Chapter One

The Pilgrims

When Tankar woke up, he was surprised to find the pain was gone. Bits of his flesh were red, but they were not festering. Orena still slept, so he made breakfast and then he softly called her name.

“Awake so soon? How do you feel?”

“Wonderful! What did you put on the wound? We have nothing that effective on Earth.”

“Biogenol. It’s an antibiotic, and it helps with scarring,” she explained. “In a few days, you’ll be good as new.”

“Come, let’s have breakfast.”

She muttered about the mess in the kitchenette but complimented him on his cabor tea that Stellarans drank instead of coffee.

“I need to get to work,” she said. “I took an early shift today so I can be free later.”

“What exactly do you do?” Tankar asked.

“I’m a sub-biologist at hydroponic farm 35.”

“I really don’t understand your system. Two hours isn’t much.”

“Almost everything is automated. Under some other system, many people would end up having no work at all.”

“What do people do the rest of the time?”

“Giving the collective two hours per day makes everybody feel useful. It’s just different from what you’re used to, Tankar.”

“I thought you were all individualists, keen on freedom.”

“Those two things aren’t mutually exclusive, you know.”

“Hmmm. I see. Don’t forget I’m a pariah, a leech.”

“Some day, maybe, that too will change.”

“I doubt it. Do you enjoy your line of work?”

“Oh, yes.”

“So why not keep going after your shifts end?”

“I have in the past. But I don’t really have green thumbs.” She headed out. “See you soon, Tankar!”

“This evening?”

“Maybe.”

After she left, he realized he was starting to like this strange woman, so very different from the girls he had known on Earth. He put the dishes away and ran the dusting and cleaning equipment. Tankar Holroy, lieutenant in the Guards and model housewife!

The day stretched ahead, and he had no plans. He had no books of his own and was not sure where to get any. That led him to think about Anaena. “That little bitch,” he said out loud. “She’d have had me killed if I hadn’t spotted her.”

But he did not regret not turning the woman in. The high moral standards of the Guards precluded telling tales. Back in Imperia, a well-known thief, with the reluctant help from Tankar’s peers, had hidden in the mess basement for three months. If he had been a political criminal, they would have turned him in as there was little love lost between the Guards and the Popol political enforcers. Having protected Anaena was a victory of sorts, in this quiet war she was waging against him. She now owed him, and it must really rankle her!

He checked his map and decided to go to the library at a time she would be on shift. He thought of calling Petersen in his lab, but, when he reached Bridge 8, he looked closely at a wide area he had earlier taken to be a park. The interior was the typical Tilsin maze of streets, squares, and gardens, but there were no signs, except some posters reading Pilgrim Territory. He remembered what he had read about the Pilgrims and suspected the area would be off limits.

Traveling the mobile walkways, he reached Gravitational Slide 127 that would take him to his goal, proud for once that he had not gotten lost. The slide led to a vast hall, full of atmosphere-replenishing plants. At the far end a door bore an ornate sign he recognized: the Menian ankh-styled cross he’d seen on some monasteries on Earth. The door was locked, and he accepted that he would have to turn back. Then from the corner of his eye, he spotted movement and stopped. A peephole slid open and behind it was a bearded face.

“What do you want, brother?”

“You’re a Pilgrim, sir?”

“Yes, I am.”

“I’m a foreigner, a planetary, an earthling.”

“All men are our brothers.”

“I’ve only been here for a short while. I landed by accident.”

“Come in, brother. The patriarch will be glad to get news from the mother planet.” The door swung open, and Tankar entered Pilgrim territory.

The bearded man said, “You were lucky I heard your knock, brother. I was just passing by. When our brethren from outside wish to come call, they use the communicator in advance.”

“I didn’t know that.”

“It does not matter, but if you ever wish to come back…you know how to find us.”

If the streets of the city-state were as austere as a barracks, the Pilgrims’ cloister, in its stark simplicity, recalled a monastery. The two men walked through a park where children played under the care of women in somber outfits. While Stellaran women wore outfits of precious fabrics and bright colors that often covered very little skin, these women were all in severe, dark, almost floor-length dresses.

“I mainly see children. How many people live here?”

“One thousand, six hundred thirty, brother. But aside from the guardians and men on duty, most of the adults are in temple. Today marks the birthday of our founder, the blessed Menno Simons. You will get to meet our saint patriarch, Holonas the Wise.”

“But I’m not of your faith.”

“We will not ask anything of you that might undermine your own faith. We will ask you only what has happened on Earth since we left. And we will pray for the Lord to give you light.”

Tankar refrained from shrugging. He did not wish to offend anyone. The two men approached another door featuring a huge cross festooned with rubies. The closer they got, the better Tankar could hear a hum-like sound that eventually became a hymn sung by multiple voices. The Pilgrim opened a side door and the majestic sound of the hymn greeted him.

“Come in, brother.”

He entered to find a long, high vault built like the hull of a ship. In the back, behind the altar, a cloudy spiral shone in the half darkness and, at its center, a red ankh sparkled. Rows and rows of people knelt in silent prayer.

A man stood at the altar and raised his arm in a sign of blessing. The Pilgrim bowed his head and Tankar followed suit. The man began to speak and Tankar realized he was the patriarch.

At first busily orienting himself, he did not listen to the words in interspatial. The minister was a tall silhouette against the background of stars. The temple was bare, lacking adornment save the image of a nebula behind the altar. Tankar recalled visiting churches on Earth out of curiosity. He had left in a flash feeling out of place in his uniform, a dark sacrilege in a place of light. Save for one occasion in a church in a village partly destroyed after a battle on Fomalhaut IV, he never before had observed so many people in such a deeply contemplative state.

Snippets from the sermon gradually penetrated his consciousness. The minister referred to the story of faith founder Menno Simons during the blessed time when monasteries had provided refuge. He spoke also of the persecution that followed.

“Brothers, we must never forget that we owe our survival to the Stellaran scientist-ancestors of our neighbors. More than that, they ushered in our right to follow in the steps of the Master. Yes, they have not seen the True Light, but we must humbly admit that we have not always led them to the Truth. We have no right to look down on them. They exist as natural beings, good and bad, without benefit of divine enlightenment. This may be our doing. Their sins are less important in the eyes of God than our lack of faith.”

He continued, “Those of us whose job it is to guide you cannot caution you enough against the dangers of their dream of a man-centered universe. The universe is too great for man alone, brothers. Humans hop from star to star and proudly and wrongly claim ownership. At some point, the universe must take revenge on the wretched master and crush him.

“In the gloom of their labs, humans labor to prolong their lifespans, and they’ve seen surprising success. But death claims each man without exception. We know death is but a new phase and a new birth into a better world. As an idea made flesh, we represent just one leg of the journey that will end when God decides. And on that day, we will see him in all his glory.

“The day will come, my brothers, though we know not when.” Looking away from his congregation and up at the cross, the Patriarch continued, “Oh Lord, we have sought your presence in this galaxy. We have so hoped for a signal, for the sign that says this tribulation has ended, that heaven on earth will come again. We bit into the fruit of the Tree of Knowledge before we were truly ready. We have struggled to expiate our sins. Century upon century of battles, plagues, thousands of deaths, too many of them innocents. Oh Lord, will you one day grant us forgiveness? Will you unfasten the veil of galaxies that hides your true face? Will we once again see the shining Arch of Alliance in the cosmos above?”

He paused. The Pilgrims, hunched over, continued meditating for a while. More spiritually moved than he would ever admit, Tankar remained standing behind a pillar as his guide knelt at his side. Slowly the spiral in front of the altar paled and the lights flickered. When the Pilgrims stood, the guide also stood and spoke, “Come, brother.”

They walked along the nave against the tide of Pilgrims on their way out. They entered a small bare room to the left of the altar. A very tall, gray-bearded, elderly man was putting his vestments into a wooden trunk. He turned around, and his deep-set gray eyes under thick eyebrows met Tankar’s gaze.

“Father, may I present a man from Earth.”

The old man’s face was joyful. “A man from Earth! When did you travel here?”

“Just a few days ago.” Tankar hesitated, unsure how to address the priest.

“Call me Holonas, my son, as you are not one of us. What is your name?”

“Tankar Holroy, Sir Holonas.”

“I am not a nobleman,” Holonas smiled. “So just a few days ago, you were on the mother planet. Do you know if any of our brethren have survived?”

“Yes, we still have five monasteries.”

“Thriving ones?”

“Not so much as before. The Empire is displeased with your support for the traitor-scientists.”

“So our brothers are persecuted?”

“Not precisely,” Tankar explained, “but they can’t bring in new followers, and their numbers are slowly dwindling. But they do have some sway with some nobles and Guards. The commoners have little liking, and some Christians take issue with your lot as heretics.”

“Are Christians powerful?”

“Again, among the commoners, yes. I suspect they fomented the rebellion that was raging when I left Earth.”

“Rebellion? More bloodshed, more death,” the old man sighed. “I must know of these things. Would you like to join me for a simple supper? Do come…come.”

The streets were busy, and the cheerful mood of the men and women contrasted with their severe dress.

“This is a whole new world,” Tankar wondered aloud.

“Indeed. Our contact with Stellarans is limited. They do not come to us, and we rarely leave our enclave. We do not share their customs, so we only join forces when danger looms. Of course, we contribute to everyday life on the Tilsin. We have labs and factories, watch posts and one machine room. I remain in close touch with the Teknor and some of our sages communicate with their counterparts. That is about it.”

“Don’t you ever get cabin fever?”

The old man smiled. “At times. When the city-state stops somewhere, we take our launches so we can stretch our legs on actual soil.” The two men stopped. “Please come into my home.”

The home was simple but cozy, and Tankar was surprised to see one older and one younger woman present. “Please meet my sister Ellena and my niece Iolia. Sadly, her parents were killed in an accident last year.”

Like the other women in the enclave, Iolia wore a simple brown shift. She was petite, her dark brown hair pulled into a bun. She had a clean forehead, a slender nose and a lovely mouth. But she looked at the ground rather than at the visitor.

“Ellena, our guest hails from Earth.” Tankar bowed at the older woman whose lined face hinted at great earlier beauty.

The simple meal that soon followed was delicious and eaten in silence as Tankar followed what he took to be Pilgrim custom. When he lifted his gaze from his plate, he caught Iolia staring at him. Her eyes were huge, brown with flecks of gold. She smiled shyly and bent her head again. The meal closed with prayers, which made Tankar uneasy as he had no idea what to do.

“Well, now that we have regained our strength, please tell us all the news from Earth,” Holonas began.

“There’s a great deal of news, some of it disturbing, and I’m unsure if I—”

“Iolia may be young but she knows how difficult life can be. You may speak freely,” Holonas assured him.

Tankar spoke at length, cautiously at first. But as his hosts’ empathy became more apparent, he relaxed. He spoke of the changes residents of Earth had undergone since the Great Exodus. He spoke of power concentrated in the hands of emperors and noblemen, the reach of the political police, and the loss of individual freedoms.

For any unambitious person of noble birth, life within the Empire was not too dreadful, he explained. For others – laborers, farmers, civil service types or small business owners – life was difficult. And for any champion of individual freedoms, life was untenable.

Commoners were not wretched, if one considered only material things; few went hungry or were deprived of a roof over their heads or of medical care. But these people were nothing in the big picture. Their lives did not matter. They easily could be lost to the whim of a nobleman or to a soldier’s perceived slight.

“What about learned men and priests?”

“The state keeps scientists on a short leash. They dream only of bringing down the Empire, even though it feeds and protects them. As to Christian priests, they live like commoners. Those of your faith never leave their monasteries. The practitioners of the new faith are part of the upper classes, of course.”

“And what is this new religion?”

“It’s all very complicated. We had our own version in the Guards, with similar tenets.”

“And what are those tenets?”

Tankar recited by rote: “There’s a Supreme Being that created the world for his worshipers; His incarnation made flesh, the Emperor, must rule the Empire and extend his rule throughout the cosmos; the priests are his aides, and the army is his right hand; what the Emperor agrees to is right, and what goes against him is wrong and must be crushed; those who loyally serve the Emperor will have eternal life; all others shall be ejected into the void.”

“And do you believe in all that?” Holonas queried.

“Why wouldn’t I? At least…I think I believed it. Since fate dropped me here, I’m no longer so sure.” He paused before wondering, “Is this nothing more than a test of my loyalty?”

Holonas did not reply. After thinking for a moment, Tankar went on. “However, when I left – I know it’s treason even to think like this – but the Empire was nearing its end. The rebellion had gained the upper hand almost everywhere. How can God’s emissary be vanquished? Is he not also the messenger for the divine? Then again, this may be just one more trial for me to suffer through.”

“I think you are a bit naïve, Tankar Holroy, even more so than other men of your age. You speak like a man who has never wondered about these questions.”

“Why would I have asked them? I wasn’t paid to think. I did the job I’d been trained to do. I was a soldier and a good one at that. What else could matter to me?”

“It mattered enough that you knew you were among the fortunate ones, and that others around you suffered….”

“Of course I observed the disparity, but it didn’t strike me as abnormal. Only now have I begun to wonder at it. As to my privileged status, I paid a steep price. Training to be a Stellar Guard is tough in ways you wouldn’t believe. I’m not ashamed of my privileges; I earned them.”

“What were they?”

“I received a tax-free salary, a pension at 40…if I lived that long, precedence over some noblemen when I wasn’t on call and on all of them when I was on call. There were other perks, but I don’t want to talk about them. On the downside were the inhuman training courses and the loss of family. I’ve not seen my parents since I was three years old, and I don’t know if they’re alive.” He added without emotion, “I may even have killed them myself during a riot.”

“You must have suffered so much!”

In shock, Tankar looked at the young woman who had spoken. “Suffering. I don’t think so. Had I stayed with my family I might have become a laborer or a farmer. The Guards trained me and educated me. Without that background, my world would’ve been so much smaller, unless, of course, I had been born into a technician family. But I doubt that was the case as I’ve never heard of it happening.”

“What will you do now?” Iolia asked softly.

“Who knows? For now, I’m a pariah, a planetary, an untouchable….”

The old man gently interrupted, “Why not stay with us?”

“Do you think I’d be better off here?” Tankar paused to consider that option. “In some ways, you think more like I do than those others, but that might just be the aspect you’re choosing to present to me…. How do you defend your terrain? Would you really and truly accept me? While my former faith is wavering, I don’t know if I can embrace yours.”

“We would not ask you to. All you would need to do is to accept our habits and customs.”

“I don’t know if I can do even that.”

“Well, why not come around now and again and see how you respond?” Holonas suggested. “You will always be welcome in the house of Holonas, Tankar Holroy.” The old man held out his hand, but the soldier paused before shaking it.

“The first of our customs is that we always shake hands on departure. Goodbye.”

Keen to comply, Tankar extended his hand to the young woman. She blushed, turned away, then turned back and shook his hand.

“That is not quite how we do it,” the old man said pleasantly. “You should have waited for Iolia, but it is not a big problem.”

Iolia’s grip was firm and warm. He did not wish to let go but did, bowed and took his leave. As he left, he thought, “Now let’s go taunt the she cat if she’s still at the library.”

The patriarch’s kind treatment had emboldened Tankar as he realized that the enclave might well be a place of asylum for him. He had no doubt that tough social pressure existed within the enclave, but he thought he could adapt. There would be bitter times in such a refuge, but, even as strangers, the Pilgrims treated him with a respect that contrasted with the reception he had received from the Stellarans.

Just as he entered the library he found Anaena packing up to leave. She looked startled. “Oh, it’s you. I told you not to come here while I’m on shift.”

He sat down on a table, swinging his leg in an attempt to look nonchalant. “I’m free. My A-Card allows me to do all the same things as native Stellarans. One of those things is 24/7 access to the library. And when you’re on shift, as you still are, you must serve me.”

“And what services do you yourself provide?” Her voice dripped with contempt.

“None. That’s the beauty of it all. Your people see me as a lesser being, so they haven’t asked me to work. There are jobs I could do, and they’re important ones. But as long as I’m an outcast….” He waved dismissively and sat up straight. “Now,” he said, sarcastically, “would you be so kind as to give me some novels written by the lovely Orena Valoch? And don’t try telling me you don’t have any, because I’ve already checked.”

She hissed and spat like an angry cat. “She could give them to you herself. If you wanted to read garbage like that you really didn’t need to bother me.”

“As it so happens, I need the atmosphere of a major library to fully appreciate literature,” he said coolly. “I shall be here every day. I’m told Orena has written more than 20 novels, and I’m not a fast reader.”

“Alcove 44. And my shift is over.” She spat out the words as she headed for the door.

“See you tomorrow, redheaded angel!” Tankar called after her.

Orena was in his apartment when he returned. “How did you get in?” he asked.

“All apartments have two keys. When I left I took the one you left on the bookcase.”

“You might’ve mentioned that,” Tankar muttered. He had nothing to hide but resented the intrusion on principle. I hope she doesn’t imagine that she has claims on me just because we slept together, he thought. Like most Empire men, he was used to obedient and deferential women, and he could not help thinking of Orena as an impudent courtesan. Then again, fair is fair. I was perfectly happy, as recently as yesterday, to have someone to talk to. And while some of her habits shock me, I benefit from most of them. He grinned. I need to be less hypocritical and not judge her by my cultural yardstick.

“I had an interesting day,” he told her. “I had lunch with the Pilgrims’ patriarch.”

“Ah.” She did not seem to care much.

“You never really see him, do you?”

“No. We’ve got nothing to say to them. Same for them, unless it’s Bible-thumping.”

“And his niece is lovely.” He wanted to catch her reaction.

She burst out laughing. “You men are all the same! So the Teknor’s niece isn’t enough for you? You need to chase Pilgrim girls all wrapped up in gray dresses? I really doubt you’d get anywhere with her. They have an antediluvian approach to their so-called virtue. In Anaena’s case, I don’t know what’s holding you back considering what you did for her.”

“What’s that?”

“Don’t play the fool with me, Tankar. You could’ve had her cast into space for her felony, Teknor niece or no Teknor niece. Why you didn’t is beyond me…unless you intend to use the favor.”

He reached for Orena, to pick her up. “Don’t insult me.”

“Get over yourself, caveman. If you feel insulted, the park is over there.” She nodded in the direction.

He put her down abruptly. “So, what is it? You guys spend all your free time fighting duels?”

She curled up on the sofa and smiled. “The proof’s in the pudding. I’m not going to challenge you because of what you just did. I like you, Tankar. I’m intrigued by your oddness, your fits of anger, your strength and your intelligence. If you bide your time, you’ll be accepted into our society. With the right mentor, you might do really well. It’ll be interesting to watch.”

“Like Dhulu the meropian and Thalila the brainmare?”

Orena looked pleasantly surprised. “You’ve read my book?”

“Today, at the library. I forced the redheaded minx, as you call her, to give me a copy. I had fun. Tell me – why does she dislike you so?”

“Pfft. I’m an advantist, and she’s a conservative. And anyway, how many times have you met two attractive women who like each other?”

“Couldn’t tell you as I’ve known so few women. The dynamic between men is different; we respect each other’s strengths. That’s how it is in the Guards, in any case.” He paused and slowly smiled at her. “I learned a great deal about you reading your book.”

“Ha, so you’re a shrink now. I wouldn’t always trust what you read. I need the books to sell, so I design them for the readers.”

She jumped off the sofa. “You’re boring me now. You’re as chatty as a Teknor or a Pilgrim. I’m going to cook dinner.”

He took her spot on the sofa. He was not in love with Orena, but he was grateful to her, and she was funny and had a nice body. There were more advantages than disadvantages. How it would all play out, he did not know, nor did he much care. He had no game plan. Returning to Earth was not an option, and he did not even know in which part of the universe the Tilsin was currently floating around. He would have to wait.

The days passed, one after the other. They turned into weeks and then months. Tankar spent much of his time reading a hodgepodge of novels, science and history. For some reason, every time he requested a book about the mechanics of the Tilsin, it was always on loan. Eventually, he gave up.

He went to the movies often and saw documentaries as well as features. There were films about planets the Tilsin or other city-states had visited. One love story film prompted his second duel. A short one. Some greenhorn had defied him and lay on the ground hit by two bullets, but Tankar again refused to finish him off.

Some days he watched the solar systems go past as the Tilsin ambled through normal space. The city-state rarely stopped, and murmurs had arisen among Stellarans opposed to the Teknor. Some had gone so far as to call for the Great Council to convene and demand a stop.

Almost every evening Orena was waiting for him when he returned to his apartment, so she was present on the day Pei came to visit. Tankar had not seen him since the day of the duel when the ambulance took him away. He knew that Pei had survived and returned to work. As Pei came into the apartment, Orena briefly took a step back as Tankar stood up, ready for anything. While assassinations were frowned upon, they were not unheard of among the People of the Stars. But Pei smiled and held out his hands, palms open.

“I’ve come to thank you, Tankar, for sparing my life.” Pei spoke slowly and with dignity. “For a long time, I judged your treatment of me as scornful, but when I found out you’d treated Carston the same way, I understood that it was either a learned behavior or your own generous spirit in action. Either way, I owe you a debt of gratitude as well as an apology. I freely admit that there is one planetary person who is equal to us.”

“I had no reason to destroy you, a man I respect,” Tankar replied. “Artists as skilled as you are rare within this galaxy. Your work would fetch handsome prices on Earth.”

Pei bowed. “You are too kind. The real masters are Héron from the Frank and Rodriguez from the Catalogna. Their work is far better than mine. Have you visited our museum?”

“No,” Tankar replied. “I didn’t know you had one. I didn’t see it on the map.”

“Park 19. May I escort you there tomorrow morning at nine?”

“Thank you. That would be perfect.”

Pei turned to Orena. “Are you happy?” Then he returned his attention to Tankar. “Is she still as skilled at cooking Sarnak lamir?” He walked out smiling.

Orena commented, “Poor old Pei, he likes me a lot. But, like you, he’s from a different time and place. He can’t accept that I’m a free woman.”

“I do.”

“That’s because you don’t love me…yet. I’ve been your life raft, your safe place. I don’t really matter!”

“That’s not true, Orena!” Tankar protested. “I have a great deal of affection for you.”

“Nobody said you didn’t. And I like it better that way. If you wanted to be exclusive, like Pei does, I’d leave you.”

The museum had an impressive collection of paintings, sculptures and artifacts from different worlds. Tankar was especially intrigued by the historical and ethnographic displays. The current technology room was ‘closed for repairs’.

Later the same day, the Teknor called Tankar in. Tan greeted him cheerfully, even warmly.

“First off, I’d like to thank you belatedly on Anaena’s behalf. Some Stellarans would have used the opportunity to question my loyalties. I know my niece, and I know she’ll find it difficult to thank you herself, but that’s not the reason I called you in.

“The Mpfifis have struck again – three times in fact. The Uta and the Provence II both disintegrated after a final torpedo barrage. The Bremen’s escape was a matter of sheer luck. I plead with you, again, to share the method of identifying a starship in hyperspace.”

“How many times must I say the Empire doesn’t have one?”

The Teknor stood as he grew more heated. “How can you wage war then? How can you defend your planets? What’s the point of a Stellar Guard that arrives after the damage already has been done?”

“We don’t defend our planets; we destroy our enemies’ planets.”

“And your enemies don’t pillage Earth or the Empire’s other territories? I find that very odd.” The Teknor paused and took his seat with a sigh. “As you wish, Tankar. I’m not upset at your lack of gratitude, but think about this: at this very moment, an Mpfifi city-state may be tracking us, and you’ll die right along with the rest of us.”

“Even without this tracer you think exists,” Tankar argued, “you could defend yourselves. I’ve studied Sorensen’s book, and you often have failed to make the best use of your assets.”

“You may be right,” the Teknor admitted. “Strategically speaking, we’re amateurs. We learn new things every day but now the clock is ticking. Is there any chance you might share your thinking?”

“Do you have the book handy?” The two men sat down.

“Okay. Let’s take the battle of the Donetz. This is how it was defended, but you should have done it this way.” He scratched out a battle plan. The Teknor hung on his every word.

“I see what you mean.” He nodded. “Had we done that we might have seen them off. Poor Malenkov.” He continued, “As you know, we no longer have professional soldiers. In time, we’ll pick up those skills, but, in the short term, we may pay a heavy price in terms of lives lost.” Turning to Tankar he asked, “I would like to appoint you as an instructor. Do you accept?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“I’m nothing more than Earth trash.”

“For the love of Rktel, how would you have treated one of our people who arrived out of nowhere onto your precious Earth? Of course you’re running up against prejudice. Of course it’s unpleasant. But you won’t gain acceptance by draping yourself in stubborn pride…nor will you be accepted by hanging out with Orena Valoch.

“I know that a chemist tried to befriend you, but you’ve never gone to see him. If you accept this job offer, our men will have to realize that even a planetary refugee can be a man. Will you accept?”

“No.” Tankar stood.

“So be it.” The Teknor sighed at the futility of it all, then looked up at the defiant young man. “More’s the pity, Tankar. I hope you never come to regret your decision.”