As soon as they had taken their places in the open area in the center of the floor, Hovan raised his arms and began a songlike chanting similar to the previous night's. This time, Tarlac knew that it was a prayer asking the Lords' blessing on his adoption. Unable to join in, knowing neither words nor music, the Ranger stood at parade rest, his head bowed. As a relaxed agnostic, he was quite willing to honor others' beliefs as far as he could.
The adoption ceremony itself was simple, an exchange of blood and oaths. When Hovan had explained it, Tarlac had wondered briefly, surprised that it was so close a parallel to some of Terra's ceremonies. He'd finally decided it was almost inevitable; an exchange of vital fluid was an obvious symbol of kinship, and the wrist was an equally obvious place to draw blood, on a humanoid.
So, when Hovan extended a claw and dug into his left arm, Tarlac used the dagger he'd borrowed from his sponsor to follow suit. They took token sips of each other's blood, and then Hovan held the cuts together while the Ranger gave his oath, including his own modification of it.
"I pledge to Clan Ch'kara that I will bring no dishonor to its name, and will defend that name and the clan's property and people to the best of my ability, so long as that involves no harm or dishonor to the Terran Empire I have also sworn to protect."
The qualification drew an unspoken sense of approval from the gathered n'Cor'naya, perhaps not surprisingly among these people. Hovan replied, "For Mother Yarra and Clan Ch'kara, I your pledge accept. Ch'kara you claims, as kin in blood and honor. The clan you guards, as you it defend."
The brief ceremony over, Hovan released his new ruhar's wrist. Tarlac grabbed it and applied pressure to stop the bleeding, noting that Hovan's wound was already closing, as he considered his new and unique position. He was a Ranger of the Empire, yet at the same time he was a member of a Traiti—until now, an enemy—clan. He had carefully qualified his oath, and he'd done everything he could for the Empire before boarding the Hermnaen. Still, the idea of owing allegiance to both sides in a war was … disquieting. He had to resolve the war now. He didn't expect to have to decide between the sides in battle; he was out of the war as an active agent. But he was going to be damned active at peacemaking!
In the meantime, most of the n'Cor'naya had closed their shirts, signifying a return to Fleet duty, and were quietly leaving the exercise hall. Only four remained, Arjen and three that Hovan introduced as members of Ch'kara; they greeted Tarlac as well as their scanty English and his non-existent Language would allow.
It was proper now for them to show concern over their ruhar's still-bleeding wrist, and they did. Tarlac understood, without quite knowing how, and appreciated it. Once the greetings were over, Hovan led Steve out of the exercise hall and deeper into the ship. "Come, ruhar. You should medical help have."
Tarlac didn't need any more than his nose, a few minutes later, to know they were nearing a medical facility. The smell of antiseptic had to be universal, at least for warm-blooded oxygen breathers like Terrans and Irschchans—and Traiti. The Ranger was willing to bet cloudcats' antiseptics would have smelled the same, if they'd had any.
The cleanliness was as characteristic as the odor, and when a Traiti in pale blue came up to Tarlac and took his arm, he didn't resist. The bleeding still hadn't stopped completely, and the medic turned to Hovan with what sounded, to the Ranger's limited experience, like an angry question. Hovan's reply changed the medic's expression. He checked the wound, cleaned it, then held the edges together and sprayed it with something cool and gray. The Traiti version of synthiskin, probably, Tarlac thought.