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the house while her mate and her son regarded her with surprise.
    â€œThey are also testing the Deski and the Rugarians.” He grinned at her. “I would like to know how I rate.”
    â€œHow can they possibly evaluate you fairly? In the first place,” she said, waving her arms about as she paced, “lots of the questions require a similar cultural background…and history and things you’ve never had a chance to study.”
    â€œSo?” Zainal reached out and stopped her mid-stride as she was going past him. “You are annoyed for me? Or with me?” he asked at his gentlest, a gleam in his yellow eyes.
    â€œWith
them
! The nerve, the consummate gall,” and she tried to struggle out of his embrace.
    â€œSometimes, Kristin Bjornsen, you protect me when I do not need it,” he said, smoothing her hair back from her face. “As you would Zane.”
    â€œNonsense,” Kris snapped, trying to push him away. “You don’t know when to be insulted. I am insulted. For you.”
    Zainal laughed and easily resisted her attempts to break free.
    â€œIt is difficult to insult an Emassi,” he said. “I think it is better for them to find out that I am very, very smart. It will solve other problems.”
    That mild remark stopped her struggling.
    â€œWhat problems?” she demanded, suspicious.
    â€œThe ones I must solve.”
    â€œWhich are?”
    â€œHow to free us…” and he gestured himself and then to her, “and your people from the Eosi.”
    â€œBut we need the Farmers’ help for that and we have no idea when we’ll have a response—if any—to that report you sent them. What are you planning, Zainal?”
    â€œThis time you, too, must wait and see,” he said, giving her a final squeeze before he released her. And she got no more out of him.
    He went off to the session with the anthropologists while she fumed and fretted as she did the household chores. She was not due for her shift until late afternoon. She couldn’t even find satisfaction in taking care of Zane, which she usually enjoyed thoroughly. She all but pounced on Zainal when he returned a few hours later.
    â€œWell?” she demanded as soon as he entered the cabin.
    His grin was a partial reassurance but she insisted on details. “They say I am very smart. At the top.”
    â€œHow could they figure that out? What did they ask? How did you reply?”
    â€œCarefully,” he said, pouring himself a cup of water. “Thirsty work.”
    Kris let out an explosive “oh” of total frustration. “You’d drive a saint to drink.”
    â€œSaint? More of that God stuff?”
    â€œWhat sort of questions?” She would not be diverted.
    â€œLogic ones which I am well able to answer. Sorrell told me that they used some of the Mensa tests? That you would know what those are?”
    Kris nodded, obliquely reassured. “And?”
    â€œI passed,” he said and then bent to lift the lid on the pot over the fire. “We eat here tonight?”
    â€œYes, it’s the stew you like. How high did you pass?”
    Zainal’s grin was malicious. “Very high. They were surprised and…” he paused to let his grin broaden, “they were respectful.”
    â€œWell, it’s about time.”
    He turned and put his arms about her, drawing her close to him so that he could look her in the eyes. “One earns respect. It is not just given.”
    â€œBut you’ve earned it twenty times over, Zainal,” she said, not quite willing to be totally placated by his proximity but letting her arms creep around his neck. “When I think of how lucky we were that you got dropped…”
    â€œI was very lucky,” he said, burrowing his head in her hair. “Very lucky.”
    They remained in that embrace, enjoying the simple pleasure of touching and being together until Zane, waking