She rubbed her face, her ears moving oddly with the rest of her scalp as Darllanyu's fear faded into the background. //But I don't know what was real, what happened, what I imagined, what anyone else imagined and forced into me!//

//What do you remember?// asked Jindigar.

Ill don't know—I—I lost myself. I couldn't—I don't – Jindigar, what if—but no, I was Takora, but I'm not Takora now. I'm Krinata—I'm me! I'm only me! Takora didn't take over the Oliat, / did!// She shivered. //Jindigar, how can you stand it at Center?//

He sat beside her and hugged her, wrapping her blanket around her, only just now realizing what it must have been like for her, her brain not even able to cope with Outreach, to suddenly be Hooded with all the data a Center deals with. //Yes, you're Krinata, only Krinata. Your mind is your own and all of one piece. No ghostly invaders like Desdinda, no insanity, just you. You will always have, deep in your unconscious, the Takora memory– nexus you got from me. But, you –took Center. It felt like somebody else because you used the Takora memories you've isolated in your unconscious. That isolation's not bad. The human mind can't deal with the millennia depth of the nexus any more than I could deal with Grisnilter's Archive when I carried it.// It's Threntisn's Archive now, he reminded himself.

His eyes met Darllanyu’s over Krinata's black hair, and he noted what a pale blue Darllanyu's teeth had turned. She was not well. Her discomfort at his sympathy for Krinata was intolerable. He got up – but dared not go to Dar. If he dared offer her so much as a touch, he'd never be able to control what came next.

Jindigar's dilemma increased Krinata's anxiety, too, but she was still caught up in her own problem. //Jindigar—why can't you acknowledge that I wax Takora? Really– not just by acquired memory?//

Jindigar's breath caught in his throat. In a flash he was again swaying on the end of an intangible tether, gazing out over an Oliat that was his own, yet not his—Krinata, who could barely tolerate Outreach, at Center and balancing.

What if it were true? What if she had been Takora?

The very notion was staggering. It would mean that the entire theoretical foundation of Aliom science was riddled with errors: the concept of the purpose of life, the meaning of existence, the shape of the universe—everything was based on the idea that Dushau did not reincarnate as ephemerals do but had only one chance to complete the maturing of personality. Oliat work was part of a system aimed at Completion. To die Incomplete was to vanish from existence. And Oliat experience confirmed that this was indeed what happened to the Dushau who died Incomplete—as Takora had at his hand. But she had been doomed, anyway.

Takora's death was an old, well-resolved issue. But he admitted it was a burden to his spirits. Do I deny she's come back because / can't bear to face her? In the turbulence of onset there was no way to determine that.

Sensitive to Jindigar's condition, Zannesu interrupted. //Krinata, none of us can deal with this now, and everyone's waiting....//

Krinata leapt to her feet. //Cyrus!// The picture burning through her mind was a memory, Cyrus peering into her eyes anxiously, his hands warm on her shoulders, trembling but tender, a nuance that bespoke leashed passion, inflamed by Jindigar's luring her attention away. //He thinks—oh, no!// Her need to allay Cyrus's fear commanded the Oliat.

The Oliat responded, striving to perceive the Outriders' barracks, almost as if she were at Center again, but Jindigar had no heart to restrain them.x

The barracks shimmered into focus. It was dusk. Storm and Cyrus were on the porch, the others inside preparing supper. Cyrus sat dejectedly on the edge of the wood porch, his fingers driven into the mass of wild, tightly curly blond hair framing his weathered face, his feet scuffing the mud.

Storm paced. "I wish I could help you calm down."

"It isn't your wife who's in there having God knows what done to her!"

"They know humans! They cured the virus—"

"Yeah, and now look."

Storm dropped down beside Cyrus. "We agreed to stick this out with the Oliat. This just isn't like you, Cy."

"Sure, 'Lord Kulain' shouldn't have any base feelings! Mustn't sully the Kulain name! Well, all that died with the Allegiancy, and it was past time too!" He thrust himself to his feet and stalked off to the end of the building, halting to stare at the fence but obviously not seeing it.

The Oliat withdrew reflexively. It was too personal a scene and none of their business. Simultaneously Krinata flinched from it, appalled that she'd instigated the same kind of intrusion she'd objected to.

Jindigar gripped the linkages, ashamed at his momentary weakness. //Krinata, it's not something we're doing. It happens because of our instability.//

Venlagar suggested, //We should adjourn.//

//Yes, hurry,// added Krinata. //Let me go to him!//

Jindigar complied. Reaching to Zannesu, he brought them back into balance and opened the linkages into an even pattern. Then, using Krinata's image of airlock hatches closing off the links, he separated their awarenesses and came up to full individual consciousness just in time to hear them all say aloud, in unison, "//Adjourned.//"

Trinarvil sighed loudly. She was seated at her desk, the office door shutting away the babble of her curious assistants gathered in the hall outside. The apparatus had been put away. One Dushaun-spectrum lamp was lit, powered from the waterfall south of the Dushau compound. Jindigar noted how the light sent waves of profound relaxation through his whole body and took that as a measure of his personal dysattunement to this world. When Renewal truly took hold of him, he just might become as ill as Trinarvil.

"I've got to—" Krinata started, heading for the door. Then she paused, looking over her shoulder at Jindigar. "Is it all right?"

He nodded, saying, "Trinarvil, can someone escort Krinata to the Outriders and explain vibration therapy to Cy?"

She rose. "Escort, yes—explain—we can try." She followed Krinata to the door and spoke a few words to someone outside.

Krinata hesitated in the doorway. "Jindigar, Takora... no. It isn't important right now. Think about it, please."

She left, and Trinarvil returned to her desk carrying a tray with mugs of hot soup, which she passed out. When she sat down with her own, Krinata's was left steaming by itself.

The Outriders will see that Krinata eats something, he reassured himself. None of them had eaten since dawn. The. soup tasted splendid. Subliminally he was aware that although the mug she drank from had been made on Dushaun of Dushaun clay—not the Phanphihy product the Oliat had been served in—Trinarvil found the native herbs and roots foul. He sat up straight, staring. He shouldn't have had that awareness, fully adjourned. Testing, he found no leakage. But he had spoken aloud to Trinarvil right after adjournment—without effort. And Eithlarin had endured her touch on Krinata. Could she be ready—?

His eyes met the medic's, the swirling indigo pattern showing she was focused on him, aware of their rapport. She was Oliat-trained, though it had been centuries since she'd worked. And she had predicted that she'd serve in his Oliat. Her prophecies always spoke true.

Into his hopeful silence she said, "No, Jindigar—I'm too old." She set the mug down and shoved it aside with a clear rejection. "I've failed to adjust to this world."

"Trinarvil, our situation couldn't be worse." And he described in Oliat shorthand how Krinata had grabbed Center. "An Oliat with two Centers can't Dissolve. If you could replace her—just for a day—I could Dissolve easily. And—through the Oliat you could make world attunement."