"Are you sure that will happen?"
"How can I be sure? I'm a Ranger, not a god—but I know how it affected Kranath, how it affected me. There's a chance it wouldn't hurt, I guess—Traiti might not believe me. That might cushion the shock, let 'em realize gradually that it is true." He paused, feeling the dilemma. "Do I have the right to take that chance, though? Just a few words…"
It was difficult for Hovan to remain outwardly impassive, hearing the strain in the man's voice. Inwardly, it was impossible. By all the Lords, Hovan thought angrily, this was wrong! Why should Steve be given such terrible responsibility for a people with whom his own were at war? Steve didn't even know what Kranath's Vision meant!
He wasn't supposed to help in the Decision at all, not give even the slightest hint of what he thought was right, and he had no intention of doing so—but every youngling knew about Kranath's Vision and its significance; there could be no harm in telling Steve that much.
"Steve, ruhar…"
Tarlac looked up. "What is it?"
"A story of the end times, ruhar, when all hinges on one man, for good or ill."
"Me. I've known that since before I landed on Homeworld. So what? It looks like whatever I do, Traiti die." Tarlac was being rude and knew it, but he didn't particularly care. He was too caught up in an awful private vision of Ch'kara gone mad.
Hovan spoke quietly, picking his words with care. "Yes. You have known for some time that you will bring peace or die in the attempt, and if you fail we also die. You chose that burden freely, and it does you much honor. But you have been given another burden, unasked. Kranath's Vision, it is said, brings the end of this cycle, and he who has it will determine the next cycle, for good or ill. That is you, ruhar … and I am sure you will—"
"Will what?" Tarlac interrupted bitterly. "I thought it was bad enough, trying to take the Ordeal and bring peace. Now I'm supposed to start a new era, and avoid racial insanity, too?"