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He did not answer. He did not have to. Slowly, Jekri reached out and took his hand in hers, curling her small

fingers gently around his strong ones. Warmth and strength was in his touch, and she no longer desired ever to be without that warmth and strength.

They bowed to their Empress. She shocked Jekri by suddenly flinging her uninjured arm around Jekri's neck. Jekri felt tears on her cheek and a quick press of lips.

"Be well, Little Dagger. You will always be in my heart."

Jekri felt tears of joy start in her own eyes. She bowed again, and turned with Verrak toward the door. Toward her new life. Toward a peacefulness she had only ever tasted once before, and was eager to feast upon now with her whole heart.

The Little Dagger was finally free.

The day dawned gray and wet, as if it wished to help put out the last few smoking embers. The inhabitants of Sumar-ka stumbled around in a daze, unable to truly comprehend the depth of what had happened. A few huts still remained, and for whatever reason-luck, perhaps-loni and her followers had ignored the most important building of all, the one in which dried meats, grains, and vegetables were stored for a time of need.

Now was a time of need.

Once they had apprehended all the rogues from the Recovery team, Ezbai had summoned assistance. There was no point in not doing so. Obviously, the Culilann had seen too much already. Any hope of pretending that there was not Alilann intervention in their way of life had been shattered beyond repair.

Soliss and the Alilann doctor had worked together to treat the injured. Paris and Chakotay had refused assistance in deference to the more gravely wounded, and Paris was now regretting that. He felt weak as the proverbial kitten up a tree-or was that mixing metaphors? His head was so fuzzy he wasn't sure.

There had been anger, and fear, and sobbing and curses earlier. Now, everyone was spent. They were cold and wet and in shock from the events of the night before.

Trima sat with Paris as he leaned back against the charred trunk of an old tree.

"Things must change," she said.

"Yes," he agreed, looking over the black, soggy remains of what had once been a village. He couldn't believe no one had been killed other than loni, the ringleader. Trima's timely action had saved perhaps everyone in Sumar-ka, but the way the villagers looked at her, you wouldn't know it.

He knew that this was what was troubling Trima. "You did what you had to do," Paris told her. "If you hadn't contacted me, fired the phaser-"

"I know," she said, sharply. Her voice was tight. "But I still have lost everything. Look at them. They hate me. They think I brought this upon them."

From where she sat a few feet away from them, stubbornly refusing to be treated even by her own mate, Yurula stared at them. Her eyes looked like cold pebbles in her pale face. Even Tom felt the hatred in that gaze. This was a woman who had helped him when he was ill, had translated a ceremony for him so he wouldn't feel left out. And yet, with the cold loathing so plainly on her face, Tom felt as if he didn't know her at all.

"Everyone knows now." She hugged her knees into her chest like a little girl. "They know I've been lying to them, they know their gods aren't real, they know I've betrayed them."

"I know nothing of the sort," said Soliss, startling them both. He looked exhausted and was covered in blood and black soot "I know that you have been responsible for seeing that our children have found loving homes rather than dying. Maybe the Crafters don't come right down to the mountain, but maybe they are working through you. I know that you've helped Strangers find their way home. And you can't have feigned your sincerity with the rituals, Trima. You can't"

Trima looked up at him. Tom felt hope rising inside him. Tears welled in Trima's eyes and spilled down her face, two clean streaks in the soot and sweat "I hated lying