“Ronan,” Hanno said, still keening in a way that would have alarmed Cynara if not for her obvious delight. She was Ronan’s height, small for a shaaurin, and her fur was a bright mahogany but lightly marked with black. If any shaauri face could be called gentle, hers met the description.
Human and shaaurin fell into rapid conversation. Ronan had not looked so relaxed since he had come to Aitu. Hanno expressed herself with great vivacity, her hands and whiskers and ears in constant motion. She touched Ronan again and again, like an anxious relative making sure that a loved one had returned whole from a long journey. Her feelings were plain even to human eyes.
She loved Ronan, and he loved her. This was his mother as no human had ever been.
“Hanno,” he said, a world of affection in his voice, “ilku se Va Cynara D’Accorso.”
The shaaurin turned immediately to Cynara. Her entire being smiled. She spoke softly and inclined her head, ears lowered.
“Hanno greets you,” Ronan said. “She apologizes that she does not speak the human tongue and asks your forbearance. I have told her that you understand.”
“Please convey all that is necessary,” Cynara said, “and tell her how pleased I am to meet the one who cared for you as a child.”
Ronan translated, and Hanno virtually beamed. She hurried back to the other shaauri, spoke to them in low tones, and vanished through a door at the rear of the room.
“Hanno brings tea and refreshments,” Ronan said, smiling faintly. “She always feared that I did not get enough to eat.”
Cynara felt a rush of gratitude. “She is quite… radiant. I can see that she would be very good with children, of any species.”
“I am glad you think so.” He took both her hands in his. “It is important to me that you understand.”
That was why he had brought her here last of all, to prove that shaauri could love, that he had known true caring in his time among them.
The gap between species had never been narrower than it was here, in a nursery that might have been transplanted from any human world. She had begun to like Sihvaaro; she liked Hanno already, knowing that she had loved Ronan unconditionally when others had hurt and abused him.
Did two individuals atone for the sins of all the rest? And if they did… if she began to believe that the shaauri deserved equal consideration in the long war with humanity… how could she hope to persuade Ronan that only the human cause was just?
She dodged Ronan’s gaze and watched the other li’laik’in, who was speaking in a soft voice to the children. “What is she saying?”
“She tells the story of the First Selection. Would you hear it?”
“Please.”
“In ancient days,” Ronan began in the measured tones of ritual, “when all shaauri lived upon Aur, there was no Selection. Though every other creature had learned its place and purpose, shaauri rebelled and refused to seek harmony with the land.
“In ancient days, before shaauri journeyed to the stars, Clans fought among one another in the manner of savages, without order or purpose.
“In ancient days, all fur was of a single pattern, so that one shaaurin might not be known from another.
“Because there was no Selection, a shaaurin might follow any Path regardless of need or ability, and there was much sorrow and unhappiness.
“Because there was no be’rokh-kaari’la, the young did not know when to become adults.
“Because there was no an’lai, the land was not cultivated, and Clan fought with Clan over hunting rights to feed the people.
“Because there was no li’lai, children were left orphaned with none to care for them.
“Because there was no ri’lai, shaauri lacked the beauty and the depth of spirit that raises us above the beasts.
“Because there was no ki’lai, reason was abandoned for unreason, and shaauri could not learn better ways.
“Because there was no ve’lai, all shaauri fought each other regardless of age or strength, and thousands died in the chaos of battle.
“Because there was no va’lai, all shaauri were ruled by their own wills and heeded no other, caring little for the harm they wrought in their selfishness.