Steve already carried two contradictory convictions: his
need to survive, to complete his mission, and his certainty that he
would not.

There was nothing Hovan could do about the man's certainty of death,
but he could see to it that Steve was allowed to rest. "It is early, I
know, Ka'ruchaya, and everyone is curious--"

"As curious as we are about any candidate's experiences," Yarra agreed.
"Still, I am sure further questions can wait until tomorrow."

Tarlac gave her a grateful smile. "Thanks, Ka'ruchaya. I am pretty
tired, and I've been looking forward to a sleeping mat. I could use a
long, hot shower, too."

The shower helped considerably, relaxing his muscles and allowing
emotional tension to ease in the sheer luxury of being really clean.
And his n'ruhar's presence allowed other tension to ease; he was asleep
seconds after he covered himself with his light blanket.

Sleep was dreamless, his unaware mind and body absorbing the clan's
support, and when he woke he felt as refreshed as though he'd slept for
a week. It was still early, the wake-light not yet on, and from the
others' breathing, it appeared he was the only one who'd waked without
it. He was content to bask in their warmth and unwilling to disturb
their rest until, all too soon, the light did come on and it was time
to rise, time to go through the morning routine.

When he'd showered again--it was still a pleasure--Tarlac went with
Hovan to first-meal, trying not to think too much about the future.
He'd eat dornya meat scrambled into eggs again tomorrow, but afterwards
his destination would be the gathering hall for his Scarring, not the
Ka'ruchaya's office for news intercepts.

This morning, though, he could take refuge in normalcy, looking forward
even to reading nine days' worth of reports--a prospect that as a rule
held no appeal for him at all.

Accompanying Yarra and Hovan to her office, he found, not at all to his
surprise, that it was spotless. Tarlac wondered again how she managed
to run a clan without her office showing it; the only trace of
paperwork was the stack of printouts on her desk, and they were his.
He glanced at her for permission, which she granted with a nod, and he
picked up the stack and took it to his usual chair.

Stretching out his legs, Tarlac began reading. The first six reports
were routine, if not pleasant, combat and casualty reports that held no
surprises. It was the seventh day's leadoff item, inevitabl