She didn't want to fight with Kit. She _liked_ him! She liked to feel his mind _en rapport_ with hers, just as she liked to dance with him; their bodies as completely in accord as were their minds. No change of step or motion, however suddenly conceived and executed or however bizarre, had ever succeeded in taking the other by surprise or in marring by a millimeter the effortless precision of their performance. She could do things with Kit that would tie any other man into knots and break half of his bones. All other men were lumps. Kit was so far ahead of any other man in existence that there was simply no comparison. If she were Kit she would give her a going-over that would ... or could even he-- At the thought she turned cold inside. He could not. Even Kit, with all his tremendous power, would hit that solid wall and bounce. Well, there was one--not a man, but an entity--who could. He might kill her, but even that would be better than to allow the continued growth within her mind of this monstrosity which she could neither control nor understand. Where was she, and where was Lyrane, and where was Arisia? Good--not too far off line. She would stop off at Arisia en route. She did so, and made her way to Mentor's quiet office on the hospital grounds. She told her story. "Fighting with Kit was bad enough," she concluded, "but when I start defying _you_, Mentor, it's high time that something was done about it. Why didn't Kit ever knock me into a spiral? Why didn't you work me over? You called Kit in, with the distinct implication that he needed more education--why didn't you pull me in here, too, and pound some intelligence into me?" "Concerning you, Christopher had definite instructions, which he obeyed. I did not touch you for the same reason that I did not ask you to come to me; neither course would have been of any use. Your mind, daughter Karen, is unique. One of its prime characteristics--the one, in fact, which is to make you an all-important player in the drama which is to come--is a yieldlessness very nearly absolute. Your mind might, just conceivably, be broken; but it cannot be bent by any imaginable external force, however applied. Thus it was inevitable from the first that nothing could be done about the untoward manifestations of this characteristic until you yourself should recognize the fact that your development was not complete. It would be idle for me to say that during adolescence you have not been more than a trifle trying. I was not speaking idly when I said that the development of you has been a tremendous task. It is with equal seriousness, however, that I now tell you that the reward is commensurate with the magnitude of the undertaking. It is impossible to express the satisfaction I feel--the fulfillment, the completion, the justification--as you children come, one by one, each in his proper time, for final instruction."