“Armed with a blade of mere metal he came against A’jliata, suffering pain and possible permanent damage in the service of T’carais and Clan.

“Let it further be known,” Edger continued, “that this person shall come into the clan as my brother, which he has earned. His name in present fullness shall be stated at the ceremony of adoption.”

He fixed the bewildered Broodmother with his eye, dropping into the only speech she understood. “This person is honored by me, as he will be honored by the clan, for bravery and service. Know that he alone slew the eldest A’jliata, thereby preserving the line of the T’carais of the Knife Clan. I will hear no further words against him. Do you understand what I have said?”

She lowered her head. “I understand you, T’carais.”

“It is good. Now, take the T’carais’amp and attend him. Later you shall tell me how he came to be in danger!”

The Broodmother came forward, hand extended for her charge, who set up a squall and clung to his soft friend.

Val Con shifted away, prying clutching fingers from his arm. “Gently, child,” he murmured in Trade, “you’ll break me…”

The Broodmother added a few quick words of her own on the subject and the T’carais’amp was borne away. Edger looked at his brother Handler.

“Find you our brother Selector and choose a worthy blade from the Room of Men.”

Handler inclined his head; turned to the man.

“I am proud to have gained so valiant a brother, Val Con yos’Phelium Scout, “he said formally. Then he, too, went away.

Val Con turned to Edger, brow up. “I do not understand, T’carais. You slew—A’jliata—not I. Why honor me?”

Edger blinked. “I hurried what you had contrived. A blind creature in the wild is already dead. I but showed it the mercy one accords a worthy foe. You gave it death with your light.” He slumped, leaning on the lance: it was not necessary to feign tirelessness with this, his brother.