"As I have been instructed, I have, my Khan."

"Do you understand the rights and responsibilities of a MechWarrior within the Wolf Clan?"

"With my heart and soul, my Khan."

Ulric looked up. "Are these affirmations acceptable to the Conclave?"

"Seyla," whispered the Wolves.

"Very well." Ulric nodded to someone standing behind Phelan. "From this day forward, Phelan Wolf, you have all the rights and responsibilities, honors and duties attending to your status. Because you killed two 'Mechs during your test, you are eligible to join a combat unit at the rank of StarCommander. In fact, the commander of a line unit has already given you a place. Congratulations."

"It is my honor and my duty to serve to the best of my abilities."

A Wolf bearing a silver tray appeared at Phelan's left shoulder. From that tray, Ulric took a small lapel pin stamped with a symbol that the new MechWarrior instantly recognized. The design was the eight-pointed star with an elongated southern point, the one Phelan called a daggerstar. It marked him as a MechWarrior.

Ulric pinned it to the right breast of Phelan's tunic. "Let this symbol show the world what we have found in your heart and mind and soul."

The ilKhan then lifted the second item from the tray, and the aide withdrew. Cast in metal and decorated with enamels, the mask seemed possessed of a savage lupine spirit. Its white teeth stood out sharply against the glassy gray flesh of the muzzle, and the upthrust ears gave it a look of attentiveness. For a single moment, Phelan felt at though he were looking into a mirror, then Ulric settled the mask over his head.

Ulric turned him to face the assembly. "I give you Phelan of the Wolves and demand you recognize him as a MechWarrior."

"Seyla."

From within the mask's protective anonymity, Phelan felt fully one with the Clan. Some part of him remembered who he had once been, yet it no longer mattered. Phelan Kell had died during his transformation from bondsman to Warrior, and Phelan Wolf had taken his place. Still, until this time and this place, Phelan Wolf had been a creature of two worlds. With his acceptance by the Warriors, Phelan's integration of past and present began.

"Seyla," he said softly.

Ulric's aide pulled at Phelan's elbow and backed him to the dim edge of the circle of light. Without thinking, Phelan reached up his left hand to touch the pin. The cool metal felt good to his fingers, as though all his time and training were now distilled into this one symbol. I am again a MechWarrior, and no one will take that away from me ever.

Ulric leaned forward on the podium once more. "The Conclave bids forward a Warrior whose exploits are legend both within the Clans and in the Successor States. She left us almost fifty years ago, yet returns even more skilled than before her departure. In her testing, she accomplished what no other Warrior has ever done: she destroyed four opponents, killing Burke Carson. If anyone doubted the stories of her career in the Inner Sphere, that performance confirms their truth. Natasha Kerensky, come forward."

Phelan marveled at the woman striding down the aisle toward the podium. He knew, from the history of the Clans and Wolf's Dragoons, that she had to be at least seventy years old, but her leather-sheathed body didn't look a day over a young forty. Even more youthful than her form was Natasha's lightness of movement and confidence of bearing. Her spirit burned so brightly that it had kept her young, Phelan decided. Young and so very dangerous.

Natasha's leathers were black with red trim, a holdover from her days as a member of Wolf's Dragoons. On her right breast, she wore the red daggerstar she had earned even before Phelan's father had entered the Nagelring. At the waist of her tunic was emblazoned a red hourglass shape. The Black Widow's mark.He smiled slightly. Natasha will never change.

The ilKhan took the wolf mask that his aide handed him. It differed only from Phelan's in being black instead of gray. Ulric settled the mask on Natasha's shoulders, then presented her to the audience. "I give you Natasha Kerensky and demand you recognize her once again as a MechWarrior."

Phelan joined in as the others chorused, "Seyla."

As Natasha retreated to Phelan's side, Ulric addressed the crowd. "It is my duty to inform this Conclave that Natasha Kerensky's performance in the testing has forced reevaluation of some criteria we use in assigning duties. A person of her age is usually charged with raising a sibko and imparting her wisdom to the young. That is how it has been since the Clans were born, and we hold dear the tradition.

"Still, it is a practice that not all have found easy to accept. Warriors have pointed out that within the Scientist caste and other lower orders in our society, an individual's useful lifetime is measured in terms that make a Warrior's career appear like that of a mayfly. Some argue that those other pursuits are not as demanding of total mind-body integration as are our duties. However, until Natasha's recent testing, no assault had ever been mounted against it.

"Because of her exceptional scoring, the ilKhan has granted her an exceptional request. He agrees with her assessment that she had been a MechWarrior too long to easily accept 'herding crawler commandos.' She has been granted command of a Cluster that she will form from her own choice of Wolf Warriors. She has received the rank of Star Colonel and will remain in command until such time as she or the ilKhan decides that the Cluster is non-functional."

Ulric pulled himself up to his full height. "All are to abide by the rede given here. Thus it shall stand until we all shall fall."

"Thus it shall stand until we all shall fall," echoed the assembled Wolves. Their applause at the end of the ceremony made Phelan blush, but the sound trailed off quickly enough as the people filed out of the room. Cyrilla and Ranna, having removed their masks, fought through the crowd toward Phelan, while Ulric was shaking hands with the newly welcomed warriors.

"Congratulations, Natasha, Phelan." The ilKhan smiled warmly. "You both performed excellently in the testing yesterday. You, Natasha, turned many a head with those four kills to your credit. And Phelan, your stature grew for allowing Natasha that fourth kill."

Phelan pulled off his mask and shrugged. "Allow? I really did not have an choice. If she had not finished Vlad, he would have killed me."

Natasha, tucking her mask under her right arm, turned to him. "No, Phelan, Ulric does not mean 'allow,' as in present me the opening, but 'allow,' as in agreeing that I could take one of your kills. Had you not agreed to work together, I would not have shot at Vlad. Even though it might have been the cause of your death, I would not have dishonored you by robbing you of that kill. That, not the lack of skill, is the reason no one else has killed four 'Mechs in a test."

Cyrilla shook her head. "You underestimate your performance, Tasha. Many, many others have tried to bag a quartet. Two pilots agree to allow one another to shoot at their targets so that each has a chance of killing a fourth. The problem is that they end up trying to track more than just their enemies and they lose sight of their objective. They get shot out or even killed well shy of their allotted three, much less four."

"Perhaps," Natasha said, then looked over at Ulric. "I wish to thank you for giving me a Cluster. I know you told me it was my 'ransom,' but it is far more generous than I deserve."

Phelan frowned. "Ransom?"