Fearful Symmetry: A Terran Empire novel

  Chapter VII

  For a moment, Tarlac felt strange back in his own body. He moved hisshoulders, trying to readjust almost as if he were trying to get a newshirt to fit properly. What he'd just experienced hadn't been a dream,he was certain. Four thousand Homeworld years ago, it had happened.

  The facts were enough to stagger him. He wasn't sure what he was to doabout them, or about his Vision, though he was positive that it wouldbe essential. The Lords only intervened when it was vital.

  He wondered briefly if Hovan had been granted a Vision, and if so whatit had been, then he decided it didn't matter. Rubbing sleep out ofhis eyes, he sat up and began munching on a cold salvis root.

  He was only marginally aware of something white at the edge of hisvision, until the something said, politely, "Yerroo?"

  "What the--!" Tarlac exclaimed, dropping his breakfast and turning.

  Then he smiled, recognizing a cloudcat's distinctive soft, thick furand graceful shape. He guessed that it was one of those who'd beencaptured; an animal's cage wouldn't hold an unwilling cloudcat. "Ifyou're hungry, I've still got some salvis from last night."

  The big cat rose and padded over to sit across the coals from him,extending the two forked tongues that were its speech, as well as itsmanipulative, organs. "I have eaten well since my escape," it said,gesturing with them, "but I thank you. You handle yourself well in thewoods, for a human."

  "You're the one who's been following me, then?"

  "I am."

  "Why?"

  The tongues twitched in amusement. "Our well-known curiosity. Humansfascinate me--and I have traveled with you before, Ranger EstebanTarlac. Do you not recognize me?"

  Tarlac looked more closely at his visitor, and nodded. "Longclaw,isn't it? You were reported dead, shortly after that trip. I'm gladit wasn't true. But why not show yourself before?"

  "What you were doing was clear; to interfere would not be proper. Icame out only to greet you and wish you well."

  "I appreciate it. After last night, I can use a little normality. Uh,the Traiti know now that you're intelligent. I told them."

  "Unfortunate." Longclaw gestured a laugh. "I have rather enjoyedfrightening those who came here thinking me a wild animal or worse. Ibelieve I have a reputation as a ghost derybach."

  Tarlac chuckled. "Sorry I spoiled your fun. Maybe I'll see you againlater, but right now I have to get moving."

  "Go with your gods, Ranger." With that, Longclaw rose and was gone, aflash of white vanishing into the trees.

  Tarlac rose more slowly, buried his coals, and went through his morningroutine. Longclaw's visit had brought him back fully to the present,and he was anxious to get back to the clanhome and finish the Ordeal.

  About two hours' walk later the woods began thinning out, and thestream started veering west. That was a good sign, and Tarlac had toresist a temptation to run; walking would be faster than runninghimself to collapse and having to recover. He had a momentarysensation of disorientation: In Kranath's time, this had all beenwooded, but when the capital had been established atop Godhome, much ofthe surrounding area had been turned into parks and farmland.

  Godhome. His thoughts turned back to the psionic computer which hadbeen beneath him for the last ten kilometers. A computer in the shapeof a cube, damn near forty klicks on a side. He could no longercomprehend it as he had been able to do in his Vision, but he couldstill appreciate it, marveling at both the computer and the beings whohad created it.

  Despite everything they'd done and all the powers they had, those whowent before weren't gods in any spiritual sense. Like theirsuccessors, the Circle of Lords, they were something Tarlac found moreunderstandable: beings who weren't supernatural, but who had achievedtheir full potential. That, as far as the Ranger was concerned, wasseveral orders of magnitude more acceptable than some immaterial,spiritual essence that demanded worship and obedience on pain ofeternal torment.

  Those who went before had demanded nothing, not even belief in theirexistence, and neither did the Lords. They accepted the reverence theywere given, not because they wanted it, but because it was stillnecessary to those who gave it.

  Kranath had thought of himself as a parent. Tarlac's experience ledhim to see the Lord more as a sort of super-powered Ranger. Parents,Rangers, Lords . . . ideally, all served the same function of guardian,using their various powers to help. Oh, sure, a Ranger could executerebels and create nobility, instead of spanking a kid or giving him apuppy, and the Lords operated on an even larger scale--but it was thesame principle. And wasn't a kid with a puppy yet another example ofthat principle?

  The realization of something so basic it had never occurred to himbefore, as he walked in the warmth of Homeworld's sun, seemed fittingto him. He'd been Kranath, he'd been Godhome; now he was Steve Tarlacagain. Only Steve Tarlac, he thought with a silent laugh, but he'dfound at least part of the answer he needed to bring peace if hesurvived. He knew he'd been shown only as much of Kranath's story ashe could understand and use--but he had the key, and that knowledge wasenough to make this last bit of his hike a pleasant stroll, untroubledfor the moment by the urgent need to end his two peoples' war. Hewould do it when the time was right.

  Perhaps five kilometers out of the capital, Tarlac came to a road andturned onto it gladly. As on Terra or Irschcha, it was simply a lanecleared to a low ground cover, all that was necessary for null-grav orair-cushion vehicles, and it doubled as a pedestrian walkway. Thetraffic passing three meters overhead provided occasional shade, and hegot waves and smiles from some of the drivers and passengers, which hereturned even though he couldn't extend claws in emphasis as they did.

  It wasn't long before one of Ch'kara's cream-and-green cars, alsoheaded for town, dropped to hover at shoulder level beside him. Thedriver, whose name he couldn't remember, opened a window and stuck hishead out. "Steve, ruhar!"

  "Yeah, I made it!"

  "I will call ahead. Cor'naya Hovan said to expect you."

  Tarlac hadn't known the vehicles were equipped with comsets, but itwasn't too surprising. "Thanks, ruhar."

  "My honor," the other replied, turning his attention to the controlpanel.

  Less than half a kilometer later, a dozen more Ch'kara cars had come toescort him, holding at shoulder height like the first and moving at hiswalking speed. He hadn't expected that, and couldn't think why not.Of course his family would come to meet him, to join him for hissuccessful return home. He had to make it to the clanhome under hisown power, but there was no reason he couldn't have company for theeasy last stretch.

  Hovan jumped from one of the cars ahead of him and waited for Tarlac toreach him. Tarlac stopped when he did, to let his sponsor inspect him.

  Steve looked remarkably good, Hovan decided, for someone who had justspent most of a tenday in the wilderness. He'd lost no more than akilo or two, and though there were some small red spots on his skin, hehad no apparent injuries. Low rawhide boots protected his feet, and hecarried two pouches and an efficient-looking, if crude, spear. "Apleasant walk, ruhar?"

  "Not bad at all," Tarlac replied. "In fact, it was a lot easier than Iexpected, after everything you said." They were out-clan; Tarlac knewbetter that to indulge the impulse that seemed so natural now, to hughis sponsor. There would be time for that, and for other things, whenthey reached home. Impatient, he started walking again.

  Hovan fell in beside him. "That seems only fair," he said, his toneamused. "You did have considerable difficulty with the first part ofthe Ordeal, the one which brings most candidates nothing but joy."

  "I wouldn't go quite that far about this excursion," Tarlac said."Those bugs were murder."

  "Bugs?" Hovan asked curiously.

  "Insects," the Ranger said with emphasis, thinking that he'd have likedto be able to use claws on this subject. "Whatever you call thosetwo-centimeter substitutes for mosquitoes. I think I'd almost rather havefaced a derybach--they only come at you one at a time, and if one ateme
for dinner I wouldn't be around to mind it afterward." He paused,assessing Hovan's reaction to the half-teasing complaint. Hovan waslooking puzzled. "Those damn bugs ate on me for six days straight!And their bites itch worse than rapid-heal. You could've warned me,you know."

  "Warn you of insect bites?" Hovan shook his head. "Insect bites areno danger. What warning should I have given?"

  "Ummm. I guess none, really. You probably wouldn't even notice them,and I didn't have any repellent. But some Ter-- . . . uh, humans--canbe killed by bug bites. Allergic reactions or diseases they carry,usually."

  The Traiti was instantly serious. "Have you noticed any symptoms?"

  Tarlac chuckled. "Just the itching. Nothing to worry about."

  Hovan walked silently for a couple of minutes, more convinced than everthat Steve would be successful in the rest of the Ordeal. He wonderedwhy his human ruhar had started to say "Terran" and switched inmid-word to "human." Steve spoke informally, but he was careful of hiswords; why was he making such a distinction now?

  Tarlac had caught Hovan's look of surprise at the word change, and hada shrewd idea of his sponsor's thoughts. Well, he knew why he'd madethe switch; what he didn't know was whether he should pass thatknowledge along to the Traiti. What he'd learned in his Vision, andthe fact that it had been in a Vision--since he now knew firsthand, soto speak, how rare any intervention was--made it clear that the Traitihadn't told him of their Terran origin because none of them knew aboutit.

  It wasn't absolutely necessary to tell them, though it would simplifythings. The fact of their Terran origin would be sufficient for theEmperor, as it was for the Ranger; His Majesty could grant them byImperial Edict the citizenship that was already theirs by right ofbirth, which would save them the shock of knowledge that had come closeto paralyzing Kranath and himself both. What might it do to ordinarypeople, Traiti and human? Tarlac asked himself. Traiti reactions mighteasily be as serious as the prisoner psychosis. He just didn't knowenough, even yet, about Traiti psychology, to be able to feel anycertainty. And he was certain enough of human psychology to know thatmost wouldn't want to believe it. They might accept it, conditioned bycenturies of trust in Rangers, but that wouldn't end the war in itself.It could even make it worse.

  Still . . . while humans, as might be expected, wanted a Traitiunconditional surrender, few would feel justified in condoning--ortaking part in--the genocide such a surrender's impossibility wouldmean. If humans could be brought to understand the Traiti well enoughto know that it was impossible . . . Tarlac wanted to curse at hisfrustration, but couldn't think of anything fitting.

  Well, he was reasonably certain Hovan could handle the truth, and hetrusted his sponsor. For all practical purposes, with everyone else invehicles, the two of them were alone. Even so, he hesitated beforesaying, "Hovan?"

  "Yes, ruhar? Something disturbs you?"

  The fighter's calm was soothing. "Not quite. Say it confuses me.Cor'naya, I was granted a Vision last night, and I don't know whether Ishould make it public or not, even to you."

  Hovan managed not to show his shock. The Ordeal was supposed to be onetest at a time, and that was difficult enough--yet Steve had been givenhis Vision, and apparently his Decision as well, while he was trying tocope with simple survival. Three parts at once was more than anyoneshould be asked to endure, even by the Lords!

  When he spoke, his voice was under tight control. "If you hesitate toreveal it to your sponsor, you probably should not. You are trying tobecome Cor'naya, however; you must decide what honor demands of you."

  "Oh, hell." Tarlac didn't know what to think. He couldn't seem tofeel any real emotion, only a sort of resigned fatigue. "Last night Iwas Kranath, when he was forced to Godhome. And for a little bit I wasGodhome itself. I'm not sure what to do about what I learned then." Helooked up at his sponsor.

  Hovan ached with the man's need of support. "I cannot help you inthis," he said gently. "You know I would if it were possible, but thisis the part of the Ordeal I could not even mention to you. There isalways a Decision to test honor."

  "Part of the Ordeal's having to decide whether or not to tell yousomething that may drive insane those of you it doesn't kill outright?That's insane."

  "It is far more than is asked of most," Hovan agreed indirectly. "Ihad to decide only between honor and my own life."

  "You're here, so it must've been a setup."

  "Yes. I was angry when I found out, yet also pleased to keep my life.I learned much of myself when I thought I was to die." Hovan lookeddown at Steve, into the man's troubled eyes. "I learned that I wasstronger than I thought, ruhar, and I also learned the limits of mystrength. I could not bear the burden of the Decision you must make.That it is asked of you shows you can bear it."

  Tarlac had to smile at that. He felt himself no equal to Hovan's calmstrength, but it was reassuring to know Hovan had that kind ofconfidence in him. "I think I'd rather have that choice to make.Dammit, Hovan, I've had to order people mindprobed, others killed, andthat was bad enough. Those were criminals. How can I tell innocentpeople something that'll disturb all of them and probably kill a lot?That's genocide, as surely as what the Empire'll do if I fail."

  "Are you sure that will happen?"

  "How can I be sure? I'm a Ranger, not a god--but I know how itaffected Kranath, how it affected me. There's a chance it wouldn'thurt, I guess--Traiti might not believe me. That might cushion theshock, let 'em realize gradually that it is true." He paused, feelingthe dilemma. "Do I have the right to take that chance, though? Just afew words . . ."

  It was difficult for Hovan to remain outwardly impassive, hearing thestrain in the man's voice. Inwardly, it was impossible. By all theLords, Hovan thought angrily, this was wrong! Why should Steve begiven such terrible responsibility for a people with whom his own wereat war? Steve didn't even know what Kranath's Vision meant!

  He wasn't supposed to help in the Decision at all, not give even theslightest hint of what he thought was right, and he had no intention ofdoing so--but every youngling knew about Kranath's Vision and itssignificance; there could be no harm in telling Steve that much.

  "Steve, ruhar . . ."

  Tarlac looked up. "What is it?"

  "A story of the end times, ruhar, when all hinges on one man, for goodor ill."

  "Me. I've known that since before I landed on Homeworld. So what? Itlooks like whatever I do, Traiti die." Tarlac was being rude and knewit, but he didn't particularly care. He was too caught up in an awfulprivate vision of Ch'kara gone mad.

  Hovan spoke quietly, picking his words with care. "Yes. You haveknown for some time that you will bring peace or die in the attempt,and if you fail we also die. You chose that burden freely, and it doesyou much honor. But you have been given another burden, unasked.Kranath's Vision, it is said, brings the end of this cycle, and he whohas it will determine the next cycle, for good or ill. That is you,ruhar . . . and I am sure you will--"

  "Will what?" Tarlac interrupted bitterly. "I thought it was badenough, trying to take the Ordeal and bring peace. Now I'm supposed tostart a new era, and avoid racial insanity, too?"

  Hovan shook his head sadly. "I can say no more, Steve, except--remember always the purpose of the Ordeal."

  "Purpose. Yeah. Only I'm beginning to think there is no purpose.This whole damn thing's impossible."

  But Hovan's words roused Tarlac from his exhausted depression and madehim think, with all a Ranger's problem-solving acuteness.

  Start with one thing: Hovan had told him the Lords didn't ask theimpossible, and his experience as Kranath confirmed that. They mightask things just short of impossible, but anything they asked could bedone.

  All right. That meant there was a solution; he just had to find it.Hovan hadn't stated as a fact that Kranath's Vision would bring the endof this cycle, but that idea gave him background he needed.

  Wait a minute. It couldn't be a coincidence that the Vision and thecycle's end c
ame together--but it also couldn't be the cause-and-effectrelationship Hovan seemed to think. The cycle had already ended, tenyears ago, when the Empire and Traiti had first met. The Traiti wereno longer isolated, whatever happened.

  And he'd already accepted responsibility for determining the new cycle,by agreeing to the Ordeal. If it was death, he'd share it. If it waspeace, the Traiti would be exposed to Imperial culture, and he'd helpthem make the best synthesis they could of it and their own.

  That simplified things again, to whether or not he should tell them oftheir origin. And it brought up what had to be the real consideration.Did he have the right--was it honorable--to deny the Traiti knowledgeof their heritage? Whatever the consequences?

  Put that way, the answer was obvious. He did not.

  Hovan had given him that answer, before either of them knew thequestion, the day they'd landed on Homeworld. Tarlac rememberedasking, surprised, if the unworried-seeming civilians knew how the warwas going, and the reply was apt here too: "Such things must in honorknown be."

  Hovan repeated the phrase, and Tarlac realized he must have spokenaloud--in English, for the first time since he'd been given Language."What things?" Hovan asked, still in English.

  "That you're as much a Terran, and as such a citizen of the Empire, asI am." He took a deep breath, then went on in Language. "Kranath'sVision was . . . well, as thoroughly as Terra's been explored, I'd havesaid it was impossible. It's hard to believe archaeologists wouldmiss--" He broke off, telling himself to get to the point. "Hovan,what Kranath's Vision showed me was that the Traiti originated onTerra. Those who went before moved your ancestors here, because theywere convinced that human population pressure would overwhelm you."

  Hovan looked perplexedly at the man walking beside him. AlthoughSteve's words seemed to make sense, Hovan found them difficult toabsorb. "But the Lords . . ."

  "The Lords know, yes." Kranath did, so the others must . . . "Theycouldn't tell you, because the time wasn't right. I'm not sure it isnow, either, but that's not what has me worried." Tarlac paused."Kranath was shocked pretty badly when he found out, Hovan, and so wasI, even though he protected me from the worst of it. That's why I'mscared. As badly as it hurt us, mightn't it leave a lot of people morethan hurt, knowing they've lost their first--their true--home? Home'sso much more important to you than it is to most humans . . . I'mafraid that learning that Homeworld isn't really your home might be asdevastating for most of you as being captured."

  Hovan was silent long enough to worry the Ranger, and when he spoke atlast, Tarlac was practically holding his breath.

  "It is not a pleasant feeling," Hovan said slowly. "I can understandyour reservations, ruhar; in your place, I cannot say what I would do."

  He was silent again, for long enough to let Tarlac reflect that hemight be troubled, but he was clearly neither insane nor dying. Aftersome thought, Hovan added, "I probably would not believe it fromsomeone not of Ch'kara; I know I would not wish to believe it. Butfinding that I share such a tie with you, Steve, does not distress me."

  Tarlac managed a faint grin. "That's a help, and I appreciate it. Doyou think all of Ch'kara"--all of the Traiti?--"would feel like that?Because I am going to have to tell them. That's the only honorablething to do."

  "That is the Decision you have made?" Hovan asked formally.

  "It is."

  "Then as your sponsor, I may say that you have decided correctly."

  "Thanks, ruhar." Tarlac was still worried, but Hovan's acceptance ofhis story eased his fear. He felt relieved, almost refreshed. "Buthow to do it best is another question. I'd feel safe enough telling aSpeaker about it--"

  "Or a Cor'naya?"

  "Yes." Thinking back, Tarlac had to admit that all the n'Cor'naya he'dmet were individuals he'd trust not to panic, as Hovan had not. "ButSpeakers and n'Cor'naya aren't exactly average. It's the risk topeople like . . . oh, like Sandre and your twins. I don't like whatlearning about that loss may do to them. I guess I'll just have tohope it's not as bad as I'm afraid it will be."

  "I do not like such a risk either," Hovan said. "But since you havemade your Decision, I may advise you, if you wish."

  "I wish," Tarlac said grimly.

  "If you judge it possible, I would advise silence a little longer.Those who concern you will be able to accept such things more easilyfrom one who has earned Honor scars, as you soon will."

  Tarlac didn't feel, at the moment, like restating his conviction thathe wouldn't survive the last test of his Ordeal--but he still felt it.By his previous reasoning, though, if the Lords had trusted him withKranath's Vision, which they had, there was a good chance he'd bearound afterward to make the safest possible use of it for the Traitirace. If the Vision itself wasn't enough to accomplish that . . .

  "Hovan, I'd like to ask a favor of you, as my sponsor."

  The massive figure walking easily beside him nodded. "I believe I knowwhat."

  "Probably, as well as you know me." Tarlac felt warmth for his ruhar."If I die before I can tell this the way I should, I'd like you to doit for me. You're Cor'naya, and respected even by other n'Cor'naya."It all fitted so well that Tarlac wondered for a moment if Hovan hadbeen selected to meet him and become his sponsor, the same way hehimself had been selected to meet the Traiti. It wouldn't surprise himat all, given what he'd learned, but he didn't let himself dwell on theimplications.

  "Besides that," he went on, "if I don't make it, someone's going tohave to get a message to Emperor Davis. You, preferably, or theSupreme or First Speaker, if you think they'd be better. I'll leave aset of instructions, and a message to His Majesty, explaining what I'vefound out. As I said, since you're of Terran origin, you'reautomatically Imperial citizens; at worst, you'd be treated as lostcolonists. That'll change things, I hope enough to end the war as amisunderstanding." He grimaced. "A bad misunderstanding. It won't beeasy, but it should be possible to end it without you surrendering, andyou should be able to keep the worlds you still have."

  Hovan nodded again, somberly. "Should it become necessary, Steve, Iwill do as you wish. When I have completed my duties as a sponsor, Iwill carry your message."

  Tarlac hadn't realized until that moment, when he relaxed, how tense hehad been. "Let's get back so I can finish the Ordeal, then."

  Yarra was waiting for them, standing as before at the head of theclanhome stairs. Tarlac climbed to meet her, Hovan at his right. He'dbeen gone less than a tenth-year, so she wasn't there to extend thetraveler's greeting, and she didn't. Instead she bowed to him,formally. "Your courage and success in returning unaided bring muchhonor to the clan, ruesten. Let our thanks for that welcome you home."

  Her gesture and words were formal, but her tone held warmth and truepleasure. Tarlac returned the bow, answering with equal formality andjust as much warmth. "It is good to be home, Ka'ruchaya. Any honor Ibring the clan is no more than repayment for the honor I was given inbeing adopted."

  That response clearly pleased both Yarra and Hovan. They were onCh'kara property now, so in-clan; neither had any hesitation inembracing Steve, even before going inside. And Tarlac returned thegesture just as eagerly, able to use his full strength as they darednot.

  He took a deep breath as soon as he stepped inside the clanhome, makingno effort to hold back a glad smile. "Gods, is it good to be home! Iswear, even the air smells better here!"

  No one answered him immediately, for he was in Daria's arms then,surrounded by others waiting their turns at him with very littlepatience. "It always seems that way, ruhar," Daria finally said,handing him bodily to Channath.

  That was how everyone welcomed him back, passing him from one toanother. It wasn't at all dignified; it was totally unsuitabletreatment for any Imperial officer, much less a Ranger; word of itwould have caused scandalized talk; and Tarlac reveled unashamed inevery glorious second of his family's greeting.

  It didn't end until he'd been seated in a small dining room with athick dornya sandwic
h--he was amused at how well the word fit intoLanguage--and a mug of hot chovas. He ate, savoring the taste and thematter-of-fact thoughtfulness that had provided the meal.

  Conversation, as usual, surrounded but didn't include him while he waseating. When he was finished, though, questions bombarded him to bringout every detail of his first day's wilderness experience as if for askilled debriefing team.

  Two hours later, Hovan called a halt. "Enough! He still has half amug of chovas we have given him no chance to drink even cold, and he isbecoming hoarse."

  He paused, looking around with an expression Tarlac had never seen onhis face, almost a defiant challenge. "And you have given him nochance to tell you what must be told. He was granted Kranath's Visionlast night, and has made his Decision about the information it showedhim. Only one part remains in his Ordeal."

  His words brought a moment's silence, then a babble of astonishment anddoubt that sounded more like a human kindergarten than a group of adultTraiti.

  Doubt? Of a Cor'naya's word? Tarlac shook his head, not ready tobelieve that. Was it the speed of his Ordeal, then, which surprisedhim too? Or was it that a human had been given Kranath's Vision? Nomatter which it was, he didn't like anyone doubting Hovan.

  He stood and raised his arms in the stance that called for attention,and while he couldn't use the extended claws that made this stancedemand it, he didn't have to. His Vision had changed things. Thesepeople were his family, yes--but they were also citizens of the Empire,and he was a Ranger; he used his authority without having to thinkabout it.

  "Look, as far as I'm concerned, this whole thing is damn nearunbelievable. Maybe it's asking too much for you to believe I've hadwhat Hovan calls Kranath's Vision, or that I've made an Ordeal'sDecision so soon. But if you have to think someone's lying, don'tthink it of Hovan. He's only telling you what I told him."

  Hovan turned to him, at last understanding some part of a Ranger'sformidability. "Ruhar, you need not--"

  "Yes, I do," Tarlac interrupted. "I'm still a Ranger, until theEmperor relieves me of duty. We've got our own standards, and theyinclude taking responsibility for whatever we do--or say."

  He returned his attention to his n'ruhar and waited.

  After seconds that seemed to last forever, Yarra glanced around at hern'ruesten and said, "Es'ruesten, I do not doubt your honor, or Cor'nayaHovan's. None of us do. We believe you saw Kranath's Vision, and thatyou have made your Decision, which Hovan judges correct. What concernsus now is your endurance."

  "Endurance?" Tarlac frowned, then understood with a sinking feeling."Oh. The Scarring. I won't have the recovery time Hovan planned forme, then." The Scarring, by tradition, took place early the second dayafter the last of the other Ordeal segments--which was almost neverwilderness survival.

  Having spent most of the last several years in the controlledenvironment of his ship, Tarlac was no longer used to any exposure tothe elements. Even though his wilderness trek had been a fairly mildtest, and he was in good shape for someone who'd spent eight daysliving off the land, he was not ready for the most physically demandingpart of the Ordeal.

  "No, ruesten, it will not be easy." Yarra's evident concern gaveTarlac the impression of a worried frown, an expression few Traiticould manage physically. "It never is, even when the candidate isrested and at his full strength, which you are not." She looked pastSteve. "Speaker, do you know why his Ordeal is being compressed so?"

  Darya looked thoughtful, then shook her head. "I do not know,Ka'ruchaya. I could try to guess."

  "Guess, then."

  "It could be that his Ordeal is scaled as much as possible to humantolerances, and humans handle change more readily than we do. Also,Steve himself has mentioned often enough that he has no desire to wastetime or lives." She turned to the Ranger. "I do not ask you to speakof your Decision, since Hovan says you cannot yet do so in honor. ButI may ask, as Speaker: does it require speed of you for anotherreason?"

  Tarlac took time to think out his answer. "You might say it does,indirectly. I have to tell you all something I found out from theVision, and what it means. It'll be easier for you to hear it from aCor'naya, Hovan says. Humans would believe a Ranger, but you don'thave that kind of trust in me yet."

  "I cannot argue, ruesten," Yarra said calmly. "I do trust you, buttruly not as I trust one who has earned Honor scars."

  Tarlac traded glances with Hovan, remembering the precaution he'd takenagainst failure. It might work, it might not. He had to hold onto theFirst Speaker's promise from the Lords that his survival of the Ordealwould bring an honorable peace, and hope the death he still saw asinevitable wouldn't bring disaster.

  Hovan felt certain of Steve's survival, but had made his promisebecause it was necessary to his ruhar's state of mind. Part of asponsor's responsibility was easing any stress outside of the Ordealitself, and Steve already carried two contradictory convictions: hisneed to survive, to complete his mission, and his certainty that hewould not.

  There was nothing Hovan could do about the man's certainty of death,but he could see to it that Steve was allowed to rest. "It is early, Iknow, Ka'ruchaya, and everyone is curious--"

  "As curious as we are about any candidate's experiences," Yarra agreed."Still, I am sure further questions can wait until tomorrow."

  Tarlac gave her a grateful smile. "Thanks, Ka'ruchaya. I am prettytired, and I've been looking forward to a sleeping mat. I could use along, hot shower, too."

  The shower helped considerably, relaxing his muscles and allowingemotional tension to ease in the sheer luxury of being really clean.And his n'ruhar's presence allowed other tension to ease; he was asleepseconds after he covered himself with his light blanket.

  Sleep was dreamless, his unaware mind and body absorbing the clan'ssupport, and when he woke he felt as refreshed as though he'd slept fora week. It was still early, the wake-light not yet on, and from theothers' breathing, it appeared he was the only one who'd waked withoutit. He was content to bask in their warmth and unwilling to disturbtheir rest until, all too soon, the light did come on and it was timeto rise, time to go through the morning routine.

  When he'd showered again--it was still a pleasure--Tarlac went withHovan to first-meal, trying not to think too much about the future.He'd eat dornya meat scrambled into eggs again tomorrow, but afterwardshis destination would be the gathering hall for his Scarring, not theKa'ruchaya's office for news intercepts.

  This morning, though, he could take refuge in normalcy, looking forwardeven to reading nine days' worth of reports--a prospect that as a ruleheld no appeal for him at all.

  Accompanying Yarra and Hovan to her office, he found, not at all to hissurprise, that it was spotless. Tarlac wondered again how she managedto run a clan without her office showing it; the only trace ofpaperwork was the stack of printouts on her desk, and they were his.He glanced at her for permission, which she granted with a nod, and hepicked up the stack and took it to his usual chair.

  Stretching out his legs, Tarlac began reading. The first six reportswere routine, if not pleasant, combat and casualty reports that held nosurprises. It was the seventh day's leadoff item, inevitable thoughhe'd known it to be, that gave him a feeling of sick shock. Imperialforces had clearly reached the Traiti core worlds, because for thefirst time the report mentioned dead females and children.

  His new people had run out of places to evacuate to. Except to saythat some females had not fought, and that they and the very youngestchildren were being held aboard the flagship of the Third Fleet--RangerJasmine Wang's Emperor Yasunon--the report didn't go into detail. Itdidn't have to. Kranath's memories supplied Tarlac with more thanenough gruesome detail of what happened when a clan was fighting itslast.

  The Yasunon was currently en route to Terra, and Tarlac knew why. He'dhave done the same thing himself--get such valuable prisoners to thesafest and most secure spot in the Empire, namely to the Palace complexin Antarctica, guarded by defense satellites and the elite Pala
ce Guardof Imperial Marines. From what Daria had said, they would be all right. . . at least until the younglings no longer needed care from theadult females, when those would feel free to die, to find that releasefrom the dishonor of captivity.

  The next day's report had bad news for Tarlac personally, and for theImperial he still was. He read the brief paragraph several times,practically memorizing it. He'd known Jim by reputation since he'dbeen old enough to watch the news, and personally for fifteen years.This hurt.

  "Ranger James Medart is reported in critical condition today aboard thehospital ship Compassion, after being attacked by a wounded Traiti hewas attempting to aid. Ranger Medart is currently on full lifesupport, and Chief Medical Officer Kirov's prognosis is guarded."

  "Oh, hell, Jim!" Tarlac exploded at last, angrily. "You knew betterthan that! The Empire can't afford to lose both of us!"

  Hovan and Yarra had been talking quietly while he read; they looked up,startled, at his outburst. He returned their looks, then went throughthe motions of examining the rest of the printout.

  His pretended absorption in a document that their own news showed heldonly the one item of interest couldn't mislead his Clan Mother and hissponsor.

  "Ka'ruchaya . . ." Hovan said hesitantly.

  "I know, ruesten. The Lords burden him beyond what most are asked toendure."

  "Even more than you know, Ka'ruchaya, and it troubles me. He has noteven a youngling's strength of body, and though that can be overcome bystrength of will, which he does have . . . I do not know."

  "Nor do I," Yarra said. "It is not well to go into the Scarring atless than full strength, and his will is being sapped. I have sensedhis certainty of death, his worry for us, his anger for his friend. . . yet there is nothing we can do to ease his mind."

  "No. I have done all that tradition allows."

  "Then his fate--and ours--is in the hands of the Lords."

  Tarlac gave up his pretense of reading and looked at them. "Then let'sjust hope they know what they're doing. I didn't mean to eavesdrop,but it was a little hard to avoid."

  "Understood," Yarra said. "Ruesten, I did not mean that I lackconfidence in you--but I am concerned."

  Tarlac shrugged. "And I'm as scared--okay, as terrified--as I can bewithout throwing a screaming fit. It doesn't matter. I'm not about toquit now." He hesitated, then yielded to impulse. Rising and going toher, he put his arms around her and rested his head on her shoulder."Ka'ruchaya, I won't be the one to dishonor Ch'kara. I can't! I . . .I love you all, too much to do that."

  Yarra's arms enfolded him, feeling him as vulnerable as any newborn."We know, ruesten," she said. "We know. You have brought honor to theclan, and you will bring more. Rest now, Steve."

  After composing the message he hoped Hovan would never have to read,Tarlac found that the rest of the day went . . . smoothly. That wasthe only word he could think of. The admission of fear and love he'dmade to Yarra and Hovan wasn't something he could have done in theEmpire, and it left him feeling cleansed and strangely at ease. Herather suspected it was because he'd finally managed to take Hovan'sadvice--"Yourself be, not another's image"--at last.

  With no responsibilities until the next morning, on what was verypossibly his last day of life, Tarlac found himself at a loss. Hehadn't had nothing to do for fifteen years. He wandered around theclanhome, helping with assorted domestic chores. He played with theyounglings in the nursery, he helped load dishes into the cleaningunits, he emptied dust traps--and when he wasn't occupied, he welcomedsimply being with the n'ruhar who wanted to ask him about the Empireand his experiences in the wilderness.