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reamble

it was absolutely shattering. Steve simply could not accept the idea

that the brilliant career he had mapped out for himself since the age

of five was about to end with his transfer to the A-Levels.

Sitting there with his head in his hands, he consoled himself with the

thought that his future had looked equally bleak as he'd lain trapped

in the wreckage of his Skyhawk in the middle of a burning cropfield.

And again when Motor-Head, the paramount warrior of the M'Calls, had

confronted him on the bluff as he was preparing to escape. He had to

believe it would all come right. It would somehow. Christo - it had

to! Three years in the A-Levels before his first grading review. He

couldn't bear the idea of being down there three hours!

Steve stood up and paced around the room, trying to figure a way out of

the jam he was in. First there was the problem of the statement he'd

made to the Assessors.

Despite the President's opening assurances about maintaining a spirit

of enquiry, the Board had not been prepared to listen to any opinions

about the Mutes that did not accord with the official attitude on the

subject.

He could still not get over the way he had not been allowed to even

mention the Talisman Prophecy. In view of the Board's blind prejudice,

maybe that was just as well. The mere mention of earth magic,

summoners and seers would have had them popping their rivets. Chisum

might believe that the First Family were doing their best but what had

happened was a prime example of their cynical suppression of the

truth.

By erasing all mention of the Prophecy from the record and allowing no

discussion of it, the dark-haired President had proved what Steve had

suspected for some time. The First Family believed in Mute magic - and

yet any public discussion of even the idea was a Code One offence! The

First Family knew it was true - and yet they were still sending guys to

the wall! It was crazy...

Steve had seen proof of the Mutes' magical powers on at least two

separate occasions, maybe more. He could have told the dark-haired

lady in the high-backed chair if she'd been prepared to listen. Just

as he could have told her of Mr Snow's gloriously quirky character,

Cadillac's almost superhuman intelligence, and Clearwater's flawless

beauty. Not to mention the depth of her mind and the powers at her

command.

These three were not only human, they possessed an extra dimension that

the dark-haired President and the Board were quite incapable of

recognising- an awareness of the world, and the mysterious forces at

work within it, of the great destiny of the Plainfolk under the

leadership of the mysterious Talisman; the Thrice-Gifted One who had

not yet manifested his presence. These were things which Steve himself

had only just begun, with great difficulty - and considerable

reluctance - to accept and to attempt to understand. It was difficult

because jawareness' as a word-concept did not feature in the

Federation's dictionary- at least not at the level Steve had access

to.

It had sprung fully-formed into his mind while in captivity and had

left him troubled and confused. His Tracker psyche had felt as if it

was being torn in two.

Mutes, Steve had discovered, cherished some batty notions and lived by

rules which they regarded as inviolate, but they were at least prepared

to listen to new ideas. Most Trackers on the other hand - as the Board

of Assessors had recently demonstrated - suffered from tunnel-vision.

Maybe it came from living underground.

But why should it be so? Everyone in the Federation, including Steve,

had been raised to believe that the First Family was the source of all

wisdom, all knowledge. They knew everything. How could they deny for

centuries what Steve, in five short months, had discovered to be

true?

What did they hope to gain by sticking their heads in the sand?

Chisum walked into the ward just after 1900 hours.

Steve sat up and swung his feet down off the bed. 'Hi.

You through for the day?"

'Yeah,' said Chisum. 'How'd you make out?"

Steve told him.

Chisum listened sombrely, then sucked in his breath.

'Sounds like you got a rough deal, good buddie." He patted Steve on

the shoulder then walked over to a swivel chair. Apart from the beds

and a small table,.it was the only place to sit. Chisum thrust his

hands in his pockets and slumped down in the chair, feet wide apart.

'Yep...

The only way to get through times like this is to believe it's all for