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Ordeal poison did make blood flow more freely, yes, and let wounds bleed more than was normal, yet even now, when its effects should be starting to wear off Hovan felt a stab of dismay. Humans bled so much more easily than Traiti did to begin with, and Steve had needed medical help after the blood exchange had Channath allowed enough for human differences in calculating Steve's dosage?
They didn't now, Hovan had told him, and they hadn't since the Supreme Lord of the Circle, Kranath of St'nar, became the first of the new gods. The old gods, he explained, the ones the Traiti called "those who went before," had left Godhome as . . . something. Nobody except the Speakers had any real idea about its purpose, and they were saying nothing until the twelfth Lord completed the Circle.
"Your Majesty, if this succeeds, all of us will be working for the interests of both races combined." A driving surge of hope erased some of the Emperor's fatigue. "What do you want me to do?" The next morning, as promised, the Supreme and First Speaker met Tarlac and Hovan at the Hermnaen's loading ramp.
Dane, by chance, had chosen better support than he had guessed. "Pro Bono Publico " Hovan invoked the battle cry of his own Service. "For the Public Good " "A plague ship " the officer was beginning. Hovan waved that aside impatiently. "Nonsense!" His voice scaled up across the field. "There is no plague aboard. I am willing to certify that before the Council.
Tempers of Police and Patrol were not going to be improved by fighting their way around or over the obstacles the Traders had arranged to delay them. If they caught up to the outlaws before the latter had their chance for an impartial hearing, the result was not going to be a happy one as far as the Queen's men were concerned. Ali appeared in the doorway. "Bring Hovan in here."
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 massive 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.
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.
Perhaps that meant the Ranger was tougher than he looked, and had a better chance in the Ordeal than was generally believed. Hovan hoped so, since he found himself beginning to like the frail-seeming human who would soon be his ruhar. He was glad, now, that he had never voiced his private doubts about Ka'ruchaya Yarra's decision to offer adoption to an alien and enemy.
One of the first things he noticed was that Hovan was no longer in uniform; instead, he wore civilian clothes, a silvery open shirt with bright blue trousers and quilted mid-calf boots. A chain fastened his knife to the sash that belted his trousers. He'd brought similar clothing for the Ranger, in red and gold. Tarlac put it on, seeing immediately that his badge was already pinned to the shirt.
They were out-clan; Tarlac knew better that to indulge the impulse that seemed so natural now, to hug his sponsor. There would be time for that, and for other things, when they reached home. Impatient, he started walking again. Hovan fell in beside him. "That seems only fair," he said, his tone amused.
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