Tarlac traded glances with Hovan, remembering the precaution he'd taken against failure. It might work, it might not. He had to hold onto the First Speaker's promise from the Lords that his survival of the Ordeal would bring an honorable peace, and hope the death he still saw as inevitable wouldn't bring disaster.
Hovan felt certain of Steve's survival, but had made his promise because it was necessary to his ruhar's state of mind. Part of a sponsor's responsibility was easing any stress outside of the Ordeal itself, and Steve already carried two contradictory convictions: his need to survive, to complete his mission, and his certainty that he would not.
There was nothing Hovan could do about the man's certainty of death, but he could see to it that Steve was allowed to rest. "It is early, I know, Ka'ruchaya, and everyone is curious—"
"As curious as we are about any candidate's experiences," Yarra agreed. "Still, I am sure further questions can wait until tomorrow."
Tarlac gave her a grateful smile. "Thanks, Ka'ruchaya. I am pretty tired, and I've been looking forward to a sleeping mat. I could use a long, hot shower, too."
The shower helped considerably, relaxing his muscles and allowing emotional tension to ease in the sheer luxury of being really clean. And his n'ruhar's presence allowed other tension to ease; he was asleep seconds after he covered himself with his light blanket.
Sleep was dreamless, his unaware mind and body absorbing the clan's support, and when he woke he felt as refreshed as though he'd slept for a week. It was still early, the wake-light not yet on, and from the others' breathing, it appeared he was the only one who'd waked without it. He was content to bask in their warmth and unwilling to disturb their rest until, all too soon, the light did come on and it was time to rise, time to go through the morning routine.
When he'd showered again—it was still a pleasure—Tarlac went with Hovan to first-meal, trying not to think too much about the future. He'd eat dornya meat scrambled into eggs again tomorrow, but afterwards his destination would be the gathering hall for his Scarring, not the Ka'ruchaya's office for news intercepts.
This morning, though, he could take refuge in normalcy, looking forward even to reading nine days' worth of reports—a prospect that as a rule held no appeal for him at all.
Accompanying Yarra and Hovan to her office, he found, not at all to his surprise, that it was spotless. Tarlac wondered again how she managed to run a clan without her office showing it; the only trace of paperwork was the stack of printouts on her desk, and they were his. He glanced at her for permission, which she granted with a nod, and he picked up the stack and took it to his usual chair.