The Scientist reached for the Grad's reader and one of his own cassettes. "I think I remember . .

CHECKER. Officer entrusted with seeing to it that one or a group of citizens remains loyal to the State. The Checker's responsibility includes the actions, attitudes, and well-being of his charges. The Checker aboard Discipline was the recording of Sharls Davis Kendy in the ship's master computer.

"This is strictly starman stufl' Hmp. The State . . . it took me four days to read the insert on the State. Have you seen it?"

"Yes. Strange people. I did get the feeling that they lived longer than we do."

Kiance snorted. "Your Scientist never tumbled to that? They had shorter years. They used one whole circle of their sun for their year. We only use half a circle, but it's still about seven-fifths of a State year. The truth is, we live a little longer than they do, and grow up more slowly too."

To hear his teacher so slighted set the Grad's ears burning. He barely heard Klance add, "All right, Jeffer, from now on you must think of me as your Checker."

"Yes, Scientist."

"Call me Klance. How do you feel?"

The Grad answered with careful half-truth. "I'm clean, fed, rested, and safe. I'd feel even better if I knew the rest of Quinn Tribe was all right."

"They'll get showers and food and drink and clothing. Their children

may become citizens. The same goes for you, Jeffer, whether or not I keep you here; but I think you'd be bored in the tuft."

"So do I, Klance."

"Fine. For the time being I have two apprentices."

Lawn exploded. "It's unheard of for a freshly claimed copsik to be at the Citadel at all! Won't the Navy-"

"The Navy can feed the tree. The Citadel is mine."

Chapter Fifteen - London Tree

GAVVING WAS ON THE BICYCLE WITH THREE OTHER COPSIKS.

There wasn't tide enough to pull him against the pedals. Straps ran from the belt around his waist to the bicycle frame. Forcing his legs down against the pedals pushed him up against the belt. After the first session he'd thought he was crippled for life. The endless passage of days had toughened him; his legs no longer hurt, and the muscles were hard to the touch.

The bicycle gears were of old metal. They squealed as they moved and gave forth a scent of old animal grease. The frame was massive, of cut wood. There had been six sets of gears once; Gavving could see where two had been ripped out.

The frame was anchored to the trunk where the tuft grew thin. Foliage grew around the copsiks. Surrounded by sky, with most of the tuft below them, they could still snatch and eat a handful while pedaling. They worked naked, with sweat pooling on their faces and in their armpits.

High up along the trunk, a wooden box descended slowly. A similar box had risen almost out of sight.