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I will orders give, that the daily summary to you delivered be." "Thank you." That was actually more than Tarlac had expected; he'd only asked because it couldn't hurt to try. "Ranger Esteban Tarlac," the First Speaker said, her English pronunciation careful. Tarlac turned to her. "Yes, my Lady?" She went on in Language, with Hovan translating. "Your Ordeal will to human tolerances scaled be.
"I don't see why I shouldn't do it, as long as it works both ways. I'd like to examine a live Traiti as much as they'd like to examine a live human." "That reasonable is. I willing am, to your subject be." Hovan called his men over, conveying Steve's assent, then stood relaxed. "I ready am."
Which fact the crew clung to as a ray of hope. Somewhere the Cargo-master must be fighting their battle. And all Van's vast store of Trade knowledge, all his knack of cutting corners and driving a shrewd bargain, enlisted on their behalf, must win them some concessions. Medic Tau came in, bringing Hovan with him. Both looked tired but triumphant.
The clan's Speaker for the Circle of Lords, Daria, waited there to introduce Tarlac to the Traiti gods. He smiled at that. He and Hovan had, inevitably, touched on religion in their discussions, and Hovan had found his agnosticism at first baffling, then amusing.
"Get your hands off me, you damn 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 assassin with a shove.
Hovan returned the two officers' bows, speaking English for Steve's benefit. "I word from Ch'kara's Mother bear, Honored Ones." "Your Mother's words we hear, Honored One," Arjen replied formally. "Ka'ruchaya Yarra's words to me: That I this man should judge. If he in honor came, and I him worthy found, Ch'kara's shelter was I to offer.
"Ruhar, I don't know enough about Traiti ways to make an intelligent choice. I'll do whatever you recommend." Hovan stopped and turned toward the green-uniformed human. "Ruhar, you do me honor. Stay, then, with me." And, gently, he touched one hand, claws fully extended, to the side of Steve's throat. His claws were to protect, not to harm, his clanmate.
And the Empire didn't even know it! The Ranger would have cursed, but not even a space-scout's inventive vocabulary could express his feelings. Not really expecting an affirmative answer, Tarlac asked, "Can they the women and children, anyway can any of them surrender?" "No word for that in Language is," Hovan said. "We the concept from humans learned. They cannot."
The girl who approached him said something, smiling, took a sip from one of the two glasses she held and handed it to him, then touched his forehead. Hovan had told him about this; it was part of the adoption. It wasn't essential, but it was a good way to let him meet his new relatives and vice versa as well as being a good excuse for a party.
He suspected that he might, when he got deeper into their culture. This business of adoption, for instance why should he have to join a clan to take their Ordeal? And why wait to find out, or anyway to learn whether he could find out? Hovan was supposed to be his teacher in such matters.
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