AS THEY were riding slowly side-by-side through the network of streets, making their way towards the inn they’d been directed to, Stephanie glanced at Mark a few times. She seemed undecided whether to speak. Eventually she came out with:

“Mark—I don’t want to set out for Rigo. Not now, not until…”

Mark reined in his horse. “Good Heavens! Why ever not?” he exclaimed. “I thought we’d settled that: we were to go there right away.”

“I didn’t speak up earlier,” continued Stephanie, “but I really want to find out what happened to my parents. Please, Mark! Let me at least try…”

“But—but surely the trail that could lead to your parents is even colder than the trail that might lead to Rachel and Michael. Besides—” Mark stopped himself just in time, before tactlessly uttering the words ‘they might be dead’. He hoped he hadn’t projected that thought in a way that Stephanie could pick up…

“I know. It was over eight years ago, that I was separated from them. I was just ten. I know we were brought here, to Kentak; I can remember tearfully saying goodbye to them as I was put into a coach bound for Rigo—all on my own. And my mother said, they’d probably be sent to prison. It was horrible…!”

Mark thought for a while. “Well, we could follow a possible lead. The Inspector’s office here in Kentak may have records. I could call in there tomorrow and see what I can dig up. Not you: it would be dangerous for you: you might be recognised. But now let’s go on to the inn. We can decide about things tomorrow. Yes, we could stop there two nights if necessary.”

They found the first inn without difficulty, and handed their horses to the ostler for stabling. Going inside, Stephanie took charge and secured a double room for them for two nights. She gave Mark’s real name and her assumed name, with the same surname. Mark couldn’t help his eyes lighting up as he watched this: he recalled that Steph­anie had said ‘We’ll find a room’ rather than ‘rooms’ , back at the flat, but he’d thought it was a slip of the tongue.

Stephanie noted his bemused expression as they climbed the stairs to their bedroom. “Mark, I thought we’d agreed right at the start that we’d find it easier travelling if we pose as a married couple. But that doesn’t mean anything between us—so no funny business!”

The room, when they reached it, was somewhat dingy but adequate, with a wash-stand and twin beds. Having deposited their bags, they returned down to the bar and ordered a quick meal. Then, being already quite tired, they decided to turn in at once. Once in the bed­room, Stephanie quickly stripped off her blouse, skirt and chemise and went to the washstand…

Mark had been feeling his bed and trying out the mattress for comfort; then he lifted his eyes and saw Stephanie across the room, naked to the waist. He did a double-take and gaped at her.

Stephanie noticed his confusion and giggled; she wrapped her arms across her breasts. “I was forgetting,” she laughed, “you guys from the ‘civilised’ parts aren’t used to seeing girls’ breasts. But it happens all the time, back at…” She shuddered for a moment and couldn’t finish the sentence. “…back at—well, you know where. We didn’t have a nudity taboo. Well, most of the women back there don’t grow breasts anyway. Flat chested, just like the boys from the waist up. I suppose it’s the ones who were taken away as babies, and whatever they do to them.”

For an instant tears were starting from Stephanie’s eyes, but she collected herself and continued: “I was one of the lucky ones, I suppose. I was ‘treated’ as a ten-year-old, in Rigo; and the doctor said, I’d go through normal puberty—except for the monthly … blood. I wouldn’t have that—which she said would be a blessing. So my breasts grew as normal. They’re quite nice, aren’t they?” and she unwrapped her arms and wriggled her body.

“Indeed they are,” murmured Mark, somewhat hesitantly and blushing, finding it hard not to stare at her. “You know,” he con­tinued, more expressively and boldly, “that I’ve long had the hots … well, quite a fancy for you, ever since I first met you. I thought you were a beauty. And I still do. I know you don’t want it to go further, but you are teasing me a bit, aren’t you?”

Stephanie had meanwhile slipped a long nightgown over herself and removed her undergarments. “All right, I am a bit of a tease, I suppose. You know I slept with Michael, don’t you? Just the once.”

“Er—Michael did sort of mention it. In words, not in thought-shapes. I wondered if he was having me on: men often boast about such things…”

“Poor Michael! Such a capable chap in all other ways, but so innocent when it comes to women. I suppose I did have a passing hot passion for him: I led him on. He’d never been with a girl before me: did you know that? But with you, I’m sure it’s different. You have, haven’t you? I can tell.”

“Just the one,” admitted Mark. “A farm hand’s daughter, back at the farm where I grew up. She was very pretty: blonde hair in curls, not like yours,” and Mark reached out and briefly stroked Stephanie’s straight dark brown hair as he spoke. “I suppose she led me on: a lot of the farm girls were like that. We were together for a few weeks, then it sort of fizzled out. She was worried about having a baby, and her dad was getting suspicious: if he’d found out, he’d have horse­whipped her, for sure. But nothing bad happened. It was nice while it lasted. But I was also dead scared of the others—the others in my think-together group, I mean—finding out. I wasn’t supposed to go with a Norm. It was about the same time as we were having the trouble with Anne—you know about Anne, of course: Rachel’s sister—?”

“Yes, Rachel told me all about her. It must have been awful for her, finding the body like that—but she said that, although she’d never ‘get over it’, at least it wasn’t foremost in her mind any more. I hope that was true.”

“Well, the rest of us,” continued Mark, “were telling Anne that marrying a norm would be absolutely impossible. Out-of-the-question. Even I joined in saying that. Michael was passionate about it, and as for David… So I couldn’t admit to having a fling with a Norm, myself. Of course, there were never any thoughts of marrying her. It was just a bit of fun…”

“Well, Michael obviously forgot his vows—at least when it comes to spending a night with a Norm. Except that I’m not exactly a Norm am I?” and she lifted her six-toed feet onto the bed. “You know, when I first met David, when we were kids playing together, I felt—hoped even—that as we grew older we might fall in love. I really liked David: my best friend. Of course I knew nothing about his—power—back then, and I knew nothing about Rosalind. I don’t think he realised his potential either—not at that young age.

“When I first met Rosalind, in those last days in…in those last days before I was rescued, I sensed that David was embarrassed. He didn’t really want me around; he was trying to shrug off the puppy-love we’d had. I knew at once that it would never have been anything with him. We were just kids.

A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

“But with you? Please understand, Mark, I’m not rebuffing you for all time. I like you too. I’m just not ready to do this—to do what happened with Michael—not this time. And I’m now hoping for something more permanent. With a Norm,” she added, emphatically.

“Well, I’m not far off being a Norm myself, am I? My thought-shape powers are pretty weak at the moment, and I hardly ever use them. But yours are getting stronger.” “Aren’t they?” he concluded, in a thought-shape.

“Yes,” replied Stephanie, also as a thought shape. “My goodness, I caught that! And I answered back!” she continued in words. “What’s happening to me?”

“You know perfectly well. You’ve been changing for months now. My point is, we’re drawing closer together all the time. I’m losing it, and you’re gaining it. And I already know about your feet; of course I’d never betray you. You can’t be certain of any other man. And Stephanie, I can’t help saying this, I love you. I wasn’t sure before, but I do now. So—”

“All right, I’ll consider the proposal made. Of marriage, I mean. But my answer is No. For now at least. Please understand. And no sneaking into my bed!” She reached across to Mark and gave him a quick peck on both cheeks; then she slipped into her bed.

Mark’s heart was pounding by now: he lay back on his bed and was silent for some time. “I understand,” he muttered, at last. “And thank you, thank you ever so much, Stephanie.” A few minutes later they were both sound asleep.

The next morning, after breakfast, Mark proposed that he should go alone to the Kentak Inspector’s office, while Stephanie remained in their room. “Safer for you,” he said. So, after getting as much detail about Stephanie’s parents as she could recall, he set out for the Inspector’s.

The office in Kentak was more imposing than the Inspector’s offices he’d been used to back at home, and at Waknuk. There was a young woman seated at a reception desk, and she asked him his business. Then she consulted an appointments book, and told him he could see the Inspector in about an hour’s time. With nothing else to do, Mark thought it best to return to the inn: he bought a few provisions on the way and also called in at the stables to check on the horses. They seemed to have been well looked after. Then he returned to Stephanie, and explained that it would take some time.

The hour being up, he presented himself at the Inspector’s once more, and was shown into his office. The Inspector was nothing like the commanding figure Mark was expecting; unlike the ones he’d encountered back at home and at Waknuk, this one was a slight, elderly man with grey hair and moustache, and a wrinkled face and kindly-looking eyes. Mark immediately felt at ease with him.

“So what can I do for you?” began the Inspector. “I take it, this is not about simply reporting a Deviation: you could have arranged that with my secretary.”

“No. It’s like this.” Mark had been thinking up an elaborate lie all that morning, and he hoped it would sound convincing. “My uncle came to stay with my parents a few weeks ago: it had been many years since we’d seen him. When he arrived he asked about some old friends of his: a Mr and Mrs Wender. John and Martha. He said they used to live out west of Waknuk, but he hadn’t heard from them for years. My father was able to explain that the couple had been arrested for shielding a Deviational child, and he thought they’d been sent to Kentak for trial. Since my uncle’s rather infirm, I offered to come to Kentak to make enquiries on his behalf. So here I am.”

“I see,” said the Inspector. “Yes, I remember the case quite well. Excuse me while I look for the file.” He searched some drawers for a while, then brought out a folder. “Ah, yes. It was their little daughter, name of Sophie. Age about ten, I believe. Born with six toes, poor thing. To be honest, between you and me, I’m more inclined to believe that such a person is near enough to the True Image to be accepted as one—but the Laws are very strict, especially here and out in the villages; less so in Rigo. So I had to put her through the procedure for Blasphemies, which I’m sure you know about. It turned out that she had to be sent on to Rigo, which was for the best: she’d have been better treated there than—”

“But what about the parents? John and Martha? That’s what my uncle really wants to find out.”

“Ah, I can’t help you there. Criminal cases are the responsibility of the Sheriff, not me: I only deal with Deviations and what to do with them. If the couple had been shielding the little girl, that’s a crime: they’d have been charged and stood trial. Sorry, I can’t help you any more: you could try asking at the Sheriff’s office.”

Mark thanked the Inspector for his help and left the office, his opinion of Inspectors on the whole quite a lot changed for the better! He saw that the day was advancing and it would be as well to return to the inn for lunch before trying the Sheriff’s. Back at the inn, Stephanie was happy enough with the progress Mark had made, and urged him to set out for the Sheriff’s straight after lunch.

At the Sheriff’s office, Mark was shown into a small office where he was greeted by a young man in a plain suit, not much older than Mark himself, who explained that he was one of the Sheriff’s officers.

“The Sheriff himself is going to be busy all this afternoon,” he said, “but hopefully I might be able to help you with your enquiry. So what can I do for you?”

Mark told the same tale that he had told the Inspector.

“Hmmm. Eight years ago, you say? Name of ‘Wender’. Well, it’s obviously long before my time, but there’ll be a file somewhere. Excuse me while I go have a look.”

A few minutes later the officer was back. “Yes, I found the file, and I also popped in to ask the Sheriff. Yes, he remembers the case, apparently it was quite notorious at the time. But both of them pleaded guilty, so the case was over quite quickly. Five years.”

“Five years?” put in Mark. “You mean, five years’ imprisonment?”

“Yes, I’m afraid so. It’s the minimum for concealment of a Blasphemy. If they’d contested the case, they’d probably have got more.”

“Do you know where they were sent?”

“Well, it would have been separate prisons: a men’s prison for him, a women’s for her. I’ll have a look … yes here it is. Mrs Wender: five years at Kamach prison; Mr Wender, five years at Menichik prison. But they’ll both have been released by now, of course.”

“Where might they have gone after release?”

“I can’t help you there: your only recourse is to get in touch with the prisons themselves. But they’ll have had travel restrictions placed on them; they can’t have gone very far. Being husband and wife, I reckon they’d have been allowed to reunite, but that’s all.”

“Where are … Kamach and Menichik?” asked Mark, after glancing at the slip of paper the officer had passed him.

“Quite a long way off, if you’re thinking of going there. Kamach is the nearer: about fifty miles off, to the north of here. Menichik is another eighty miles or so beyond. I wouldn’t advise trying to make it to Menichik, not at this time of year: the roads’ll soon be blocked by snow. You could probably reach Kamach without trouble, if you set out soon.”

Mark wondered what Stephanie would have to say to the prospect of another journey, to the north this time. But she had been adamant that she wanted to go in search of her parents. Mark thanked the officer for his help and went back to the inn.

“You’ve been wonderful!” exclaimed Stephanie when he reported back to her. “I couldn’t have asked for better: you’re a perfect friend.” And she flung her arms around him and smothered him with kisses, some of them full on the mouth this time. “And of course we’ll set out for Kamach. It’s by far the best chance of finding them. I just hope the prisons have kept records as good as the Sheriff’s.”