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"He--I couldn't understand his preaching." Hex squatted by her. "Don't cry. He's a good man, I tell you. He said--it was all in the city language. But you speak it. You used to talk to him in it, didn't you--never mind. He'll teach it to your boy. A priest! He'll take your son to the city. Here." She wiped Berthe's cheek with her palm. "I'll tell you something he told me. He said a kind word is dearer to Fea than blood."

Berthe rose. "I want to speak to him alone," she said.

Hex sighed. "All right."

Berthe watched her stagger away in the moonlight. Then she hastened to Meta's house.

Harvest had been over for two days there. Everyone was asleep. She crept up to Meta and clapped a hand over her mouth. Meta sprang awake. They hurried out of the hut.

"Metteling, I need you to give my son away," she told her. "Come to the shrine with me. There is a man inside. Tell him your name is Berthe." She was holding Meta's wrists so tightly that her fingers tore holes in the twiny fabric of her sleeves.

"Why--?"

Berthe glared down at her. "Because I beg you to do it."

Meta bowed her head.

First they went to Berthe's house. It would be weeks before the taxes were collected, so she pilfered boldly. They took a sack of corn, strings of vegetables and fruit and a whole cheese, and made their way to the baby's cave.

Little Sunshine was used to being fetched out at all hours. He kicked and giggled to hear them. Berthe nursed him for the last time as they walked back to the clearing.

A lamp was lit inside the shrine and orange light glowed through all the cracks in the walls. A shadow moved by the altar. Meta dropped the food.

Berthe thrust the baby into her hands and went to stand at the window, bending her head close above it, her body curved around the light so no one inside would see her.

When Meta came in, laying Sunshine by the door, Akiva backed into the corner opposite the window. His look of fear and expectant joy so bespoke a year of searching despite cold, hunger and humiliation that Berthe nearly abandoned her resolve and ran to him. It is the look of Rani, meeting the brother to his race, she thought. Ever after, the mention of Zatoye recalled this scene to her.

Akiva turned away, again disappointed.

Meta's voice quavered. "I am Berthe."

He took her hand and said in the temple language, "Oh, Berthe, tell me your name again. I think her name has a power in it. You look at me with understanding. You look as though you had been touched by her radiance. You don't understand me, do you?"

Meta was silent. I had forgotten how softly he speaks, Berthe thought.

"When I left Nichayu, there was a roaring in my ears no sound could penetrate. It took me three nights to crawl to the stream where I used to play. When I came there and saw the fishes gleaming in the black water, I thought I had come to the Lir and the fishes were pure souls going to Ayekar. I praised the gods in my mind and the roaring subsided. I heard the sound of the water. I heard your name. Now, after a year of wandering, I have found Berthe. Maybe you are Berthe, in another guise." Now he saw the baby, and asked in the peasant language, "Yours?"

Berthe clenched her fists. If Meta told the truth, he would demand to see her and she would be lost. A life of adultery and privation, an early death, and hell awaited.

Luckily their mutual anxiety kept them from understanding each other. Meta asked, "Are you hungry?"

Akiva did not answer.

Meta ran out and brought him a broken loaf of bread they had taken from Berthe's house. He devoured it. She brought the rest of the food and set it before him. Then she held out the baby.

If he looks first at the child, I will give it to him, but if khe looks first at Meta, I will take back my son, Berthe promised herself.

Akiva took the baby in his hands. Berthe crammed her sleeve into her mouth to keep quiet. One of her tears fell and gleamed in the window light. Akiva saw it.

"Who is there?" he asked in the peasant language. "Is it the father?"

Meta whimpered.

Berthe's heart beat so fast she could scarcely breathe. Another tear fell, but she dared not try to move away lest she collapse and he see her.

"Who is it?" Akiva demanded again.

"Mother," Meta said.

"The mother," Akiva repeated in the holy language. He faced the window. "You could not bear to give him up, so Berthe does that for you." He looked at the altar. "Forgive us, godling. We are afraid of your benificence. This little outcast, your gift, I take with praise. I will call him Neshar, after Berthe, and her spirit be reborn in him." He pronounced the ritual and Sunshine became Neshar, meaning spirit.

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INTERPLANETARY PERSPECTIVE ON AKIVA....... FOLLOW THE BABY..................... FOLLOW BERTHE........ FOLLOW AKIVA.......... CONTINUE.....................

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INDEX