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digger man stood up, looking nervous. "We don't like to push ourselves forward, Akmaro."

"You shouldn't have to push," said Akmaro. "How many of you here even know this man's name?" Didul started to answer, but Akmaro held up his hand. "Of course you know, Didul. But is there anyone else?"

"How would we?" replied an angel. "He spends all his time holding little meetings out in the caves and tunnels of the diggers."

"Is he the only one? Don't humans and angels also teach diggers?"

Didul spoke up. "That is hard, Father Akmaro. There's a lot of resentment of humans and angels among the former slaves. They don't feel safe. The Kept among the earth people wouldn't hurt a fly, but there are others."

"And do the diggers here feel safe among the humans and angels?" asked Akmaro.

The diggers looked back and forth with embarrassment. "Here we do, sir," said one of them, finally.

Akmaro laughed bitterly. "No wonder those who lie about what the Keeper wants have such an easy time converting people to their way of thought. What kind of example do they see among the Kept?"

They went on to other business then, bringing many matters of judgment before Akmaro, but the undertone of unease lasted through the whole meeting, and while some made an effort to cross the boundaries between the groups as the day wore on, others withdrew even further into knots of their own kind.

Finally it was evening, and as the evening song of angels and humans filled the air of the city of Bodika, Akmaro went to the home where Didul lived.

"Still not married?" Akmaro said. "And after all my advice."

"Twenty is still young," said Didul.

Akmaro looked him in the eye. "There's something you're not saying."

Didul smiled sadly. "There are many things that men and women do not say, because to say them would only bring unhappiness."

Akmaro patted his shoulder. "That's true enough. But sometimes people torment themselves needlessly, fearing that if they speak the truth other people would suffer, when in fact the truth would set them free."

"I might tell you," said Didul. "I dream of telling you."

"Well, then."

"Not true dreams, Father Akmaro. Just. ...dreams." He looked very uncomfortable.

"What's for supper?" said Akmaro. "I'm famished. Talking wears me out and leaves me empty."

"I have flatcakes. Or rather we can fry some up. Let me get the fire going by the cookstone."

"Didul, the rule is for priests to work for their living, not for them to live in dire poverty. A cookstone!"

"It's all I need," said Didul. "And besides, I do my labor... well, I don't own land. I gave it to the diggers who had once been slaves on it. I didn't want to live from rents."

"Gave it to them! Couldn't you at least have sold it to them, letting them pay a little each year and-"

"It was a gift to me," said Didul. "I didn't earn it, and they were the ones who had labored on it for all their lives, some of them."

"Well, how do you earn your miserable little flatcakes?" asked Akmaro.

"I have beans, too, and good spices, and fresh vegetables and fruit all year."

"And how does this happen? Please don't tell me that you're accepting gifts from the people you teach. That's forbidden, no matter how sincerely willing the people are to give them."

"No, no!" Didul protested. "I would never-no! I hire myself out. I do day labor for the people who would have been my tenants. And others, now. My reach is longer than any digger or angel. I'm good with a scythe, and I plow a straight furrow, and no one chops down a tree and dresses the wood more skillfully than I do. Even the ones who refuse to accept my teachings hire me when they need a tree felled."

"A day laborer," said Akmaro. "Day laborers are the poorest of the poor."

"Is there anything wrong with that?" said Didul.

"Not at all," said Akmaro. "You make me ashamed of my rents."

"What I choose for myself isn't a law for anyone else," said Didul. He got out the fine-ground maizemeal and began to mix it with water and a pinch of salt.

"But when you speak, diggers and angels listen to you, I'll wager," said Akma. He helped Didul form the balls of dough and flatten them.

Didul shrugged. "Some do. Most do."

"Is it as bad as the meeting today made it look?" asked Akmaro.

"Worse."

"I don't want to use the force of law to compel compliance," said Akmaro.

"It wouldn't work anyway," said Didul. "Law can