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"Here, fifty winters since, by Yarra's stream, A scattered hamlet found its modest place: What mind would venture then in wildest dream Its wondrous growth and eminence to trace? What seer predict a stripling in the race Would, swift as Atalanta, win the prize Of progress, 'neath the world's astonished eyes?" J. F. DANIELL, "The Jubilee of Melbourne."
Tarlac could sense the clan both as an empathic entity and as the individuals composing it: Ka'ruchaya Yarra's joy that one of her n'ruesten had been chosen to complete the Circle, Daria's exultation and love for him and their daughter, Hovan's deep pride that it was he who had adopted and then sponsored the Ranger . . . even unformed pleasure from the youngling in Daria's body, already a part of the clan's emotional life.
Macdougal accompanied the Englishman, and then Yarra's services were not required. On occasions Miss Lucy Woodrow made a third, riding a hardy little chestnut mare her mistress had placed at her disposal. These parties were usually very merry, for Lucy had been transformed into quite a daring Bush-rider, and Mrs.
You kill mine Boss? Perhaps it was the remembrance of the many kicks and cuts he had received at the hands of Monkey Mack that inspired the impish eagerness in Yarra's face, perhaps his affection for the dead man moved him. Jim Done looked at the boy curiously. 'Boss belonga you sit down by Boobyalla? he asked. Yarra shook his head. 'No fear, he said.
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.
Yarra's evident concern gave Tarlac the impression of a worried frown, an expression few Traiti could manage physically. "It never is, even when the candidate is rested and at his full strength, which you are not." She looked past Steve. "Speaker, do you know why his Ordeal is being compressed so?" Darya looked thoughtful, then shook her head. "I do not know, Ka'ruchaya. I could try to guess."
It would be good, Hovan thought, simply to be back in-clan, back in the closeness and peace he valued so highly and there was Ka'ruchaya Yarra's promise. He looked at Steve, pleased to see the man's expression was calm and interested. Tarlac indicated the female standing motionless in front of the open door and asked quietly, "Ka'chaya Yvian?"
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.
Yarra's arms enfolded him, feeling him as vulnerable as any newborn. "We know, ruesten," she said. "We know. You have brought honor to the clan, and you will bring more. Rest now, Steve." After composing the message he hoped Hovan would never have to read, Tarlac found that the rest of the day went . . . smoothly. That was the only word he could think of.
Hovan told himself ruefully that he shouldn't have entertained even the small doubts he'd had of Ka'ruchaya Yarra's wisdom. It had seemed impossible that an alien could truly be a ruhar, and Steve was undoubtedly an alien, even though he wasn't frightened, as so many humans seemed to be, by the sheer size of beings so alien to them. Yet the clan-feeling was definitely there how had Yarra guessed?
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