me to study it in
detail--several minutes--before Godhome began the last part of its
work, with Kranath's cooperation. His mind was packed with
information, then stretched and filled again, until Godhome and the
powers it had been given by those who went before were part of him. He
knew that he could reach out to touch any intelligence in the galaxy.

There was a final legacy from the computer's creators, one they had
left to ease the burden he had assumed at their call. Gratefully, he
accepted the assurances carried in their knowledge, the peace of their
certainty that, having been brought to this state, he would use the
power he had inherited with wisdom and restraint.

He had gained foresight as well. He was alone for now, but soon
enough--in a few hundred years--he would have company, the first of the
other Lords he would call to adulthood. At the moment, however, he had
work to do.

(Tarlac had already heard from Hovan about some of the Supreme Lord
Kranath's doing: providing the clans' altars, a pledge and gift from
the Circle; ending the inter-clan fighting; instituting the Traiti
governmental system of Supreme and Speakers. The Ranger saw how it had
happened, and how Kranath, when he no longer needed his physical body,
had left it aided by a dagger in the hands of St'nar's Speaker, to
initiate the new funeral rites.)

Chapter VII

For a moment, Tarlac felt strange back in his own body. He moved his
shoulders, trying to readjust almost as if he were trying to get a new
shirt to fit properly. What he'd just experienced hadn't been a dream,
he was certain. Four thousand Homeworld years ago, it had happened.

The facts were enough to stagger him. He wasn't sure what he was to do
about them, or about his Vision, though he was positive that it would
be essential. The Lords only intervened when it was vital.

He wondered briefly if Hovan had been granted a Vision, and if so what
it had been, then he decided it didn't matter. Rubbing sleep out of
his eyes, he sat up and began munching on a cold salvis root.

He was only marginally aware of something white at the edge of his
vision, until the something said, politely, "Yerroo?"

"What the--!" Tarlac exclaimed, dropping his breakfast and turning.

Then he smiled, recognizing a cloudcat's distinctive soft, thick fur
and graceful shape. He guessed that it was one of those who'd been
captured; an animal's cage wouldn't hold an unwilling cloudcat