"Uhh. That'll teach me to drink Traiti liquor." Tarlac tried to sit up, refusing Hovan's assistance, noticing only then that he'd been undressed and was on a sleeping mat laid atop a platform instead of on the floor. He made it upright, but the effort brought on a wave of dizzy sickness, and standing up didn't work. His knees buckled, forcing Hovan to catch him and sit him back on the bed.
"You should in bed remain," Hovan told him, concerned. "The medicine more time than that needs."
"I have to get to the 'fresher." Tarlac tried again to stand, somewhat more successfully, and managed a couple of wobbly steps. Then Hovan's arm went around his shoulders, steadying and turning him.
"This way, ruhar. That door to the hallway leads."
"Okay." Tarlac was gratefuy for the guidance, but appreciated Hovan's simple presence and his uncritical support even more.
By the time Tarlac finished cleaning up, the dose of whatever-it-was had taken full effect and he felt considerably more able to take in his surroundings. One of the first things he noticed was that Hovan was no longer in uniform; instead, he wore civilian clothes, a silvery open shirt with bright blue trousers and quilted mid-calf boots. A chain fastened his knife to the sash that belted his trousers. He'd brought similar clothing for the Ranger, in red and gold.
Tarlac put it on, seeing immediately that his badge was already pinned to the shirt. Wearing something other than a uniform felt strange—he hadn't worn anything else in public since the war started—but one uniform certainly wouldn't last forever, and he still didn't know how long the Ordeal would take. Or what it consisted of.
The clothes fit well, though sleeves and trouser legs were a good ten centimeters too short by Terran standards. Apparently it was good style in Ch'kara, though, since Hovan's fit the same way. Tarlac's gun wasn't there, probably in storage with his uniform; instead, he'd been given a knife very similar to the one he'd used in the challenge match aboard the Hermnaen. "I gather you borrowed these from a youngling?"
"Yes. And Sandre them tailored, you to fit. Now come. Food ready for you is, then I must your education begin. Much there is you have to learn, before you the Ordeal begin."
"Such as?" Tarlac asked. Maybe he'd finally find out what he'd gotten himself into.