Channel's Destiny

"I'm not hungry," said Owen.

"You didn't have any breakfast," Zeth said softly. "You've

got to eat something." Owen had been defeated by the bowl of cereal that slid around on the tray when he tried to spoon it up. By the time Zeth thought to brace the bowl with a rolled napkin, Owen was too frustrated to eat.

Firmly now, Jana said, "To produce selyn, Gens have to eat even more than children."

"And what am I producing it for?" Owen flashed.

"To stay alive, dummy," said Jana. "I didn't know they cut off your brains with your arm!"

Owen was infuriated. "If you had the brains you were born with, you'd know I'd be better off dead!"

"Nobody's better off dead!" Jana snapped. "You know how Pa feels when—" She broke off with a glance at Zeth. "Only cowards give up. I never thought my brother was a coward!"

Owen leaned back against the pillows, fighting tears of frustration. Zeth said, "Jana, that's not fair. If you can't keep a civil tongue, you'd better leave."

"He's my brother—and I'm not going to have a helpless coward in the family!"

"Owen's no coward! You're the one that can't take it, Jana! Get out and don't come back until you can be nice."

Zeth took a threatening step toward her, a little surprised at himself. All at once, Jana turned and stalked out of the room, pausing only to close the door with exaggerated care.

Zeth turned to Owen, who was staring at him wide-eyed, tears brimming his eyes, but awe in his expression. "Zeth, that was Jana you just threw out of here."

"Yea-ah," Zeth said slowly. It was the first time he'd ever faced her down. The two boys stared silently at one another until Owen said, "That soup does smell kinda good. Be a shame to let it get cold." Once started, Owen ate more than Zeth.

The next day, they moved Owen into Zeth's room. Still weak, leaning heavily on Zeth, he insisted on walking. "If I can't be useful, at least I won't be a burden."

But by the time they got him settled he was almost as pale as when they had brought him in unconscious. Rimon Farris said, "No harm done. You're still healing, Owen."

"But why does my arm hurt?" Owen asked. "I mean the whole arm, Mr. Farris. It hurts all the way down."

"The shock was to your nerves, as well as flesh and bone.

When they heal, the pain will stop. You're doing fine, Owen. Your field is climbing normally in spite of your injury."

Owen's soaring field soon proved the greatest nuisance on the New Homestead. When he met frustration, the emotional intensity of his nager irritated every Sime past turnover—the point in the monthly cycle at which the Sime had used up half the selyn from his last transfer, and began to move toward need.

His clumsiness infuriated Owen. All Gens were clumsy compared to Simes, but Owen could not even walk right at first, the loss of his arm having changed his balance. He went at everything bullishly, forcing his way to victory over inanimate objects, careless of how often he fell, or cut or bruised himself—or the shock of each such event to nearby Simes. Zeth was reminded of the two dogs, Patches and Biggie, who had never quite grown up to the size of their feet.

Owen's normal su

One day, after Owen had upset every Sime in the house, Zeth found him in the barn currying his horse, which was now stabled at the Farris Homestead because, as a Gen, Owen could not go back home to live.

Zeth started to call out, then paused. As he stroked the horse's flank one-handedly, Owen was crying. A shaft of sun caught his good right arm, and Zeth could see the bulge of Gen muscle that had developed over the last few weeks of savagely forced exercise. He backed up and called from outside the barn doors, "Owen?" "Go away!" Owen called back.

But Zeth went in. "Hey, that's a good idea. The horses could use a good grooming. I'll help you."

'No!"

'What's gotten into you?"

'I don't like being your punishment!"

'Who told you that!"

'Jana." He paused. "It's true, isn't it?"

Picking up a pair of brushes, Zeth went to work on the other side of the horse. "Owen, honest, it used to be I did it 'cause Mr. Veritt said I had to. But not anymore. You can be as nasty to me as you want because it's made you learn. When you can ride again, it will all be over."

"Ha! I'll never be able to ride again!"

Owen had attempted, prematurely, to mount his horse, fallen off, and reopened his wound. The pain disrupted a transfer that Zeth's father had been giving at the moment. Owen had been strictly forbidden to attempt it again until Rimon gave permission. The reopening of the wound had been followed by infection, the delay only worsening Owen's temper.

"Jana can already ride again," said Zeth.

"Jana still has her arm."

From the doorway, Del Erick called, "Oh! There you are, Owen!" As Zeth leaned out to say hello he couldn't help noticing that Erick was in need.

"Hello there, Zeth. Dan Whelan sent these over for you." He held out a handful of buckles.

"Did he find a way to make them work?" asked Zeth, who had asked Whelan to design a one-handed buckle.

"I think so, with a little practice." He held them out to Owen, who glanced over his shoulder and then turned back to currying his horse. Zeth reached for the bundle of straps.

"I'll see if I can figure it out," he said.

"I don't know why you keep pretending–" Owen's voice cracked perversely at just the wrong moment.

Del stepped back, and Zeth could see him taking a deep breath, striving for control. Owen, wrapped up in his own miseries, hadn't noticed. But in a moment, Erick seemed calm again, as he said, "I figured out a way for you to mount that horse, Owen, but if you're not interested—"

Owen turned, and Zeth could sense the hope that was more pain than anything else.

"Saddle up, then, and come outside. I'll show you."

Before Owen could turn sullen again, Zeth quickly helped him saddle Flash, letting Owen do most of the work.

Outside, Del took the reins in his right hand, tentacles retracted. "I've been working to get Flash to accept my weight from the right. It may take some practice, but watch. You take the saddle horn in your right hand, step with your right leg, and—"

In one leap he was mounted. "I didn't augment to do that. You're tall enough, there's no reason you can't learn it."

With a pained expression of defeat Owen turned away. Zeth picked up the reins he dropped, and said, "I wonder if I can do it."

But when Zeth tried the right-hand mount, the horse shied. Desperate now, he said, "Well, it will take some practice."

That wakened Owen's spirit. "I've trained Flash since he was a colt. He'll let me do it."

"Well, let's start with a slower mount," said Del. "Come over here by the fence and go on from the railing."

Owen became wrapped up in the project, until he tried to scale the horse's side, right foot in the right stirrup. The horse sidestepped, and he went up one side and down the other to land with a thump.

Erick stiffened against the pain while Zeth rushed to his friend's side. But Owen was on his feet, his expression savage. He rammed his boot into the stirrup, and in a moment was seated atop his horse for the first time in weeks. A grin split his face and with a yell and a whoop he let out the reins. Before anyone could stop him, he was galloping down the road toward town.