And more than their presence here drew comment. Two of the aliens were armed, in the Imperial Presence! Normally only Rangers and Life n.o.bles had that privilege, and seeing enemies so honored brought angry murmurs, even after the tapes all present had seen of Tarlac's account of the Ordeal, of Kranath's Vision.

Tarlac heard the murmurs and smiled. If they thought this was bad, just wait! His plans were going smoothly; if the emotional currents he sensed continued, it was likely that soon these courtiers would be glad for the Traiti's arms.

Hovan was beginning to feel uneasy as he followed Steve down the red carpet toward the Throne, and he wasn't quite able to place the reason.

It wasn't the humans' anger; Steve had warned them to expect that at first. And it wasn't the strangeness of being on Terra, or even in the Palace's Throne Room. This, despite its size and splendor, bore a strong similarity to a gathering hall, even though its dais supported the Throne instead of an altar. This place felt out-clan, nothing more sinister. His unease was due to something else, something his combat-honed senses insisted was like walking into an ambush. He sighed inwardly. If there was going to be trouble, why hadn't Steve said anything?

But Steve was a Lord now, he reminded himself, and it was axiomatic that Lords did things their own ways for their own reasons. All he could do was remain alert, prepared to take any action that might seem necessary.

As they neared the Throne, Hovan found himself more impressed than he'd thought he would be. Twin columns of swirling silver flanked Emperor Charles Davis where he sat in the rather plain, high-backed wooden chair that was the Throne, on its meter-high marble dais. He wore green-and-silver robes and a silvery crown ornamented with winged stars; the scepter he held matched it. The regalia could not disguise the strain lines engraved in his face, but he was smiling slightly, and so was Crown Prince Forrest, from his place behind the Emperor's left side.

Davis gave the group a sober examination before he spoke. "Ranger Tarlac. We are pleased at your return, and at your successful completion of the Traiti Ordeal of Honor. According to Captain Willis, that means you are bringing Us the peace We wish."

"I bring a good chance for peace, Your Majesty, in the persons of the Traiti rulers and Team-Leader Hovan, who gave me the support and training I needed to survive the Ordeal." Tarlac repressed a smile at that misleading technicality. He'd survived, yes--for less than a minute.

"We welcome them to the Empire. You have learned their Language; will you act as translator for Us?"

"Of course, sir."

"Good. As you asked Us to, We have released the tapes you showed Us yesterday, so their contents are common knowledge; you need not go into those facts again."

"Thank you, sir." Tarlac turned to the Supreme and First Speaker, and translated the exchange.

"Now," Davis said, his tone even more serious, "We understand that it is a cultural problem which has brought about this civil war between the Empire and some of Our separated citizens."

"Yes, Your Majesty. Their culture and its imperatives are quite different from ours--but I'm proud to have been adopted by Clan Ch'kara and to call Hovan my brother."

Davis nodded, and focused his attention on the two rulers. "We hope to end this fratricidal conflict, which has recently, for the first time, cost you women and children We understand you can ill afford to lose.

Have you any suggestions as to how We can do that?"

Imperial usage, Hovan thought as he watched, had sounded foolish when Steve described it aboard ship, but coming from the Emperor now, it sounded both solemn and appropriate.

It was the Supreme, since this was primarily a secular matter, who answered through Tarlac. "The Ranger has told us that our Terran origin ent.i.tles us to Imperial citizenship, and that any citizen has the right to pet.i.tion the Throne."

Davis nodded. "It is a citizen's basic right, one which has prevented much injustice. We invite you to present yours."

The Supreme indicated the First Speaker. "Then, Your Majesty, we pet.i.tion life for our people. Ranger Tarlac has told you that we cannot surrender; as your troops advance, we will all die as surely as those of Clan L'sor died. It is death with honor to die in defense of the clan, but it is death for all of our race, and I do not think Your Majesty wants that any more than we want it."

"We do not," Davis said firmly, "and there is a way to prevent it.

Ranger Tarlac has told you of the Imperial policy regarding governments which already exist on inhabited planets, has he not?"

"Yes, Your Majesty. The Irschchan system is still ruled by their White Order, and the cloudcats of Ondrian have kept their own ways. Those, however, are local governments. Our civilization, like yours, is interstellar in scope."

"We consider that the principle is the same for a Sector as for a planet or a system. Do you disagree?"

"We do not, Your Majesty. We agree fully."

"Then hear Our Edict." Davis stood, raising the scepter. "We rule that the war came about because of a mutual misunderstanding between two groups of Imperial citizens, one of which was unaware of that status, and that no blame may be attached to either group.

"Further, we invite the Supreme and First Speaker to swear fealty to the Empire, that the Traiti may take their rightful place in Our Realm.

In exchange, We offer confirmation of their status as rulers of the new Traiti Sector, subject only to the restrictions that apply to all Sector Dukes."

It was the offer Lord Esteban had said would probably be made, and the Traiti had no hesitation, after his earlier briefing, about accepting it. They knelt and swore the oaths of fealty that made them Imperial n.o.bles.

"We accept your fealty," the Emperor said, "and in return pledge Our support." He touched both rulers on the shoulders with his scepter.

"Rise, my Lord Dukes."

They did, smiling when Tarlac had to use the Language term for his own status as he translated. Hovan smiled too, feeling a sense of fulfillment. Steve had done it! This was what he'd offered his life to achieve, expecting only a death he'd thought would be final. He had brought peace, peace the Traiti could accept with full honor--peace that meant life for Ch'kara, for Sandre and the twins, for Daria and the youngling she shared with Steve. Hovan knew there would be details to work out, still--details that might take years--but Steve had made that working out possible.

Then Tarlac turned to the Emperor. "Sir, I'd like to administer an oath now, with your permission. Team-Leader Hovan is a commando, an experienced officer who's come up through the ranks as all of their officers have, and in my opinion he would be an a.s.set to the Empire.

I've offered him a commission in the Marines."

"Permission granted," Davis said with a rare smile. "We would be most pleased to have one with the qualifications you told Us about yesterday in Our armed forces."

"Thank you, sir." Tarlac turned to Hovan and said quietly, "Let's do this right. You face the crowd."

Hovan did so, glancing over the brightly-dressed courtiers. His unease was stronger now, though no better defined, and he was still tense, alert for action. Something was definitely wrong here, something in the subtle readiness of a small group nearby--

Steve's voice broke into his thoughts. "Raise your right hand and repeat after me: 'I, Hovan of Clan Ch'kara, do solemnly swear . . ."

Hovan did as Steve told him. "I, Hovan of Clan Ch'kara, do solemnly swear . . . to protect and defend the Terran Empire . . . from all enemies, foreign and domestic . . . and to bear true faith and allegiance to the same. This I pledge before the Lords, by my own honor and Ch'kara's."

Tarlac lowered his hand and extended it. "Congratulations, First Lieutenant Hovan, and welcome to Imperial Service."

Hovan was reaching to take Steve's hand when his misgivings became reality. He spotted movement, a flash of light on gunmetal, and everything happened at once. Hovan was already reacting as he heard the bark of a slugthrower and saw the spurt of flame. His dagger flew for its target, a human screamed--

--and Steve was spun around and hurled to the floor by a heavy slug in the center of his back. Antic.i.p.ation and combat-sharpened reflexes let Hovan get halfway to the a.s.sa.s.sin before the Palace Guards could act.

By the time they'd surrounded the group, a snarling Hovan had the man who'd used the gun in custody, one claw-extended hand clamped on his neck and shoulder while he rammed the muzzle of his blaster against the base of the man's skull.

The human was shivering, fearful yet defiant. "Get your hands off me, you d.a.m.n Shark! And get your knife out of my shoulder!"

"You'll be patched up," the Guard Major in charge said grimly. "Long enough to take a mindprobe, anyway." He reached under his blouse for a pair of handcuffs, put them on the prisoner, and turned to his squad.

"Take this one to the medical unit, the rest straight to Security."

Hovan released the a.s.sa.s.sin with a shove. "What will be done with him?

And why would he shoot Ranger Tarlac?"

"Did you see the b.u.t.ton he was wearing?" the Major asked. At Hovan's nod, he went on. "He's a Humanity Firster. They're a bunch of fanatics and troublemakers, though we never thought anyone, even one of them, would be stupid enough to do something like this. He'll be mindprobed to learn his accomplices--and how he managed to smuggle even an old-style gun into the Palace. What he did's on record, on Security monitor tapes and probably the newscasters' gear as well. He'll be shot."

The Major paused, then smiled. "I never thought I'd say this to a Traiti, Lieutenant Hovan, but--well done. I could wish you were in my command."

"I thank you, Major. But for now I am the only one of Ch'kara, here, and I must hold my ruhar's death-watch." He remembered the wording Steve had said was correct for requests. "By your leave, sir?"

"All right, Lieutenant, go to him."

Hovan knelt beside the inert form, his only emotion curiosity. His mourning was done; Steve had died and joined the Lords days ago, and Hovan had known he couldn't remain limited to his body--but why choose to leave it this way, with the indignity of being attacked from behind?

Guards had surrounded Emperor Davis at the first sign of trouble, and he motioned them back so he could look down at the scene: Hovan kneeling over Tarlac's b.l.o.o.d.y form as medics moved in, the Supreme shielding the First Speaker with his body, the courtiers milling around in confusion. Yes, events were working out as Tarlac had predicted.

He seated himself again and called, "Cor'naya Hovan."