h . . .

He held to that. The gods were not demanding, they were asking. Even
Godhome had only asked that he learn. Being given a decision to make
meant he was a guest, not a prisoner.

That put a completely different light on things. Despite the way he'd
been brought here--and he was sure now that even his crash had been
arranged--Kranath bowed his head briefly, claws touching his forehead,
to accept the hospitality he was offered.

(Tarlac recalled his similar, unexplained gesture on the bridge of the
Hermnaen, and he realized the Lords had impelled him to accept Arjen's
hospitality with the proper gesture. Why? To impress Hovan as it had?
Probably. At any rate, it was another parallel.)

Something seemed to touch Kranath's hands in the usual response, though
when he straightened there was nobody to be seen--of course.

"Not 'of course,'" Godhome said quietly. "I could create a body to
hold part of my consciousness, if your mental state required it, as
easily as I change your flying leathers for ordinary clothing."

And, with no fuss at all, Kranath was wearing a loose vest, open to
show his Honor scars, and loose soft trousers secured by a sash that
also held his dagger. Then, still with no fuss, an opening appeared in
the wall before him. "I have prepared food and drink," the computer
said. "Will you eat?"

Kranath dimly remembered that Godhome had mentioned hunger earlier.
He'd been too distracted to feel it then, but what he smelled through
the opening now was enough to make his nostrils widen in appreciation.
Yes, he'd eat!

Kranath's attention centered on the table and the food it held: a
thick, rich klevna stew, and some kind of amber drink he didn't
recognize. The room itself could have been a scaled-down dining room
from St'nar's clanhome; murals turned the walls into mountain
landscapes, unfamiliar and awe-inspiring. He sat and ate. The stew
and drink--it turned out to be a wine like nothing he'd ever tasted--were
far better than the survival rations he'd expected for mid-meal,
and the hearty meal in comfortable surroundings soothed him, after so
much strangeness.

Godhome let him eat and think in friendly silence, while hot food drove
out the last of the fear that had gripped him, letting him think
calmly. What had happened hadn't harmed him, and he realized it had
been the only way to get him here.

(The Tarlac-fragment agreed, amused. The two of them had quite a bit
in common,