Part 18 (2/2)

”I wouldn't go quite that far about this excursion,” Tarlac said.

”Those bugs were murder.”

”Bugs?” Hovan asked curiously.

”Insects,” the Ranger said with emphasis, thinking that he'd have liked to be able to use claws on this subject. ”Whatever you call those two-centimeter subst.i.tutes for mosquitoes. I think I'd almost rather have faced a derybach--they only come at you one at a time, and if one ate me for dinner I wouldn't be around to mind it afterward.” He paused, a.s.sessing Hovan's reaction to the half-teasing complaint. Hovan was looking puzzled. ”Those d.a.m.n bugs ate on me for six days straight!

And their bites itch worse than rapid-heal. You could've warned me, you know.”

”Warn you of insect bites?” Hovan shook his head. ”Insect bites are no danger. What warning should I have given?”

”Ummm. I guess none, really. You probably wouldn't even notice them, and I didn't have any repellent. But some Ter-- . . . uh, humans--can be killed by bug bites. Allergic reactions or diseases they carry, usually.”

The Traiti was instantly serious. ”Have you noticed any symptoms?”

Tarlac chuckled. ”Just the itching. Nothing to worry about.”

Hovan walked silently for a couple of minutes, more convinced than ever that Steve would be successful in the rest of the Ordeal. He wondered why his human ruhar had started to say ”Terran” and switched in mid-word to ”human.” Steve spoke informally, but he was careful of his words; why was he making such a distinction now?

Tarlac had caught Hovan's look of surprise at the word change, and had a shrewd idea of his sponsor's thoughts. Well, he knew why he'd made the switch; what he didn't know was whether he should pa.s.s 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.

It wasn't absolutely necessary to tell them, though it would simplify things. The fact of their Terran origin would be sufficient for the Emperor, as it was for the Ranger; His Majesty could grant them by Imperial Edict the citizens.h.i.+p that was already theirs by right of birth, which would save them the shock of knowledge that had come close to paralyzing Kranath and himself both. What might it do to ordinary people, Traiti and human? Tarlac asked himself. Traiti reactions might easily be as serious as the prisoner psychosis. He just didn't know enough, even yet, about Traiti psychology, to be able to feel any certainty. And he was certain enough of human psychology to know that most wouldn't want to believe it. They might accept it, conditioned by centuries of trust in Rangers, but that wouldn't end the war in itself.

It could even make it worse.

Still . . . while humans, as might be expected, wanted a Traiti unconditional surrender, few would feel justified in condoning--or taking part in--the genocide such a surrender's impossibility would mean. If humans could be brought to understand the Traiti well enough to know that it was impossible . . . Tarlac wanted to curse at his frustration, but couldn't think of anything fitting.

Well, he was reasonably certain Hovan could handle the truth, and he trusted his sponsor. For all practical purposes, with everyone else in vehicles, the two of them were alone. Even so, he hesitated before saying, ”Hovan?”

”Yes, ruhar? Something disturbs you?”

The fighter's calm was soothing. ”Not quite. Say it confuses me.

Cor'naya, I was granted a Vision last night, and I don't know whether I should make it public or not, even to you.”

Hovan managed not to show his shock. The Ordeal was supposed to be one test at a time, and that was difficult enough--yet Steve had been given his Vision, and apparently his Decision as well, while he was trying to cope with simple survival. Three parts at once was more than anyone should be asked to endure, even by the Lords!

When he spoke, his voice was under tight control. ”If you hesitate to reveal it to your sponsor, you probably should not. You are trying to become Cor'naya, however; you must decide what honor demands of you.”

”Oh, h.e.l.l.” Tarlac didn't know what to think. He couldn't seem to feel any real emotion, only a sort of resigned fatigue. ”Last night I was Kranath, when he was forced to G.o.dhome. And for a little bit I was G.o.dhome itself. I'm not sure what to do about what I learned then.” He looked up at his sponsor.

Hovan ached with the man's need of support. ”I cannot help you in this,” he said gently. ”You know I would if it were possible, but this is the part of the Ordeal I could not even mention to you. There is always a Decision to test honor.”

”Part of the Ordeal's having to decide whether or not to tell you something that may drive insane those of you it doesn't kill outright?

That's insane.”

”It is far more than is asked of most,” Hovan agreed indirectly. ”I had to decide only between honor and my own life.”

”You're here, so it must've been a setup.”

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