ly didn't seem
alien. He knew, now, what he had only felt during the drive to the
clanhome. He belonged here, to the Traiti, as surely as he belonged to
the Empire, and he had to bring the two together. It was a need he
didn't question, any more than he questioned the approval he sensed
from somewhere. Stepping back from the altar, he bowed formally.

Conscious of the chilly night air on his bare skin, he descended the
steps, intending to return to the sleeproom he shared with Hovan and
several other fighters.

There was someone at the far end of the gathering hall, approaching
him. He recognized the green-robed figure as the Speaker, Daria, and
wondered briefly if being here in his condition was considered
disrespectful, or worse.

Apparently it wasn't; she smiled at him. "The Lords saw fit to summon
you quickly. Was the communion pleasant?"

"I don't know," Tarlac said. "I don't remember--"

He broke off in shock. She had spoken Language, and he'd answered in
it. Not in the halting fragments he'd learned from Hovan, but as easily
and fluently as if he'd been speaking Imperial English! "What-- How--"

"The Lords taught you, of course." She showed no surprise at that.
"But here, I brought a cloak when I sensed them calling you; I thought
you would need it. And come, I will get you some hot chovas. It will
warm you."

"Thanks." Tarlac took the cloak gratefully and wrapped it around his
body, feeling a sense of relief. He'd adapted well enough to the
in-clan nudity that under most circumstances being nude himself might not
bother him too badly--but this woman was the clan's religious leader,
and he was still uncertain enough not to want to commit any Terran
improprieties around her. "The chovas sounds good, too."

By the time they were in the dining room and Daria had brought mugs of
aromatic chovas from the always-ready pot in the kitchen, he'd stopped
shivering and managed to accept the fact of his new command of
Language. He'd also discovered it did him no good to think about how
he'd gotten it. When he tried, his thoughts simply shied away from the
subject.

"Do the Lords do that sort of thing often?" he asked as they took
seats. They weren't the only ones in the dining room, even at this
hour, but nobody paid any noticeable attention to them.

"No, they very seldom intervene," she said calmly. "Why? Do your gods
speak often?"

"It hasn't been proven that any ever have. I've never reall