Two of the six men in the patrol obviously recognized him immediately; he was unsure of the others, and did not himself recognize any of them well enough to call by name.

“Captain John,” the patrol leader said, “we thought you were dead."

He felt an unreasonable warmth at simply being addressed by his old familiar title, rather than just “Captain", as the Earthers called him, or by a civilian name, as the Chosen did now that he no longer had an army.

“No,” he said, “I came close once or twice, but God's not ready for me yet."

“Either that, or the Devil thinks you're more use here than there!” The patrol leader smiled, but John did not laugh at the jibe; he was too uncertain of his reception among his own people.

“I need to talk to the Elders,” he said. “Can that be arranged?"

“I reckon we might get a couple of them to see you,” the soldier answered. “Old Captain Habakkuk's an Elder now, and I'm sure he'll be eager to see you again, sir!"

John smiled. “I hope so."

“He's up at the garrison, sir; would it be all right if I brought you and these others there?"

John nodded. “It'd be fine with me-you know what your orders are better than I do, now. Don't break them just because it's me."

“Oh, they don't get very specific about it, sir; we're to use our own judgement, so I'll take you to Captain-Elder Habakkuk."

“Good,” John answered. “We'd like that."

In practice, however, they were not taken directly to Habakkuk, but rather to one of his aides, in a small, cluttered office at one end of the garrison barracks. There they were kept waiting at swordpoint-John noticed that all six soldiers carried revolvers on their belts, but two swords were the only weapons drawn to guard the foursome-while the aide went to consult with his commander.

They sat on the floor for almost an hour before the aide finally returned.

“Mr. Mercy,” he said, “the Captain-Elder will see you now."

The civilian address struck John as a bad sign as he got to his feet. He said nothing, but followed the aide up a flight of stairs to Habakkuk's office-an office which had once been his own.

It had changed very little, he saw when the door swung open. Habakkuk, too, had changed very little-except he did not stand up when John entered the room. That was a mark of respect to a superior officer; whatever form of address the patrol leader might have used, Habakkuk obviously no longer saw John as his commander. He sat behind his desk, his heavy body squeezed into the familiar chair, his square face expressionless, and said nothing. The initial warmth John felt at the sight of his old comrade quickly faded before that lack of response.

They stared at each other for a long moment.

“J'sevyu, Captain-Elder,” John said at last.

“J'sevyu, John,” Habakkuk replied. “I never expected to see you again."

John nodded and was about to say something when Habakkuk added, “I never wanted to see you again."

John's mouth, opening in preparation for speech, continued to open, but no sound came out for the first few seconds. “What?” he managed at last.

“You heard me."

“Yes, I heard you, but I don't understand you. I thought we were friends."

“Maybe we were once, but we aren't now. You betrayed your own people; how can I be friend to a traitor?"

“I'm no traitor!"

“No? You prevented our people from conquering the Chosen when we had the chance; you led our army into a trap and saw it destroyed instead. When we had found an ally in the People of Heaven to protect us from the Chosen, you waged a guerrilla war against them. Now you've come here openly as an agent of the Chosen. What did they pay you for all this, John? Was it worth it?” John could hear the bitterness in Habakkuk's voice.

“Nobody paid me!” he replied. “And I'm not here as an agent of the Chosen!"

“You aren't under the Anointed's protection?"

“No!"

“I didn't think you'd be stupid enough to come back here any other way. If you're not here as a foreign agent, then you're still a True Worder, and a traitor. Will you insist on a trial, or can we just get right on with the hanging?"

“Darn it, I'm not a traitor!"

“Oh, come on, John!"

“I'm not! I made mistakes-bad mistakes-but I'm not a traitor!"

The two men stared at one another for a long moment; then Habakkuk demanded, “Well, if you aren't here as an envoy for the Chosen, why are you here? Were you just coming home?"

“No,” John admitted. “I am an envoy, but not for the Chosen."

“Who, then?"

“The Free Trade Federation."

Habakkuk looked utterly blank. “Who?"

“The Free Trade Federation,” John insisted. “It's… well, an alliance. Intended to counter the Heavener protectorate. Our base is in Savior's Grace, up in Isachar."

“I never heard of it."

“We're still pretty new-but we've signed up the Chosen…"

“I knew it!"

“Wait…"

“I knew you were working for the Chosen!"

“Darn it, I am not!” John was infuriated. Habakkuk had always had a tendency to hang onto ideas that had outlived their usefulness; John had tolerated it before, but never before had one of those ideas been directed against him. “I'm working for ITD!"

Habakkuk stared at him for a moment. “Get your story straight, John,” he said at last. “Who's Ahtedeh? And you said you worked for this federation."

“I said I was here on their behalf, not that I worked for them."

“Not much of a difference from where I sit."

“There is, though. I work for the Interstellar Trade and Development Corporation; it's an organization that competes with the People of Heaven back on Earth. I brought some of them to Godsworld to give the Heaveners a little of their own medicine. The corporation is called ITD for short, and ITD runs the Free Trade Federation, which is based in Savior's Grace, and which has signed up the Chosen as a client state, just the way the Heaveners signed up you folks."

“You work for Earthers?"

“Yes-Earthers, but not the Heaveners."

“Earthers are Earthers, John; I thought you hated them all for the pagans they are."

“I hate the Heaveners for coming in here and destroying what we had on Godsworld, corrupting the people and usurping power and destroying my homeland. If I have to work with Earthers to fight them, I will."

“How long have you been working for the Earthers? Were they the ones who paid you to attack the Heaveners instead of the Chosen?"

“Nobody paid me to do that, Hab! It was a mistake!"

Habakkuk stared at him.

“Look, I've been working for ITD for about a month now-that's all."

Habakkuk stared for a moment longer, leaning back in his chair. Then, abruptly, he leaned forward across the desk.

“You swear you weren't paid to betray us?"

“I swear it, by God and Jesus."

“All right, then, I believe you-I think. What did you come here for?"

“To trade-the Free Trade Federation wants to trade with you."

“We're part of the Heavener protectorate, you know."

“Yes, of course I know that, but you can still trade with us, can't you? Anything the Heaveners can sell you, we can sell you-and probably at a better price."

“I'm no trader."

“I know that-but you're an Elder."

“True enough. All right, keep talking."

“Let me get my assistant up here; she's the expert."

“She? You mean that woman isn't just baggage?"

“That's Premosila Kim, our top salesperson,” John said proudly.

Habakkuk sat back and stared in astonishment.

It took four days of haggling to arrange for a caravan's reception; John stayed quietly in the background while his companions handled the details.

After the initial explanations were made, Habakkuk, too, stayed in the background, letting the other Elders handle things; his specialty was the military, and he left other matters to other people. Once, on the second day, he came and sat beside John throughout a long debate, but did not speak; the coldness between the two men had not been completely dispelled.