Fearful Symmetry Part 10

Tarlac put it on, seeing immediately that his badge was already pinned to the s.h.i.+rt. Wearing something other than a uniform felt strange--he hadn't worn anything else in public since the war started--but one uniform certainly wouldn't last forever, and he still didn't know how long the Ordeal would take. Or what it consisted of.

The clothes fit well, though sleeves and trouser legs were a good ten centimeters too short by Terran standards. Apparently it was good style in Ch'kara, though, since Hovan's fit the same way. Tarlac's gun wasn't there, probably in storage with his uniform; instead, he'd been given a knife very similar to the one he'd used in the challenge match aboard the Hermnaen. "I gather you borrowed these from a youngling?"

"Yes. And Sandre them tailored, you to fit. Now come. Food ready for you is, then I must your education begin. Much there is you have to learn, before you the Ordeal begin."

"Such as?" Tarlac asked. Maybe he'd finally find out what he'd gotten himself into.

"Forestcraft, of course, and--" Hovan broke off. "By the Lords! I never did you tell, even of the parts I now can. I must your pardon ask."

They were out of the infirmary, walking down a wide tapestry-hung corridor. "You've got it, if you'll tell me whatever you can.

Wilderness survival is part of it?"

"Yes, and you know not this world's life. Then there the Vision is, if you one granted are, and you of the Scarring know."

"Yeah, I hurt just thinking about that part. It's in that order?"

"It may be, yes. The first it not my place to discuss is, and the Scarring always last is. The other three parts may in any order be. I cannot you of one of them tell, because it would by foreknowledge influenced be."

Tarlac could understand that, though it didn't quiet his curiosity.

"At least I know more about it now than I did when I agreed to take it."

"The Fleet-Captain you nothing told?"

"Oh, sure. He told me that according to the First Speaker, if I did take it and live, I'd be able to bring an honorable peace for both sides. That didn't leave me much choice."

"The Lords this of you asked?" Hovan said, impressed. "I knew that not."

"If that's what he meant, yes." Tarlac didn't believe in the Lords, but Hovan did; it wouldn't hurt to agree.

Hovan smiled widely. "So you us life in honor bring. That good is."

"If I live." Tarlac frowned. "Hovan . . . I don't think I will live.

I haven't thought so since I boarded your s.h.i.+p, and since the fight, I've been certain of it. This Ordeal's going to kill me." He paused and shrugged, wondering at his own calm. "Oh, that won't keep me from trying. Maybe just trying will be enough to do what the First Speaker said, I don't know. h.e.l.l, I don't even know how I'm supposed to bring peace if I do live!"

"Since the Lords this asked," Hovan said calmly, "you should not so many doubts have. They nothing ask unless it possible is. And after you the fight won, I certain am that they intend not for you to fail."

"I won the fight by a trick," Tarlac said bleakly. "I won't live through the Ordeal by a trick."

Hovan stopped and took Steve by the shoulders. "Why did you not all this say when it first you troubled? I your sponsor am."

"I couldn't. It was something I had to come to terms with by myself."

Tarlac found himself suddenly wis.h.i.+ng he had mentioned it that night, had given in to his urge to seek comfort. "I . . . I've been a Ranger for fifteen years, Hovan. Almost half my life. I just . . . I couldn't--"

Hovan shook him with controlled ease, just enough to silence him. "You of Ch'kara now are, Steve, and in-clan. Yourself be, not another's image. That not a weakness is."

"What? I--"

"To me listen, ruhar. Everyone help needs, sometimes. That does not weakness show, or shame bring." Hovan released Steve's shoulders, and put his arms around the man instead, giving Tarlac the feeling of being held by something with the weight and patient strength of an oak tree.

"Let me your troubles ease, as my sponsor mine eased."

Feeling himself part of a family for the first time since adolescence, Steve Tarlac gave in, letting loneliness and detachment melt out of him in long-delayed tears. When he couldn't push the fear aside any longer and it took over, he shook in Hovan's embrace with terror of a failure that would cost more than any mortal should be asked to bear.

He couldn't avoid the risk, or the fear; all he could do was rage at the sheer injustice of it. Part of him knew that wouldn't do any good, but he couldn't help himself. He clung to his sponsor for what felt like an eternity, buffeted by the terror and impossible conflict.

Hovan supported him, sharing what he could of the man's turbulence and offering strength to help him accept the rest. The Lords never asked the impossible--but they never asked anything easy, either, and this was only the first part of what Steve would have to endure. Still, Steve had already managed to endure loneliness a Traiti would have found unbearable, and had concealed his terror until he was urged to accept help; he would work his way through this.

Gradually, the Ranger's emotional stability returned, and he knew that was due in no little part to Hovan's support. When the worst of his internal storm had pa.s.sed, he felt purged--still certain he would die, but now accepting the fear instead of ignoring it so that it ate blindly at his confidence. He rested for a moment more, then looked up at his sponsor. "It's okay now."

"You no longer alone are," Hovan said, releasing him. "As I you told when you adopted were, all Ch'kara you supports. Come now; you should something eat."

The brisk return to a favorite, and practical, Traiti subject brought Tarlac all the way back to his current surroundings. "Food?" He thought of the earlier nausea, and shook his head. "I don't know about that, just yet."

"It best for you is, after the medicine you took. Then, if you ready are, the Supreme and First Speaker will you receive."

"Okay, I'll give it a try. That's one meeting I'm really looking forward to."

On the way to the dining room, Tarlac had his first experience with the casual nudity Hovan had told him was an option in-clan. Except for ceremonies and parties, quite a few members did without clothes.

Tarlac, warned, managed to feel only mildly embarra.s.sed when a female wearing nothing but a carrying pouch slung over one shoulder stepped out of a side corridor ahead of them. She saw them and smiled at Tarlac, then hurried to embrace Hovan. He returned the hug before introducing her to Steve as Channath, the clan's chief physician. "She for you last night cared, when you sick were, and this morning's medicine prescribed."

Tarlac gave her a rueful grin, trying not to stare. "Tell her thanks, would you?"

"That not necessary is, but I will her tell." Hovan did so, and translated the reply. "She suggests, you little liquor drink from now on. And if you bad reactions to anything else find, her tell at once."

"Don't worry," Tarlac said emphatically, "I will!" Then he was in the air as Channath hugged him. Back on his feet, surprised but too flattered to mind, he looked bemusedly after Channath's retreating back. "What was that all about?"

"I told you, there much touching is, in-clan." Hovan put an arm around the man's shoulders. "The closeness good is, not so?"

"Yes . . ." Tarlac said slowly. "Yes, it is. It's strange--I shouldn't like it. A Ranger has to be self-sufficient, has to stay apart--has to be objective and impartial. I'm not, any longer."

"What will that mean, when you to your Empire return?"

Hovan had zeroed in on Tarlac's thought, though the Ranger didn't believe what he described would ever have a chance to happen. "I'll have to retake the psych tests, then it depends. Maybe I'll be disqualified from anything that involves Ch'kara or the Traiti, maybe I'll have to resign. The decision will be up to His Majesty."

"He would you demote?"

"Only if he doesn't have a choice; the Empire needs Rangers. And even if he does have to demote me, I won't be dishonored or anything.

Something like this happened once before, about four hundred years ago, to a Ranger named Jeff s.h.i.+ning Arrow. He lost his detachment, too--got married, had kids--so Empress Lindner made him a Duke. Emperor Davis would probably commission me into the Fleet."

"That no dishonor is, true. Do you think it will to you happen?"

"Yes, if I've changed that much. It could be a lot worse, of course . . . but falling in love's no crime, it's just something the Empire can't afford in a Ranger."

"That the real reason is, then, why you no family have."

"Yeah. I didn't mean to evade the question then, I just wasn't sure I could explain it. I didn't know you very well."

"I understand. You never anyone met, who more to you than the Empire meant." Hovan shook his head. "That a thing of much sadness is."