and seemed to
be tiring fast.

Hovan watched Steve's losing battle with concern that rapidly became
dismay. If this was the Ranger's best, he would have little chance to
survive his Ordeal. Granted, he was overmatched, but he shouldn't be
moving so clumsily, gasping for breath, so soon!

And then Hovan saw Valkan decide to end it quickly. Steve was
obviously near the end of his strength, but he continued to fight even
when he had no chance of victory; that did him honor. Then the
exhausted human stumbled to one knee with his head and shoulders
slumped. Valkan moved in.

His breath rasping audibly, Tarlac watched legs and feet approach.
When they were about a meter away, he surged into a forward lunge under
the Traiti's blade, bringing his own weapon flashing up to rest with
the tip just under Valkan's ribs, angled to stab unopposed into his
heart.

The exercise hall was silent, the unexpected move catching even the
match judge by surprise; it was a few immobile seconds before he could
declare Tarlac the winner.

Breathing easily, since he no longer needed that deception, Tarlac
listened to a growing murmur he wasn't quite sure was approval. He was
reassured by Hovan's smile as he returned the dagger to his sponsor,
then resumed his shirt and belt. He turned apprehensively to Valkan.
How would this Traiti react? If he was one of those who opposed the
adoption . . . He almost flinched when a clawed hand touched his
shoulder, and the other clasped his right wrist. But there was no
hostility in the soft, lilting voice that addressed him, and Valkan was
smiling.

"He says that you more dangerous are than you seem," Hovan translated.
"And he says that if you not Ch'kara were already, his Ka'ruchaya might
have wished, you into K'horan invite."

Hovan was impressed himself. He had expected Steve to lose, if only
after giving a creditable account of himself. That he had managed a
win at all was barely believable; that it had happened so decisively
would make this match well-remembered. And Hovan was less worried
about Steve's chances in the Ordeal. Steve must truly be guided by the
Lords.

Tarlac returned Valkan's wrist-clasp and replied in one of the Language
phrases he'd learned. "You do me honor," he said, and Valkan had:
adoptions were unusual, perhaps five to eight in a year for an
average-sized clan like the fifteen-thousand-member one he now belonged
to.

"But tell them all," Tarlac went on to