"Yet once again the Lhari had grown cautious and fearful. And a young man named Bartol took a blind leap into unknown darkness, all alone—"
"Not alone," Bart said as if to himself, "it took two men called Briscoe. And my father. And a couple of Raynors. And even a man called Montano, because without that, I'd never have decided—"
"Like Rhazon of Nedrun, like all pioneers, this young man has been cursed by his own people, the very ones who will one day benefit from his daring. He has found his people a firm footing among the stars. It is too late for the Lhari to regret that we did not sooner extend you the hand of welcome there. You have climbed, unaided, to join us. For good or ill, we must make room for you.
"But there is room for all. Competition is the lifeblood of trade, and we face the future without fear, knowing that life still holds many surprises for the living. I say to you: welcome to the stars."
Even while Bart stood speechless with the knowledge of success, the door opened again, and Bart, turning, cried out in amazement.
"Tommy! Ringg! Meta!"
"Sure," Tommy exclaimed, "we've got to celebrate," but Bart stopped, looking past them.
"Captain Vorongil!" he said, and went to greet the old Lhari. "I thought you'd hate me, rieko mori." The term of respect fell naturally from his lips.
"I did, for a time," Vorongil said quietly. "But I remembered the day we stood on Lharillis, by the monument. And that you risked—perhaps your life, certainly your eyesight—to save us from death. So when the Elder asked for my estimate of your people, I gave it."
"I thought it sounded like you." Bart felt that his happiness was complete.