"He's worried about you, Zeth," said Owen. "I think it is a good sign." But Owen couldn't know that Rimon had not shown the slightest recognition of Zeth's presence.
When they emerged from the sickroom, Bekka had rearranged the schedule, and they were able to go right on to another appointment without a conference. By the end of the day, the channels were wondering what they had ever done without Bekka, and she had found a full-time occupation.
The winter became a constant sequence of storms, and Fort Freedom battled snow and temperatures far below freezing. Maddok and Sessly Bron finally managed to go home between storms. Like his sister, Bron insisted on donating selyn before he left. It was clearly a part of his new belief that Gens had the obligation to give transfer, though it didn't go over well with his congregation.
Zeth heard the news about three weeks before year's turning. By now Zeth and Owen were automatically included in the council sessions around the kitchen table. This one was called when Glian Lodge, Eph Norton, and Lon Carson appeared one day, blown in on a storm swooping out of the west. The other channels were busy; Zeth, to his deep chagrin, was the one who could most easily be spared from the schedule.
Abel managed to be there, pale and drawn. Zeth wondered if with his more powerful field, had he only been able to use
what he'd learned with Margid, he might have given Abel a normal transfer. Seeing his gaze, Abel whispered, "I'm all right, Zeth. Soon you will do for me what you did for Bekka."
The out-Territory Gens had brought coins to cover the tax money Fort Freedom had had to pay—but otherwise what they brought was bad news. "The ranches are in trouble," said Glian Lodge. "I lost three top hands in the battle, and others lost more. Two of the ranchers killed got no kids old enough to take over. Their wives are thinking of selling out . . . and this is no time to bring new people into our area. I don't even want to hire men on when we don't know how they'll accept these, uh, trips across the border."
"You mean they might set spies on us," Eph said angrily. "Tell them about the horses, Glian."
Lodge grimaced. "Remember those prime horses I bought from your pa, Owen? Damn government agent confiscated 'em!"
"What?" asked Zeth. "But why?"
"The ownership marks showed they're from Sime Territory– but so what? Lots of people raid across the border for horses. I bought a couple a few years back that probably came from the same herd. But now the Border Patrol's roused, and they came along and took the horses as 'evidence' for an 'investigation.' I dunno what's gonna happen in the spring."
"I'm afraid I know how the government was alerted," said Lon Carson. "Maddok Bron caused a rift in the church when he started preaching that everybody had to give transfer to prove they're in a state of grace. Those of us from Fort Freedom are willing to learn—but you can imagine how most people feel. The elders didn't have quite enough votes to kick Bron out—but only because removing the minister takes a two-thirds majority. Half the town has either packed up and left, or will as soon as the weather permits."
Abel sighed. "Why didn't I think to discuss practical aspects of his theory with Maddok? I was so angry at his foolishness . . . and wrath is a sin."
"Listen," said Carson, "he's coming back here the end of the month—says he's got to give a real transfer. So you can talk with him then, Abel—"
"No!" Abel's vehemence startled Zeth, but the old Sime calmed at once. "No, not until spring. He's not fully recov-
ered from his wound, and should not attempt such a difficult journey in the middle of winter.
Zeth zlinned the apprehension under the old man's surface calm and felt a fierce protectiveness. If Bron so much as lays a finger on Abel, I'll–:
Carson was saying, "I don't think there's any more stopping him than there is stopping you when you feel God's will, Abel. So we got real trouble. We thought we were going to be able to help Fort Freedom out. Now half our workers are planning to leave at spring thaw, and I wouldn't be surprised if it was someone from Mountain Chapel alerted the Border Patrol."
So the Freehand Raiders' strike had decimated all three communities. The fragments left, Zeth saw clearly, could not survive independently. "Simes could work your fields much more efficiently than Gens," he suggested.
"And how do we explain that to the Border Patrol?" Glian asked, his voice heavy with sarcasm.
"Now wait a minute," said Eph. "I sure would like to bring Jimmy home, once he's ... all right again. But, Zeth, just for being here talking to you, we're all liable to be executed and our property confiscated. I just don't know—"
"What we've done here," said Zeth, "is change the law. A little bit, anyway. We still haven't managed to get Gens recognized as people, but eventually, we'll do that, too."
Abel put a hand over Zeth's. "It's good to plan for the future, Zeth–but right now we have to help one another survive this winter. I'm afraid," he added to the Gens, "you'll have to curtail your visits. The worst of the winter is yet to come. No one will travel much until spring—and then we'll have a single courier again. If you are too badly harassed, you are welcome here. Is there anything we can give you to help you through the winter?"
There was a flurry of letter writing. Eph insisted on donating before he left, "To help support my son," and Lon Carson donated as well. Glian shrugged, said, "Don't look as if it hurts none," and also gave selyn. Then he went with Zeth and Owen over to the house Del Erick was using for the duration. There they found Jana struggling with a recalcitrant flue in the kitchen stove.
"I hate cooking!" she declared when they had the stovepipe drawing properly and the smoke cleared away.
Glian Lodge laughed. "You keep on handling horses the
way you do, and you'll never have to cook. Maybe in the spring you can come visit me, Jana."
"Sure—I'd like to go out-Territory before I change over. Zeth and Owen have. Boys always get to do the good things."
Jana's cooking certainly wasn't good enough to tempt a Sime, and even Owen's hearty appetite rebelled after half a plate of her stew. Del arrived home from checking his stock while they were still at the table.
Zeth noticed how normal the family gathering seemed: two Simes, two Gens, and a child, all talking and laughing together comfortably. What he had been used to all his life– until the world had turned inside out. It wasn't right that families should be illegal—on either side of the border. At least it wasn't wholly forbidden here—
What if we moved the border?
At Zeth's surge of excitement, Del smiled at him, but Glian Lodge was at that moment holding forth on some of the technicalities of ranching. Zeth subsided into shivers—and had time to wonder why he should feel cold and locate the source: Jana. She had moved her chair close to the stove, and was huddled up in a big sweater. He zlinned her—then got up and went over to her, Owen following.
He bent down, taking her freezing hands in his, and said softly, "I'm afraid you're not going out-Territory, after all, Jana."
She looked up at him out of the blue eyes that were her only claim to beauty. "But I don't feel bad," she said. "I'm just cold."
Although he had never zlinned a changeover victim before, Zeth said confidently, "Owen can tell you how cold I got."
Del came over. ' 'Changeover? Zeth, I can't zlin the slightest sign—but then, your father can always tell hours before the first symptoms."
Lodge's first response was "Oh, the poor kid." When that drew odd looks, he grinned sheepishly. "I guess you don't really mind, huh?" Luckily, his field was too low to bother any of them.
"I'll see her through it, Del," said Zeth. "Would you please let Bekka know where Owen and I are? There goes the schedule again!"