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Updated: June 19, 2025
Steve Lord Esteban, to give him his proper title was speaking for himself. "I am willing. Steve, ruhar, you do me great honor." "No greater than you and Ch'kara did me," Tarlac said, realizing how solemn they all were. He'd prefer a lighter mood. "But hey, this is starting to sound like a mutual admiration society. Would anyone else like some chovas?"
Tarlac took the cloak gratefully and wrapped it around his body, feeling a sense of relief. He'd adapted well enough to the in-clan nudity that under most circumstances being nude himself might not bother him too badly but this woman was the clan's religious leader, and he was still uncertain enough not to want to commit any Terran improprieties around her. "The chovas sounds good, too."
"If you will key the lock, sir?" "Right." Medart placed his hand against the door's lock-plate, keying it to his palm-print. The two entered when the door slid open; Medart immediately went to the service panel for a fresh cup of coffee. "Want some more chovas?" "No, thank you. A cup of Blue Ginger, perhaps?" "You got it."
Not in the halting fragments he'd learned from Hovan, but as easily and fluently as if he'd been speaking Imperial English! "What How " "The Lords taught you, of course." She showed no surprise at that. "But here, I brought a cloak when I sensed them calling you; I thought you would need it. And come, I will get you some hot chovas. It will warm you." "Thanks."
When he was finished, though, questions bombarded him to bring out every detail of his first day's wilderness experience as if for a skilled debriefing team. Two hours later, Hovan called a halt. "Enough! He still has half a mug of chovas we have given him no chance to drink even cold, and he is becoming hoarse."
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