We entered the Progenitor's tent, a vast, partitioned hemispherical space multicolored in a pleasing array of rugs, curtains, cushions, couches. She lay upon 1 in the golden lamplight covered by immaculate white silken sheets. Vryyh and Fion were with her. At 1 side stood the chief personal attendant and several lesser servants.
        Fion, kneeling by the Progenitor's couch, rose at once in respect to Ince and Vryyh stepped forward with her hand out in welcome and relief. Ince ignored them. She stood at the foot of the couch and studied the Progenitor coldly.
        I offered my medsens at once outlining to her my findings and my procedures to this point. I wished by that I could have erased the pain Ince had clearly caused Vryyh. Her hand dropped and her eyes darkened with the shadow of Ince's denial of her. When I finished there was silence. The rider was thinking; we waited; the servants waited, hung as much as we were upon what Ince might say.
        She glanced at me. Swift, it was; she did not want to be here; she wanted none of this. She stepped back from the couch. 

        "What do you think, rider? Is there anything I might try?"
        "I don't know," she began. Her reluctance claimed her.
        "Whatever you can think of, even if it seems slight, or improbable. There might be a connection. There might be something."
        Scowling she stared down at the Progenitor. She did not want to meet my eyes. They demanded much from her and what she did not want to give.
        Vryyh and Fion did not dare to speak or even move. Fion, uncertain, needing, looked to Vryyh repeatedly. Vryyh's eyes were set on Ince's face. All her hope was in them.
        Scowling still Ince crossed her arms. Finally she said, "Let me see the brain scan again."
        I quickly recalled it and held the medsens before her. She seemed not to want to touch it any more than the Progenitor or her couch.