Val Con smiled wanly. “I can walk,” he said, “though I may need to hold onto—something—and be guided…”

“It shall be done,” declared the T’carais, rising to full height. Gingerly, he extended a hand to the small person on the ground.

In a moment, that person also put forth a hand, curling many fingers about Edger’s few, and allowed himself to be helped to his feet.

* * *

THEY REACHED HIS new brother’s vessel in the near dark of the third moon. Edger led, leaning upon his lance; the T’carais’amp and Val Con followed, hand-in-hand. The eggling wore the man’s knapsack on his back like a soft leather shell.

Voices carried on the night air: two, raised in disharmony. Edger straightened and lengthened his stride, entering the clearing as a T’carais should.

The Broodmother cut off in mid-lament; bowed as deeply as she was able. His brother inclined his head, reading the weariness in him, but saying nothing, as was his gentle way.

Edger stopped, motioning those behind to come forward.

Hand-in-hand, they did so; stopped before T’caraisiana’ab and Broodmother, waiting.

The Broodmother looked up and resumed her outcry.

“You see what I have told you! It made off with the T’carais’amp, the evil thing!” She turned to Edger, every line of her pleading justice. “Will you not slay it, T’carais? You have seen with your eyes how evil—”

“SILENCE!” bellowed Edger and the Broodmother subsided, blinking rapidly. Handler looked from his brother to the small intruder to the T’carais’amp.

Edger gestured and Handler brought his head up, listening, that he might later recall precisely.

“Let it be known,” the T’carais began, regally, and in the tongue known as Trade, “that this man Val Con yos’Phelium Scout has this day saved the lives of both the T’carais of the Knife Clan and the T’carais’amp, placing his life into peril to do so, when he might have run and been safe.