides
of their dark kilts, not Uthor's local guard - were at one of the produce
booths.  They were staring in the direction Croft and Paye had taken. 
The one said something, gesturing.  The second nodded, and the two of
them headed toward the smithy.

	"Oh, this does not look good..." he breathed.

		* * *

	Mid-afternoon.  Uthor was resting, and Cassiopeia had a few free centons
to oversee the running of the kitchen - as free as her time ever was, in
the keep, between Uthor's demands and Padryce's guards.

	Amazing that she seemed to be taking over Moriathe's place, with respect
to the kitchen and the laundry.  While the maids and servants all still
looked to the older woman for their assignments, Moriathe looked to her
for confirmation of every order, when she was present.  It was because
she'd identified Uthor's allergy and told them how to avoid it, she knew
- Moriathe and Kai both seemed to feel she was the only person who could
tell if anything was being done wrongly in the keep, and appeared to feel
it was an honor for her to be given final approval of the daily running
of the place.  She didn't find the responsibility to be so great an
honor.

	The day she left, everyone would be back in their proper place, she
consoled herself.  She just hoped that Moriathe remembered everything
they had discussed about cleanliness and diets, or it wouldn't be long
before things were back the way they were before she'd come.

	She was a med tech.  The pleasant novelty of being treated almost like a
lady of the keep by its servants was wearing off.  There had never been
any pleasure in being treated like a prisoner - and the young guard
trotting at her heels almost like a daggit was something she dearly
looked forward to losing.

	*Did the old Lords of Kobol and their heirs really have bodyguards every
centar of the day?  Public functions, private functions - eating,
sleeping, bathing, using the turboflush?  With their wives, husbands,
children...even with their lovers?  No privacy at all?  Maybe a person
could deal with it if they were born to it, all their lives, but I
couldn't stand to live this way.

	*No wonder there are so many apocryphal stories in some of the different
sects' holy texts, of their leaders and prophets having been secretly
sired or carried by various lords and ladies of the House of Kobol - all
the nobles were probably sleeping with their guards - it was the only
person they were ever alone with!*

	She carefully walked down the cool stone steps that led to the main
kitchen  - the floor was sometimes damp from condensation or recent
washing, sometimes slippery from something spilled, and she'd learned it
was better to take it carefully than to risk a fall.  She passed through
the stone arch, then paused for a micron.

	The guard stopped behind her.

	"Stay," she instructed him strongly, feeling a little perverse.

	Looking taken aback, the young man remained at the archway - a more
experienced guard would have ignored her command - and Cassie moved into
the much hotter cooking area, squinting through the steam and smoke,
feeling her hair already starting to wilt and her clothes to cling to her
skin.  The heat of the kitchen after the chill of the steps felt good -
for about five microns.

	"Where's Moriathe?" she asked the nearest servant.

 	"I'll find her..."  The eager youth took off to fetch her.

	A moment later, Moriathe came into view, her sleeves rolled up, her
graying hair caught up off her face in a scarf.  She looked anxious, more
so than usual, and...guilty.

	"What's wrong?" she asked immediately. *Was Paye too late?  Did the boy
die anyway?*

	Moriathe glanced around, then stepped close.  "I am sorry, healer," she
said, low-voiced.

	"Sorry?  About what?"  Cassie brushed some loose blonde hair back across
her forehead.  Half the wisp fell free, sticking to her temple.

	"I do not know how he knew, but the Eklekton, he..."

	"What?"  Her heart was in her throat, and the overheated room was
suddenly icy.

	"One of the boys just told me, he heard the guards, they know your other
healer was in town, that he saved Bran, they talked to Ysin's daughter,
the girl didn't know not to say."  Moriathe continued to glance around as
if afraid the other servants were watching.  "Now the Eklekton knows that
he came from the camp, that he helped Bran, and he knows that you are one
of the gypsies, too.  They were going to the Eklekton, I am sorry..."

	Cassiopeia's momentary rush of relief - Paye had helped the young man -
was replaced with the sickening realization of what the eklekton now
appeared to know.  "Padryce hates the gypsies.  Almost as much as he
hates me."

	The woman nodded silently.

	"Moriathe..."  She caught her hand; her own fingers felt so cold against
the other woman's.  "You know your people, you have heard more about
Padryce than I ever would.  What will he do to me?"  *How much more can
he hate me?*   "Will he do something against...my people in the camp? 
Will he try to hurt them?" she asked intently.

	Moriathe spoke hesitantly.  "It is said...that he...was the one who
began the Great Purge, years ago, when our lord's father was the young
heir...  Many heretics, betrayers...and others...were killed to purify
Koinonia and the Second Covenant then.  I do not doubt the Eklekton would
do the same here, if he convinced Uthor to allow it..."

	"Can he do it without Uthor's permission?"

	The woman looked doubtful.  "I don't know.  Perhaps...but I have never
heard of the Eklektons beginning a purge against an arxon's wishes... 
And Arxon Pendron, Uthor's grandsire, did not allow the Purge to come
here.  I do not know if Padryce would dare it again..."  She hesitated. 
"Some said," she continued in a whisper, "that Pendron died before his
time, and Ambros and Gareth were taken as punishment because Pendron
dared to stand against Padryce then, to refuse to let his Sworn Seekers
come here."  She swallowed.  "And there was another tale, night-spread,
that Padryce swore our lord's family would pay for Pendron's defiance,
and that the strength of his heirs was sapped as the Eklekton's grew. 
That it is almost...a mark of evil, that three of our lords should have
died before their ordained years, and Padryce to have come here just as a
fourth seemed on his deathbed..."

	Thinking of the fury in Padryce's eyes, Cassie could almost believe it.

	"Do you think Padryce would do something to my people, if Uthor was
against it?"

	She looked uncertain.  "I could not say, healer.  But Uthor...he is
strong again, as strong as his grandsire, and as free-minded as an
unbroken stallion.  And he has our loyalty," she finished simply.  "If
Uthor chose to forbid it, I doubt our parish would follow Padryce if he
ordained a purge.  But...I would not want to see either of them roused to
full wrath."

	Cassiopeia drew a very deep breath.  Things had just become a lot
clearer.  "Thank you, Moriathe.  I am in your debt."

	"Healer, we are all in -your- debt."

		* * *

	The afternoon shadows were long across the woods by the time Croft and
Paye returned to the camp, after a successful medical mission to town. 
Croft could tell Paye was finally relaxing at being back to their base,
after having been nearly vibrating with tension all the way down, then
having to convince the family to leave the loft-bedchamber long enough to
perform some diagnostics to confirm the cause of Bran's condition, and to
treat it.  It had been a near thing, and it had been over two centars
before the doctor had been certain the boy would survive, between the
secretly administered compound, and instructing the family on simple
follow-up ministrations.

	*The kid wouldn't have lasted another night.  Another frakkin' allergy. 
Even worse than the one that nearly took out that Arxon Cassie's stuck
with.  These people can't adjust to anything, how'd they ever survive
settling this place?*  He knew the thought was unfair.  There was a
common shrub in the area, that the locals simply ignored as a weed, but
which caused a serious skin rash in any Colonial unlucky enough to brush
against its leaves.  But at the moment the unfair thought was a release
for Croft.  The doctor might think the worst was behind them, but he knew
better.  If they had to answer to their superiors, they had just
committed a major breach of orders that could have dire consequences, for
him at least, if not for Paye, who could claim to have been following
orders, or claim simple ignorance, or take refuge behind his medical
oath.

	"Croft!"

	Though no one else would have noticed it, he felt as though he'd jumped
out of his skin at Apollo's call.  Croft half-turned, gesturing Paye to
go on ahead - he'd have to gamble on having enough time to reach the
doctor, if needed, for whatever story he had to come up with.

	"I noticed you and Paye were town this afternoon."

	"Yeah?" he replied noncomittally.  *We're caught.*

	"Did you see the soldiers?"

	"Hmm?"

	Apollo frowned, shaking his head.  "I was afraid of that.  There were
two men, the Eklekton's, it looked like.  They watched you leave, and
then I think they went back the way you had come.  Anything we should be
concerned about?"

	Croft felt his heart crawl back down into his chest.  He made a face,
keeping Apollo's attention from the fingers he was working very hard at
unclenching.  "I don't like the sound of them keeping an eye on us in
town, but I suppose it's nothing more than they've been doing the last
few days.  Frak."

	Apollo glanced back down the path.  "I guess that's one more thing we'll
have to watch out for."

	"Yeah."  *We're not caught.  He didn't ask what we were doing there.* 
Croft wasn't sure what he would have said - "fixing Hannibal's mistake,"
or maybe "dealing with yet another intelligence screw-up," or perhaps
"violating implied orders by providing medical help that wasn't supposed
to be needed in the first place," or better yet "none of your business,
I'm just as much a ranking officer on this as you are".   "Well, let's
not blow it out of proportion or go into a panic, let's just keep a
closer eye on the soldiers there until we know if it's a problem.  If it
looks like something serious, we can talk to Hannibal."

	Apollo looked preoccupied, but nodded agreement.

	A moment later, they both heard Boomer calling Apollo, and the captain
headed off to evenmeal with a couple of the other warriors.

	Croft let him go.  All thoughts of regaining some normal position in the
military had fragmented when Apollo accosted him.  The pieces had come
back together when the captain turned out to be following up on town
events, not taking the next step back to asking what they were doing in
town in the first place.  But the image was fragile.

	And the more he knew of Hannibal, the less likely that the hope would
remain whole.  Hannibal was certain to find out that he'd taken Paye to
town.  He was certain to find out, from the villagers probably, what
they'd been doing there.  And he was certain to raise the issue with
Croft.  At that point, it might be impossible to keep Apollo out of it.

	He wondered which would be more important to Hannibal.  Taking Croft to
task for risking them all to save the boy - and risking Apollo and
everyone else finding out what Hannibal had ordered done?  Or keeping the
matter under wraps, for the sake of old secrets?  Either way, he
suspected, Hannibal would make sure that Croft - and probably Paye - bore
the brunt of his anger, publicly or privately.  More likely privately, he
realized.  That unnerved him, more than he had realized it would.

	He felt a cold shiver in the warm summer evening.

		* * *

	Starbuck felt a sense of certainly and peace that he hadn't felt in
yahrens, if ever.  It was a sense of belonging, a sense that things were
settled and secure - not out-of-his-hands, beyond-his-control settled,
but decided, in a way that he wanted and that offered him chances he'd
never really considered before.

	And he felt happy, so content, he couldn't help laughing.

	*It took me so long to figure out what I really wanted, and to admit it
to myself.  And it took Athena to make me see it.  But she's right.  And
I'm going to do it.  I'm going to ask Cassie to marry me.  As soon as we
can.  I'm not going to waste another moment of my life, or hers.*

	He could predict how his friends would react.  Boomer would offer
sincere congratulations.  Greenbean would just smile slightly and shake
his head.  Jolly would pat him on the back and ask him what they were
going to serve at the sealing.  Sheba would hug him joyously.  Giles
would say "Yeah, right," and then be more astonished with every day that
passed and proved he wasn't joking.  Apollo would...well, he was sure
Apollo would be happy for him, though he would wonder, as he had wondered
before, if Apollo would not-so-secretly be uncomfortable for Athena's
sake.

	Starbuck laughed again.  Once Apollo knew it was Athena who had brought
him to this realization, his concerns would be set to rest, and Apollo
would consent to be his groom's supporter with a clear heart.

	There were plenty of others who would be skeptical, he knew.  Those who
only knew his reputation would keep waiting to hear that he'd run to
somebody else.  But he wasn't running anymore.  He'd found his center,
and that was Cassiopeia.

	It was mealtime.  He ought to be taking his turn at mess duty.  Instead
he was sitting here in one of their treetop roosts, enjoying the rosy
glow of the late afternoon, watching the town and the keep, and utterly
convinced that Cassiopeia was safe.  And she would remain so.  His
newly-acknowledged devotion would surround her like a cocoon even from
this distance, and bring her safely back to them, and then back to the
fleet.    His anxious fears had all been set to rest. Their future
together was inevitable.

	The warm, light breeze of evening caressed his face.  It rustled the
leaves, and a swaying branch just touched his ear.  He closed his eyes
and imagined Cassie's hand across his face, her fingers ruffling his
hair, her cheek against his.  The swaying of the platform, nestled
between branches, became her arms rocking him to rest after a long day. 
The wind on his body became the barest touch of her, brushing past him
when he wasn't looking.  The flowers on the breeze were her perfume,
heady as the heights.  He thought if he listened closely, he could hear
her delicate voice humming in the birdsong under the whisper of the
leaves.  If he held out his hand, he might feel her fingers brush against
his...

	He was giddy and he knew it, and maybe caught up in the fantasy of how
wonderful their new life would be.  He knew that tomorrow would no doubt
bring a lot of second thoughts, and that reality wasn't as easy to
respond to as fantasy.  But he also knew, beyond any doubt, that those
"second thoughts" would subside.  There were only his habitual response
to anything that threatened his inner shields, and he had determined this
was a habit he was going to change.  As for reality, well, he and Cassie
would shape reality to suit themselves, now that he realized what shape
he wanted it to be.

	It wouldn't be easy.  But then, he had always done things his own way,
and there was a logic to it, to those who bothered to think it through,
as Athena had after a lot of work, and as Apollo just seemed to accept
without trying to figure him out, and as Boomer seemed to do
instinctively.

	He opened his eyes, and raised his hand to shield them against the
brilliance of the sunset.  The sky was burnished gold, brilliant orange,
fiery red.  It was spectacular.  It was the perfect end to a day that
would live in his memories forever as the end of one part of his life,
and the real beginning of the better part.

		* * *

	Cassiopeia hadn't expected to be invited to join Uthor for the evening
meal.  She would have declined, rather facing a squadron of Cylon
centurions than sit through a meal with Padryce glaring murderously at
her, especially now, but Uthor had made a quick point that the eklekton
had been invited to share a meal with the kalanthro and his diakonos. 
Such hospitality was traditionally offered in every parish, and it was
expected that a visiting eklekton would accept, no matter where he was
actually staying.

	At that, she had accepted the invitation.  She needed Uthor's good will
now more than ever, for more than just her own sake.

	She hadn't expected to be the only guest at the small table.

	It was a cosy place, the small room that Cassie recalled Moriathe
referring to as the arxon's private dining hall.  The table was
considerably smaller than the one in the main dining chamber, and was
intimately set, with her place next to his.  The walls were richly hung
with tapestries, embroidered with scenes of well-dressed -- and sometimes
somewhat undressed -- men and women at play, riding, hunting, dining,
playing music, dancing, sharing silent words that the observer could only
guess at.  One heavy door behind a carved wooden screen opened to a
stairwell directly to the kitchen, another door opened onto the railed
walk that overlooked the main central hall.  The more discrete door
mostly concealed by the tapestries led to the short passage between the
bedchambers of the master and mistress of the keep.

	Besides the table and chairs, and the tapestries and wooden screens,
there were several musical instruments along the wall, all set as if
waiting expectantly for the musicians to appear at any micron.  The only
illumination came from the candles on the table and a pair of brasiers to
take the chill out of the stone.  The sconces on the wall were dark.

	The arxon had dressed well for the evening,.  Cassie blew a deep breath
of surprised pleasure when he walked into the room.  He was walking
unaided, with straight posture and an easy strength that defied anyone to
say he was ill.  His dark green kilt was a finely woven fabric, cut close
and not too long, to show off his legs and fine hips; she assumed he wore
matching trousers underneath, as was the style, but couldn't tell, and
wasn't about to stare.  His boots were dark green too, an expensive
luxury, considering the cost of dyed leather.  The pure white shirt was
partially unlaced, showing off just enough chest to prove the muscles
were real, and flaring a little off his broad shoulders.  She could see a
gold chain at his neck, with some kind of pendant, but again, wasn't
about to stare.  His dark brown hair was neatly trimmed and combed back,
but its waves hung free almost to his shoulders.

	He looked good.

	Cassie felt plain and ordinary, still wearing her everyday clothing,
glad she had at least left the apron in her chamber.  *But,* she reminded
herself, *you are what you make yourself, in any situation.*  She lifted
her chin and smiled graciously.  Her reward was the appreciation in his
eyes, and the little half-nod that confirmed he would treat her like a
lady tonight..

	Uthor played the host to the hilt.  The meal was served -- two kinds of
roasted meat sliced on platters, small loaves of still-warm bread on each
plate, several types of tuber vegetables, a tray with a variety of fresh
fruits, and six urns containing as many sauces, so that Cassie had to
watch Uthor closely to figure out which went with the meats, and which
with the vegetables and the bread.  He himself poured a sweet pale wine
poured into the cups first, followed by a  spicier-flavored, deep
garnet-red wine when the servants set out the variety of bite-size
dessert sweets.  It was far more food than four times as many people
could have eaten, and if not for Greenbean's cooking back at camp to show
what was possible, Cassie would have been surprised at the variety of
flavors the kitchen staff had coaxed from simple ingredients -- it was a
far cry from the ordinary, every-day menu she was familiar with.

	With the meal set out, Uthor waved the servants to withdraw, leaving
Cassie alone with him.

	The conversation was light.  It didn't take much prodding from Cassie to
keep Uthor talking - about his land and heritage, his family history, the
literature he enjoyed, his interests and plans for the future of his
parish.  But then, she was used to making light conversation on a wide
range of topics, to keeping her companions comfortable and talking and
the center of her attention.  Her previous training and career as a
socialator had exposed her to men whose social and personal skills and
interests had run the gamut, from those who intellectually, physically,
and emotionally stimulated her, to those she'd almost had to coax to give
their name.  She was able to involve herself in the man she was with, no
facade, but real interest.  Equally importantly, under the circumstances,
she had her own innate curiosity that gave her the ability to learn from
and really appreciate the knowledge of the ones she was with.  She could
adapt quickly to any situation as if born to it.

	She knew how important it was to handle the situation well.  That had
become perfectly clear in her thoughts, after the afternoon conversation
with Moriathe.  An unhappy client was unlikely to call again.  An unhappy
arxon could join forced with an eklekton to create disaster for her
friends and fellow shipmates.  The first time she remembered what Padryce
could do, she couldn't help shivering.  Uthor caught the movement.  She
was able to smile it off, but determined that she wasn't going to think
of the eklekton tonight, only to focus on what she was doing - and
whatever that turned out to be, to do it with all her skill and empathy.

	She recognized when Uthor tried to turn the conversation to her, and was
able to deflect it back to him every time.  From his amused expression
and the shift of one eyebrow, she knew that he was aware of what she was
doing, but didn't mind being manipulated that way.  So long as she
dropped an occasional personal comment about herself or suggestion about
her past, he seemed to feel he was being successful in drawing her out as
well.  As the meal went on, his remarks turned more flirtatious; she
parried in kind, feeling her way through the maze of customs and
experience to find what seemed appropriate for the evening and the man.

	He called her a starflower; she pouted at being so common a flower to
him, and did he think she was so easily picked?  He replied there was
nothing so beautiful as the brilliance of her eyes; she laughed and said
he needed more candles.  He wanted to take her riding through the morning
dew of the sunrise; she asked why not in the midnight air under the
stars?  He asked if she had ever worn Terrian silk, that it would look
good on her; she replied that she hadn't, but that some fabrics were too
heavy on her skin, and would she be happier without the silk?  He quoted
poetry and quaint-sounding romantic plays; she responded with lines from
her favorite historical authors.

	The candles burned down.  They enjoyed the game.

	Finally, they nibbled at the dessert sweets, silently enjoying the last
few bites and the heady dark wine for a few companionable moments.  The
silence was easy, comfortable, but was slowly replaced by a certain
tension.  Cassie realized the feeling had been growing over the course of
the meal, fed by every flirtatious remark, every sideways glance, every
compliment, every not-so-accidental touch as his fingers would brush hers
reaching for fruit or a sauce urn or to refill the glass with wine.  The
sensation, deep inside her, that had been content to wait during the
meal, was now demanding attention.

	Unexpectedly restless, she rose from her chair and walked over to the
instruments along the wall.

	"Kai said that you play the zitar," she said.

	"I do."

	"Would you play for me?"

	"Gladly."

	Uthor picked up the instrument and moved to a bench.  After a centon of
checking each string for tone, he smiled at her, then began to play.

	Cassie closed her eyes and listened.

	Uthor was a virtuoso.  She was astonished.  A zitar could sound like
this?  His fingers plucked emotions from the instrument like precious
stones from a mound of dirt.  The tender music filled the room and then
filled her soul.  She was almost afraid to breathe for fear of missing a
note.

	She felt herself beginning to sway in time to the music. Of their own
volition, her hands began to move, tracing the music in the air with her
fingers.  Her arms wove the pattern, her feet added rhythm.  As the song
continued, she followed where it led her.  She danced, elegant and
stately.

	"You have an easy grace," she heard Uthor say in his deep voice.

	"I've always enjoyed dancing," she replied, her eyes still closed.

	"Do you often dance?"

	"No."  It was a sad fact that she had learned to live with.  While she
knew dozens of dances, and loved music, life in the fleet was busy, so
much of their culture had been left behind in the need to survive, and
Starbuck had never expressed any interest in dancing - watching, yes, but
not being a participant.  He had loved some of her more...erotic moves,
but, she realized with a peculiar sorrow,  he'd never joined her just for
dancing's sake.

	"Have you danced for other men?"

	"Never for a man like you."   She couldn't help the regret, or the way
her voice dropped.

	He faltered and hit a wrong chord, once, the only time.  The song wound
to its end, and the music stilled.  She felt disappointed, and couldn't
stop a sigh.

	"I can play some more, if you'd like," he offered.

	"I would."

	"And you can dance some more, if you'd like."

	"I would," she replied softly.

	He strummed some chords.  "Maybe you'd like to take off your boots -
they can't be easy to dance in."

	Cassiopeia smiled, and took the time to sit down and remove her boots
while Uthor checked a string or two.

	Then he began to play again, a different melody.  It started slow, but
as the music went on, it picked up in tempo, became wilder.  She began
with the slow steps of a elegant Sagittarian waltz, every move a
formalized ritual.  As the music quickened, she began to twirl, her arms
pantomiming spring growth, improvised variations of a Libran ballet. 
Then she began to leap, her bare feet moving faster.  Her entire body
arched joyously with grace and beauty and the elation of movement.  Her
arms reached for the ceiling, scooped up something unseen from the floor,
imaged the rising and setting of the sun.

	He went directly from that song into another; she couldn't tell where
exactly one became the other, but realized something had changed in the
chords.  Now her hips kept the beat, while her hands told the story with
expressive fingers, longing for something that had been missing in her
life for too long.  Her heartbeat had quickened, and she felt drops of
perspiration gather on her neck and across her body in the warm room.

	He kept playing; she kept dancing, hearing herself laugh more than once.
 Stately Caprican minuets, wild Aerian folk dances, formalized Virgon
gavots, lively Canceran reels - she found a way to use them all, to
combine  movements of each.  She knew Uthor was watching, but it didn't
matter.  All that mattered was movement and expression and the emotion it
aroused in her.

	The candled began to gut.  Most of the light came from the gleaming bits
of charcoal in the twin braziers.  The room drew closer, seemed to hold
its breath in the darkness as it watched her.  Finally, the music
stopped.  Her arms uplifted, her head thrown back, one foot pointed
forward, Cassie held her pose as the dim lights threw her flickering
shadow against two walls.

	After a long, breathless moment, she felt his hands on her shoulders.

	Then his beard brushed her throat and she felt his kiss just below her
earlobe.  She nearly swooned as he tasted the drop of sweat that had
formed there, his tongue just teasing her skin.  He traced her pulse with
his lips, and she let him pull her back into his embrace.  She turned to
twine her arms around his neck.  She didn't object when he picked her up
and carried her toward the private door by the tapestries.


			Chapter Thirteen


	The slim blonde slipped easily from the tangle of sheets and heavier
blankets.  Uthor didn't stir; she hadn't expected him to wake.  He was
barely recovered enough for the two centars they'd spent together, after
the full meal and two kinds of wine.  He would undoubtedly sleep deeply
until morning.  Not that he'd been unsatisfying, she recalled with an
impish smile - she'd only had to give him an opportunity, and his natural
instincts had quickly taken advantage of her - but the point was that she
be free to move around the old keep without being detected or having her
absence remembered later.

	The only clothing close at hand were her chemise and second petticoat;
she slipped the white garments on and ran barefoot to the door.  Beyond
the heavy door, she could hear low sounds from the two guards who stood
watch over Uthor in his sleep; they were playing some game of chance and
discussing one of them's personal conquest.  She moved to the window, and
with silent fingers pulled out the stone to reclaim her medical kit
analyzer and computron, which had been there since the day she arrived. 
She dropped them into her petticoat pouches, then took a candle from the
candelabra on the bench near the bed, and moved to the farthest tapestry.
 Now to find out if other Moriathe's stories had any truth to them.  She
slipped behind the tapestry, carefully shielding the candle to prevent
any chance of fire.  She searched the wall and found the thin line of the
door.  It pushed open silently, swinging on some hidden hinge.

	*Connecting passages, the secret of the lord and his lady and their most
trusted personal servants, no doubt.  How archaic.  Is it full of crawlon
webs and skeletons to complete the illusion?  The passage to the lady's
room is probably cleaner - I can't imagine Uthor as much of a scholar, so
he can't have any use for the library.  Hope there's something there
worth finding.

	*The first day, I didn't even know I was seeing a door.  Thank you for
your reminisces, Moriathe.  You were lady's-maid to Uthor's mother, you
knew about the secret doors.  And thank you, Kai, for showing me around
so I knew where to look.  I'm glad Padryce doesn't know about them.  He
might have burst in on me that first day, and Lords only know what might
have happened.

	*How far does this go?*

	The narrow passage was dusty and cramped, but miraculously free of
vermin.  The flickering taper showed the metal wall brackets where
torches could be set; there was nothing else in the long corridor but
unevenly-set stone floors, walls, and ceiling until she reached a door
like the one she'd left ajar behind her.  She glanced in; the lady's
room, empty but clean and ready.  No surprise, considering Uthor.  She
pulled the door closed behind her and moved on.

	To her surprise, the passage didn't end at the next door.  It continued,
and two steep flights of stairs began a double spiral out of her view, up
and down.

	*Hmm, that could lead up to my room, and the other maybe to the grand
hall or the cellars.  Perhaps even to some other tunnel out of the keep. 
Escape route in case of trouble, like that one Starbuck saw on Antilla? 
Maybe mistresses slept on another floor - like me.  Or maybe the lords
just wanted a way to the kitchen for midnight snacks.*  Cassiopeia
muffled her giggles and gently pushed open the library door.

	The room was silent and dark but for moonlight from the west - the moon
was still in the sky.  Clear, primitive glass covered the windows,
protecting the room's valuable contents from the elements but allowing in
light and a fair view of the skies.  A jumble of mismatched furniture
pieces were scattered around the vaulted room - a few small tables, a
scribe's desk and stool, some heavier benches and chests, what looked
like a step-stool, and several tall shelves.  On the shelves were an odd
collection of rolled and flattened scrolls, what looked like antique
astronomical, geographical, and navigational equipment, and a few
precious bound books.

	"What do I look at first?" she breathed in the cool, musty air.

	She padded around the room, glancing at the various volumes and pages,
imaging them into the computron for later analysis and deciphering.

	*I'm starting to feel like a spy!  Almost thrilling, but I'm sure it
would lose its allure if I were caught.

	*It also loses its allure by the two-dozenth scroll.  This is boring. 
There really isn't much here.  Old surveys and census sheets, local
histories, pious hagiographies...  Apollo and Hannibal want Padryce's
books, copies of ancient books that might have come from Kobol.  Those
aren't here; he probably has them in his chamber.  If he's a sound
sleeper, I could...  How daring do I really want to be tonight?*

	The eklekton's chambers were down the corridor from the library, in the
second west tower; between the long secret passage and the broad rooms of
this level of the keep, night put the eklekton a fair distance from the
arxon.  Heart pounding, she tiptoed to the door, and glanced into the
hall.  Torches were set in brackets at long intervals, and many sections
of the hall were eerily shadowed, including the library door.  She
couldn't see the door to Uthor's chambers or hear the quiet murmurs of
the guards keeping each other awake.  There were no sounds but distant
echoing creaks and the wind outside, funneling into the hall from
somewhere.

	There was no need for the candle - it might wake Padryce, and there
should be moonlight in his room as well.  She left the candle on one of
the benches.  Taking a deep breath, Cassiopeia stepped out of the
library's safety.

	She had taken only a few cautious steps when one of those distant
rhythmic sounds stopped.  There was a strangled yip and she whirled to
see a figure under a torch where the corridor turned.  She realized she,
too, stood outlined in a torch's glow, in plain sight, and froze.

	The stranger staggered back, choking out a call.

	The micron he turned his head, Cassiopeia bolted.

	She ran back into the library and let the door swing creakily shut
behind her.  The candle almost went out when she scooped it up and raced
across the room, but survived to reach the passage.  On its careful
balance, the panel shut silently, completely, and she fell against the
wall, gasping for a moment.

	*But I'm still not safe here!  That racket, the guard's waking the whole
place!  They'll wake Uthor, he'll see I'm not there...*

	Cassie dashed back along the passage, following her own footprints in
the dust.  She slipped through the door and out from behind the tapestry
which normally concealed it.

	Yells and footsteps echoed in the hall outside.  Uthor's guards were
calling to their comrades to find out what was going on.

	Cassie skidded across the floor, pulling off her clothes as she went. 
She jammed the candle back into its holder, cursing silently as the
candle finally went out.  Her heart thudded wildly as she stuffed her
white undergarments behind the heavy wooden headboard and grabbed a
coverlet.  Her hands were shaky and cold as she curled closer to Uthor,
hoping the touch of her cool skin wouldn't wake him.

	His body was warm.  He murmured something about having heat enough to
spare as his arm pulled her closer.  She held herself rigid for a moment,
trembling, then let herself relax and warm into his insistence.

	Somebody pounded on the door.

	Uthor sat bolt upright, completely awake.  "What is it?" he yelled.

	The door opened and one of the guards entered, eyes averted.  "My
lord-!"

	Another pushed past him.  It was the eklekton, some garish robe pulled
around him.  "Lord Uthor!  A ghost walks your halls!  A vile apparition
of some cursed unliving creature..."

	He did a double take and saw Cassie cowering behind Uthor, blanket
pulled to her chin.  The arxon leaned forward protectively, putting his
own body between her and the eklekton's venomous gaze.

	"What is it, my lord Padryce?  What ghostly thing?"

	Padryce controlled himself.  "One of your sentries, young Loch, was
walking his post when he saw a white apparition appear from the darkness.
 It was pale as the grave, he claims, all of white with the face of a
corpse.  Even as he stared at it, the specter vanished into the
darkness."

	Cassie had to choke back a reaction.  Uthor felt her move, and put his
arm over her as if to protect her.

	"The guards are searching?  They did not see a servant, or one of your
people walking late?"

	Padryce's lips tightened.  "No.  There was no one there.  And there is
nowhere anyone could have gone."

	Now Uthor looked uneasy.  "No specters have been seen in this place
since the plague years, and those were laid to rest in my grandfather's
days..."

	Something flashed in Padryce's eyes.  "Something walks your hold -now-,
Uthor.  And it is the magicker's hour."

	"Let the guards search longer.  If there is something to be found, they
will find it.  I will speak to them in the morning."

	The guard murmured a local warding chant, but fell silent at a withering
glare from the eklekton.

	"I am weary," Uthor continued.  "If you could leave me to my rest,
Eklekton?"

	"Should I leave you -alone-, at such a time, Lord Uthor?" the man asked
sarcastically.

	Uthor almost smiled.  "My healer will tend to me," he answered wittily. 
"But I thank you for your concern."

	Almost purple, Padryce retreated.  They could hear him yelling orders to
the hapless guards.

	Uthor studied Cassie, then pulled her closer.  "You're chilled, my
little starflower," he murmured.  "And your heart thuds like a cornered
doe.  Does he so frighten you?  You have nothing to fear, sweet Cassie. 
With me, you are always safe.  I will never let anything harm you..."

	She closed her eyes and deliberately clung to him, almost enjoying the
role of helpless female.  At least Padryce couldn't touch her, for the
moment.  She only needed Uthor's attentions and protection for a few days
more.  For a former socialator with her skills and experience, that would
be no difficulty whatsoever.

		* * *

	Another sweet morning.  The rosy colors of dawn were giving way to a
clear blue sky  The front was moving more slowly than expected, and it
would be another two days or so before the storms moved in.  But Hannibal
could already feel the coming change; the instincts of his youth had
never really been lost, just stored away in his well-compartmentalized
mind against future need.  In the meantime, the day was clear, birdsongs
were a eclectic harmony all their own, and a prevailing wind brought its
own chorus of scents that were no longer strange.

	Ah, he smiled in satisfaction, this was the kind of morning that made
rural summers a treasure.

	He studied the sky, between sips of the local hot caff.  Greenbean had
sweetened it with a wild honey, and Hannibal knew he was going to miss
the beverage when they returned to the fleet.  Even though they were
taking back some of the nuts for the agro-ship and the smaller gardens in
some of the other ships, along with other food plant seeds and cuttings,
there was no way they could duplicate the growing conditions that gave
the caff such deep flavor, and they had no way to recreate the apis honey
that was so dependent on the native blossoms.

	He savored another sip.

	The raucous bugle of a rooster phasianos interrupted his reverie.  Noise
for its own sake, the captain gauged, no warning of danger, no challenge
in defense of the harem.  The squawk simply seemed to reverberate
ecstatically with life, to challenge the morning...just because.

	The wild phasianos here were almost exactly like the domesticated ones
back on his native Cancera - the bio-team had confirmed it.  They were
even still known by a very similar name.  It was more evidence that the
humans had brought some of their native flora and fauna with them in
their exodus from Kobol.  He couldn't help a satisfied smile.  Even if
they learned nothing more from the people here, they knew this much: the
Thirteenth Tribe had passed this way, and a small part of it had
remained, and they had carried bits of old Kobol with them.  Small
proofs, but consoling ones, that they remained on the right path, and
that when they finally reached Earth, there was a good chance there would
be something they recognized and remembered from their home worlds.

	It has always been his purpose in life to protect the Colonies, at
whatever personal cost.  He had sacrificed a great deal, personally, over
the yahrens, for that purpose.  He would continue to sacrifice whatever
was needed, and his goals were simple.  To keep their few survivors
alive.  To continue traveling on the path that provided the most chance
of them continuing to survive.  And to find a future with their only
known kindred in the universe who might be technologically advanced
enough and numerous enough to give them refuge.  Hannibal believed Adama
was right; over the yahrens, he had read the same books, the same
histories.  He would back the commander every step of the way.

	He became aware of footsteps coming closer, feet barely rustling the
grass.  To anyone else, it would have sounded like the wind.

	"You're slipping, Anubis.  I heard you."
	"I didn't grow up with this like you did."  Only when Anubis stood next
to him, as he did at the moment, could anyone see just how much taller
the younger man was.  He had his own mug of caff; from the shadows under
his dark eyes, it was for the stimulant value as much as the flavor.

	"What did you find out last night?" Hannibal asked, taking another
drink.  "After you and Nia got back from the grove, that is."

	Anubis grinned briefly.  "I wouldn't have given you details on that
anyway, unless we thought she was a spy."  The grin vanished as quickly
as it had come, replaced by a more somber and serious expression.  "I
spent some time outside the Lazy Ox, listening in.  There were a couple
of the Eklekton's men there, slumming it.  One of the young men we had to
scramble was pretty sick.  He seems to be getting better, courtesy of our
own Dr. Paye, with Croft's assistance."

	"Details," was the flat demand.

	Anubis nodded.  "One of the guards in the tavern was with a team that
spotted Croft and Paye in town yesterday afternoon, leaving the
blacksmith's house.  Because of the kid's sickness, and the concerns that
it might be of...other than natural origin, they followed up.  Apparently
the daughter of the house, a rather attractive girl with a reputation as
a cook, not that the soldier cared about her cooking, was all but dancing
around the front door, and told them her brother was recovering, thanks
to one of the gypsy healers.  When they asked the identity of the healer,
she told them it was Paye.

	"They apparently followed up with more questions, somewhat rudely, if
I'm any judge.  She told them Cassie had suggested they talk to the other
gypsy healer, that her mother had approached Croft yesterday morning, and
that Croft had brought Paye in the afternoon, and he had somehow saved
her brother's life.

	"The soldiers brought that information to the Eklekton.  The guard
didn't know what Padryce was going to do about it, but he's sure that
something will be done.  That was followed by a round of speculation as
to what kind of evil creatures we really were, and what kind of hades was
waiting for us by the time they and the Eklekton got done with us," he
finished dryly.

	"They know Cassie is one of us," Hannibal considered aloud.

	"Yes."

	"He didn't like us before, now we're part of the same threat that she is
- whatever that threat is, in his mind."

	"Later, as the tavern owner was trying to close up for the night,
another on the Eklekton's guards showed up, ordered everybody back to the
keep.  Wouldn't say why, but I noticed he was wearing one of the
hagiomedallions - their Blessed Olwen, I think it was, protector from
demons.  He kept fingering it like he expected something to jump out from
behind every tree." Another quick grin.  "And I had a definite sense that
he was trying to control a very healthy amount of fear.  Mental turmoil."

	"Hmmm."  Hannibal was intrigued.  "Anything else?"

	The younger man shook his head briefly.  "Not from them.  The summons
cleared the place right out, to the great relief of the barkeep and staff
- the members of the ‘holy guard' don't bother the serving girls, but
they do drink, a lot, and they don't go home until they're ready to go
home, from what I gather.  I tried to follow the guard, discretely, but
the gatewatch was doubled, and it looked like they were lighting extra
torches all over the keep.  No way to get close enough to really hear or
read anything more specific."

	"Speculation?"

	"Obviously something's happened at the keep.  Since it was his men, the
Eklekton is certainly involved in whatever it is.  I don't know if it's
related to us or not."

	"Let's assume it is.  Anything else?"

	Anubis shrugged.  "I made a pass by the blacksmith's house, after
hearing what the soldiers said in the tavern.  It was close to dawn; the
girl and her mother were already awake, working on breakfast.  From the
sounds of it, the mother's still a little agitated, doesn't know if she
should just be grateful her son's alive, or ask forgiveness at the temple
for asking help from us.  She's half afraid her son's been cursed.  The
girl, on the other hand, sees Paye somewhere between a medical miracle
worker and the handsomest man she's every met.  Quite taken with him,
rather worshipful."

	One eyebrow crooked sardonically, otherwise, Hannibal's expression
didn't change.

	"Instructions?" Anubis asked simply.

	"Continue to monitor what's going on in town."

	"Croft and Paye?"

	"I'll handle them."

	Anubis nodded once and walked away.

	Hannibal watched the sky, brooding.  He took a sip of caff.  It had
cooled.  The flavor was turning bitter, and the honey was settling in a
thick, oversweet layer on the bottom of his mug.  He spat out the small
mouthful, and dumped what was left before turning back toward camp.

		* * *

	The shadow in the woods watched the two men talk.

	Their speech had been too low to hear, but getting too close to either
of them would be dangerous.

	The younger left.  After a moment, so did the elder.

	The shadow slipped away.

		* * *

	The eklekton paced the central hall with measured steps.  Half a dozen
of his own guards stood at rigid ready in a line beside the massive
center hearth.  Their report had been beyond his fears - the witchwoman
who had Uthor so beguiled was one of the gypsies.  And there was another
of her kind among them, spreading more dark magick in the parish.

	His eyes narrowed.  Was it coincidence that a spectre freely walked the
halls at night, when the likes of this Cassiopeia and Paye had the
freedom of the keep and the town?  He doubted it.  That was why he'd sent
for Uthor.

	"My lord?"  The acolyte responded with alacrity to his slight change of
expression.

	He waved off the youth, distracted and deep in thought.

	It seemed an eternity before the arxon finally arrived, a servant in
tow, several of his own guards trailing behind, following Galhan's lead. 
Padryce briefly noted that the servant was the father of one of the boys
who was constantly either underfoot or out wandering the mountain, and
who had first reported the gypsies' presence there.  The guards were
nothing unusual; almost as expected as furniture or clothing.  Padryce's
gaze fixed on Uthor.  There was no longer any sign of illness on him; the
young arxon appeared in perfect health, and his footsteps conveyed
strength and ease.

	"My lord Uthor," he boomed almost before the arxon was in speaking
distance.  "We must discuss certain events of the last day and night."

	"Indeed," Uthor replied.  "The specter has all of us concerned for our
safety.  I trust you will be performing the exorcism?  Our kalantho has
already deferred to your exalted rank.  You need only name the time."

	Padryce was checked.  He hadn't expected that Uthor would already have
spoken to Presbis.  "Yes," he acknowledged, "I believe an exorism is
necessary to protect the residents of the keep, and yourself, my lord
Uthor, from whatever evil thing has entered it.  It should be done today,
before another night gives the evil one a chance to find whatever prey it
seeks here."

	"After the rain prayer, then?  All the people will be gathered at the
temple."

	"That was my thought as well.  I will begin the exorcism at the temple,
then come here in procession to cleanse the keep."

	"I trust you have everything you will need?  If there is anything else,
the kalanthro will provide it at your command."

	"An Eklekton is always prepared for the needs of the Covenant," he
replied evenly.

	Uthor nodded, almost a bow.  "Of course."

	"And once we have driven out the dark creature, we must take steps to
ensure that it or more of its kind cannot return."

	Uthor raised his eyebrows, and thoughtfully ran a thumb along his beard.
 "Yes...and we must ensure that if such creatures do return, our people
are secure from them."

	Padryce felt almost mollified, as if the arxon was finally beginning to
think with a clear head.  "We must especially protect the leaders of the
people."

	He nodded.  "Especially you and me, and those close to us..."

	"Yes."

	"We must continue to post more sentries in the main halls, and in
Farshire as well, and make sure the people know they must be in their
homes by dusk during this crisis, until the evil has been dealt with."

	"That would be wise," Padryce agreed.  "And I believe there is another
thing we must do, to protect you and those in the keep.  Cassiopeia-"

	"Oh, indeed!  She is too far away from me.  I need my healer nearer,"
Uthor interrupted tranquilly.  "And if there is a specter walking my
keep, I would not leave her alone in the upper tower - it's too isolated.
 The Lady's Chamber is near enough to the hall to be safe, and is near to
me as well."

	That announcement made Padrcye see red.  "The witchwoman belongs in a
cell, facing the judgment of the Covenant, not sleeping in your bride's
chambers where she would be free to summon up all manner of evil!"

	"What danger do you suggest she can cause from there, that she cannot do
from any other room in this keep?" Uthor asked mildly.  His temper seemed
non-existent - a change from when Padryce had last seen him in Koinonia. 
"You have guarded her room and her person since her arrival.  She has
harmed no one, and she has saved my life - in that, what has she done to
make you think she is evil?  What has she done to show that she means to
harm anyone here?"

	"She-"

	"What evidence, Eklekton?  I wait for enlightenment.  What do you know
that I do not about her?"

	"I am sure you know much more about her than is seemly!" Padryce shot
back.  "And more than I would want a witchwoman to know about me!"

	"You are sworn to vows that I cannot be, where women are concerned, if I
am to ensure my family's regeneration, Eklekton.  But you have not
answered, what has she done to show she is evil?"

	"Women should not be healers-"

	"Yet we have midwives to bring us into the world, and our race has not
been extinguished because of it.  The Covenant has always allowed women
that role."

	Padryce couldn't answer that; midwives were generally accepted under the
Covenant, although he personally would have banned them if he could. 
"That is a different thing," he forced through his clenched teeth.

	"What evidence, my lord Eklekton?"

	"You question me, my lord Arxon?"

	"As I said," Uthor inclined his head, but kept his eyes locked on
Padryce's, "I seek knowledge."

	The temperature in the room was alternately the fires of hades itself,
and the icy chill of the deepest mountain blizzard.  The guards's
expressions were mixed - anger at what seemed direct attacks on their
separate masters; confusion about whether they should believe their
sacred or their secular leader; bewilderment at the significance of the
argument itself.  They were poised to attack an enemy at command, without
even knowing why it was the enemy, but so frightened at the thought they
might have to attack, that they quaked in their boots and wanted to sink
through the floor, anything to escape what was happening.

	The eklekton fought for words.  "She should be guarded against even the
opportunity to create evil."

	"Well, then, the Lady's Chamber is certainly well guarded, as well
guarded as my own," Uthor finished more pointedly.  "Surely your men can
stand as well at that door as at the door of a cell."

	Padryce couldn't miss the barb about his own guard prowling the main
hall and the corridor.

	"Would your lady mother approve of this woman using her chamber?" he
shot back acidly.  "And I'm sure your future lady wife will be less than
pleased to know a witchwoman gypsy warmed her bed before you deigned to
take the vows for your family's regeneration."

	The arxon kept his calm composure.  "You may be correct."  He shrugged. 
"Perhaps she should stay in my chamber.  Shall I have Kai bring in a mat
to lay at the foot of my bed?"  He smiled again; Padryce could see
amusement in his dark brown eyes.  "No?  Well, then, the Lady's Chamber
it shall be.  And for now, my lord Eklekton, I feel weary, my healer told
me not to overexert myself, I believe I should rest.  Unless you have
other knowledge I should consider?"

	The eklekton was silent, fighting for control, still shocked at Uthor's
rejection of his commands.

	"Then I will see you at Temple, and hope you will join me in breaking
your fast afterward.  Ryence..."  Uthor beckoned the servant with one
hand, and left the hall with easy steps that showed no sign of weakness
or exhaustion.

	Paxdryce watched him go,  lips thinned suspiciously, still fighting for
inner control.  It hadn't escaped his attention that Galhan kept his face
toward the  eklekton's guard until he reached the door.  The captain of
the local guard was obviously to be trusted as little as the arxon was,
at this point.  Since that woman had arrived, Uthor had been recovering -
and he seemed to be anticipating every decision the eklekton had made. 
And Uthor dared to challenge the commands of an eklekton of the Covenant,
to press for knowledge that was not his to claim.  Maybe it was already
too late.  As it had been too late for his grandsire, Arxon Pendron.

		* * *

	Sleep.  He had slept.  Really slept.  He felt cool, refreshed.  He felt
alive.  And his head felt clear.   The fever was gone.  The wild terror
of light and dark of days past was gone.  His thoughts were no longer
jumbled, no longer fuzzy.

	Bran stared up at the rafters.  He recognized them; they were the
ceiling of the loft he shared with his brothers.  In the candle light, he
could trace the wide grain of the wood, the darker spots that were
knotholes.  He found the sliver of light where a shingle had cracked,
that let in a single thin ray of early morning sunlight, flakes of snow
and drops of rain when the wind was right - and fresh air when the smoke
from below was thick.  His father had left it to him as the oldest
brother to fix; he hadn't gotten around to it.

	That single train of clear memories became a cascade.

	He'd been afraid.  He'd been sick.  He'd been lost in memories of dark
woods, shadows, haunting voices, the single red eye of the demon.  He'd
been cursed by its touch.

	Bran sat bolt upright with a gasp.

	Then he began to scream.

		* * *

	Nidaba made her report to Hannibal, Apollo, and Anubis, handing over the
data crystal that Ygern had given her that morning; Croft had approached
the group, then hastily left again without explanation.  Only Anubis
noted the brief, grim glance Hannibal sent after the retreating officer.

	"There'll be another vigil in the community temple tonight, and every
night until it rains," the archivist continued her report.  "Which means
there won't be many more, since our meteorologist reports it will be
raining in a few days.  More interesting is that Eklekton Padryce has
also decided to hold an exorcism in the keep."  She couldn't help
smiling.

	"What's so funny about that, my dear?" Hannibal inquired.

	"What they're exorcizing is Cassiopeia!"

	A beat.

	"Explain."

	"She went wandering the keep last night, trying to find books or a floor
plan or something useful.  Using a very convenient concealed passageway,
she discovered a library, but the micron she stepped out into the hall, a
guard spotted her.  She managed to escape, but apparently the guard, the
Eklekton, and almost everybody else in the place is convinced there's a
ghost walking the halls.  The ghost is Cassie, and the Eklekton plans to
exorcize her."  She giggled.

	"A concealed passage.  Very interesting," commented the paterfamilias. 
"Explains how she got around the keep.  It also might give us a way to
reach her..."

	Nidaba nodded, and handed over a rolled sheet of thick paper, obviously
torn out of some book and scribbled on.  "Here's the note she sent out
with Ygern this morning."

	Hannibal grabbed it and unrolled it.  A small vidcrystal fell out, one
of the data recordings from her computron.  Hannibal palmed it and
smoothed the note.  The younger men craned their necks to read over his
shoulder.  The neat handwriting gave several brief notes, with a small
sketch of her wing of the keep and how the hidden passageway connected
several rooms.  It also stated the crystal contained the results of her
nocturnal expedition.

	Anubis frowned, studying the sketch.  "I've looked around the keep
exterior, studied the walls and such.  From the location of that hall,
and Cassie's note about the staircases, this could conceivably lead out
through the stables or the cooling house..."

	"Padryce sent one of his people with a message this morning?"  Apollo
concentrated on Cassie's notes.  "I wonder where he was going, what
messages he's delivering..."

	"This younger generation has no respect or courtesy," muttered Hannibal
as both Apollo and Anubis jostled him, each pointing at his particular
interest.  Having scanned its contents, he surrendered the sheet to their
custody.  "Here.  Fight over it.  Nia, did you send any message in?"

	"Just what Anubis and I discussed last night, that she keep an eye out
for the symbol of the Lords of Kobol, along with a written description,
just in case she doesn't recall what it looks like.  Didn't want to put
Ygern at any more risk than she's already taking for us, or looking
sacrilegious.  I suspect Cassie already knows what to look for - she does
associate rather closer to Commander Adama then most of us, and he's the
only one left in the Fleet, I think, with the right to possess and wear
the Seal, and pass it on."

	"Very true," Hannibal agreed soberly.  "If there are any other
descendants of the old houses left, they're keeping the knowledge to
themselves.  All our current councilors have the Seal of the Council of
Twelve, but that's all.  Just as well, too.  If not for his possessing
the Seal of Kobol, and none of them being heir to it, the Council
probably wouldn't defer to Adama's judgment nearly as often as they do. 
>From what I've seen, that could've been a disaster a dozen times over."

	"And yet that seal is here, on a planet of regressives," Nia murmured
with half her attention, shaking her head.  "It ordains the authority of
rulers who oppress their people in the name of religion."

	"Some would say the Lords of Kobol did exactly that, claiming divine
authority."

	Her eyes turned mutinous, and she turned the rest of her attention to
Apollo and Anubis's discussion of Cassie's note and the implications of
her data.  "Why don't we take her crystal to the commwagon and read it?"
she suggested.  "There might be something useful in it.  We may be able
to pass more concrete suggestions to Cassie this evening, when Ygern
makes her next delivery..."

		* * *
Chapter 14:

	Apollo reread the report Cassie has sent, after the others had read it,
briefly discussed it, and left the wagon.  He'd stayed out of the
discussion.  Parts of the report left him feeling distinctly
uncomfortable, and he couldn't exactly put his finger on why.  Cassie
seemed to have found the ideal way to get around the keep.  As long as
the guards stayed in the hall, she could check out the tunnels to find
out which rooms she had access to and which she didn't.  But from the
report...

	Nobody else seemed to seen anything wrong, why had he?

	"Apollo?"

	It didn't register than someone had spoken his name.

	"Big brother?  You look troubled."

	He glanced away from the screen.  Athena was studying his face intently.
 "Oh..."  He didn't know what to say.  He gestured back at the computer. 
"Just reviewing Cassie's report."

	"I can see that.  I can also see that something's bothering you."  A
beat.  "Care to share with your sister?"

	"I..."  He closed his lips tightly for a second.  "No.  I just need to
do a little thinking."

	Athena looked puzzled - almost instantly converted to determination. 
"Apollo-"

	He waved her off distractedly.  He needed to talk to somebody, but it
wasn't his sister. Hannibal, if he could be found.  Boomer, maybe.  Maybe
even Croft, he might see the same blanks...  Starbuck?  No, he shied back
from that thought; for some reason, this was nothing to discuss with
Starbuck...

	"I need to talk to somebody."

	"I'm somebody."

	He ignored that, ducking through the brightly-painted door of the wagon.
 He needed to get away from questions until he had a few answers of his
own.

		* * *

	Athena crouched in the doorway, watching Apollo  walk away, obviously
deep in thought, obviously concerned, obviously unwilling to share his
concern with her.  She felt her own frustration kick in.  The other women
on this mission, and some of the men, expected her to know what was going
on in her brother's head, and kept nudging her to explain his decisions
to them.  She would never betray a confidence or concern, and Apollo knew
that - but that he wouldn't talk to her, bothered her.

	That had been another of the things she hoped to accomplish on this
mission, to prove herself to Apollo and the other officers, to remind
him, especially, of her abilities and intelligence.  She wanted to remind
him how their relationship had been, once upon a time, when each had been
the other's staunchest supporter in family squabbles and through primary
school.  She wanted him for an ally the next time she needed to get off
the bridge, to remind their father of all the things that had once made
him so proud of her as a daughter and a pilot and a warrior.

	That had been before the Destruction.  Before the emotional and mental
and spiritual burdens had so exhausted him.  Adama didn't let many see
it, he couldn't afford to, it would erode the aura of authority and
wisdom that kept the Fleet following him.  Just her and Tigh, maybe now
Tinia.

	She was glad Tinia was willing to share that burden with her father.  It
had been a yahren now, since her mother's death.  Her father was entitled
to find love, happiness, support.  She didn't begrudge it.  She certainly
didn't feel it diminished what Adama and Ila had had together.

	All that aside, and back to the moment, she was concerned about her
brother's distance.  No doubt he was feeling defensive, because of what
had happened with Sheba.

	Sheba.  Hmmm.

	No, she decided, this most recent frown and moment of silence weren't
preoccupation with Sheba - he would have been irritated or depressed if
he'd been thinking of her, not merely distracted.  It had to be with the
mission, maybe with what was going on down in town.

	Apollo had left the vidcrystal on the low counter for her to log in. 
She decided she might as well take a closer look at it, since she hadn't
been included in the "mission debriefing" that had so obviously bothered
her brother.

	She pulled the door shut and ducked back into the comm wagon.  She
quickly skimmed the report, then read it more closely.  Cassie's report
was far from approved military style, but it was thorough enough, in its
own way.  And there was something between the lines...  She frowned and
went back to the opening description of the night skulking.

	Cassie had been in the Arxon's room.  No explanation why.  But the way
nothing was said...

	*The guard saw her in white, he thought it was a ghost - but Cassie was
wearing blue, we're all more colorful, it's only our underclothes-  Oh,
no...*  For a micron Athena forgot to breathe.  *No, it couldn't be that
way...could it?  But...  Did Uthor give her a choice?  Was it-   No, let
her explain when she gets back...I might be wrong, she wouldn't have... 
Oh, Cassie...  Starbuck, oh, please don't let me have been wrong...*

	She shivered from her toes all the way up to up back to her skull; she
could feel the hairs at the back of her neck quiver.  She hit the
controls, grabbed the vidcrystal, and all but threw it into the data
case, not wanting to touch it any longer than necessary.

		* * *

	"Hey, Apollo!"

	Apollo nearly jumped at Starbuck's eager call.  The blond warrior raced
up to join him as he crossed the center hearth area of the encampment.

	Oh, lords, the last person he wanted to see- 

	"I heard you got a report back from Cassie?"

	"Oh, uh, yeah."

	"Well?  What'd she say?  She's all right, isn't she?"  Anxiousness
radiated from every muscle.

	"Yes, she's fine.  Doesn't seem to be in any danger - things seem safer
there, in fact..."

	He could see the relief in his friend's eyes.  "Does she think she'll be
able to get out on her own, or is she gonna need our help?"

	"Too soon to tell.  But the Arxon is getting better, and she's
got...more mobility around the keep.  That'll make it easier when it's
time to go."  *If she wants to go...  Where did that come from?*  He felt
appalled at his own thought.

	Starbuck grinned, pushing loose, non-regulation-length hair out of his
eyes - was his own hair getting that long and unkempt?

	Apollo couldn't look at him; he turned and began to walk again.  "I got
some things to do, Starbuck, I'll see you at evenmeal."  Was he really
giving Starbuck the brush-off like this?

	"See ya then, buddy."  Starbuck just grinned again and took off.

	*Why in hades am I so uncomfortable talking to him about the report?* 
He shook his head.  *No, I can't seem to talk to him these days about
much of anything and I don't know why.  I can't seem to talk to very many
people about much of anything.*  He felt beleagured, always questioned,
alienated from his friends, as though everybody around him was watching
what he was doing and wondering why he was doing it.  Yes, he was used to
keeping a certain command distance, but...  And the people he would
normally have turned to to keep him grounded, weren't there the way he
always expected them to be.

	Starbuck was engrossed in what was happening with Cassie, to the
exclusion of anything else, the last day or so.  Ever since, according to
the quicksilver rumors of the camp, he and Athena had finally had the
heart-to-heart talk that had been long overdue - and Starbuck had come
out of it unable to talk about anything but Cassiopeia.  *He's acting
like an infatuated teenager - like Zac did with that girl, Tiana, when he
was seventeen.*

	Apollo ran his hand through his own hair, very conscious of its length,
and sighed deeply.  He needed to get himself in order, before he worried
about Starbuck.

	So who could he talk to?  Boomer was working with Siduri, keeping tabs
on him in some way.  When they weren't on specific duty assignments,
Jolly and Greenbean and Giles seemed to vanish - or maybe, he admitted to
himself, he just wasn't around when they might to include him, and when
he wanted to be included, they were already busy.

	Hannibal.  He felt a need to talk to Hannibal.  Apollo snorted at that. 
What was it that made him turn to the older engineer for advice these
days?  The man was an old friend of his father's; he had seen at least a
little of how much his father trusted the man; they had a history
together that the son was still curious about.  Hannibal seemed at
absolute ease in every situation here, in control of everything, or at
least capable of taking control of everything.   Nothing rattled him,
nothing shook his...awareness of the situation or his ability to deal
with it.  Maybe that was it.  He felt out of control, so he looked for
the one person who seemed to have no problem with control.

	"All right, Hannibal, then," he muttered.  He found himself feeling
better just for having made that simple decision.

	"Helping with evenmeal tonight, Apollo?" he heard a cheerful voice.

	Greenbean was sitting crosslegged behind a wooden cutting board,
surrounded by several baskets of produce and herbs, looking very much at
home in the belted kilt and shirt, sleeves rolled up to his elbow and
tied out of the way.  It was obviously time to start their supper, and
Greenbean was in his element.

	"I think I'll just stay out of the way of your knife, if that's all
right with you, Greenbean!" he shot back, trying to keep his tone light.

	The tall warrior waved said knife, slashing the air in some ornate
pattern.  "Well, if you ever change your mind, I've got some tubers you
can peel!" he teased.

	"I'll keep that in mind."

	No questions, no command issues, no awkward distances.  Just a pleasant
exchange between friends.  Cheered, Apollo smiled and went in search of
Captain Hannibal.  He couldn't be far, after all, in their small camp.

		* * *

	Moriathe had led the way to her new chamber.  With two guardsmen behind
her, Cassiopeia hadn't even asked where she was being taken or why.  As
they walked, Moriathe had told her, in a low voice, "You are being moved
to the Lady's Chamber.  It is our lord's wish, to have you nearer if he
should need you, and to have you safe from...trouble."

	"The Lady's Chamber?" she asked.

	"Yes."

	"Where the wives of the arxons traditionally sleep?"

	"Yes."

	She didn't know how to respond to that.

	"My lord Arxon has also instructed me to give you your choice from the
ladies' wardrobes and linens, and to have anything resewn as needed to
fit."

	A change of clothes, oh, wonderful!  She'd been wearing the same outfit
since she was brought to the keep - the outer clothes weren't so bad, but
her underthings needed laundering.  But...the bedroom his wife would
sleep in, the clothes his wife would wear...

	At Moriathe's gesture, the guards stayed in the hall as she showed
Cassie her new quarters.

	"I will be back with Gwynna; she has skill with the needle as well as
the spit."

	Now alone, Cassie roamed the room.

	The room proved to be just as large as the arxon's.  There were two
large doors, the one to the main hall, the other, she assumed, to the
narrow gallery that led to Uthor's room.  As in his, the few windows were
narrow slits, a fireplace took up half of one wall,  and the rest of the
walls were mostly hung with tapestries, of what were considered more
delicate themes than the ones in his chamber.  She didn't risk checking
behind the wall coverings, for fear the other woman would return sooner
than planned; she would check for passages later.  The bed was smaller -
a tacit acknowledgement of the morality of the culture?  That a man might
need more space to share, while a woman out of her husband's bed was
expected to sleep alone?  There were a few chests, and a chair.  Beside
the chair was a huge embroidery hoop on a stand - the only reason she
recognized it was because it was a larger version of the one Brie used. 
There was a long piece of fabric in the hoop, unmarked, and almost
concealed in the folds of its fall, a basket overflowing with color -
threads and needles, and probably a blade of some kind to cut the
threads.

	There was nothing else she could do until she was sure she would be
undisturbed.

	The Lady's Chamber.  Where the arxon's wife would stay.

	"I've been told I'm good, but I didn't think I was this good," she
muttered to herself.  *Uthor didn't even ask.  This can't be what it
sounds like.  I know better than to think he feels he owes this to me or
my honor or his own honor, for that matter!  Look at Ygern, he didn't
offer her anything, and she's about to deliver his child.

	*I know I've had sealing proposals from some of my clients before, but
usually the night of and in the heat of, not the day after.

	*And Padryce can't like it one bit.

	Casiopeia knew there would be fallout from this.

	She sat in the chair beside the embroidery frame, and waited.

		* * *

	The footpath led along the river to the slightly wider "road" that
joined with a woodsman’s lane
that led to Farshire.  It was one of three such paths that the Colonials
had worn through the forest during
their stay, each ultimately leading into the town and on to the keep. 
Captain Hannibal had no intention of
going to town; he did, however, plan to spend some time at one of their
look-out stations overlooking the
largest of the community pastures where the locals maintained a combined
bovine herd.

	"Hannibal?"  It was Apollo’s voice; he’d been expecting it.

	He glanced back at the younger captain, but kept walking.  "Yes?"

	"I wanted to talk to you."

	"Something in the report is bothering you."

	"Yes."  A pause.  "How’d you know?"

	"Because something in it caught my attention too."

	Apollo sucked in a breath as he fell into step just behind.  "A person
wouldn’t have known it from
your reaction.  Or lack of reaction."

	Hannibal shrugged.  "Young man, you learn things as you grow up.  What
is it you need to talk
about?"

	He was brusquer than usual, but Apollo took him at his word, and went
ahead.

	"Some of Cassiopeia’s comments in her report..."

	"What about them?"

	"Yes, what about them?" repeated another voice, breathless.  Athena had
caught up with them.

	A quick frown passed over Apollo’s face.  "This is official, Athena-"

	An equally determined and obstinate look settled on her features.  "As
the communications liaison
who’s been working the closest with Hannibal, I think I deserve-"

	"Athena!" her brother cut her off, exasperated.

	"No, you’ve-"

	"This is none of your business!"

	"Like hades!  Apollo, I am tired of being left out of things because
you’re so preoccupied with
whatever it is that’s going on in your head that you won’t talk to
anybody!"

	"I have not been-"

	"Oh?" she shot back.

	"She’s right."

	Both gaped at Hannibal - in the beginning of a heated argument, they’d
almost forgotten he was
there.

	"Come along, both of you, if you want to discuss Cassiopeia’s report. 
But I’m in no mood for an argument just now, so if you want to argue, you
are welcome to stay here."  He continued along the path,
leaving it to them to decide to follow or not.

	A look at each other, and they both hurried to catch up.

	He set his own pace, fast enough to make the two warriors have to
concentrate on keeping up, and
to remind them that he was as much of a warrior as they were.  He found a
certain sly pleasure in hearing
their breath coming in gasps when his pace was faster than they expected
or were used to - he had always
kept himself in excellent shape, and he’d taken advantage of his time on
the planet to increase his stamina.

	Hannibal paused abruptly at the thick trunk of a tall tree; its branches
intertwined with those of
several other trees in a tight cluster.  One of their largest lookout
platforms was among those branches.

	Glancing up, he jumped for the lowest branch, twisted his lower body up
onto the branch, and
began climbing.

	"What?  But-"

	He heard Athena sputtering something about her skirt.  But he had faith
in the exuberant little
spitfire - after all, hadn’t she been the best climber in the family, as
a child?  And hadn’t Lyra herself
made sure the girl got through her primitive survival courses with flying
colors?  He knew that fire was
still there, banked away under the thick emotional ashes of the
Destruction.

	He kept climbing, easily reaching the platform and ducking under the
woven railing to stand under
the skies.  The ease of climbing, along with the strong branches and the
support of the other trees, as well
as the view, had been the reasons they’d chosen this particular stand of
trees for their lookout.  The
platform was spread over five trees in the grove, supported by thick
branches from each and secured by
ropes for strength and flexibility in case of strong winds.  He stood
upright on the platform, one elbow
resting on one of the branches that formed the back "wall" of the
lookout, gazing out over the grassland,
waiting to see how long it would take the siblings to reach him.

	He heard somebody among the branches, then Athena clambered under the
railing to join him, a
very determined expression on her face.  Her underskirts were bunched
into knots around her hips; her
overskirt, he discovered a micron later as she shrugged it off, had been
peeled off and wrapped in her
apron, then tied like a pack at her back.  She shook down her
underskirts, but left her other clothes tied up. 
Good.  She remembered she’d have to climb down later.

	Apollo was a moment behind her.  Hannibal nodded to himself; Apollo
would have come up last
to keep an eye on his sister.

	They both looked reproachful.

	"Well?" he barked at them.

	Expressions changed to wary puzzlement.

	"You’re worried about Cassie’s report, as I understand it.  What in her
report are you concerned
about?"

	"I’m not even sure," Apollo said.  "But something..."  He shook his
head.  "She makes it sound
like she’s doing okay, but I’m worried about her."

	"And you should be," Hannibal replied.  "I suspect the Eklekton is
preparing to make his move."

	"So you agree, she’s in imminent danger."

	"She’s in more than *imminent* danger," Athena interrupted quietly.

	The men glanced at her.  She was looking down at her skirts.  Her hands
were worrying at the knot
of one of her white underskirts - deliberately, Hannibal realized,
although he doubted Apollo was
realizing the significance of that.

	"What do you mean?" Apollo asked.

	"She was taken for a ghost," she replied simply, then loosened the knot
with a tug, and twirled on
the platform.  Her white undergarment billowed with her movement.

	"What-?  She was running around the keep in her underwear?" Apollo’s
eyes widened.  "You
think-?"   His voice died away.  He turned back to Hannibal.

	The older captain nodded seriously.  "I believe it’s a very strong
likelihood that she has become
sexually involved with the Arxon."

	"She wouldn’t have-"

	"She may not have had a choice," Athena said, her voice still low and
steady.

	Hannibal nodded again.  "Possible.  But I’m inclined to believe a woman
like Cassiopeia, with her
skills and background, is doing exactly what she has to, and at the very
least, is not objecting to what’s
going on with the Arxon."

	Apollo was obviously too shocked to say anything.  Athena had paled at
his confirmation of her
own suspicions.  The silence lengthened, making the breeze rustling
through the leaves all the more
noticeable.

	"She’d make a good agent," he mused.  "Although I suspect survival in
the midst of that serpent’s
pit is her main objective."

	That obviously stung.  "We’ll get her out," Apollo said heatedly.  "She
knows that, we’ve never
let her down before."

	"You’re not there, Apollo," Hannibal shot back.  "How do you know what
she’s thinking and
feeling and doing at this moment?  How do you know what she would or
wouldn’t do under the
circumstances?  How do you know what *you* would or wouldn’t do, facing
the choices she may be
facing?  Keeping in mind that *she's* not a trained warrior, she's just a
med tech we may have thrown in over her head."

	Apollo’s jaw clenched.  Anger still showed in his eyes at Hannibal’s
pointed comment.

	"But you may be right," Hannibal said more graciously, an easy smile
driving away any trace of
anger or accusation.  "We may be reading into her report what she may not
have intended at all."

	Apollo exhaled slowly as if draining the anger with his breath. 
Hannibal recognized that at that
moment, the other man really didn’t like him very much.  He regretted
that; he liked Apollo.  He also felt
a certain obligation toward the children of his best surviving friend.

	"I guess we won’t know until we have her back."

	Apollo nodded, trying to smile himself.

	Hannibal closed his eyes and lifted his chin, focusing on the windsong
through the waving
branches.   The whispers soothes him, and, he hoped, soothed the two
young people as well.  He could
hear their breathing under the other sounds - Apollo was practicing some
breathing techniques he must
have learned from Adama; Athena’s breath was slower, but seemed to catch
every few seconds, as though
her attention were elsewhere, on something that affected her deeply.

	After a few centons, Apollo said, "I should check with Croft on the
security detail reports from
last night."

	Hannibal nodded mutely.

	The younger man climbed down the tree.

	Athena, however, didn’t move.  She continued to stand on the platform,
her expression thoughtful,
staring past him out through the branches.

	"You don’t believe what you told Apollo, do you?  He doesn’t want to
believe it, but you have no
doubt."

	"No," he admitted.  He studied her.  "And neither, I think, do you."

	She shook her head wordlessly.

	"Will you blame her for whatever she’s had to do."

	It was a long moment before she shook her head.  "How could I?"

	"What would you do, under the circumstances we suspect?" he asked,
genuinely curious.

	The wind blew and the branches swayed around them, repeating the
question in their whisper.

	Athena bit her lower lip.  "I don’t know," she admitted equally
honestly.

	Hannibal followed her gaze, staring out over the world.   "I have
found," he said thoughtfully, "that for many men, the one sin they can’t
forgive in the women they love is infidelity.  Peculiar, since so
many of them seem to see it as excusable in themselves, and expect women
to forgive it in them.  Some
sort of biological nudge, I suspect."

	She nodded wordlessly.

	"What are you thinking, Athena?" he asked, curious.

	"I was thinking about Starbuck," she said slowly.  "And about me, and
Cassiopeia, and a lot of
things this last yahren.  He’d frakkin’ better be able to forgive her
what we’ve forgiven him."

	Hannibal watched her expression.  He didn’t know Starbuck nearly as well
as he knew Apollo and
Athena.  "Is he capable of forgiving?  Something like this?"

	He saw her expression change as memories crossed her mind, and wondered
what thoughts his
question had stirred up.

	Finally, she replied softly, "I don’t know.  I’ve seen him forgive my
brother, when they’ve argued
over things, and Boomer and Jolly -- and Chameleon, I remember he said he
understood, that Chameleon
did what he had to, to survive.  Starbuck can hold grudges, but he
forgives his friends.  But where we’re
concerned..."  Women, obviously.  "...I think he’s easily hurt, deeper
inside.  He’s never said why.  And he
sees forgiving as opening himself up to being hurt again."  The little
sound might have been intended as a
laugh, but turned into a sigh.  "I hope he’s gone beyond that.  But how
will he look at what Cassie’s done? 
Will he try to understand?  I don’t know..."

		* * *

	On his way back to camp, Apollo ran into a group of Colonials, including
Siduri and several other
pilots, returning from a berry-picking expedition, from the evidence in
the full baskets they carried.

	"Have some, Apollo?" Siduri asked, seeing his glance at her basket.  She
scooped up a small
handful of the deep rose-colored berries and held it out.

	He wasn’t too distracted to accept them.  "Mmm!" he said at the first
taste.  "Sweet!"  He quickly
popped another into his mouth.

	"We think they’re at peak ripeness," she said.  "From what Bille decided
about the last batch we
brought in, the sugars are intensifying with the warm, stable
temperatures.  There’s enough water from the
rivers coming down the mountain that the berries aren’t small or
shriveled from the lack of moisture in this
drought.  More?" she finished as Apollo finished the handful.

	"Gladly."  He helped himself to a larger handful.

	"Hey, don’t give ‘em all away!" Diedre protested.  "It took centars to
fill these baskets!"

	"Yes, but now that we found that thicket, we could fill them again in
half a centar!  There were
more berries than we could pick if we went back every day for a secton!"
the other woman replied easily,
holding up another of the berries, tilting back her head, and dropping
the fruit into her mouth.

	"We got scratches enough the first time in that miniature thorn forest,
I’m not interested in going
back there today," Diedre grumbled.  "And if we don’t have enough for
Greenbean’s berry-cream dessert,
I’m tellin’ him who’s already had their share!"

	Siduri stuck out a berry-stained tongue.

	The others laughed and began moving on again.

	Apollo fell into step with Siduri.  "I haven’t seen Croft seen the team
got back from town.  I half
expected he’d be out with you."

	"Haven’t seen him.  Do you need him for something?"

	"Uh, nothing in particular..."  That was partly true.  Apollo wanted to
talk to Croft, but he wasn’t
quite sure what about.

	"I’m sure he’ll be at evenmeal tonight."  She glanced at her basket,
grinning.  "Especially with
berry-cream dessert!"

	They walked silently for a while.  Apollo realized his footsteps had
slowed, and that Siduri was
keeping pace with him.

	"We’re falling behind..."

	"I noticed," she replied, more gravely than before.  "I got the
impression you...need to talk to
somebody."

	"Yeah, I guess..."  Flares went off in his thoughts.  He squared his
shoulders and smiled briefly. 
"But nothing that can’t wait ‘til tonight."  He hurried his steps to
catch up with the rest.

		* * *

	Croft was being watched.  He sensed that with absolute certainty. 
Furtively glancing around, he
couldn’t see anyone in the woods or the underbrush.  But that didn’t
necessarily mean anything.  He
listened intently, searching with eyes and ears for any clue.  He’d been
good at this kind of thing, once, a
survivor in every sense of the word, a warrior who couldn’t be
outflanked, until- 

	The sound of birds drew his attention back to his job.  Somewhere ahead
on the trail, he heard
birds calling to each other in surprise, squawking as they abandoned
nests and flew through branches and
leaves.

	A moment later, the hovercraft came into view.  Mulciber waved at him
cheerily as the vehicle
halted as silently as it had arrived.

	"My contact for the day?  You’re in charge of security here, how’d you
wind up with an actual
job?  Where’s Hannibal?"  The tall engineer swung his legs over the side
and hopped out, absently
smoothing the kilt back down into place.

	"He’s busy, I’m not sure what he’s working on."  Croft shifted uneasily.
 He hadn’t been about to
ask, either.  "I’m here for the report.  How’s the mining going?"

	Mulciber handed over three data crystals.  "Two more loads away. 
Another secton or so, and I’d
say we’ll be fully stocked, right up to crates stacked in the girders." 

	Croft quickly palmed the crystals and dropped into them a small leather
pouch.  Any of the locals
who, if anything went wrong, got their hands on the crystals, would
likely only see them as gemstones.

	"Thanks."  He turned away.

	"No news from the camp?" Mulciber called after him.

	"About what?"

	He heard a snort behind them, then the quiet thud of the man jumping
back into the hovercroft. 
"Next check-in’s the day after tomorrow.  I’ll be back around dusk."

	"Right."

	Croft headed back to camp, his feet moving a lot slower than usual.  He
was brought up short
when Anubis seemed to appear in front of him out of nowhere.  He jumped,
and hated himself for it.

	"The engineering report?" Anubis asked in his strangely layered voice.

	"Yeah," he replied, trying to pull himself together.

	"I’ll take it to Hannibal."

	His blood ran cold.  "Thanks."

	The other man plucked the leather pouch out of his hand and vanished
down the trail.

	Croft couldn’t help a shiver.  He’d heard some of the warriors - and the
civilian techs, for that
matter - talking about how Anubis unnerved them, how he could suddenly
seem to appear, and to know
about things he shouldn’t know.  Croft’d told himself they weren’t being
observant enough, that if they’d
open their eyes and ears, they’d realize that Anubis was just very good
at listening to what was going on,
and used to doing what he had to, from the time on the prison barge.  He
told himself they just didn’t
know it meant, to have to be primitive to survive.

	But suddenly, he understood.  And he didn’t like it.  Was he losing his
instincts, his edge?  Or had
he just come up against someone whose survival instincts and abilities
were better than his?

	Hannibal.  Thinking about it, Anubis was too close to Hannibal.  They
always seemed to have
their heads together.  Even thinking about Hannibal, and the look in his
eye that morning, gave him a cold
feeling in the pit of his stomach.  He realized he’d expected Anubis to
be involved in whatever it was that
was occupying the captain this afternoon.

	Maybe they still would be.

	And maybe...well, maybe it was a good day to spend away from camp.

		* * *

	Another perfect day for fishing.  This was getting to almost an
obsession - but Boomer knew that
in a secton or two, he’d be back on the Galactica.  And there would be no
more fishing, maybe ever.  So
he was going to make the most of his opportunity.  Today he was fishing
alone; Giles and Jolly had tired
of it.  Boomer suspected he would never tire of it, given the
opportunity.  He felt an easy stillness in his
soul, out here alone under the trees, beside the water.  It was
tranquility, something warriors seldom
experienced, especially now.

	"Hey, Boomer."

	He glanced up at Siduri’s approach.  "Hi," he said lazily.

	She gathered her skirts around her and settled on a protruding root near
him.

	The silence lengthened easily.  The water murmured its song as it made
its way past them.  Some
kind of wood-pecking bird was working on the bark of the tree above them;
other birds were chirping
from branches, reeds, and nests.  The late afternoon sun was hot, causing
most of the wildlife to settle in
their own private spots until the cooler evening would come.  With the
heat, and little breeze, the floral
scents hung heavily in the air.  The shadows slowly lengthened.

	"Just getting away from camp?" Boomer asked, his attention on the bobber
trying to escape
downstream.

	"Actually, I was wondering if you’d talked to Apollo today."

	Boomer felt the tiniest bit of guilt nibble at him like a fish on bait. 
It had been over a secton since
he’d asked Apollo if he wanted to come along on any daily excursions;
Apollo had so seldom been
interested...  "No, not since we all rolled out of our sleepsacks.  Why?"

	"We ran into him, coming back from berry-picking.  He
seemed...pre-occupied, like something
was bothering him."

	"He’s been like that for most of this mission - and some before the
mission."

	"I know.  I used to think it was just about Sheba.  But it’s more than
that today.  I think he talked
to Hannibal for a while.  I saw Athena back at camp, and she let it slip
that the three of them had some sort
of discussion - but she closed up like an Aquaran mussel when I tried to
ask her about it."  She threw a
twig in the water.

	"Hey, you’ll scare the fish."

	Siduri shrugged indifferently.  "When we met him, he said he was looking
for somebody to talk
to.  Sounded like he meant Croft."

	"They’ve spent some...quality time, on this mission," Boomer observed,
remembering the
morning Croft and Apollo had come back from a night of drinking together,
up the mountain.  "Croft’s
been pretty much of a loner.  Thinking about it, I guess he and Apollo
are a lot alike, in some ways."

	"How well do you know Croft?"

	He hesitated, then shrugged.  "Not well.  Never felt much reason to," he
admitted.

	A pause; a bird serenaded them for a moment before flying off again. 
Siduri leaned her chin on
her forearms across her knees, listening to the bird and studying the
water ripples from the twig in the
current for a few centons before she continued.  "I’m surprised he didn’t
mention you."

	Stillness for long centons.  All the little guilt nibbles were making
him worry.  As warriors, they
were the best of friends; what was happening to that friendship here?

	"Maybe I oughtta check in with Apollo...  He tries to seem so
self-contained and with this image
of professional invulnerability, the Commander’s son, that sometimes it’s
easy to forget...well, how much
he needs people he can be himself with."

	Siduri smiled.  "Like Starbuck," she observed.  "Each in their own way
-- masks to protect
themselves from being hurt, to deal with everything life has thrown at
them both."  She sighed, looking
introspective.  "They’re both lucky to have you for a friend."

	The guilt again.  He hadn’t been there much for either of them,
recently...

	She slipped off the root and down into the grass beside him.  After a
long, uncertain moment, she
leaned over and kissed him, her auburn hair falling across both their
faces.

	"What was that for?" Boomer asked, a moment later.

	"Because I wanted to.  Because I was getting tired of waiting for you
to.  Do you mind?"

	Boomer sat up.  One arm snaked around her waist.  The other caught the
back of her head and
pulled her close.  A much longer moment later, as they both caught their
breath, he replied, "No, I don’t
mind a bit."  Then he lay her back in the grass.

	Unheeded, the bobber came loose and floated away.


		Chapter Fifteen

	Night was well-settled over Farshire’s main village.  Cassie stared out
her window slit at the
scattered bobbing lights, carried by villagers moving toward the temple
for the rain ceremony and the
subsequent ceremony.  The bedroom set aside for the arxon’s wife had a
better view of the village than her
tower room did.

	The bells pealed again, and the torches hurried faster.  Cassiopeia knew
the keep was all but
deserted - master, guards, and servants were already at the temple.  It
should be safe to prowl the hidden
passages, for a little while.  She only had to be back in her room when
Uthor returned, since he was likely
to summon her then, unless she’d misread his expression completely as his
entourage passed in the formal
procession to the temple.

	She first checked at the heavy door, listening with her ear to the wood.
 The two guards were
pacing, steady footsteps in unison on the stone floor.  A distant,
muffled voice called.  It must have been a
joke; one of the guard responded with a hearty laugh; the other joined
in, after a moment, almost
reluctantly.  One of them asked a question; she didn’t know what about,
could only gauge from his tone. 
After a moment, the second responded, apparently in the affirmative.  She
heard their steps retreat a short
distance, then what sounded like three or four men settling down to talk.
 Something shifted on the stone -
a bench?

	Talk, and the sound of some kind of game pieces being thrown.

	Well, that should keep them occupied.  It should be safe to go ahead.

	The concealed door in this chamber had been as easy to locate as the one
in Uthor’s room, when
she knew it was there.  Now, with a candle in hand and a computron in the
deep side pocket of her dress,
she made her way into the musty darkness.  She wore soft stockings
instead on her bare feet both for
comfort and to ensure her steps would be silent.  She had exchanged her
light-blue dress and white apron
for a much darker blue gown, something that would, if she were somehow
spotted, be less likely to have
her labeled as a specter.

	The passage led in the opposite direction of the one from Uthor’s room,
from what she could tell. 
Cassie followed the rough corridor for several dozen yards, finally
coming to an intersection where the
passage split in two directions.  One sloped steeply upward, with a dusty
rope railing on the one side of
the wall for balance; she estimated that must be beside the steps that
led up to one of the towers, probably
hers.  The other passage continued horizontally, angling to the right.

	She chose the right, following its gentle curve until it, too, suddenly
turned into a steep downward
stairs.  The woman uneasily began to wonder how extensive the passage
system was, and if she could get
lost.

	*Then I could really become a ghost!  But that’s morbid.  I could open
any door and get out. 
There are doors, they have to be.  I just haven’t found any here.  What’s
the point of a secret passage with
no doors?*

	There was a scent of incense in the hall.  Cautiously, she followed it
down until she came to a
wall, and the end of the passageway.  There, amazingly, was a very narrow
horizontal slit, a little above
her eye level.  The incense odor wafted through it into the passage.

	Cassie shielded the candle.  Standing on tiptoes, she stared through the
slit into the length of what
looked like a small chapel.  A square raised stone rested at one end of
the room, with several small
instruments and vessels laying on it.  Two thuribles stood on either
side, burning some sweet substance to
fill the room with scented smoke.  A heavy tapestry hung behind the
stone; she couldn’t make out its blue
and gold image because the angle of her peephole was wrong.  In front of
the stone were several long, low
cushions - for kneeling on during prayer, she decided judiciously.

	Only one person was in the room - a young boy, one of the acolytes, from
his blue tunic.  He was
obviously supposed to be in prayer, but must have been exhausted.   He
had curled into a ball around one
of the cushions and was asleep.

	Behind the boy, to the side, was a large, double-sized door.

	*Padryce would be near the chapel if he could.  This should be the right
level.  If it’s not too
squeaky, or if the boy is deeply enough asleep, I should be able to open
this door without disturbing
anyone...*

	Her heart pounding in protest, she gave the door a gentle push.  Like
the one to the library, it
silently pivoted open.  She scanned the revealed chamber.  Nothing new. 
She moved silently through the
chapel to check the doors at the farther end.

	Through one of the doors, she could hear echoing foot treads - a guard
in the hall, no doubt.  That
wasn’t where she wanted to go.

	There were silence at another, less ornate door.  With a glance at the
youth, she took a chance and
pushed it open far enough to slip through.

	A bed chamber.  Padryce’s, no doubt.  Richly woven hangings on the wall
for warmth and
ornamentation.  Odd pieces of heavy furniture, elaborately carved,
including a bed with dark head and
footboards.  Several  doors, tightly closed, one of which also opened
onto the corridor, from its location. 
Large chests, marked with a familiar insignia.

	"The Lords of Kobol!" she whispered in disbelief.  It was the same
design as the medallion
Commander Adama wore at times, the same as the seal that, according to
some, had opened the pyramids
on Kobol.

	*This must be Padryce’s room, all these chests, the richness...and it
would lead to the chapel, how
appropriate.  The books, where would he keep the books?  I’ve got to get
pictures of these sigils, they
could be what Apollo wants.  They must be!  The Seal of Kobol, here!*

	She quietly went about her work.

	One of the chests was open, some of its contents strewn over the bed,
several chairs, and nearby
boxes.  Cassie tiptoed over to study the rich materials.  She concluded
they were ceremonial vestments,
and began recording on the computron.  The design of the Great Seal was
woven and embroidered on
most of the heavy garments, always in gold on the rich single-hued tunics
of red, black, green, blue,
purple, white, and even gold.  Other garments were multiple hues of a
single color - usually green or blue. 
Many had additional embroidery in gems or threads in a myriad of designs
or in simple borders around the
sides and hems.

	*Something for every day of the secton, and something for festivals too.
 How beautiful!  And to
find them in such a primitive place...  But they’re sacred, set aside for
religious use.  What’s this?*

	Several small boxes lay under one of the garments on the bed.  One was
open and empty; the
others were still closely shut and wrapped.

	Cassie carefully unwrapped one and pulled off the lid.  Inside, what
looked like layers of heavy
valcron puffed up.  She brushed the fabric aside to find a medallion of
gold on a gold chain nestled among
more layers.  Her breath caught in her throat.  It was the Seal of Kobol,
roughly cast in what weighed to be
pure gold.

	*Oh, to be a thief now!*  Cassiopeia felt some envy as she closed the
box.  *It wouldn’t be safe to
take this, even if it’s the best proof we could hope for.  Padryce would
know it was missing; he’d search;
he’d find it.

	*But what if it were hidden?  What if it were in Uthor’s room?  Perhaps
in a niche in the window?*

	Feeling almost giddy, she pocketed the entire box, then hurried to
finish her search.

	The books were easy to find, each wrapped in some sort of protective
case.  Probably tanned
animal hides, she thought with a grimace, touching them gingerly.  She
went through the pages and scrolls
as fast as she could, taking an image of each and replacing them in their
wrappings as she finished.

	When she was finally done, she realized her candle was getting very low,
and she wondered how
much time had passed.  The youth in the chapel was still asleep.  Then
she heard the distant toll of the
temple bells, and realized with a start that people would be returning to
the keep in a very short time.  She
glanced around the room to make sure she hadn’t disturbed anything
noticeable, then fled back into the
passageway.  She had to return to her own room before anyone discovered
her absence; she would leave
the stolen medallion in the passageway next to her own chamber, until she
could find the way back to
Uthor’s room, and the hidden window sill niche.

	As she made her back, she thought she heard footsteps.  She froze,
listening intently.  Had
someone followed her?  Behind her?  Ahead of her?

	Nothing.

	Her candle was guttering, starting to flicker as it came down to its
last pool of wax.

	Suddenly terrified of being left in the dark in the warren of passages,
Cassie hurried back.

	The candle went out just as she reached her room.  Her hand on the door,
she was in utter
darkness.  For a micron panic overwhelmed her, and she flung herself at
the door.  It gave before her, and
she tumbled into the room, nearly bringing the covering tapestry down
with her.

	There were voices outside her door, someone talking to the guards;
Cassiopeia hoped they hadn’t
heard her fall.  She scrambled to her feet, almost stumbling in the
skirts.  She shoved the small box into
the passage, just to the right of the door, almost flinching back from
the stygian darkness.

	Letting the door close on its silent hinges, she quickly straightened
the tapestry and hurried across
the room to the nearest window.

	The door opened - not the main hall door, but the one leading to the
short gallery to Uthor’s
chamber.  It was Uthor, wearing his dressing robe over...whatever.

	"My little starflower..."  He held out his arms welcomingly.

	Relieved, she smiled and moved into his arms.

     	    * * *

	Padryce entered his suite of chambers, fatigued but satisfied with the
long evening’s service. 
Much as he hated to admit it, his body was growing older, becoming
frailer and less able to endure the
stresses of the situation in Uthor’s keep.  The soldier on guard at the
door saluted sharply; Padryce ignored
it.

	"Kyot!" he called, closing the door behind him.

	A moment later, a teenager hurried in from the chapel, blinking sleep
from his eyes, trying
surreptitiously to rub away the smoke irritation from the incense.

	"Clear these things up, Kyot," he ordered without rancor, gesturing to
the scattered garments. 
"And summon one of the servants to bring warm water for ablutions.  I
wish to retire."

	The acolyte bobbed an affirmative and scurried to obey.  The servant
having been summoned and
then sent on his way for water, the boy began packing vestments and
helping Padryce out of his
ceremonial clothing.  The long gold and blue tunic for weather prayers
was folded away with the rest
while the eklekton himself stored the sacred seal and wristbands of the
Covenant.

	"Kyot!" the eklekton suddenly called sharply.

	"My lord?" the boy answered, hurrying at the call.

	"Were you in my chamber while I was at service."

	"No, my lord Padryce.  I was at prayer in the chapel, stoking the
thuribles and guarding the
sanctuary candles..."

	Padryce stared at him as if seeing through his every thought until Kyot
quaked in his light slippers. 
Then the eklekton nodded.  "Of course.  You are an honest youth, Kyot. 
Was anyone else in here?"

	"No, my lord Padryce."

	The old man yanked open the door.  "Sentry!"

	The soldier came to attention.  "My lord?"

	"Did anyone enter my chamber during your duty period?"

	"No one, my lord."  The guard was obviously puzzled.

	"Did you yourself enter my chamber?"

	"No, my lord."

	"Your name, guard, it’s-?"

	"Wendyn, my lord."

	"Very well, Wendyn.  Tell Arxon Uthor I summon him, at once."

	The man ran off without acknowledgement.

	"My lord Padryce?" the acolyte asked timidly.  "What is wrong?"

	Padryce’s eyes burned like fire.  "The Great Seal of the Covenant is
missing.  Someone has taken
it.  And I will know who, whether mortal or demon, can wander these halls
and dare lay hand on the
sacred Seal.  And whether living or dead, that one will be sent to the
Pit forever for his blasphemy!"

	Could something unliving be haunting this chamber as well as having
walked the hall the night
before?  Padryce shuddered, blaming the chill in his room.  He was ready
to face evil, in whatever form. 
That brought to mind the witchwoman in the Lady’s Chamber, and he
wondered if she could have come
here, or would have dared take such a blessed, valuable relic.  The guard
said no one had been here...but
what if the guard himself had taken it?  Or, more likely to believe, what
if the woman had seduced the
guards at both doors?  Several were Uthor’s, who might be expected to
fall as their lord had, but several
were his own men, who he trusted more than the arxon and his men.  Was it
a mistake?  She had seduced
Uthor, she could have lured the guards into letting her walk the keep;
she could have lured Wendyn into
blasphemy as well.  How many men would it take to guard against her?  She
was responsible for the evil
that hung over Farshire, he knew it, no matter what Uthor claimed. 
Perhaps her magick haunted them all
despite the exorcism...

	He had never trusted the woman.  A woman who practiced old superstitions
of healing, and lived
apart from communities, was not to be trusted.  One who lived with
gypsies, even less so.  Those kind of
women did not answer to the Covenant, and could be tolerated only so long
as they remained apart.  Better
yet if they vanished into the pit.

	The gypsies...  He had sworn to deal with them, when the time was right,
knowing they were in
league with evil.  He had no doubt they were all a danger to souls of his
people.  Bringing dark magicks
into the wood of this shire, a long with drought, illness to their lord,
fear...

	They all would be destroyed.  As soon as possible.

	Would Uthor cooperate with what must be done?

	Not likely.  He was under that woman’s magick, to have taken her to his
bed.  Perhaps her golden
hair and starflower-blue eyes were as much a deception as her guise of
concern and healing.  When she
was gone, Uthor would see how he had been deceived, and could be shaken
free of the evil that threatened
to devour him and his people.  Padryce felt justified in doing whatever
was necessary, to save Farshire.

	"Kyot."

	"My lord Padryce?"

	"How long until the Seekers arrive?"

	"Two or three days, my lord, riding at full gallop."

	He nodded.  Two or three days.  Then he would have the men to do what he
needed to do.

		* * *