f the elder's robe went crimson, and he
crumpled at the entrance of the pathway.

The other two continued on their way, their stride unbroken.

"Shoot for the legs, you fool!" barked the baron.

The rattling hiss came again. They fell in the shrubs, whimpering
softly.

Meikl turned away with a choking spasm in his throat, looked around for
Letha. She had vanished from the glade.

"Haul them to the dispensary, keep them prisoner," the baron was
growling.

Meikl turned on him. "Now it's come to this, has it?" he snapped. "From
the beginning, they were willing--even eager, to give what we wanted.
Why did they _stop_ being willing?"

"That's enough, Meikl!"

"I've hardly started. You came here like a tyrant, and they served you
like a friend. You couldn't bear it. 'Brethren', they said. But there's
nothing about 'brethren' in the tactical handbooks, is there, Baron?"

"Shut up."

Ven Klaeden said it quietly, as if bored. He crossed slowly to stand
before the analyst and stare at him icily.

"You speak of the unconscious inheritance of culture, analyst--the
kulturverlaengerung. And you have accused me for being a carrier of the
war plague, eh?"

Meikl paused. The baron's eyes were narrowed, stabbing as if in judgment
or triumph.

"Well, Meikl? Is that what we've done? Inflicted them with conflict?
Brought back the old seeds of hate?"

The analyst drew himself up slightly. "You just killed a man, a man of
dignity," he snarled, "and you cut two others down like weeds."

"Innocent old men." The baron's mouth twisted into a snarl.

"They wanted nothing but to help us."

"Yes, Meikl? And we are the barbarians, eh?"

The analyst spoke disdain with his eyes.

The baron straightened in sudden hauteur. "_Look down at the ground,
Analyst_," he hissed.

Ven Klaeden's sudden change of tone impelled him to obey. His eyes fell
to the turf at his feet--moss covered sod, rich and dark beneath the
green.

The baron kicked a hole in the moss with the toe of his boot. "Tell me
where the infection came from, Analyst," he growled. He scraped at the
hole with his heel. "And why is the dirt so _red_ right here?"

Meikl glanced up slowly. Two men were coming through the shrubs, walking
warily along the path toward the clearing. Ven Klaeden seemed unaware.
He leaned forward to speak through his teeth.

"I give them nothing but what they gave our fathers--their own inner
hell, Meikl--the curse they so carefully forgot.