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Updated: May 11, 2025
They accepted the reverence they were given, not because they wanted it, but because it was still necessary to those who gave it. Kranath had thought of himself as a parent. Tarlac's experience led him to see the Lord more as a sort of super-powered Ranger. Parents, Rangers, Lords . . . ideally, all served the same function of guardian, using their various powers to help.
And, with no fuss at all, Kranath was wearing a loose vest, open to show his Honor scars, and loose soft trousers secured by a sash that also held his dagger. Then, still with no fuss, an opening appeared in the wall before him. "I have prepared food and drink," the computer said. "Will you eat?" Kranath dimly remembered that Godhome had mentioned hunger earlier.
Kranath suddenly recalled an evening of his youth, sitting around a fireplace in one of the clanhome's living rooms and listening to Tenar tell stories and legends of the gods. Tenar was his es'chaya, a battle-wise Cor'naya and a historian; Kranath had loved both him and his legends. That night, one of the stories had been of the gods' departure.
"I try, my friend," came the mental voice, feeling richer and closer than he remembered it. "Sit, eat if you wish." If he wished? Kranath smiled. The food, again, was some of his favorite chunks of dornya meat scrambled into eggs, with bread and corsi juice so why would he not wish to eat? Because, he discovered when he seated himself, he had no appetite.
But if someone disliked what you did or commanded intensely enough You have a saying that nobody is safe from a truly determined assassin, not true?" "I hadn't thought of it like that, but you're right. And you no, we can't be killed." Then Tarlac frowned. "Godhome gave you a choice, Kranath. It said you had to be willing why didn't I get that option?" "Did you need it?" "I don't understand."
"I am at your service, Lords," he said, almost whispering. "Rise, Kranath of St'nar," the silent voice said. "Your will is again your own. The Lords have not returned; we are alone. I am only one who serves them, as I hope to serve you." Kranath had never before experienced the uncomprehending dread those words woke in him.
"In their place they left me, to watch over the welfare of the Traiti race, and one of the critical times they foresaw has arrived. Intervention has become necessary, and since I am limited in what I can do alone, I must seek help." Kranath was puzzled. "But . . . Tenar said the legends promised they would return. If they have gone elsewhere, how can they?" "They cannot.
Of those, Kranath was easily the best, as shown by his ability to accept facts that were fantastic to him, and then to reason from them. It was a promising sign, Godhome thought, though it was not a guarantee that Kranath would join it. Godhome would use everything its creators hadn't forbidden to influence him to accept, but the decision had to be made freely.
By waiting, I insure at least relative peace afterward." Kranath felt the computer's amusement at his next thoughts. "No, given Traiti psychology, you will have fighters and n'Cor'naya for quite a few more millennia. Probably as long as the race exists. And, given my own programming, that pleases me." Kranath smiled.
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