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So did the eleven Traiti now in the grove with him, three females and seven n'Cor'naya, all of whom shared the luminance of the grove. He knew without looking that he did too, and that he was dressed as his original body was, in open-shirted uniform. He also knew by now who these people were; their images stood on the upper tier of every Traiti altar.
The Ranger was willing to bet cloudcats' antiseptics would have smelled the same, if they'd had any. The cleanliness was as characteristic as the odor, and when a Traiti in pale blue came up to Tarlac and took his arm, he didn't resist. The bleeding still hadn't stopped completely, and the medic turned to Hovan with what sounded, to the Ranger's limited experience, like an angry question.
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.
Several females and younglings came forward carrying drinks and something the Ranger had known only intellectually suddenly became an emotional reality to him. This was a family, as close and loving as any human family, and he was a part of it. Until now, no living human could testify to anything but Traiti enthusiasm and skill in battle.
Suiting up was easier with help, but he didn't care for company just then; he began the ten-minute process of donning and checking his suit alone. That the Traiti spoke Imperial English, even ungrammatically and with an accent, didn't surprise him.
Well, he knew why he'd made the switch; what he didn't know was whether he should pass that knowledge along to the Traiti. What he'd learned in his Vision, and the fact that it had been in a Vision since he now knew firsthand, so to speak, how rare any intervention was made it clear that the Traiti hadn't told him of their Terran origin because none of them knew about it.
Less than ten minutes after landing, Hovan and Tarlac and the other three members of Ch'kara who'd been at the adoption were being greeted by the driver of a large cream-and-green null-grav car. She was the first Traiti female that Tarlac, and as far as he knew, any human, had ever seen.
It had ignored a challenge, and the seeming invaders had shown a complete disregard for even their own females' safety. With that gender ratio, protection of females and young had to be the prime Traiti racial imperative.
Hovan's reply changed the medic's expression. He checked the wound, cleaned it, then held the edges together and sprayed it with something cool and gray. The Traiti version of synthiskin, probably, Tarlac thought. Afterwards the medic checked and cleaned Hovan's cut, but didn't bother with any further treatment. It looked half-healed, whether or not it was.
But it was tough by Traiti standards, and damn near impenetrable for a human, even with a knife. By the time he'd peeled off a half-dozen strips, one hand was blistered and the sun was getting low. He settled on salvis root for dinner, apprehensive about handling a plant that bore a strong outward resemblance to poison oak, but he was hungry.
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