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And when he awoke, renewed in body and spirit, it was in a new Queen, a ship in which hope and confidence now ruled. "Hovan's already got it!" Rip told him exultantly. "It's that poison from the little devils' claws right enough! A narcotic produces some of the affects of deep sleep. In fact it may have a medical use. He's excited about it "
The small patch of salvis yielded plenty for him, though it would have barely whetted a Traiti's appetite. Dessert came from a toli vine that was strangling a nearby soh tree orange berries that looked something like jelly beans and smelled like dirty socks. Despite Hovan's assurances, he bit into the first one cautiously.
He didn't know whether it was proper or not, but it shouldn't hurt to be polite; he gave her the respectful crossed-arm bow. It didn't. He heard approving comments, then she said one of the few things he understood: "You do me honor, ruhar," and traded drinks and touches. Tarlac had no time to reply before he had to greet the rest of what he could only think of as Hovan's immediate family.
You to us armed came, and you have honor shown; we could no less honor show." There was no way Tarlac could reply to that. He had already begun to believe that he could trust these people's honor where he'd be reluctant to trust a human's obedience to law. Hovan's calm statement only added to that conviction. Another Traiti indicated that he had a question.
"I almost did refuse, almost decided to go into the Navy instead of taking Linda's offer. I'm glad I didn't. I'd've had more security, but a lot less challenge." "Or danger?" Hovan was smiling. "Or danger," Tarlac agreed. Hovan's translation of that got a discussion going. The Ranger remained silent, listening to the commandos and enjoying the musical sounds of their speech.
He recognized a hangover, though he'd never had one this bad before; while it would end in time, he wouldn't enjoy the next few hours. Then an arm under his head and shoulders raised him and a different voice, Hovan's, said, "Drink." There was a glass at his lips; he obeyed without thought. What he drank was almost too sour to swallow, but within a few minutes he was feeling better. A little bit.
The Traiti had challenged instead of firing instantly at the invader, and the challenge, not understood, had been ignored. So the colony's guard-ship acted. "Damn! What a waste! One misunderstanding led to Oh, hell!" Tarlac stared at the deck, scarcely aware of his surroundings. When he looked up, Hovan's green eyes were appraising him. "If that you disturbs, let it not.
He wondered why his human ruhar had started to say "Terran" and switched in mid-word to "human." Steve spoke informally, but he was careful of his words; why was he making such a distinction now? Tarlac had caught Hovan's look of surprise at the word change, and had a shrewd idea of his sponsor's thoughts.
Tarlac could sense the clan both as an empathic entity and as the individuals composing it: Ka'ruchaya Yarra's joy that one of her n'ruesten had been chosen to complete the Circle, Daria's exultation and love for him and their daughter, Hovan's deep pride that it was he who had adopted and then sponsored the Ranger . . . even unformed pleasure from the youngling in Daria's body, already a part of the clan's emotional life.
He felt himself no equal to Hovan's calm strength, but it was reassuring to know Hovan had that kind of confidence in him. "I think I'd rather have that choice to make. Dammit, Hovan, I've had to order people mindprobed, others killed, and that was bad enough. Those were criminals. How can I tell innocent people something that'll disturb all of them and probably kill a lot?
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