THEY were lying on one of the beds, still unclothed.

Michael’s thoughts were more or less composed again. The passion that had consumed him, in the bath and on the bed, was abated. He could look at Sophie without embarrassment—look at her as a woman rather than as a lover, and realise how much of an improvement had come over her. Scrubbed clean of dirt, with her hair combed, she might not be Labrador’s—or even the world’s—most glamorous beauty, but her underlying charm was certainly there. But there was something still bothering him. He did not know how to put it.

“Sophie,” he said. “When you first went to the Fringes, they—well they did ‘something’, didn’t they? So how…?” He could not find the words to put the question.

Sophie said nothing for a long time. She lay on her back, but Michael noticed tears in her eyes. Almost at once he regretted asking the question. But he could think of nothing else to say…

Eventually, Sophie spoke. She said, quietly, “I’ll explain. You didn’t expect me to be able to do this, I suppose. Nor did most of the Fringes people. With good reason. Most of the Fringes men—all those that had the ‘treatment’—can’t do it at all. But a few, like Gordon, escaped being emasculated. And norm men sometimes ventured into the Fringes, looking for—well you can guess! Gordon was the man I slept with most of the time, but he wasn’t my first. But most of the men—those that could, I mean—left me alone. They assumed…”

Sophie’s tears flowed freely now, and she paused.

“I think it’s because of the women,” she continued after composing herself a bit. “You understand, Michael, that nearly all the Fringes women were ‘treated’ in infancy, after being taken from their parents soon after birth. I don’t know exactly what was done to them—no-one ever explained it to me. But anyway, nearly all of them flatly refused to ever lie with a man. Fought them off, even. Not that many men had any urge to…

“But I…”

“Please go on,” said Michael.

“Michael. I trust you. These are things I thought I’d never want to talk about—not ever again. But now I feel I must talk about them—to you.

“When my parents and me were—captured, we were no longer in Waknuk district, but many miles away. The village to where we were taken, they didn’t have anyone—any doctor or nurse—who could do—who could do—that. What they do to babies. It appeared that the nearest place where they ‘prepared’ people like us for the Fringes, was Kentak.

“So we were taken to Kentak. There, it gets a bit hazy, but I believe that even the doctors in Kentak were only experienced with small babies. They had never operated on a ten-year-old girl. Anyway, the next I can remember, I was put in a coach for the long journey to Rigo. All alone.

“My parents said goodbye to me in Kentak. I must have cried piteously, but they tried to reassure me—as best they could, since they were under guard. They told me, they would be sent to prison, but as soon as they got out they would come and find me. Well—that was years ago, and I haven’t heard from them since, but they may still be alive. Of course I miss them—but I’m glad they never got to see me as I was—living back there…

“Anyway, in Rigo, I was taken to see a doctor. An awfully nice doctor, a woman, she was quite kind to me actually. She said that, although she didn’t agree with the policy, she had to do what she had to do: it was the Law. But she’d try to make it as painless as she could. The treatment for a girl of my age would be different from the baby treatment. Less damaging.

“It didn’t hurt much. I think she gave me something to drink that deadened the pain. After a day or two, I was able to get up. She told me, I’d never have children, and I’d never have the monthly bleeding. That was enough to satisfy the Law. But I would still be able to sleep with a man—to have a love life—when I grew up—if I wanted to. She spoke to me as if I were a grown-up already, and I didn’t, of course, understand all she told me at the time, but I do now…

“Then I came to the Fringes. The rest you know.”

Sophie turned towards Michael and wrapped herself around him once more. Michael could think of nothing to say. But he thought he understood.

It was almost midday now, and no-one had been seen—not the owners of the farm, nor anyone from Waknuk or other ‘civilised’ parts. Michael thought he had guessed correctly, that they would be safe there for another night. Further than that, he was not prepared to risk.

They had now dressed themselves in more ‘decent’ clothes. Sophie had found a dark green dress decorated with the Cross that fitted her fairly well; also a pair of moccasins—most important!—as well as some underwear and a spare dress. Michael was arrayed in a farm-worker’s outfit and could have passed for a farm-hand anywhere. They had also found some apples and another bow with a few arrows. Along with the ham and the potatoes, they were able to make a hearty meal for the first time in days—weeks even.

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Michael had contacted Rachel late in the morning, being careful to focus his mind on mundane matters: explaining where they were and that he’d been too tired to communicate the night before. She seemed to accept that. He also said that they would take longer to reach her than originally planned. About Sophie, he did his best to close his mind completely.

Had anything happened since their last contact? he asked. Yes, she replied, a few men from the raiding parties had limped into Waknuk the day before. Some were wounded; all were in an emaciated state and gave very confused reports, clearly traumatised by some terrible event that they had witnessed. Rachel recalled that Michael had not wanted to tell her much, either, and she appreciated that. The stories given by the men were fragmentary and contradicted one another, but a common theme appeared to refer to ‘giant spiders’ having emerged from the forest and slaughtered everyone in sight. One man even claimed to have seen one of these monster creatures actually flying through the air. Rachel thought this was too fantastic: although deviational beasts were common enough, in civilised country as well as the Fringes, and many were ferocious and dangerous, none of them had in the least evolved to the gigantic proportions which this account would seem to suggest. And not one of these deviants had ever mastered the art of flying. Birds could fly, and birds were small. That was the end of it.

Michael thought, this was a good story to put across: a good ‘cover’ for what had actually happened, and he explained that there was some truth in the men’s account, while being careful to avoid specifics. It was a plausible theme: that spiders or similar creatures had evolved from mutations in the Fringes. The last thing he wanted to do was to give any hint of the Zealanders’ superhuman powers of mass slaughter. He had not told all to Sophie, and he was not sure if he wanted to tell Rachel even once they were face-to-face.

But Rachel already knew that David, Rosalind and Petra had escaped in some sort of ‘flying machine’. He would have to be more specific about that. She’d probably have guessed that that was what the terrified man had mistaken for a ‘flying spider’. Well, he had time to think about it. And about other things!

Michael was busy occupying himself with mundane tasks around the farm, chiefly to make themselves ready for their onward journey. He tried not to focus his mind on what had happened that morning, but he could not get away from the fact: what he had experienced was the most ecstatic, the most pleasurable feeling in his whole life. And he knew that Sophie had found pleasure in it too: he did not need her fragmentary thought-shapes to know that.

But he still wanted to get back to Rachel as soon as possible. How things would turn out, when they did meet, he could not fathom—but they had to meet.

Meanwhile, he had searched around the surrounding countryside, up to a mile or more in each direction, mainly in the hope of finding another horse. He had no luck. The whole countryside seemed deserted, and there were no other farms within reach. However, he did make an important discovery in the other barn: the one that had not been burnt down. In a corner was a broken-down light dog-cart and some harness.

Could their horse be harnessed to this cart, he wondered. He did not know whether the horse would accept this, but they had no other choice. With the extra clothes and food which they had gathered up, they were obviously far too big a burden for the horse to carry. How he wished for one of Angus Morton’s great-horses—the 26-hand beasts which had carried David and his companions toward the Fringes! But those animals were lost to them. However, if they could persuade their horse to draw this cart, they might get to Waknuk in just a few more days…

Michael examined the cart, and discovered that its axle was broken. He was a good handyman, and there were pieces of timber and some tools lying about in the barn. He set to and did his best to repair the cart: after a couple of hours’ work he decided that it would serve, though he would not trust it on a long journey. Perhaps it could get them as far as Waknuk.

That evening they sat down at the kitchen table to what was, for Michael, the most sumptuous meal since he had left Waknuk—and for Sophie probably the best since she had been taken from her parents, sterilised and banished to the Fringes, many years before. Sophie had found cabbages growing next to the farm, and together they prepared a veritable feast. There were even bottles of wine on a shelf, but they preferred not to touch those. They had already made free of enough in the farmhouse—Michael was beginning to think he should return, in a more peaceful time, and make amends somehow.

He had no doubt now, as to what would happen once they had finished their meal. Sophie stood up, kissed him passionately, and beckoned to him. He did not need to follow her into the bedroom, to see her strip off her clothes, to know what was in store. This time there was no shyness as he joined her in the bed…

But he was still worried. Eventually they both drifted off to sleep, but he awoke while it was still dark. For half an hour, perhaps, he lay awake, unable to get to sleep. He perceived that Sophie was also awake. She got up and went to the wardrobe, finding a nightdress which she slipped on. Then she returned to the bed and turned to face him.

“You are worried about what’ll happen between you and Rachel, aren’t you, my dear,” she murmured. “Don’t try to deny it: I can feel it in your thoughts. Please understand, Michael, everything will come out right for you, in the end. Don’t you understand? Yes, this morning, and this evening, you and me—were—delightful—but I’m not your girl, and you’re not my man. It won’t last. We are too different, and we shall in time go our separate ways. I know you want to, eventually, follow your friends—to wherever they’ve gone to. They’ve left Labrador behind, haven’t they? I don’t. I want to find a man who can love me for what I am: a man somewhere in Labrador, not further—almost certainly. One who can understand how it is possible for a couple to love one another without children. You will want a wife whom you really love—with whom you can raise a family. Go to Rachel!”

Michael realised at once how sensible she was. More sensible than he—and certainly more sensible than David, who had befriended her as a child. They had enjoyed their brief affair, but they were mis­matched. Their passion would not last. And he realised he had not really betrayed Rachel.

But he wondered how Rachel would see it. He still did not dare to send her more than the most mundane thought-shapes.

In the morning they harnessed the horse to the cart, and to their relief it seemed quite at ease with it. Evidently it had pulled a cart before. After a trial run around the farm, to make sure that the repaired axle was turning freely, they loaded up the cart and set forth.