unfit.” He narrowed his eyes. “They think of their world as a peaceful one.”
Lydee clutched her knees, drawing them toward her chest. “You said that you died, but you are here, alive. What did you mean?”
Reiho covered his eyes, making her wish she had not asked. “It’s hard to speak of it.” His voice was low. “The people of one village killed me. They directed their thoughts at my mind, and I had no way to protect myself from that. Etey was with me, but she lived. She stored my lifeless body aboard our shuttle and brought me back here, where Homesmind was able to restore my mental pattern to my body — my memories, my personality, and my thoughts. I live as that Reiho would have lived, but he is gone, and I remember him without feeling that I am he, for I am not.” He folded his hands. “I have feared death ever since. The fear seems to grow worse with time. The thread of my life was broken then, and I live here almost as a stranger even now.” Loneliness and fear were in his eyes.
Lydee was still, unable to speak for a moment. Her mentor had never revealed so much of himself to her. Homesmind had given Reiho back to his world, but not to himself. Another Reiho lived in the place of that boy, a brother with the same memories. There was something heartless in the way Homesmind had restored Reiho to the Wanderer and to all who knew him, but not to himself.
“You said the Earthpeople were peaceful.” She struggled to keep her voice steady. “Why would they strike out at you?”
“They have peace among themselves. But I was an outsider, not part of their world. They feared me. Only one tried to protect me.” He reached for her hand. “She was the one who gave you to us.”
Lydee was suddenly afraid of knowing more. The image of a girl was before her, a girl with her own curly, dark hair, brown skin, and large bones. The girl wore a dirty white tunic and pants and clutched a baby to her chest. “No,” Lydee said, and Homesmind blanked out the image. “Why?” she asked, knowing that she would have to find out.
Reiho squeezed her fingers gently. “Perhaps you should have been told earlier, but Homesmind did not wish it — It thought that such knowledge would only make your childhood more difficult. You see, sometimes even now a child is born on Earth who lacks mindpowers. The people of Earth call such infants ‘solitaries’ and —” He drew his hand away. “They believe such children are defective. They put such babies to death.”
Lydee recoiled. “But that’s cruel.”
“They feel it is for the best, since such children can’t live as they do. They fear those who are separate, as they call it. They also know that such children would be tormented. The temptation to torment the helpless is great.” His face was hard. “You were born without mindpowers, Lydee. The Earthgirl who was my friend brought you to Etey because she did not want you to die and knew that you could have a life with us.”
“I don’t understand,” she said, struggling with this new knowledge. “If they don’t want such children, why do they have them? Can’t they manipulate their genes? Why would they allow a womb to bring forth such a child only to kill it?” Her hands were trembling; she twisted her fingers together.
“They are primitive people. Their powers give them some control over their bodies, but they have never developed the tools we have — they feel no need of them. You were born in the ancient manner. On Earth, a man and a woman make love, their genes combine at random, and a baby is born from the woman’s womb.”
Lydee stared at him in horror. That she had been born on Earth was shocking enough; she could not endure this final indignity. She was little more than an animal. She had been rejected, given to Home and its people because even Earth’s primitives did not want her.
“The girl who gave you to us was your sister,” Reiho continued. Her ears were pounding; she could hardly