He paused again, extending his arms as if to embrace them all, and, as Kranath had shown it to him, showed them their true homeworld. He explained their origins and their rescue from Terra. "So," he finished, "you are our relatives, by ancestry as Terran as I am. The Empire has known as little of this as you have, but it will; and by its laws, you're already Imperial citizens."

He felt their consternation at that, their unwillingness to believe they could be part of what they'd fought for so long. Then some began to realize the changes this revelation should bring, and he sensed their first stirrings of real hope. Satisfied with that beginning, he let his image and presence fade from all but two gathering halls, his own and D'gameh's. At D'gameh, he addressed one of the males.

"Arjen?"

The Fleet-Captain, wearing brilliant blue-and-gold robes in-clan, bowed deeply. To be name-called by such a one--! "Yes, Lord. How may I serve you?"

Lord. Tarlac shrugged inwardly; it was his t.i.tle now. "You did a pretty nasty job for the Circle when you picked me up the way you did, and I know how badly it upset you. We appreciate it, and I'd like to ask something else of you that may make up for it, a little. May I?"

"Of course, Lord." This time it was Arjen who didn't know what was going on but couldn't refuse.

"It'll mean cutting your leave short, I'm afraid. I'd like you to have the Hermnaen ready for takeoff tomorrow morning, with just the ship crew, no combat troops. You'll be carrying the human prisoners instead, plus the Supreme, the First Speaker, my sponsor Hovan, and myself."

"You, Lord?" Arjen knew he shouldn't question a G.o.d, but why would one want to travel by ship?

Tarlac understood Arjen's question. "I could transfer myself--or all of us, for that matter--but humans aren't as ready for open divine intervention as Traiti. I'd rather let things seem as normal as possible. Can you arrange for the ship?"

"Of course, Lord. We will be ready at daybreak."

"Thanks." Tarlac returned fully to his mortal body at the Ch'kara clanhome. Arjen's pride in the a.s.signment pleased him; it would ease the Fleet-Captain's lingering discomfort at having violated the body-return signal, even by the First Speaker's--the Lords'--orders.

Many in D'gameh shared his uneasiness, and calling Arjen by name would repair the reserve Tarlac had sensed toward him there.

Ch'kara's gathering hall was beginning to empty, his n'ruhar responding to his desire for normality. Finally only a small group remained at the base of the dais: the First Speaker and Supreme; the two physicians, Channath and Jason; and Daria, Hovan, and Yarra.

Jason, the only human, was also the only one who couldn't quite seem to accept the human Ranger's new status. Tarlac appreciated the irony and was amused by it, but it didn't really matter. "Doctor," he said, "I need your professional opinion. Are the prisoners fit to travel?"

The doctor was a professional; his expression hardened. "No, sir, though I can only speak for those held in the same camp with me--"

"That is all of them," the Supreme broke in.

"Okay. Go on, Doctor."

"Yes, sir." Dr. Jason began ticking off objections on his fingers.

"We've had marriages, so we've had pregnancies; one's near term, and transition might put her into premature labor. Then there are a couple of new ones, wounded, still on life support, and one the Sharks tortured for information. There are maybe half a dozen others with minor injuries or illness, nothing serious."

He shook his head. "Once the Sharks figure they've gotten all they can from someone, we get medical care the equal of anything the Empire could provide--especially the women." His admiration, however grudging, was obvious. "They're as good at trauma as I've ever seen, and a lot better at gynecology and obstetrics. My wife says she wants a Traiti doctor if she ever gets pregnant. d.a.m.ned if I know why they're so good."

Tarlac seized that chance to find out how an ordinary Imperial citizen would react to the Traiti s.e.xual imbalance. "I guess you've never seen a Traiti clan instead of their military, have you? Until now?"

"Sir?" Jason looked puzzled, then shook his head. "No, sir, I haven't. Why?"

"How many women would you say Ch'kara has? It's typical."

"I didn't see many, sir, maybe a quarter of the ones here. Guess not even Shark women like seeing someone get hurt."

"He was the Ordeal taking," Yarra said in English. "All who could here be, him to honor, were. You the right percentage saw."

Dr. Jason understood the implications at once. "Jesus H. Christ!

They've got to be good with women, then--and childcare, too. But what about my patients?"

"Only four who aren't fit to travel," Tarlac said thoughtfully. "No real problem, then; I can give them support, though it won't be obvious. Take them along, in the Hermnaen's sickbay."

"If you can do that, sir, why can't you heal them?"

"I could, but I'm not going to. You heard what I said about keeping things as normal as possible. If I healed them, I'd be expected to heal others, and it would escalate from there. I'll give them the same chance they'd have if they weren't being moved, no more."

Tarlac didn't like that, but what he'd said was true. G.o.dhome had been right when it told Kranath that refraining from action was often harder than taking it--and that too much intervention would harm, not help, even when it meant allowing suffering and death he could stop by an act of will. He sensed Dr. Jason's resentment at what seemed like callousness, and knew the man simply didn't have the scope to understand. "My word as a Ranger, Doctor. If I do more than the absolute minimum to help your patients, in the long run it could destroy the Empire. And that I will not risk."

"I can't argue, sir," Dr. Jason said grimly. "May I be dismissed to prepare them for the trip?"

"In a moment, Doctor. You're free to tell the prisoners anything you think appropriate about what you've seen here, though I doubt you'll find much belief if you mention my death and return."

Jason shook his head. "I'm not sure I believe that myself, sir, and I was here. I'll just say you pa.s.sed the Ordeal and we're going to Terra."

Tarlac smiled. "Good. That should satisfy them." He turned to the Supreme. "If you'll provide escorts and transportation?"

"Done, Lord," the Supreme said promptly. "They will be at the Hermnaen by daybreak, as the First Speaker and I will. By your leave, then?"

Both rulers bowed formally and held that att.i.tude.

"Granted," Tarlac said. As they straightened, preparing to leave, he turned back to Jason. "Dismissed, Doctor."

When the out-clan visitors had left the gathering hall and Channath had excused herself, Tarlac very deliberately went to Hovan and put his arms around his sponsor, his head on the ma.s.sive chest. Hovan tensed at the touch, and Tarlac realized the Traiti couldn't help himself.

Tarlac backed off, looking up. This time he had to relax Hovan. "Am I in-clan or not?" he demanded. "I still have today and tonight to be myself, here. If you can't accept me any longer, say so, and I'll meet you aboard ship."

"Lord--"

"Hovan, help me. I've been hurt--h.e.l.l, I've died--and I'm still shaky.

I'm not used to my powers yet, and it takes most of what I can do to reanimate this corpse." That was true enough; Tarlac simply didn't mention that the other Lords would add their power to his if he needed it.

He knew it was a shock for the clan to lose someone in the Ordeal, and only Ch'kara had ever lost a member to the Scarring and had him reappear as a Lord. And he was newly adopted and an alien; it was the clan that needed to be helped most, and calling on it for support would, paradoxically, let it recover most quickly. Yet he knew it was his plea for help, nothing more abstract, that moved Hovan. The Traiti finally embraced him. "You are in-clan, ruhar. Never doubt that. But may I ask why you want me to go?"

His cheek pressed against gray skin, smelling its tension-sharp odor, Tarlac said, "Yes. Partly because I need you, partly because you'll have to translate for the Supreme and First Speaker--Lord Carle gave you an advanced course in English, so your grammar wouldn't cause any misunderstandings--and partly because I plan to recommend that the Empire integrate your Fleet into the Navy and Marines. If you're willing, I'd like to start that by commissioning you myself, before I leave this body for good."

Hovan, absently stroking Steve's hair, looked at his Ka'ruchaya and the clan's Speaker. Yarra nodded approval; Daria, smiling, made a gesture of negation as if to say, "I am not needed to Speak here."

That was true enough, Hovan thought. Steve--Lord Esteban, to give him his proper t.i.tle--was speaking for himself. "I am willing. Steve, ruhar, you do me great honor."

"No greater than you and Ch'kara did me," Tarlac said, realizing how solemn they all were. He'd prefer a lighter mood. "But hey, this is starting to sound like a mutual admiration society. Would anyone else like some chovas?"

The four adjourned to a small dining hall, to find themselves antic.i.p.ated. Four mugs of the steaming beverage waited for them, and they drank silently.

For the rest of the day, Tarlac was given the un.o.btrusive but unmistakable support that his n'ruhar needed to give--and it helped them moderate awe to the acceptance, casual but touched with deep respect, they held for the other Lords. By evening, their emotions were subsiding to a certain permanent pride that Ch'kara had given a Lord to the Circle. It helped Tarlac, as well. He'd grown pleasantly accustomed to the clan's support and closeness--its love--and he'd regretted the loss of it that seemed inevitable. He came to realize, however, that as long as Ch'kara existed he would have its love, giving him a peace he could never have imagined before attaining his new maturity.

That night, while his body was surrounded by sleeping n'ruhar, Tarlac took advantage of his new powers to explore. Having the freedom of the galaxy was exhilarating, far better than the suit-enclosed EVA he'd enjoyed before. No helmet blocked his view, and if he wanted to, he could perceive the entirety of what surrounded him. He reveled in it, swooping from system to system, observing for himself what Kranath and the others had told him.

He understood the cloudcats and their psionic survival aids perfectly now; he repaired a minor fault in one, though it wasn't yet necessary, for the sheer pleasure of using his new skills.

He looked in on a young Irschchan student, graceful as her feline forebears, with no idea yet of the service she would soon do the Empire and her homeworld alike; he wished her well.