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."

"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 substitutes 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 aft