Chaos Mode

CHAPTER 12—SIN EATER

DARIUS woke and stretched. Burgess is unchanged, the thought came. Seqiro was not in the tent; he was grazing the lawn. He could do this without attracting attention because he simply diverted the interest of any who might notice him. He was good at controlling the minds of human people, especially those who had no resistance to it. He had surveyed the neighborhood, and had no problem with the residents.

“I must learn resistance,” Darius said. “No affront to you, Seqiro, but if we should have to stop at your Mode, we human folk would be patsies for any of the telepathic horses there, and I doubt you could save us. I understand from Colene’s memories that there are other Modes near yours where other animals have telepathy, and that could be trouble too. So we all should learn resistance, if it is possible.”

Your human mind has reasoned it out as mine could not. I will try to teach you resistance. It will not be easy, because we have much experience in controlling humans. I have refrained from doing it when you do not wish it.

“And we appreciate that, Seqiro. But now we should learn how to protect our minds. This is a good time to do it, when we are more or less idle.”

We normally exert full control, so that our servants never realize that any resistance is possible. I will try to exert partial control over you. When you are able to resist that, I will intensify it. It is possible to learn resistance, though we normally seek to conceal that information.

“Let’s choose an action for me to resist, that won’t interfere with anything else.”

I will make you bite your thumb. This is a punishment we use on occasion, its severity depending on the offense.

“That certainly is not something I would do on my own,” Darius agreed.

I will not make you do it hard. When your teeth touch the skin, you will know that you have lost.

“Agreed. Start it slow, and we shall ascertain where my threshold of resistance starts.” As he spoke, he got up, and was getting dressed in the odd clothing Colene had decreed he wear for this day.

Darius felt himself touched, mentally. In a moment his left hand was at his face. Realizing that this was not his own action, he tensed his muscles and drove his hand away. It retreated from his face, but then returned. Again he drove it away, but his arm only quivered, and then his thumb came to his mouth and his teeth touched the flesh.

Suddenly his hand was flung away. Seqiro had let go, so that his failing effort to resist became a violent motion. But Darius had lost. He was shaking with the effort he had made. “How much of your power was that?”

Perhaps a quarter. You fought well.

“Not nearly well enough! I just couldn’t seem to get a leverage on my arm.”

Remind yourself that your arm is your own, and must ultimately obey you. Shut out any intrusion.

“I will try.” Darius focused on his left arm, trying to will it to obey no one except him.

But his hand came steadily toward his face, and in a moment his teeth touched his thumb again.

“That was faster than before! I’m losing my resistance.”

No. I used greater power to overcome you, now that I know your level of resistance.

“So I was doing better instead of worse!”

Yes. In my Mode we would see that you never understood that, and we would dispatch you before you realized that resistance was possible.

They continued the exercise while Darius ate. Burgess, meanwhile, neither gained nor lost ground; he was in what for a human person would have been something like a coma.

Then Amos arrived in his vehicle-car. Seqiro was aware of him long before he was close; the horse’s range did not seem to be limited in this Mode. He brings containers of nourishment, but does not know whether any will be effective.

“Seek his information on the Sin Eater. I will need it later.”

Amos walked directly to the tent. “I have to go teach school today, but I brought some multi-vitamin and mineral supplements of several brands and types.” He paused, looking around. “Can you prevent the neighbors from noticing me, Seqiro? I don’t think it would be wise to be seen coming and going from a young student’s house.”

They will not notice you.

“Thank you.” Amos had adapted to the horse’s telepathy quickly, because he believed what was in his own mind, and when Seqiro spoke to someone directly, it was in the mind. He went into the tent and squatted beside Burgess. “But there is a problem. These pills have many things, and most will probably be irrelevant. Some may be what we need. But some may be poisonous for Burgess. It’s a calculated risk, and I don’t know how extreme it is.”

Poisonous! Colene’s thought came from the house. Hold the phone while I get down there.

Amos smiled, wryly. “That is one charming little girl.”

“So I have noticed. If only she were a vessel of joy, so that I could marry her in my own culture as well as hers.”

“You can’t many her in yours? Why not?”

“I am Cyng of Hlahtar. I must draw joy from my wife, and give it to all the others. Colene—”

“Is depressive. But couldn’t she learn joy?”

“How does one learn joy?”

“How does one learn to resist telepathic control? Yes, Seqiro let me feel you practicing. How does Colene learn telepathy? No person in our Mode has done that before, as far as I know, though some have made claims.”

Darius was surprised. “She is learning telepathy! That is akin to the drawing of joy, in a fashion. If she could learn joy, I could marry her.”

“I heard that,” Colene said, entering the tent. “Oh, Darius, I’ll learn it if I can! But right now we have other business. What’s this about poison?”

Amos opened a bag. “All I could think of was to try multi-vitamin, multi-mineral pills. We don’t know what Burgess needs, but there’s a fair chance it’s here. He may have been picking up trace minerals from the dust in the air. So if he takes one of these, it may be all he needs. But if it gives him a dose of what he doesn’t need, it could poison him. Just as an overdose of arsenic would poison us. In fact, an overdose of a needed nutrient could poison him, as it is with salt with us. I don’t know how to analyze his need, here in the field. It might be possible in a laboratory, but that would have other risks.”

“Such as becoming a freak at a freak show,” Colene agreed. “That’s out. Can we try a little bit of something first?”

“Yes, but that will take more time. How much time do you have?”

“I’d like to be gone from here in a couple more days. But if Burgess needs longer, we’ll just have to stay longer.”

“I suggest you have him try a bit of powder from one pill, and wait an hour, then try some from another. In the course of the day you can sample a dozen pills. But it’s roulette. If one of them helps, you win; if one of them kills him, you lose. Are you sure it wouldn’t be better to let him remain here for longer, perhaps several months, so he can recover slowly?”

“If he does recover,” Colene said. “The way he’s going, he could pass the point of no return first. And what’s to stop him from reverting when he goes back on the Virtual Mode? No, we need a cure.”

Amos handed her the bag. “It is not a risk I care to take. Burgess is the most remarkable creature I’ve encountered. I have acquainted you with the risk.”

“Yeah, I’m the one who’s suicidal,” she agreed, with a self-depreciating little smile that made Darius want to hug her. Once more he realized that the very thing that made her unsuitable to be the wife of the Cyng of Hlahtar was one of her most appealing qualities. That semi-bitter edge, that laughed at death even as it flirted with it.

Colene handed the bag to Nona. “Darius and Seqiro and I have to go for blood tests and a license. That leaves it up to you. Try him on the tiniest bit you can, and see if he reacts. We’re just going to have to hope we win before we lose.”

Darius let it be. Colene had made the decision, and it was probably the sensible one. Amos returned to his car, while Darius went to the house with Colene. Seqiro went to the front of the house and waited.

Colene’s mother was inside. She had had a considerable adjustment of information and attitude during the evening and night, but now was stable. It was clear that she intended to do right by Colene, and could now be trusted.

Colene brought out a map. “This is us,” she said, pointing to a spot on it. “This is the doctor’s office. This is City Hall. We need to go to the one, and then the other. I think you’d better ride Seqiro, so that others think you’re a man and a horse.” She flashed him a winning smile, again making him want to embrace her. As she was probably aware. “And nothing more. Tomorrow we’ll drive down to Texas and get married.”

“We can fit him in the car,” Colene’s father said. “He doesn’t need to ride the horse.”

“And leave the horse in our yard?” Colene asked.

“Well—” The man’s brow furrowed. “Where did that horse come from anyway? I thought it was just you and Darius and Nona.”

“Seqiro is a very special horse,” she answered, sliding by his question as Seqiro adjusted his mind so that he no longer thought it remarkable that a horse should have appeared on the scene. The neighbors had already been given the impression that the tent had been in the yard for some time, and was not at all remarkable or interesting.

They went outside. Colene had projected the image of the route in the map to Seqiro, so that he would know the way. Then she got into the car with her parents. “We’ll wait for you,” she said.

“I don’t like this any better than you do,” Darius told Seqiro as he climbed up on the wadded blankets Nona had fashioned in lieu of a saddle. They had removed the regular harness with the supplies, so that the horse was unencumbered. “I know you are not a servant beast, and I am not a practiced rider.”

You are lighter than my normal burden. It will be easier for me to divert attention if we look normal by this culture’s standards.

That was one of the things about Seqiro: he never stood on false pride. He simply did what was necessary.

Because it is your way. Were you to become angry, I would share that emotion. My attitude is defined by that of the human I am with, as is my intelligence.

They started out. Because the horse was in tune with Darius’ mind, there was no problem about riding; Seqiro compensated for any imbalance in his posture automatically, and did not surprise him with any motion. Because Seqiro was a large horse, and in good health, he moved along at a good rate though merely walking. Cars passed them on the road, avoiding them. They had no fear of a collision, because Seqiro tracked the minds of the drivers, making sure.

“Did you get the information on the Sin Eater?” Darius asked.

Seqiro filled him in on it. There had been a rape a month ago. The rapist had not been caught, but an anonymous tip had charged a fifteen-year-old boy called Raphael. The police had picked him up, but let him go for lack of proof. Since then, Raphael, once nicknamed Raff, had been renicknamed “Rape.” The neighborhood had condemned him. He had not been punished by the law, so the community was punishing him instead.

Amos had taught Raff in a remedial class, so knew him. The boy was slow, with just enough intelligence to get by on a minimal basis, but not mean. He had low self-esteem, and was generally the object of cruel teasing. He was no rapist. When the charge was made, Amos had taken the trouble to verify the police report: Raff had been released uncharged because tissue typing had shown he could not have been the rapist. He had merely had the bad fortune to live in the neighborhood where the rape had occurred.

But somehow the police report had not been publicized, so there had been no direct refutation of the charge. That was the start of the trouble. News of the charge had spread rapidly, but not news of the exoneration. So Raff remained guilty, in the eyes of the neighbors. That guilt was destroying him. Other youths were not supposed to play with him, and no girl was allowed near him. He got spat on when he walked the halls of school, and was regularly beaten up by other youths. When anything went wrong. Raff was blamed. It was a joke, for some of the things were impossible, but there was a large, hard core of belief that he was guilty of anything they thought he might be guilty of.

Amos had tried to tell people that Raff was innocent, but they had brushed him off. They knew he was guilty.

In Amos’ mind there were three reasons for this. Two of them were simple: Raff was stupid, and Raff was not one to stand up for himself. Thus he was an easy target. But it was the third that really bothered Amos: Raff was a Sin Eater.

There was a Sin Eater in every backward neighborhood. In every small town where the folk ranged toward the lower end of the scales of education, income, and ambition. There was always somebody who was the designated object of contempt. The people needed someone on whom to vent their irritation, anger, or despair. They needed to have someone to blame. For anything. Someone who was plainly inferior. Someone to punish for the frustration of the neighborhood. Raff had become that person.

They didn’t accept his exoneration because they didn’t want to. Never mind about fairness; they needed their Sin Eater. Raff was too convenient to let go. It was simpler to maintain a scapegoat than to address intractable grievances such as inadequate education, low wages, and rampant crime.

That was why Amos hadn’t told Colene about it. He saw it as an insoluble problem. He railed against it, but it was impossible to convince people of what was true when they were enamored of what was false. Raff was the victim of the community’s need to degrade someone. It was easier than trying to lift themselves out of their own Sloughs of Despond.

“Their own whats?”

Seqiro dug into the voluminous ancillary material he had culled from Amos’ pedantic mind. It turned out that this was a classical reference deriving from a work of literature titled Pilgrim’s Progress, where there were some bad geographical regions, such as vast bogs or sloughs.

“Oh, we passed through one of those on the way here,” Darius said. “Burgess had to float us across it.”

But the reference was actually religious. A sect called the Catholics applied it to a sect called the Protestants, and vice versa. Amos, however, used it in a social sense: it was as if all the people of this region were stuck in a mire, and instead of seeking positive ways to extricate themselves, they preferred to beat down someone else, preferably one who couldn’t defend himself. Amos’ disgust permeated the concept.

“I like Amos better as I get to know him,” Darius remarked. “But I don’t see how we can help Raff. He should move to another community.”

But Raff’s family was too poor to move. That was part of it: the Sin Eater couldn’t readily escape. He was locked into the position, and just had to accept the abuse.

Seqiro moved along the streets. It seemed there were signals which directed people and cars when to move and when to stop. The horse couldn’t see those, but he didn’t need to; he picked up the information from the minds of the people, and had no trouble. In fact a number of people admired the huge animal, especially the children, and most of all the young girls. To many of them, a horse was the ultimate creature.

“That is the way it is with Colene,” Darius said. “She longed for a horse, and you were the horse she longed for.”

I longed for a girl, and she was the girl I longed for. But it was you she was searching for.

“She wanted a horse and a man. But I think if she had to chose between us, to be with only one of us, you would be the one.”

Perhaps. But her ultimate loyalty must be to her own kind. She must in the end be with you.

“Fortunately there is no conflict. She does not have to choose between us. I like you too, and will be glad to have you with us.”

I think there is no good place for me in your Mode.

“But you can not stay forever on the Virtual Mode. As you breathe, your substance is slowly replaced by the material of the many Modes we cross, and the time will come when that overbalances your anchor Mode substance, and you will no longer be able to cross the Modes. You must decide where you wish to be, before that happens.”

That is a hard decision. Perhaps I would remain with you. But what then of Nona and Burgess?

“That is a difficult question. Burgess really needs a hive of his own kind. Nona wants to explore forever, and does not wish to marry and settle down. I would be happy to have her for a mistress, but Colene would object.”

Most strenuously, Seqiro agreed. She does not appreciate the way of a stallion with mares.

Darius laughed. “At least you do!”

I understand the one I am with, as I explained before. I can then use my mind similarly. This is a pleasure for me, as I am not naturally intelligent.

“Don’t you ever long for your home, with others of your kind, including mares?”

I was dissatisfied in my Mode. I was not comfortable with the complete domination of your kind by my kind, and I wanted to explore other ways of existing. Therefore I was out of favor, and am not welcome there. As for mares—they are the same as any other horses, except when in heat, and that is quickly attended to. We do not marry in the fashion of your kind.

“But now that you have associated so closely with us, you must have come to appreciate our ways. You understand the meaning of personal commitment. Of love. You will not be able to throw those concepts away as if they never existed. Wouldn’t you like a long-term relationship with a mare who understood you? Suppose there were a mare who resembled Colene?”

There is such a mare. But she is a figment of Colene’s imagination. Colene calls her Maresy Doates.

Darius shook his head. “A dream mare! Yet strange things can happen on the Virtual Mode. Maybe she exists in one of the Modes adjacent to yours.”

They resumed their practicing for telepathic resistance. The horse always won easily, but he assured Darius that his level of resistance was increasing.

They reached the doctor’s office. Darius had not had to worry about the route, because Seqiro had memorized the map when Colene had studied it, and had a firm sense of his place on its grid. They went to the parking lot beside it, and Darius dismounted. Seqiro waited beside the cars, tuning in to Colene, her parents, and the doctor. He would make sure that there was no trouble.

Hi, folks, Colene’s thought came. Get in here, Darius. There was a current of joy in her that would have made her marriageable in his Mode had it been permanent instead of the surge of the moment.

Darius went inside, guided by Colene’s knowledge, relayed by the horse. There he suffered himself to be stuck by a needle so that some of his blood could be sucked out for their science tests. This would assure that he carried no loathsome disease, as if that were not self-evident. Colene had already given her blood.

“Now we go to the license office,” Colene said. “See you there, Darius.”

Darius returned to Seqiro, and they set out across the grid of streets again. They continued to practice resistance. This time Colene tuned in on it, realizing what they were doing. Try me too, horseface, she thought. Make me bite my thumb. Ouch!

But her resistance had been more than Darius’ resistance. She had been close to the horse for longer, and she was more truly attuned. This gave her a better knowledge of the ways of his power, and she was able to fashion a more effective defense against it. She also had a stronger motive: she had been stunned by a mental blow from one of the other horses of Seqiro’s Mode, and knew firsthand how devastating it could be. She wanted never to be subjected to that again.

In due course they reached the appropriate office. This time Seqiro had more delicate work to do: he had to convince the clerk that Darius had appropriate identification, such as a “driver’s license”, “birth certificate”—as if a person needed proof to show he had been born!—and then sign his name on a line of a piece of paper filled with print, He took a blank sheet of paper from Colene and showed it as many times as the clerk requested things, and each time Seqiro made the clerk satisfied that he had seen what was required. Darius was not entirely easy about this, yet knew that if he tried to provide the legitimate identification of his own culture, it would not be understood. This was a shortcut through blind bureaucracy, as Colene put it. He filled in the forms with information Colene provided, letting her mental hand guide his hand so that he wrote in her graphics, and it was done. They had their marriage license.

Now Colene had to go with her folks to make other arrangements. Darius had the rest of the day to himself. It was time to deal with the matter of the Sin Eater. Seqiro’s mind ranged out to the region where the abused youth lived. Soon enough he located Raff, and walked toward his neighborhood. Even from a distance, the confusion and self-loathing registered. “That young man is truly unhappy,” Darius said. “And he did not even do the crime. He does not understand why they blame him.”

We might give him understanding, by connecting your mind to his. Would that help?

“I am not sure it would. It is the community that needs better understanding. It is the community that is doing wrong. If that changed, then the Sin Eater would be freed.”

I could compel some individuals to change, but that would endure only while I applied mental force. They would revert when I stopped.

“When we were crossing the bog, I tried to draw and multiply the mental powers of others. I made Nona’s magic work for us all, for a while. If I could multiply a change of attitude, it might last for several months, as does the joy I normally spread. But I do not know whether I could do that, and in any event my magic does not work in this Earth Mode.”

How do you know that it does not?

“I tried it when I was here. I was unable to conjure myself or anything else, and I could not multiply joy. Certainly I would have used my magic to defend myself, were it possible, when I was attacked by four youths from a car.”

What happened? I learned some of this from Colene, but now need to know more.

“I had just arrived here, before we instituted the Virtual Mode. It was a spot crossover, just sufficient for me to find and extract the woman I had come for. I did not realize then that she was extractable because she was destined to have little impact on her own Mode, therefore could be readily removed from it. She was going to die soon, by her own hand. She was a vessel of dolor instead of joy. But at that point I knew none of this. I simply found myself by the street, and I had to step quickly back to avoid being struck by a car. A person in the car made a gesture, which I took to be communication of some kind, so I emulated it. The car then stopped, and four youths emerged and attacked me. I tried to invoke a pacification spell, but it had no effect. I was battered, and left in sore straits. It was Colene who later came and rescued me from likely death by exposure. By the time we came to understand each other, I loved her, and she loved me. But she declined to return to my Mode with me, and I knew she was a vessel of grief, so I left her—and then regretted it, and instituted the Virtual Mode in an effort to find her again and bring her home.”

Colene has started to learn magic, or at least telepathy, from association with me. Is it possible that my ability could help you similarly?

“Perhaps. But it is not telepathy I need. It is my own power of magic.”

I am thinking that association with me might change your ability, as is the case with Colene. Perhaps that was why you were able to multiply magic, on the bog. You might recover some of your magic, when linked with me.

“I doubt it. I did not have my magic in the Shale Mode.”

But Nona had some of hers, and you had some of yours in the Fractal Mode. We do not know why the magic patterns as it does. Could it be because of the company we keep?

“Now, that’s an interesting notion! Very well, let’s experiment.” Darius brought out his own icon, and invoked it. He tried to conjure himself across the street.

There was no effect. The magic wasn’t operative.

Try your mental magic.

“For that I need a subject from whom to draw, and subjects to receive.”

Can you try it in a small way?

“I could try to draw from you, and return it immediately. But you would not care for that.”

I could tolerate it.

So Darius focused on the horse, and drew his joy—and felt it working. He returned it.

I felt it, and not merely through your own awareness. That magic works.

It did work—when it had not before. It was different this time. Because of the horse.

“I think we now have a tool we can use to help the Sin Eater,” Darius said, quick to appreciate the possibilities. “But we still must discover how best to do it. I wish to bring him joy, but none to the oppressive community.”

After a time, Seqiro had another thought. The youths who attacked you: they are approaching.

“Those ones? How can you know that? I don’t even know their identities!”

Your mind has a picture of them. Their minds have pictures of you. As I range through this community, I am aware of correspondences. There is an alignment. They are in a car, and they are looking for trouble. This is the way they entertain themselves. They like to insult and hurt other people. I am reading this in their minds.

Darius considered. He had never expected to have such a meeting, but realized that this was the same segment of the same Mode where he had encountered the youths before. They were traveling in their car, cruising the neighborhood, as it seemed was their wont. So it was not after all surprising that they should pass close to him.

“Seqiro, I am not a vengeful man, but it is in my mind that I owe those youths somewhat. They sought to make of me a Sin Eater, and brought me pain. Would you object if I repaid them for the beating they gave me before?”

I do not like their minds. I share your anger. I have no objection.

“In Colene’s mind, or in Amos’ mind, or in the awareness of others you have surveyed, has there been an indication of especially dangerous folk in this community?”

There is what is termed a motorcycle gang at its fringe. This is considered to be dangerous to those who annoy it.

“When I saw those youths—that gesture of theirs I emulated—was that an insult?”

The horse explored the minds. That gesture is considered provocative. The one who receives it is required to avenge the affront, or suffer loss of esteem.

“Could you cause the youths to drive past that gang, and make that signal?”

Watch.

In Darius’ mind appeared the image culled from the mind of one of the riders of the car. The buildings were moving rapidly back on either side of the car, and other cars were being narrowly passed. This was termed Joy Riding, and was the youths’ main diversion.

The car swerved around a comer, taking a new direction. “Hey, watch it!” one of the youths protested as his container of alcoholic beverage slopped over. “You near rolled us over!”

“I can’t help it!” the driver replied. “Something’s making me do it.”

The other three laughed. “Yeah, sure!” the viewpoint character said. “Where’s this demon making you go?”

“To the Chain Gang.”

There was more laughter, but it lacked force. “You know we don’t mess with those toughs,” another youth said, sounding a bit nervous. “Those chains they use pack a mean wallop.”

But the car kept zooming in the new direction. Soon it was entering the region of the gang.

“Hey, fun’s fun, but it ain’t fun to trespass on their territory,” the fourth youth said. “Lay off, Buzz.”

Buzz continued to zero in on the hangout of the Chain Gang. The main group of motorcycles came into view. Several gang members were standing outside, swigging beer.

The car slowed. Then the viewpoint youth put his head and right arm out the side window. “Hey, ganglia, suck on this,” he said, lifting one finger. Then Buzz gunned the motor, almost running down a parked motorcycle.

It was like banging on a hornet’s nest. There was a yell. Men piled out of the hangout. In a moment several motors were starting.

“Get out of here, Buzz!” a youth yelled, terrified by what they had so foolishly done.

But Buzz just poked along, making sure that the cyclists got a good look at the car. As the first cycle roared into pursuit, another youth released his belt and dropped his trousers and undershorts. Then he contorted himself so as to poke his bare buttocks out his window. The first youth reached out his own window and repeated the finger gesture with an exaggerated upward hooking motion. “Up yours!” he yelled. “Sideways! The same goes for your gooney friends!” It all seemed rather pointless to Darius, but the horse assured him that it was effective communication in this Mode.

Then Seqiro released the driver. The four youths were on their own.

Do you wish to watch further?

Darius chuckled. “No. I am not a man of violence, and I fear that some is going to occur.” But he was hardly unhappy about it, remembering the drubbing those same youths had given him for returning their own gesture. “How did you know those particular words that the gesturing youth spoke? They did not come from my mind.”

Colene had a fantasy of arranging such a sequence for the other four youths who raped her. I merely applied her scenario.

The rapists! Darius got a wicked notion. “Are they in this neighborhood also?”

Seqiro searched. Yes. This is what is considered to be the bad section of town. Their residence is not far away.

“I would like to deal with those youths too. Colene does not wish to make trouble, fearing that it will interfere with our marriage. But perhaps we can arrange something appropriate for those young men, also.”

They caused Colene a great deal of anguish. That rape was the start of her trend toward suicide. I do not regard them as worthy humans.

“I love her, and wish I could marry her in my Mode as well as this one, but she is now a vessel of dolor and I can not. To the extent that those men are responsible for that, I hate them, and wish them ill. The question is what is feasible and appropriate?”

Amos knows of the rape. Had he not been prevented by his oath of secrecy, he would have reported them to the police. The authorities would have made things difficult for the rapists, if they were able to prove the case against them.

“I think we can arrange to prove the case. We shall cause them to go to the police themselves and confess, and give full details.”

This appeals to me.

“Do it, then!”

The horse reached out. In a moment the youths were getting themselves ready to go out. By the time Seqiro and Darius reached the abode of the Sin Eater, the four youths were in the police station making their confessions. In fact, as Seqiro explored their minds, he discovered that Colene had not been the only case; they had done a similar thing with several innocent girls. It was their way of having fun. So their confessions were making extremely interesting listening for the police, who were rapidly becoming satisfied that there was substance here.

Darius nodded, satisfied. “This is a thing that has been worth doing.”

I am glad to have been in contact with you on this occasion, because without you I would not have had the initiative or motive to accomplish this action.

Darius patted the horse on the massive shoulder. “We make a good team, Seqiro. Now we must address the mission we came for. How can we gain justice for the Sin Eater?”

We can not benefit him by leading him past the Chain Gang or making him confess to the police. He is now on his way home from school, knowing nothing of us.

“What of the actual rapist—the one who committed the crime of which Raff was accused?”

The horse quested through the local minds, as they stood there in the street. The houses here looked much like all the other houses they had been passing, only worse.

People were coming and going constantly, ignoring the man and horse because Seqiro encouraged them to do that. They were not well dressed, and a number were engaged in what Seqiro fathomed as illicit trade.

The rapist is a close relative of the girl. He told her he would kill her if she exposed him. So she blamed Raff instead.

“Would the man have killed her?”

It is possible. The girl remains afraid of him, and no longer protests when he comes to her, though she has no liking for his brutality.

“Then we had better make him go and confess too. But that still will not make the community respect Raff.”

That is true. I find nothing here but closed minds. They do not want the Sin Eater exonerated.

“They are as bad as the rapist, in their way,” Darius said, angry. “How do you change closed minds?”

I can do that only temporarily.

“I am afraid that Amos is correct. This problem can not truly be solved. We can only enable Raff to go to some other community.”

He is approaching now, coming home from school. He does not want to leave. He wants only for the torment to stop.

Darius looked down the street. He saw a youth walking toward them. There were others his age, also coming home from school, but they walked on the other side of the street, emanating contempt.

Then three crossed over to join Raff. But they were not suffering a change of heart. One carried a stick. Raff saw them and broke into a run, trying to escape them, but they pursued him, jeering.

“Do it,” Darius said grimly, sending a thought.

The boy with the stick swung it, striking one of his companions on the shoulder. When the third protested, the boy struck him too. The injured ones screamed with pain and protest.

A man heard the scream and charged out of his house. He saw Raff and grabbed him. “You hit him! You hit him!” the man shouted, shaking Raff. The man hadn’t even bothered to ascertain the truth.

“Do it,” Darius said again.

The boy with the stick came up behind the man and thwacked him across the back. The man, hurt and amazed, let Raff go and whirled on the boy.

But other neighbors were converging now. Several were stalking Raff, evidently intending harm. Raff, not understanding any of this, was trying to avoid them and run for home. He wasn’t even protesting; it was evident that this sort of thing happened to him often enough to be routine. He expected to be cursed and beaten, in the name of the righteousness of the community. No one was siding with him, or pointing out that he had done nothing here. He was guilty by definition.

“They are determined to blame the Sin Eater, no matter what,” Darius said. “When we try to help him, they just go after him more.”

Raff is feeling truly awful now. Use your magic.

“It doesn’t work that way. I can only draw joy and spread it to the multitude. I can not take away prejudice, ignorance, and mean-spiritedness.”

Spread his grief to the multitude.

Suddenly Darius understood. “Give me all the power you can.” He jumped down and ran to Raff. The people of the neighborhood gave way before him, directed by the horse. He caught Raff and threw his arms around him. He drew from Raff, depleting him of all his misery. The terrible emotion came into Darius.

Then he let the youth go. He multiplied the grief and sent it out to the multitude. Suddenly everybody in the neighborhood was surfeit with the same emotion Raff felt. Raff felt it too, but for him it was familiar, and not quite as intense as before.

Darius walked back to the horse. Raff resumed his dejected walk home. The neighbors, of all ages, stood appalled. They all felt terrible, and did not know why. They would feel this way for several months, as the emotional transfer slowly wore off.

Perhaps, by then, they would have learned some compassion.

Darius mounted Seqiro. They set off for Colene’s house some distance away. They, too, were depressed. But they understood why, and knew how to abate it. They were satisfied. It did not matter that the community’s mass depression would have no rational explanation. Colene’s debt to Amos had been repaid.