by
strength of will, which he does have . . . I do not know."

"Nor do I," Yarra said. "It is not well to go into the Scarring at
less than full strength, and his will is being sapped. I have sensed
his certainty of death, his worry for us, his anger for his friend
. . . yet there is nothing we can do to ease his mind."

"No. I have done all that tradition allows."

"Then his fate--and ours--is in the hands of the Lords."

Tarlac gave up his pretense of reading and looked at them. "Then let's
just hope they know what they're doing. I didn't mean to eavesdrop,
but it was a little hard to avoid."

"Understood," Yarra said. "Ruesten, I did not mean that I lack
confidence in you--but I am concerned."

Tarlac shrugged. "And I'm as scared--okay, as terrified--as I can be
without throwing a screaming fit. It doesn't matter. I'm not about to
quit now." He hesitated, then yielded to impulse. Rising and going to
her, he put his arms around her and rested his head on her shoulder.
"Ka'ruchaya, I won't be the one to dishonor Ch'kara. I can't! I . . .
I love you all, too much to do that."

Yarra's arms enfolded him, feeling him as vulnerable as any newborn.
"We know, ruesten," she said. "We know. You have brought honor to the
clan, and you will bring more. Rest now, Steve."

After composing the message he hoped Hovan would never have to read,
Tarlac found that the rest of the day went . . . smoothly. That was
the only word he could think of. The admission of fear and love he'd
made to Yarra and Hovan wasn't something he could have done in the
Empire, and it left him feeling cleansed and strangely at ease. He
rather suspected it was because he'd finally managed to take Hovan's
advice--"Yourself be, not another's image"--at last.

With no responsibilities until the next morning, on what was very
possibly his last day of life, Tarlac found himself at a loss. He
hadn't had nothing to do for fifteen years. He wandered around the
clanhome, helping with assorted domestic chores. He played with the
younglings in the nursery, he helped load dishes into the cleaning
units, he emptied dust traps--and when he wasn't occupied, he welcomed
simply being with the n'ruhar who wanted to ask him about the Empire
and his experiences in the wilderness.

Chapter VIII

There was unspoken but very real tension in the clan the next morning,
and to Tarlac, time seemed to creep and fly simultaneously. He was
chilly,