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have any idea what that means. You haven’t got the faintest idea what he chose you for. By hell, I’m not going to stand for it!
Go away
.”
    “What does it have to do with you?” She groped to understand him. “What makes you think it has anything to do with you?”
    “Because I
do
know.”
    “Know what?” She could not tolerate the condescension of his refusal. “What’s so special about you? Leprosy? Do you think being a leper gives you some kind of private claim on loneliness or pain? Don’t be arrogant. There are other people in the world who suffer, and it doesn’t take being a leper to understand them. What’s so goddamn special about you?”
    Her anger stopped him. She could not see his face; but his posture seemed to twist, reconsidering her. After a moment, he said carefully, “Nothing about me. But I’m on the inside of this thing, and you aren’t.I know it. You don’t. It can’t be explained. You don’t understand what you’re doing.”
    “Then tell me. Make me understand. So I can make the right choice.”
    “Dr. Avery.” His voice was sudden and harsh. “Maybe suffering isn’t private. Maybe sickness and harm are in the public domain. But
this
is private.”
    His intensity silenced her. She wrestled with him in her thoughts, and could find no way to take hold of him. He knew more than she did—had endured more, purchased more, learned more. Yet she could not let go. She needed some kind of explanation. The night air was thick and humid, blurring the meaning of the stars. Because she had no other argument, she challenged him with her incomprehension itself. “ ‘Be true,’ ” she articulated, “isn’t the only thing he said.”
    Covenant recoiled. She held herself still until the suspense drove him to ask in a muffled tone, “What else?”
    “He said, ‘Do not fear. You will not fail, however he may assail you.’ ” There she halted, unwilling to say the rest. Covenant’s shoulders began to shake. Grimly she pursued her advantage. “Who was he talking about? You?”
    He did not respond. His hands were pressed to his face, stifling his emotion.
    “Or was it somebody else? Did somebody hurt Joan?”
    A shard of pain slipped past his teeth before he could lock them against himself.
    “Or is something going to happen to me? What does that old man have to do with me? Why do you say he chose me?”
    “He’s using you.” Covenant’s hands occluded his voice. But he had mastered himself. When he dropped his arms, his tone was dull and faint, like the falling of ashes. “He’s like Berenford. Thinks I need help. Thinks I can’t handle it this time.” He should have sounded bitter; but he had momentarily lost even that resource. “The only difference is, he knows—what I know.”
    “Then tell me,” Linden urged again. “Let me try.”
    By force of will, Covenant straightened so that he stood upright against the light. “No. Maybe I can’t stop you, but I as sure as hell don’t have to let you. I’m not going to contribute to this. If you’re dead set on getting involved, you’re going to have to find some way to do it behind my back.” He stopped as if he were finished. But then he raged at her, “And tell that bastard Berenford he ought to try trusting me for a change!”
    Retorts jumped into her throat. She wanted to yell back, Why should he? You don’t trust anybody else! But as she gathered force into her lungs, a scream stung the air.
    A woman screaming, raw and heinous. Impossible that anybody could feel such virulent terror and stay sane. It shrilled like the heart-shriek of the night.
    Before it ended, Linden was on her way past Covenant toward the front door.
    He caught her arm: she broke the grip of his half-hand, flung him off. “I’m a doctor.” Leaving him no time for permission or denial, she jerked open the door, strode into the house.
    The door admitted her to the living room. It looked bare, in spite of its carpeting and bookcases; there