Part 18 (1/2)

”Why?”

The tongues twitched in amus.e.m.e.nt. ”Our well-known curiosity. Humans fascinate me--and I have traveled with you before, Ranger Esteban Tarlac. Do you not recognize me?”

Tarlac looked more closely at his visitor, and nodded. ”Longclaw, isn't it? You were reported dead, shortly after that trip. I'm glad it wasn't true. But why not show yourself before?”

”What you were doing was clear; to interfere would not be proper. I came out only to greet you and wish you well.”

”I appreciate it. After last night, I can use a little normality. Uh, the Traiti know now that you're intelligent. I told them.”

”Unfortunate.” Longclaw gestured a laugh. ”I have rather enjoyed frightening those who came here thinking me a wild animal or worse. I believe I have a reputation as a ghost derybach.”

Tarlac chuckled. ”Sorry I spoiled your fun. Maybe I'll see you again later, but right now I have to get moving.”

”Go with your G.o.ds, Ranger.” With that, Longclaw rose and was gone, a flash of white vanis.h.i.+ng into the trees.

Tarlac rose more slowly, buried his coals, and went through his morning routine. Longclaw's visit had brought him back fully to the present, and he was anxious to get back to the clanhome and finish the Ordeal.

About two hours' walk later the woods began thinning out, and the stream started veering west. That was a good sign, and Tarlac had to resist a temptation to run; walking would be faster than running himself to collapse and having to recover. He had a momentary sensation of disorientation: In Kranath's time, this had all been wooded, but when the capital had been established atop G.o.dhome, much of the surrounding area had been turned into parks and farmland.

G.o.dhome. His thoughts turned back to the psionic computer which had been beneath him for the last ten kilometers. A computer in the shape of a cube, d.a.m.n near forty klicks on a side. He could no longer comprehend it as he had been able to do in his Vision, but he could still appreciate it, marveling at both the computer and the beings who had created it.

Despite everything they'd done and all the powers they had, those who went before weren't G.o.ds in any spiritual sense. Like their successors, the Circle of Lords, they were something Tarlac found more understandable: beings who weren't supernatural, but who had achieved their full potential. That, as far as the Ranger was concerned, was several orders of magnitude more acceptable than some immaterial, spiritual essence that demanded wors.h.i.+p and obedience on pain of eternal torment.

Those who went before had demanded nothing, not even belief in their existence, and neither did the Lords. 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. Oh, sure, a Ranger could execute rebels and create n.o.bility, instead of spanking a kid or giving him a puppy, and the Lords operated on an even larger scale--but it was the same principle. And wasn't a kid with a puppy yet another example of that principle?

The realization of something so basic it had never occurred to him before, as he walked in the warmth of Homeworld's sun, seemed fitting to him. He'd been Kranath, he'd been G.o.dhome; now he was Steve Tarlac again. Only Steve Tarlac, he thought with a silent laugh, but he'd found at least part of the answer he needed to bring peace if he survived. He knew he'd been shown only as much of Kranath's story as he could understand and use--but he had the key, and that knowledge was enough to make this last bit of his hike a pleasant stroll, untroubled for the moment by the urgent need to end his two peoples' war. He would do it when the time was right.

Perhaps five kilometers out of the capital, Tarlac came to a road and turned onto it gladly. As on Terra or Irschcha, it was simply a lane cleared to a low ground cover, all that was necessary for null-grav or air-cus.h.i.+on vehicles, and it doubled as a pedestrian walkway. The traffic pa.s.sing three meters overhead provided occasional shade, and he got waves and smiles from some of the drivers and pa.s.sengers, which he returned even though he couldn't extend claws in emphasis as they did.

It wasn't long before one of Ch'kara's cream-and-green cars, also headed for town, dropped to hover at shoulder level beside him. The driver, whose name he couldn't remember, opened a window and stuck his head out. ”Steve, ruhar!”

”Yeah, I made it!”

”I will call ahead. Cor'naya Hovan said to expect you.”

Tarlac hadn't known the vehicles were equipped with comsets, but it wasn't too surprising. ”Thanks, ruhar.”

”My honor,” the other replied, turning his attention to the control panel.

Less than half a kilometer later, a dozen more Ch'kara cars had come to escort him, holding at shoulder height like the first and moving at his walking speed. He hadn't expected that, and couldn't think why not.

Of course his family would come to meet him, to join him for his successful return home. He had to make it to the clanhome under his own power, but there was no reason he couldn't have company for the easy last stretch.

Hovan jumped from one of the cars ahead of him and waited for Tarlac to reach him. Tarlac stopped when he did, to let his sponsor inspect him.

Steve looked remarkably good, Hovan decided, for someone who had just spent most of a tenday in the wilderness. He'd lost no more than a kilo or two, and though there were some small red spots on his skin, he had no apparent injuries. Low rawhide boots protected his feet, and he carried two pouches and an efficient-looking, if crude, spear. ”A pleasant walk, ruhar?”

”Not bad at all,” Tarlac replied. ”In fact, it was a lot easier than I expected, after everything you said.” 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. ”You did have considerable difficulty with the first part of the Ordeal, the one which brings most candidates nothing but joy.”