In the meantime, he'd learned enough to know that his original idea about the status of females was not just mistaken but laughable. Yes, they were only a fourth of the Traiti population, cherished and protected from any possible harm, and even a discussion of endangering one unnecessarily bordered on obscenity. But they weren't considered, as he'd wrongly speculated, either inferior in any way, or as breeding stock or valuable property. Far from it. If anything, they had more status than any males except the n'Cor'naya, the Honored Ones who'd passed the Ordeal. They were responsible for both religion and clan life, things which were far more important to the Traiti than humans had guessed.
The clans, not warfare, were the center of Traiti culture. And yet, even with females running those two vital areas, it wasn't a matriarchy. Males ran commerce and, obviously, the military; in other fields such as science or the arts, gender had no bearing. The combination made for a "government," if you felt generous about the definition, that couldn't possibly work for humans. Not even if it had been imposed by a god, as Hovan assured Tarlac it had. There were two rulers, the male Supreme who was exactly that in secular affairs, and the female First Speaker for the Circle of Lords, equally powerful in religious matters.
But those two acted only when something concerned the entire race. Everything else was handled on a clan level, from education to deep-space colonization. Despite Hovan's attempts to explain, Tarlac didn't quite understand how some of what the Traiti had accomplished could be done on such a seemingly casual basis, and he could only suppose they would find the human bureaucracy equally puzzling.
The two civilizations were most similar, ironically enough, in the structure of their military forces. Even that was largely on the surface; any military required a clear chain of command. Otherwise . . . the clans cooperated to produce both commercial ships and warcraft, and in crewing them, with the crew members supported by their individual clans. Then, under the Supreme's command, the war fleets defended the race.
Tarlac shrugged and turned his attention to his surroundings. The spaceport, so much like its Imperial counterparts, was behind them and they were approaching the capital city. Hovan had described it, so Tarlac knew what to expect: large, relatively low buildings, none over three stories high, set apart from each other in almost parklike surroundings. In several of the larger buildings they passed, females stood at the central doors; they were the clan's sub-Mothers, though rarely—when this was the clan's main home—it might be the Ka'ruchaya herself waiting to formally welcome her clan-children.
Tarlac enjoyed the drive and the scenery. It reminded him of a Terran college campus or an Irschchan town, though with a greater similarity to Terra since Homeworld's sky was blue, not green. The air smelled good, clean and alive after the flatness of recycled ship's air, and he could tell the Traiti liked it as much as he did.
They passed a shopping area, where the buildings were more brightly colored and closer together, yet still not crowded, and the Terran got his first look at groups of Traiti civilians. Most were closed-shirt males who hadn't earned Honor scars, but he saw some females, one with an infant, and a few n'Cor'naya. All wore loose-fitting, brightly colored clothing, though there was no other uniformity of dress. Styles varied by clan and by individual taste, from what most Imperials would consider barely decent to full-coverage robes.
They did have one other thing in common. Much to Tarlac's amazement, all seemed genuinely cheerful. He turned to his sponsor. "Don't they know how the war's going?"
"Of course." Hovan was surprised by the question. "Such things must in honor known be. Why? Do yours not know?"
"Sure they do," Tarlac replied. "But we're winning—we don't have any reason to be depressed."