"The Questing Game" - читать интересную книгу автора (Galloway James)

Chapter 10

Triana had been right about one thing. The customs were alot more complicated than the laws.

Tarrin sat in his bed and listened to Triana prattle on about the customs of the Were-boars, his mind drifting a bit. He had been sitting there listening to her for six days, listening and reciting as his body mended itself. The pain had reduced greatly, to the point where he no longer needed the pain-reducing medicines to go to sleep. But it was still there. It had went from a sharp chronic pain that could not be ignored to a dull ache that had taken up residence in his chest. It no longer jabbed him with pain when he moved his arms, and he even had a little motion in his shoulders. He could sit up on his own, for he had regained a good portion of his strength. But Triana did not allow him out of bed for anything other than to relieve himself. He still got tired very fast. But the hole in his chest had gotten to the point where it no longer seeped blood, and it didn't take Dolanna to change the bandages anymore.

Just as Triana predicted, Tarrin was healing very quickly.

His days were full of lessons. Triana was a very abrupt teacher. She expected his undivided attention at all times, so she only said something once. And if he couldn't recite it back to her accurately, she gave him one of those withering looks and punished him for his lack of attentiveness. Her preferred method of punishment was an hour with nothing to do but stare at the room. Before the pain had lessened to where he could sleep on his own, that had been a very effective punishment, relying on the fact that he started getting stir crazy after only a few minutes of boredom. But since the pain had lessened, he could now simply go to sleep for the hour, and wake up when it was time to resume. Tarrin had the sneaking suspicion that she used his "punishment" as a convenient way to put a break in the lesson so he could rest. When he started getting tired, he found it very hard to concentrate on her lessons, and he wouldn't tell her that he needed to stop. He had to learn it all as quickly as he could.

There had been other events during those six days. He had met Shirazi and Singer. Shirazi was a very tall Were-cat with auburn hair and grayish striped fur, but she hadn't really impressed him that much. All she could talk about was hunting. It consumed her, it dominated her every thought, and it was all she wanted to talk about. Even when not talking about hunting, she couched all her words in hunting metaphors and phrases. Aside from that, she seemed to be a pleasant enough Were-cat, kind and considerate. He just found her one-track mind a bit annoying. Singer was Shirazi's daughter. She was a very young Were-cat, only thirty, and she looked just like a very young version of Shirazi. She looked like a teenage girl, albeit it a very tall one. She had her mother's grayish striped fur, but her hair was brown. Her facial features were much like Shirazi's just as sharp and angular. Both of them looked like they were Nyrian, a dark-skinned, slant-eyed race of humans from a kingdom on the other side of Yar Arak, except their skin was too light.

He didn't see them that often, because they had been out killing people. Literally. Dolanna had told him all about it. The five of them had been slinking around both cities, wiping out pockets of Wikuni and human enemies. They were very thorough, and they were completely merciless about it. The only one that didn't participate was Kimmie, who stayed behind to defend Tarrin from any kind of attack while the rest of them sallied forth to destroy his enemies. It only took them three days to completely drive every Wikuni out of the two cities. They had all gotten onto their ships and sailed away. They were still rooting out all the pockets of human thieves and cutthroats, though. Triana didn't know which ones were working for Tarrin's enemies, so she was simply being thorough in destroying all of them.

And the fact that nobody knew who was doing it was testament to his elders' abilities. Nobody had so much as seen one of the mysterous assassins that had killed a complete company of Wikuni Marines, then started randomly targeting Wikuni of any kind until the entire complement of them fled. And after the Wikuni were taken care of, the killings had begun among the two cities' populations of thieves and scoundrels. The thieves seemed to realize that it was the hiring the men with silver swords had done that had started it, but they were helpless to do anything but run, because those men were among the first to be singled out and killed. That had started the mass exodus of thieves, beggars, murderers, footpads, and other low-lifes in both cities, fleeing for greener pastures.

That left him alone with Kimmie a bit more than the others. Kimmie seemed to like him, she was bright and thoughtful, and she seemed to strike up an immediate friendship with Dar. Allia was still feeling her out, though. Tarrin rather liked her. He could relate to her, because she had once been human as well, and she could sympathize when he told her about his experiences. She too had had to adjust to the inctincts, and had had to face her own personal demons. But unlike him, Kimmie had been found by Mist not long after her turning, and Mist had managed to help her adjust without too much trauma. The act seemed out of character for Mist, who didn't even fully trust Triana. Kimmie wouldn't really talk about it, though.

"Alright, cub, what do you do when you find yourself on a Were-boar's range?"

"Stay where I am and wait for three days," he replied mechanically. "If he doesn't come in three days, I can pass through his territory after I leave a mark that can identify me to it."

"Why don't you just leave?"

"Because a Were-boar will track you down if you run away," he answered. "Were-boars don't like unannounced tresspassers."

"Correct. How do you greet a pack of Were-wolves?"

"We don't. Were-wolves will attack Were-cats in their territory. We flee from their territory when we realize we're on Were-wolf ground."

"Good. What do you say when a Were-bear asks you to fight?"

"I accept. Were-bears like to fight, but not in anger. It's a form of play for them, and they won't hurt me on purpose."

"What do you do when you enter a Were-fox's den?"

"Surrender any weapons I'm carrying, even things like eating knives."

"Very good, cub. You retain knowledge very well. Alot better than any of my other children ever did."

"Thank you, but when are you going to teach me about Were-cat customs?"

"I won't," she replied bluntly. "We don't have what you'd call an organized existence, cub. We all live day by day. Other Were-kin teach their cubs to be wary around us, but we don't have any little customs that the others have to know about. Other Were-kin can be classified by their type. Some are a little different here or there, but they all still react in the same basic way to some things. We don't. Every Were-cat is individual, but the one thing we all share in common is a feral disposition that shows itself most often in our short tempers. As a race, we're generally quick to anger and are very unsociable to others. What angers one Were-cat won't bother another one at all. Since we don't have 'racial quirks' other than our tempers, it's hard for the others to deal with us."

"Oh. So, just take each Were-cat as he or she comes."

"Just about. There aren't many of us, so you'll learn how to deal with the others as you meet them. But I'm not going to sit here and describe each one to you. Those are lessons you'll have to learn on your own."

"You said a feral disposition. We're all feral?"

"To varying degrees," she affirmed. "It's the one thing that marks us as different from the other Were-kin, other than this," she said, holding up her arms. "Some, like you and Mist, are way further up on that pole than others. Kimmie's probably the least feral of us all. But all of us are a touch feral."

"Then we do have a common trait," he challenged.

"Technically, but since each Were-cat is different, then they still can't use that to try to approach us."

"What makes it different?"

"Well, the biggest reason is how we've learned to deal with rage," she said, sitting down. "All of us have rages, cub. It's part of being Were-cat, and it's one reason we're all considered feral by other Were-kin. None of us are ever in total control. Some, like you, have found that being feral helps deal with the guilt. After all, when you're feral, you don't care. It's a simple solution, and probably one that saved your sanity. Others have found other ways to deal with it without having to take that step. The only problem with the feral solution is that it opens you up to more rages," she said, looking directly at him. "If you don't care, then you're much more likely to snap, because you don't fear the consequences. I've felt you go into a rage twice. That's pretty frequent for the amount of time I've had your bond, but then again, you've been hunted that entire time. I can forgive you for it, because I know what touched it off. Mist can fly into a rage at any time, and she's completely indifferent to the havoc she can cause. That's why we don't let her come into human civilization unless absolutely necessary. I'm taking a big risk letting her stay here, but I need her. She's probably the best tracker in the Heartwood. Her nose is so sensitive that she can tell you how many deer were in a herd a month after they went by. Mist's nose makes sure that nobody can hide from us."

The door opened, and the slender Rahnee stepped in. She gave Tarrin a grin as Triana turned to look. "Shirazi and Mist are back," she said. "They found another hideout. You want me to get Singer?"

"How many are hiding there?"

"Twenty or so. Nothing major," she shrugged. "You're looking rosy, cub. I think Triana'll let you out of that bed soon."

"We'll see," Triana said.

"When's he going to be healed?"

"For what you want out of him, at least a month," Triana said sharply. "You're not going to aggravate his wound, Rahnee."

"I wouldn't do that," she protested. "I know how to be gentle."

"You bit a huge chunk out of Jared's ear."

"He shouldn't have put it in my face," she retorted.

"What are you talking about?" Tarrin asked suspiciously.

"What do you think we're talking about?" Rahnee asked bluntly, giving him a very direct look.

Tarrin blushed slightly.

"Face it, cub. You're the only male around, and I'm starting to feel a little frisky. You're old enough for what I want to do with you. And you'll like it," she said with a throaty purr.

"Out," Triana ordered. "Go find Singer." Triana closed the door behind her, then leaned against it and gave Tarrin a calm stare. "Get used to that, cub," she said. "There's only one male for every seven females. That means that we share."

"I know that, Triana," he said with a bit of courage in his voice. "Jesmind explained that to me."

"She didn't prepare you for the reality," Triana said. "You're going to be very popular, cub. You're cute, you're tall, and you're strong. Unlike human women, we always have the urge to find strong sires to give us strong children. If there were more males, we'd probably force them to prove their worth, but I'm afraid that we don't have that luxury. We have to take what we can get."

"I'm tall," he mused, giving her a slight smile. "I barely come up to your chin."

"I'm about nine hundred years older than you," she answered with a grin. "We tend to grow as we age, cub. Not much, but as you can see, when you get to be my age, it starts to show. You're a full head taller than my son, Laren, and he's three hundred years older than you. Then again, that boy of mine is short. He's not much taller than Mist. Anyway, you're just a bit taller than the average Were-cat male, mainly because the oldest male is only three hundred years old. The average female is about four hundred, so the females tend to be a bit taller than the males."

"Why are the males so much younger?"

"Bad luck," she shrugged. "There weren't all that many elder males to begin with, so the occasional accident or fight has taken a greater toll on our males than our females. We may be ageless and regenerate, but we do still occasionally die."

"I didn't know that."

"Now you do," she said. "I have to go take care of this. You just rest a while. I'll see you later."

After she left, Tarrin leaned back in the bed, a paw resting lightly on the wound in his chest. He guessed it made sense, and to be honest, Rahnee's invitation didn't frighten him. He knew how things were in Were-cat society. He didn't hide from that part of himself, either. But it would have to wait a while, because there was no way he'd even allow himself to do something like that with a woman in his condition, a woman that was probably strong enough to rip off an arm.

There were other things to think about, though. He really worried about Keritanima, Miranda, Azakar, and the Vendari. The Goddess said they were being treated well, but more and more as time went by, he found that he just needed to know for himself. Not that he doubted her words, but that was then, and this was now. Things may have changed. Keritanima was his sister, and he wanted to talk to her. He wanted to know if Miranda and the others were alright. He wanted to know what was happening with them, and what Keritanima was going to do. He remembered her telling him about the amulets. He had to tell Allia about it, but not until after he was sure that it was going to work.

He remembered the Goddess' directions. Reaching up and putting his paw on the amulet, he closed his eyes and concentrated on Keritanima, willing her to hear him. "Kerri," he called. There was an odd feeling to it, like he was trying to speak over the distance, yet he didn't have to raise his voice. It was a feeling of reaching out through the amulet, and it did require a little bit of effort. No wonder the Goddess told him not to try until he was stronger.

There was no response. For a moment, he thought it didn't work, but then he realized that if she heard him, she'd have no idea what to do to respond. "Kerri, if you can hear me, put your hand on your amulet and use it to reply," he said again, keeping his eyes closed and concentrating on his sister. "You have to concentrate on me and reach out to me through the amulet."

"Tarrin?" came the hesitant, startled response. Keritanima's voice sounded hollow, ethereal, and it emanated from the amulet itself. The strange sound of her voice was probably an effect of hearing it through the amulet. "Is that you?"

"Of course it's me, deshaida," he said with an explosive sigh. "The Goddess explained how to use the amulet to speak with you. Are you having any trouble?"

"No, no! It's so good to hear your voice, brother! I was absolutely worried sick! I dreamed that you were alright, but it's so good just to hear your voice and know that you're alive! Are you alright?"

"I'm a bit banged up, but I'll recover," he told her. "The crossbow quarrel put me in a sickbed, but Triana says I should be up and about in just a few days."

"Triana? What's she doing there?"

Tarrin chuckled. "Well, Triana's taking care of me," he told her. "She's teaching me what I need to know to get Fae-da'Nar off my back. Because of that, she's not trying to kill me anymore."

"It's just weird. What is it about your kin that makes them so fickle? I mean, they try to kill you one day, then they're your best friend the next. Why don't they make up their minds?"

Tarrin laughed, which sent a bit of pain through him. "I think it's more a woman thing than a Were-cat thing," he teased.

"Let's not ruin this," she teased back. "How are Allia and the others?"

"They're all fine," he answered. "Are Miranda, Zak, Binter, and Sisska alright?"

"A little peeved, but alright," she replied. "They took Azakar, Binter and Sisska's weapons. Binter reacted very well to that. He only brained two Marines that tried to take his hammer. I had to order him to give it up."

"I don't blame him. In his eyes, he can't protect you without his warhammer. Are they treating you alright?"

"It's a gilded cage, brother," she grunted. "I'm still princess of Wikuna, so they have to treat me with the respect due to my station. But I'm also a prisoner, so they have to take those precautions too. I'm doing my best to make everyone on the ship regret abducting me."

Tarrin chuckled, but that made him cough, which brought a knife of pain into him. "The Brat is back?"

"Oh, is she," she said in a dangerous voice.

"Where are you going now?"

"Well, right now, we're about two days west of Dayise. We should arrive at Wikuna by the middle of next month. The captain has so much sail on, he's nearly split his masts. They're getting me back to Wikuna as fast as they can manage."

"Why didn't you just get off at Dayise?"

"Tarrin, brother, they've threatened to have all of you killed if I start rebelling," she told him. "Wikuna has agents everywhere. They know where you are, so that's a threat I can't ignore. But about right now, I don't want to come back yet. We're going to Wikuna, and I'm going to make my father pay for interfering with me," she finished in a fearsome voice full of fury. "After I make sure that my father doesn't do something like this again, I'll be on my way back. Now that I see we can talk to each other, it won't be hard for us to find you."

"Heh, well, the threat on us isn't here anymore, sister," he informed her. "Triana was very angry with the Wikuni over what they did to me. There isn't a Wikuni left in the two cities. The ones that were smart enough to run away did so days ago."

There was a pause, then Keritanima started laughing. "Well, that explains the warning for all Wikuni to stay away from Shoran's Fork and Var Denom. I hope Triana gutted a few of them for me."

"Any Wikuni that was part of the attack is dead," he told her. "The rest fled when Triana started branching out. She didn't want to see one of them in either city. I have to say, I'm impressed. Triana knows how to chase people out."

"I think I need to meet this Triana."

"You can, when you come back. She adopted me. She's my new bond-mother."

"I told you it wouldn't work for you," Keritanima seemed to say. "Miranda says hello, Tarrin. She's trying to pull the amulet out of my hands."

"Tell her hello."

"She can hear you, but it seems I'm the only one that can talk. I'll have to study this. It has to be a weave in the amulet. Can Allia do this?"

"The Goddess said she can," he replied. "Our amulets are all linked together, so we can talk to each other using them."

"Good. I think I'll surprise Allia with a call," she said with a wicked little chuckle.

"No, let me explain it first. She'd think you were a ghost."

"Alright. Azakar wants to know if Dolanna is alright. We saw her laying on the dock."

"She's fine," he assured her. "I was the only one that really got hurt. Dolanna got a bump on the head, probably to keep her from using Sorcery. I have to admit, the Wikuni planned the ambush well."

"There's not going to be any letting this go," she promised in an ugly voice. "When we get home, every officer that took part in it is going to meet with a very unfortunate accident. They're not getting away with hurting you."

"Don't get in trouble, sister."

"They'll never pin it on me," she said confidently. "I know how to arrange a murder. I know all the right people."

"Well, be careful," he cautioned. "Listen, Kerri, I have to stop this. It's tiring me out, and if Triana catches me doing something that wears me out, she'll skin me. She's not the kind of person you upset."

Keritanima laughed. "Alright. Now that I know I can talk to you any time I want, I guess I can live with you leaving. I'll talk to you later, alright?"

"Alright. Give me a couple of days."

"Make sure you tell Allia how to do it. I'll wait for her to contact me."

"I'll do it right now," he promised. "As soon as I get someone to go get her."

"Good. You get better, Tarrin. I'll talk to you later. I love you."

"I love you too, sister, and if I don't get better, Triana will kill me," he added with a wry chuckle. "Bye."

"Bye," she answered, and he took his paw off the amulet.

Tarrin knew it wouldn't take much to get Allia into his room. All he had to do was get the attention of whoever was standing outside his door. He did that by picking up the metal base of his lantern, then pitching it at the door. It hit it with a metallic thunk, and the door opened almost immediately. It was Faalken, wearing his armor and with a light grin on his face. "You wanted something, Tarrin?"

"I need to talk to Allia. Is she around?"

"I think she's downstairs. I can't leave this door or Triana will nail me to it, but Dolanna's in the next room. I'll have her go get Allia for you."

"Thanks, Faalken," he said with a grateful look, then he leaned back against his pillows.

Allia entered the room with Dolanna a few minutes later. She had a pewter tankard of water in her slender, four-fingered hand, but she also had a quartet of deep scratches on her forearm. Their spacing told him that a Were-cat was to blame. They were also fresh, done that very day. "Which one did that to you?" he asked immediately.

"It wasn't a fight, brother," Allia said immediately in Selani. "Singer wanted to see the Dance, so I sparred with her. This was an accident. You have given me worse, so don't get outraged over it."

"Oh. Alright, I guess," he said. "Dolanna, you should be here too."

"For what, dear one?"

"I'm going to teach Allia something about our amulets. It turns out we can use them to talk with Keritanima." Dolanna's eyebrow rose, and Allia gave him a startled look, putting her hand on her ivory amulet. "The Goddess explained how to do it. She said that because they're connected, we can use them to speak with each other over any distance."

"When did she tell you this?" Dolanna asked.

"When she told me everything else. She just said not to try it or use it until I was stronger. It does take a little concentration and effort."

"You could have told me," Allia said in a huff.

"I wanted to make sure it worked before I did that," he told her. "Do you want to learn this or not?"

"Teach on," she said immediately.

"I've already done it, and Kerri's waiting for you to speak to her," he told her. "You just put your hand on the amulet and concentrate on which of us you want to talk to. Then you talk. She'll hear it. She'll talk back to you the same way."

Allia nodded, grabbing hold of the ivory amulet, taking a couple of breaths, then closing her eyes. "Keritanima," she called out in a steady voice.

"It's about time," Keritanima's voice emanted from Allia's amulet immediately. "I thought you said you were going to get her, Tarrin. I was starting to worry." There was a slight pause. "Hello, sister. It's good to hear your voice. Are you alright?"

"Very interesting," Dolanna said professionally, looking at Allia's hand over the amulet. "Can she hear us?" she asked Tarrin.

He shook his head. "She can only hear Allia, but everything Allia says can be heard by people around her, the same way we can hear her."

"Then I suggest you only speak to Keritanima in Sha'Kar," Dolanna suggested. "That is the only secure way to communicate, and there is little doubt that Keritanima's cabin is under surveillance."

"That's a very good point," Tarrin agreed. Allia relayed that suggestion to Keritanima, in the Sha'Kar language.

"I think Dolanna has a good idea," Keritanima replied in Sha'Kar. "I have little doubt that people are watching and listening. This way they'll know I'm talking to you, but have no idea what I'm saying. And it's not like they can tell me to stop. That would tip me off for sure that they're spying on me."

"What is the difference?" Allia asked.

"It's against the law to spy on the Royal family," Keritanima said with a wicked little laugh. "They do it anyway, but it's illegal. Anyone caught doing it is arrested for high treason, and Wikuni law makes that punishable by death with no benefit of trial. If they say that to me, I could have the ship's captain executed on the spot."

"The Wikuni have laws for everything," Allia noted.

"True, but that just means that we have to break more laws to get things done," she replied with a chuckle. "Azakar is giving me a dirty look. He doesn't like our new security rule."

"Miranda speaks Sha'Kar," Tarrin remembered with a little smile. "I wouldn't put it past Binter and Sisska either. They were in the room when we were learning it, and they're both very smart."

"Tell Keritanima that giving Azakar lessons may be a good idea," Dolanna said. "Because of who we are, I think an uninterceptible means of communication should be common among us."

Allia relayed that, and there was a pause. "I'm not so sure, Dolanna. The more people who know it, the greater the chance it leaks out."

"That's irrational, sister," Allia chided. "Teaching a language takes time."

"True, but how am I going to teach him without teaching whoever's listening as well?"

"I see," Allia said after a second.

"Tell her that there are any number of weaves and Wards I taught her that block sound," Dolanna told Allia. "She can simply isolate her cabin and teach within the safety of the Ward. It could also protect them from any other information they do not want the others to discover."

Allia relayed that. "Good idea," Keritanima answered Dolanna's suggestion. "I can do that, and it'll give me the opportunity to practice. Miranda wants to know if there are Wards that block vision. You never taught me anything like that."

"Yes, but I did not teach them to her. Tell her that an Illusion placed so that is viewed outward, laid over the cabin's walls, will make people looking into the cabin see the Illusion she placed. It is just as effective as a blocking Ward."

Allia relayed that, and Keritanima chuckled. "I never thought to use an Illusion like that. That's sneaky. I'll do it. I don't want these rats knowing any more than absolutely necessary."

"You were right, brother," Allia told him. "This does take effort."

"That's why I only did it for a couple of minutes," he told her.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing, sister," Allia said. "I was speaking to Tarrin."

"Oh, sorry. For a minute there, I thought I lost contact. Listen, I can't speak much longer. I have to make some arrangements, and I don't want them to know any more until I can set it up so they can't eavesdrop. I'll talk to you tomorrow, Allia, alright?"

"That's alright with me, sister," Allia assured her. "Contact us when you're ready to speak again. We won't contact you until then, unless it's an emergency."

"Good. I hope to contact you tomorrow. I love you, sister. Bye again, Tarrin, and I'll do what you suggested, Dolanna. Just make sure you teach Dar and Faalken while I'm teaching Azakar."

"Dolanna is nodding, so I guess that is an assent, and Tarrin sends his love," Allia replied. "Goodbye, sister. Fair winds be with you."

"Talk to you tomorrow, Allia. Keep each other safe," she replied, and then Allia let go of the amulet.

"Well, this is an advantageous development," Dolanna smiled. "With the ability to communicate with her, she will have no trouble finding us when she is ready to return. When will that be, Tarrin?"

"She said she wants to deal with her father, so she's not chased anymore. She said she'd be back after she did that."

"So she intends to go to Wikuna."

Tarrin nodded. "I have the feeling that Damon Eram is going to have a very bad summer."

Dolanna chuckled. "I would have to agree, dear one. Keritanima seems to me to be a very spiteful woman. She will not make her father's life in any way easier for her presence."

"There is nothing wrong with vengeance," Allia said. "It is a demand of honor to repay blow for blow, blood for blood, and eye for eye. She will only be giving back to her father what he has inflicted upon her. That is fitting."

"Very fitting," Tarrin agreed.

"I just hope that it is not too much for her," Dolanna sighed. "She may be good at intrigue, but her father has much more experience. That he still sits on the throne is a testament to his ability. She will find in him her ultimate adversary."

"She will make us proud," Allia said confidently.

"I hope so," Tarrin yawned. "If you two don't mind, I'd like to take a nap. I'm feeling pretty tired."

"Certainly," Dolanna said. "You rest, Tarrin. The more you rest, the quicker you will recover. Come, Allia. Let us go downstairs and fetch Dar. We have instruction to give him."

"Yes, Dolanna," Allia said obediently. She leaned down and kissed Tarrin on the forehead, then rose up and gave him one of her glorious smiles. "I'll forgive you for not telling me sooner," she said with a wink. "Good sleep, my brother."

"Thanks," he said dryly, and then the two women filed quietly out the door.

Tarrin snuggled down against his pillows. It was good to hear from Keritanima, so good that he felt as if a great weight had been taken off his chest. He now knew, beyond any doubt, that she was well, and the others were well, and that she seemed to have control of the situation. Somewhat, anyway, but that was better than having none. He could go to sleep knowing fully that his beloved sister, as dear to him as his own blood sister, Jenna, was really and truly going to be alright.

In more ways than one. She was going to go back to Wikuna and stand up to her father. She could finally exorcise the demons of her childhood, and put it all behind her. She would come back a better woman, a healed woman, and he looked forward to looking into those beautiful amber eyes and not seeing the tight defensiveness in them that came from her horrid childhood. She would come back, and when she did, she would be whole.

It felt like he was a chick leaving a nest.

Tarrin stood at the door to his room, the room that had been his entire world for nearly eleven days. Triana held onto his arm gently, not supporting him but ready in case his knees faltered. She had finally pronounced him well enough to leave his room.

Standing beside his new bond-mother reminded him about how majestic she was. Taller than him by nearly a head, having to look up at her seemed to reinforce her authority over him. Tarrin wasn't used to looking up at people. Only Azakar, Binter, and Sisska, but all three of them were with Keritanima. But it was more than her height. Her posture, her stance, the very way she moved, they all radiated raw, unmitigated power. There was nothing that Triana did that didn't remind the looker that she was stronger, wiser, and much better than them, and that was alot of what made her so thoroughly intimidating. But eleven days of seeing her softer, more nurturing side had taken alot of the edge off that intimidation to him. She was still in total command of him, but he could look past her gruff exterior and see the tender woman that lurked beneath her hard shell. He didn't fear her anymore, like he had at first. He had a tremendous amount of respect for her, and he'd started to develop real affection for her, beyond the trusting sense of love he felt for her in her role as his foster parent.

Tarrin hesitated at the doorway, adjusting the soft linen shirt she'd given to him. He had an extra layer of bandage over the wound, in case his moving opened the wound, and it didn't like it when he bent in certain ways. He had to keep his chest and stomach aligned, and it throbbed whenever he bent forward. Just standing was a supreme effort, but he was determined to go down into the common room. Triana wasn't one to keep someone in a bed longer than they needed to be there, and she'd told him the day before that extended bedrest could be good, but it also let the body weaken in other ways. She told him that a good, quick recovery depended on the proper balance of quiet rest and limited activity, rehabilitating the injured areas while preventing everything else from atrophying. It took nearly everything he had to stand up by himself, or walk, but he wasn't going to be imprisoned in his room by his own weakness. Triana said he could leave it, so he meant to leave it.

"Just take it slow, cub," Triana warned as she opened the door. "This isn't a horse race. We have all month."

"I'm going about as fast as I can go, Triana," he assured her as he took a ginger step out into the hallway. It was carpeted and decorated with several tapestries and paintings, and even had a couple of narrow tables and plush uphostered chairs along the sides of the hallway. Dolanna had told him that they were in the Golden Eagle Inn, a very pricy upper-class establishment, which had been completely emptied out of everyone else. Tarrin and his friends were the only patrons, and the doors had been closed to everyone else. Triana had paid for it, and it was her gold that fed their entire group and kept the inn exclusively theirs. Tarrin wondered just how much money someone could amass over a thousand years, because to rent the entire inn at the start of the busy summer season had to be dreadfully expensive.

The hardest part was the stairs. Carpeted stairs with ornate brass candle holders along the panelled walls. Seventeen steps, and each one was a challenge to Tarrin's knees not to falter. He leaned heavily on Triana's arm as he negotiated the steps, carefully putting a foot down and shifting his weight, then repeating the process until his foot set down on the landing. It opened into a large hallway, and Triana pointed away from the large double doors, towards the inn's largest dining room.

He wondered how Dolanna was making out. She was visiting Renoit, who had agreed to remain in Shoran's Fork until Tarrin was fit enough to travel again. He hadn't been that hard to convince, Dolanna had mused after she told him about it, because the citizens of the two cities were flocking to his circus tent and paying him handsomely. Renoit wouldn't mind staying so long as the customers continued to flock to the performances. Today, she was over at the circus keeping in touch, notifying Renoit as to Tarrin's condition, and the estimated time that they would leave. As of that moment, Triana maintained that it would be about a month before he was fit enough to mend on his own. She told him he wouldn't be totally recovered for two months. Tarrin fervently hoped they could time that to coincide with them docking in Dala Yar Arak. They couldn't afford to just sit around while others were getting closer and closer to the Firestaff, and he could mend laying in a bunk on the ship just as easily as he could laying in the feather bed in his room. The sticking point had been convincing Triana of that. She wouldn't go with him, she had already made that clear, but she wouldn't let him go until he had healed to a certain point, when she was positive that no complications would arise during his mending.

They entered the dining room's large open doorway, and he found himself looking at a richly decorated chamber with a polished hardwood floor and a huge table of burnished mahogany. Silver candelabras sat at carefully measured stations along its length, and each of the large, padded chairs had a china setting placed before it. Elegant, shiny bone china, some of the very expensive kind from Telluria. His mother, Elke, had a set of that Tellurian china, which she had kept packed in barrels in the basement of their Aldreth home. He had no idea where it was now, but he was sure it wasn't far from his mother. She valued that china almost as much as she valued her husband. The funny thing was, she never used it. That had always driven him crazy. Why keep something you never use? It just didn't make sense.

Five of those chairs were occupied, by his female Were-cat kin. Rahnee, Shirazi, and Singer sat facing him, and Mist and Kimmie sat with their backs to him as he entered. Mist would not tolerate anyone other than a Were-cat being in the same room with her, but he was surprised she would sit with her back to the door. Each of them was enjoying a breakfast of fried ham steaks, boiled eggs, and a bowl of buttery-smelling porridge. "Well, it's good to see you standing on your own," Singer said with a light smile. "Feeling alright?"

"A little rubbery, but alright," he answered her. "I'm definitely hungry."

"That's why I brought you down here," Triana said. "I'm tired of hauling your food up there. Take a seat, and I'll go get the cook to fix you something."

Tarrin seated himself carefully beside Mist. If she objected to him, she made no outward sign. She was concentrating on her breakfast. Tarrin saw that she didn't bother using the fork, slicing the ham up with her claws, then using her fingers to get it to her mouth. "How are things going out there?" he asked curiously.

"I'm running out of prey," Shirazi said in disappointment. "I should have thought to hunt human thieves before. They're clever and cagey. They certainly make it a challenge."

"I hope you're not eating them," Tarrin said with a slight shudder.

Shirazi laughed. "Human tastes terrible," she said with smile and a wink. "I enjoy a good meal as much as the next Were-cat, but I have to draw the line somewhere. No, this hunting is definitely only for sport and pleasure."

"They do put a good fight when you can corner them," Rahnee added with a strange hint of respect in her voice. "They don't mewl like Bruga. The trick is cornering them. They're slippery little suckers."

"I'd think that slippery is a job requirement for a thief, Rahnee," Kimmie teased.

"You don't really have to kill them to win," Tarrin said. "Just chasing them out should be enough."

"We're not killing everything that moves, Tarrin," Singer said. "We give them a chance to run. One chance. If they don't take it, or if they try to sneak back, then they're killed."

"How do you know which ones come back?"

Singer touched the side of her nose with a furry finger and grinned.

"Oh. I keep forgetting about that."

"I don't see how you can, unless you don't have a sense of smell," Rahnee said critically.

"No, I meant it more like how you can remember them," he told Rahnee. "I can tell humans apart by scent, but after you smell so many, they'd be like a blur. I'd have trouble remembering which scent belongs to who."

"That's because you're young," Rahnee said with a grin. "Just give it time. A couple of decades of hunting training should get you up with the rest of us."

"It just takes practice, and paying attention, Tarrin," Shirazi said calmly. "You don't hunt if you can't pay attention, because in a hunt, a moment's distraction can kill you."

"My father used to tell me that."

"So how is that gray-haired old fox?" Shirazi asked curiously. "Did you know that he almost found me once? He's one of the best trackers I've ever seen."

"You know my father?"

"Not personally," she said. "I range up near Aldreth. I've drifted over a couple of times to see what the humans were up to, and I saw him. And you. I must say, I think you look better this way," she said with a wink. "He tracked me once while he was out in the forest hunting. He was very good."

"He was a Sulasian Ranger," he told her. "He knows all about woodcraft. The Frontier was the reason my parents retired to Aldreth."

"A Ranger, eh? I should have known," she chuckled. "They're good. Very good. Fae-da'Nar respects their ability enough to give them a wide berth."

"It seems ironic that you would be turned, you know," Kimmie said clinically. "You were one of the few humans that many in Fae-da'Nar saw with any regularity. If I didn't know the details about what happened, I'd almost think that someone bit you on purpose."

"She's right there," Shirazi agreed. "You, your parents and sister, and alot of the people in Aldreth were observed quite a bit. Aldreth is almost a training ground for us, a place where we can take our cubs and show them humans when they don't know they're being watched. If I didn't know what happened, I'd be thinking that someone just went and turned you too."

"Why?"

"Because you're cute," Rahnee winked.

"You don't let up, do you?"

"Not til I get what I want," she said daringly, giving him a leering grin.

Triana returned carrying a large tray in her paws. It was loaded with several slices of ham steaks, two apples, a bowl of porridge, a thick slice of warm bread, and a large mug of chilled milk. "Eat it all," she ordered, setting it in front of him. "You can't mend if you don't eat."

"I don't think eating is going to be a problem," he said emphatically, picking up the fork with the oversized handle that was on the tray. They thought of everything.

Triana picked at one of the ham steaks on his tray absently as he ate, reaching over and picking up a piece here and there. He didn't mind, so long as she kept her paw out of the path of his fork. The ham was seasoned, to his surprise, delicately seasoned with herbs to give it a unique flavor. A very good one. The inn's cook was a man very much worth his salt.

"Oh, did you hear the news?" Singer said after taking a long drink. "Milana came in last night, but only to say hi. She was passing through."

"Why didn't she stay and greet Tarrin?" Triana asked sharply.

"Because she's about ten days from dropping a cub," Singer said lightly. "She was so pregnant, I'm surprised the cub didn't claw his way out. She's trying to get back to her den before she delivers."

The texture of Mist's scent changed dramatically, making him look at her. It was so full of anger it surprised him. He stared at her profile a long moment, seeing the barely contained look of anger on her face, but also seeing such a sharp, deep pain flutter over her features that it stabbed at him.

"Oh," Singer said very quietly when Shirazi glared at her. "Don't mind me. I think I'll just go sit on the porch a while."

She'd better, Tarrin realized, or Mist was going to come over the table and try to rip her head off.

What could incite a reaction like that? What had Singer said? She'd only mentioned that another Were-cat was pregnant. Why would that enrage Mist so, and cause that look of pain? Tarrin glanced at Kimmie, and then realization dawned on him. Mist, who was so feral that she defined the term, had taken Kimmie as a bond-child, when it should have been completely against her feral nature. But something had overridden even her feral fear of strangers and outsiders. She had seen a terrified child in desperate need of protection and nurturing, and her maternal instincts had risen up inside her and overwhelmed her own feral impulse to fear and mistrust the child. Mist had adopted a daughter, because she wanted a child.

Without thinking, Tarrin reached over and set his open paw against Mist's bare belly, a belly tight with rippling abdominal muscle. But when he looked closer, looked at her side, he saw the scars. The scars of her near-death experience, the scar that showed where she had been wounded by silver. Mist jumped at his touch, but she had little chance to make a more extreme reaction, because Tarrin reached out and touched the Weave, then reached into her, sending probes of Divine power through her to assess her physical condition. That probing gently yet completely blocked the diminutive Were-cat's attempts to slap his paw away, even to get away from him. It paralyzed her with a sensation of warm pleasure.

It only took him an eye's blink to find it. The scar tissue ran deeply in her, starting in her side and going right through both of the organs in her belly that produced the eggs that would allow her to become pregnant. They had been ravaged by whatever had wounded her, probably a sword judging by the size and texture of the scar tissue, and because of that, they no longer functioned. The wounding had made Mist barren.

That was no problem. Quickly and effortlessly weaving together a complicated tangle of flows of Water, Earth, and Divine power, the flows of healing, Tarrin snapped it down and then released it into her. The healing attacked the mangled scar tissue inside her, breaking it down, puzzling out the body's original condition and then reknitting together tissue and organs to make it just as it had been before. The jagged scar and skin surrounding it on Mist's side turned red, then the redness faded, taking the scar with it. Smooth unmarred skin was all that remained.

Mist finally managed to suck in her breath as the icy blast of Sorcerer's Healing worked its way through the warm sensation of the probe. She grabbed his paw with both of hers, yet seemed completely incapable of moving it even a hair's breadth, locking onto it and threatening to crush his wrist in a powerful grip as the Healing worked into her, through her, eradicating the scar tissue, and the condition it caused in her.

"Tarrin!" Triana said angrily as he blew out his breath and pulled his paw away, feeling the cold numbness of using up most of his energy. "You stupid cub! If I hadn't been here to choke that off, you would have fried yourself! What in the furies did you just do?"

He looked right in Mist's eyes, which were staring at him with a mixture of anger, confusion, and a strange fear. "What should have been done a long time ago," he said in a weary voice, more to her than anyone else. That had drained him of just about every ounce of energy he had, and he fought not to wilt onto the table.

"What does that mean?"

"There was a scar inside her that wouldn't let her conceive. I removed it. Mist isn't barren anymore."

Those simple words hit the other Were-cats like a sledgehammer. Shirazi gaped at him in shock, and Singer, who was in the act of standing, flopped back into her seat heavily. But Rahnee gave him a single startled look, then began to laugh. Kimmie smiled broadly, a look of sublime happiness on her face. But Mist stared at him with that same furious look, but now a twinge of disbelief rippled through her eyes. "You're lying," she accused in a desperate tone. "You couldn't have done that! Every Druid in Fae-da'Nar has tried to heal me!"

"Tarrin's not a Druid, Mist," Triana said bluntly, staring at her. "He's a Sorcerer, and Sorcerers can make a body heal in ways that aren't natural. And if he said he did it, then he did it. If you want, I'll check and make sure, but I don't think I have to."

"Check," she said instantly, still refusing to let go of his wrist. "If he's lying, I'm going to-"

"You watch your mouth, woman," Triana snapped, her eyes blazing. That immediately cowed the feral Were-cat, with a speed that surprised Tarrin, given Mist's powerful will. "Threaten my cub again, and you'll deal with me. Is that understood?"

"Yes, Triana," Mist said with shocking submission.

"Now shut up and stay still," she ordered, coming around Tarrin and putting a paw on Mist's belly. Mist still had Tarrin's paw gripped in both of hers, and she merely moved them out of Triana's way. Triana closed her eyes for a moment, and Tarrin could feel something, something that seemed to dance just outside the fringes of his consciousness. When she opened her eyes again, there was no change in her stoic expression. She stared at Mist, and then she gave her the slightest of smiles. "He did a good job," she announced. "Very clean, very neat. He totally removed the scar, and repaired your ovaries."

"I… I can bear children?" Mist asked in a tiny voice.

"Yes," Triana announced in a powerful voice.

Tarrin was looking in her eyes as Triana made that announcement, and he distinctly saw that tension in them that marked her as different from the others melt away, if only for the moment. She looked into Tarrin's eyes in dumbfounded shock, and then she burst into tears. She let go of his paw and covered her face with hers as Kimmie stood up and put her paws on her bond-mother's shoulders gently, her thankful look and teary eyes communicating her gratitude to him in ways that no words could.

Tarrin winced and rubbed his wrist gingerly. She'd almost wrung his paw off with that grip. Mist was a powerful Were-cat, probably stronger than he was. Rahnee was giving Tarrin a broad smile, and then Shirazi laughed delightedly. Singer managed to come out of it, smiling at him. "I'm glad I was here to see that," she finally said. "Now I won't have to worry about Mist killing me."

For some reason, everyone else thought that was very funny. Everyone but Mist and him was laughing.

"Uh, Triana, I really think I need to go lie down now," he said weakly. "That took everything I had."

"I should say so," Triana said. "I can't take you anywhere without you causing a scene, do you know that, cub?" she said with a laugh as she reached down and scooped him up. Being carried hadn't been what he had in mind, but he was in no position to argue. Then again, he wasn't sure if he could stand up, and being carried certainly beat being dragged back up to his room by his hair.

As she carried him up the stairs, Triana spoke to him softly. "That was a fool thing to do, cub. The Weave just about jumped out of its skin when you touched it. If I hadn't been there to throttle that, it would have fried you to ash."

"I'm sorry. When I realized what made Mist react that way, I just had to help. I did it without thinking."

"I'll say you weren't thinking," she snorted. "But, I can't say I can be too mad at you. Mist's barren condition is alot of what makes her so contrary. She blames the humans for it, and that was what's kept her from opening up more. She has alot of anger built up inside."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, everyone her age but her has children," she said as she used her tail to open the door to his room. "She's always felt alienated from the rest of us, hasn't felt like she belongs, because all her life, all she's wanted was to have one child of her own. The others treating her like she's a cripple didn't help," she grunted as she laid him down in his bed. "That's why she took Kimmie as a bond-child. Kimmie helped fill a void in her, but it wasn't enough. I told you before that Kimmie was the only reason that Mist isn't as bad off as she used to be. Now you understand why."

"Do you think Mist is going to be alright?"

"I think she will," she answered with a warm smile. "She's already feral, cub. She'll never be anything but that. But I think now she won't be quite so feral. With luck, a child of her own will mellow her out a bit. Maybe even enough to trust her own kind."

"I hope so. I just want her to be happy. I know how it feels to lose a part of your life, and never have anything be the same again."

Triana looked into his eyes, her gaze unwavering. "I guess you do at that, cub," she agreed as she pulled the blankets up for him. "I guess you do." She leaned down and kissed him on the forehead. "Now get some rest, and no more unannounced stunts like that. You'll make me old before my time."

"Yes, mother," he said with a weary smile.

"You," she smiled, tapping him on the nose with the tip of a finger, "are as much a pain in my butt as Jesmind ever was."

"But you love me anyway, don't you, mother?" he challenged in a tired voice, but he managed to smile.

"Gods help me, yes," she laughed. "I wonder which god I offended to have them keep throwing children like you in my lap."

"Maybe it's because you're the only one that can handle us," he said in a voice that took on a listless quality. The warm bed was working its magic on him, and he was drifting very close to the edge of sleep. "And I love you too."

And that carried him down into the unknowing realm of exhausted slumber.

Triana stared down at him for a moment, then she tucked the covers around him a bit more, with an utmost tenderness and awareness of the wound in his chest. Then she patted him on the back of his paw and left him to sleep.

Tarrin eased up out of a restful sleep slowly, becoming gradually cognizant of what was surrounding him. Triana and Dolanna were in the room with him. He could scent Dolanna right on top of him, and Triana was somewhere very close. He could hear her paws on the carpet; she was pacing. Triana tended to do that, as if sitting quietly was an impossible task for her. She seemed to almost always be moving.

"It is not unusual," Dolanna's voice reached him in his semi-conscious snooze. "I have seen him handle a child with the most exquisite tenderness one moment, and then turn and kill with a savagery that surprises me the next."

"That's normal," Triana replied. "We're an impulsive breed, Sorceress. We act on our emotions, usually before we consider the consequences. It's part of what makes us what we are. Were-cats like Tarrin and Mist tend to be more violent than the rest of us because they're feral, but they have that same general trait." Her voice grew stronger, probably because she turned to face his ears. "Tarrin's feral, but he still has a big heart. That causes his some problems, especially when he reacts positively towards someone that his instincts tells him to fear. Mist, on the other hand, has no such compulsion. She's utterly feral. But not for much longer, I hope."

"I thought that it was a condition that could not be changed."

"The condition, no. The severety of it, yes. There are degrees of ferality, Dolanna. Tarrin is what you may call a moderate case. Most of us are mildly feral. Mist is the extreme. Once you cross the line and go feral, you can't come back, but how you react in a situation can change. Tarrin can tolerate strangers, even talk to them when he has to. Mist absolutely will not tolerate them. Tarrin has the capability to add new members to his list of people he'll trust. If someone were to go out of their way and prove beyond any shadow of a doubt that they're worth his trust, he'll accept them. Mist won't. She'd probably kill anyone who tried, thinking that they were just trying to get close to her and hurt her when she lets her guard down."

"That's paranoia, Triana."

"That's part of being feral," she replied immediately. "When you're feral, there's only them and us. In Mist's case, there's only her and everyone else."

"But she trusts you."

"She tolerates me, the same way Tarrin can tolerate strangers," Triana said concisely. "She bows to my power, nothing more. It's submission to a greater strength, Dolanna. She does what I say because I can thrash her, and she knows it. But she doesn't trust me. The only reason she stayed was because I forced her to."

"Then why did she come?"

"Kimmie browbeat her into it," Triana answered. "Kimmie is the only one Mist comes close to trusting, and she doesn't even entirely trust even her. To put it in human terms, Kimmie is a good acquaintance. Not a child, not family, not even a friend. Just someone she can talk to. Kimmie faces death every time she speaks to Mist, because she knows that one bad word can set her off, and Mist wouldn't have any qualms about killing Kimmie. That's something that most of the others don't really appreciate as much as I do. Kimmie is the only one that can get away with deflecting Mist's anger. I can't even do it. I have to rely on my strength, and physically intimidate Mist into submission. Kimmie does it with careful words."

"I can do the same to Tarrin, as can his sisters," Dolanna said in a thoughtful tone. "He would injure, even kill, anyone else who dared speak to him from anything other than a position of submission. I never realized how primal his personality had become."

"Primal. That's a good enough term," Triana agreed. "It's all about strength, Dolanna. Tarrin is stronger than everyone else. Anyone who doesn't understand that and accept it, anyone who doesn't submit to his dominance, is obviously challenging him. He has to respond to that. His trust in you and those other two lets you treat him as a submittant or equal rather than as a dominant. He recognizes your authority, and he bows to it, because he sees in you a strength greater than his own. He thinks of those other two as family, so they can treat him as an equal." She paused. "Are you about finished listening to us talk about you, cub?" she asked in a blunt tone.

Tarrin opened his eyes in time to see her turn and face him. "I didn't think you'd make it a private converstaion when you're in my room," he replied.

"No," she said. "I wouldn't say anything about you that I wouldn't say to your face. How do you feel?"

"Pretty good, actually," he said with a slight yawn. "Just aching, but I think that's normal."

"More or less," she agreed. "Now that Dolanna here has a better understanding of why you do some of the things you do, we hope that she'll be able to manage you a little better when I let you go."

"I had drawn some incorrect conclusions," Dolanna admitted to him. "Your instincts and motivations are much more complex than I initially thought."

"We may have instincts, but we're not animals," Triana said bluntly. "Humans have instincts too, but they don't listen to them. More the pity for you."

"What time of day is it?" he asked, looking out the window. The sky was cloudy, just on the verge of rain, and the continuous gloom of the clouds hid where the sun was.

"Not far from sunset," Triana answered. "You've been asleep most of the day. And you'd better never do that again," she warned with an evil glare.

"I didn't mean to," he said meekly.

"I know. I'm going to have to do something about that," she announced.

Dolanna chuckled lightly, then reached down and patted his paw. "Triana described what happened. Dear one, in your condition, touching the Weave is not wise. It would not be wise if you were completely healthy."

"I know," he said in a bit of exasperation. "I said I didn't mean to do it, Dolanna. If I'd been thinking, I wouldn't have done it."

"I know. I just want to make sure you understand things," she assured him with a warm smile.

"Where are the others?"

"Well, Allia and Faalken are in the courtyard, playing," she replied. "I sent Dar to the city's guild of bookmakers and paper pressers to buy some paper. I was about to go see Renoit, as well."

"How are they doing?"

"The circus is still popular, so it brings in money. Renoit has agreed with the leaders of Shoran's Fork to another two rides staying here. I hope you will be fit to travel by then."

"I think I can teach him what he needs to know in twenty days," Triana agreed. "He'll be fit to travel on a ship in two."

"I think I'm fit now."

"You're still tender," she said. "The rocking of the ship would make healing slower for you. You're keeping your feet on the ground and your butt on restricted movement until the threat of reaggravating the injury is gone."

"Yes mother," he said in a slightly teasing voice.

"Don't sass me, cub," she warned in an ominous tone. "You're not too old to spank."

"I'm just kidding, Triana," he said immediately, in a coniliatory tone.

"That doesn't work for me," she said after a slight pause. "I liked 'mother' better."

Tarrin gave her a slight stare, then he felt warm inside. That she would let him call her "mother" was a sure sign that she totally accepted him. It made him feel warm and safe, and it blossomed the gentle affection he'd had for Triana, blooming it into a deep love for the fiesty Were-cat elder, a love as deep as the one he held for his own parents, his sisters, or Janette. "If it pleases you, mother," he said in a hesitant tone, yet full of emotion.

"It does please me," she said with a direct look into his eyes. "It pleases me very much." She gave him a gentle look that convinced him of her sincerity, that told him of her affection for him, and then it dissolved back behind that stony mask. "Let me go get you something to eat. I'd better see some hot food, too. I told those cooks to have hot food ready at all times. I'm going to make sure I don't have to explain things to them again. I can't tolerate repeating myself," she grunted as she opened the door, then stepped out.

"My," Dolanna said after a second. "I never thought to see emotion from that face."

"She's not heartless," Tarrin defended in a vigorous voice. "She's just… abrupt."

"I know, Tarrin," she said in a gentle voice. "You should be proud. For someone like her to accept you is an honor."

"I am proud," he said sincerely, looking up at his mentor. "I hope I don't disappoint her."

"Dear one, I do not think you could, no matter what you do," she said with a smile.

It had been a busy evening.

After eating, Triana sat down with Dolanna and began teaching him again. Dolanna had become curious about the customs of the Woodkin, so Triana had allowed her to be present for the instruction. That had lasted well into the night. After Triana finished for the evening, Tarrin spent more time than he should have with Dar and Allia, playing King's Crown and just enjoying their company. Then Dar went to bed, and Faalken replaced him. Tarrin enjoyed the Knight's company, for he was irreverent and amusing, always trying to make Tarrin and Allia laugh. He knew when to put on a serious face and be a Knight, but when relaxing, he was a completely different person.

After Faalken retired for the evening, Tarrin stayed up to nearly midnight with Allia, just being near her. The bonds between them ran deeper than even he understood, and from time to time he craved just to be near her, to hear her and see her and have her scent surround him. The time recovering and the long sessions of instruction had cut into the quiet time he usually spent with his sister, time he wanted to make up to her. The time they spent that night had been in nearly complete silence, as they sat together on his bed and read from the book teaching Sha'Kar that Keritanima had left behind with her other belongings. Dolanna had become that precious book's new guardian, and had left it for them so they could brush up on their vocabulary. They would probably have need of a complete grasp of the language, if they had to converse extensively with Keritanima using it.

But time caught up with both of them, and the ache in Tarrin's chest began to get more pronounced, signalling to him that it was time to rest. He said his goodnights to his sister and settled in for the night, thinking over the events of the day. It had been a full one. Mist had been healed, and Triana had accepted him completely. Part of him still just glowed over that. It made him proud to think of Triana as his bond-mother, to know that she accepted him just as completely as she accepted her own natural children. He loved her, and he hoped that she loved him as much in return.

There was a sound at the door. It was slight, as if the person there didn't want to be heard. Tarrin sat up, ignoring the little bite in his chest, staring at the door in the darkness brought on by the clouds hiding the Skybands and moons. It was even dark enough to make the door's outline murky to his night-sighted eyes, but he could see from the light seeping under the door that someone was standing there. He breathed in deeply through his nose, analyzing the air. He sorted through the scents left behind by others, until he isolated the one that was emanating from behind that door. It was very faint, but he could identify it easily enough. It was Mist.

What did she want? Was she simply taking a turn at the door, as Allia and Faalken had done? Was this her shift to stand guard over him? Most likely. He couldn't think of any other reason for her to be there.

He'd started to lay back down, but the door opened quickly. Almost as if she wanted to surprise him. The light silhouetted her form, making him appreciate the powerful yet feminine outline of her body, hiding the features of her face in the shadow created by the candles behind her.

"Mist?" he asked. "What's wrong?"

She stepped in and closed the door, then leaned against it in the way that Triana tended to do when she came in. "I," she said in a strange voice, then she was silent. It was quivering, unsure. Afraid? What reason did she have to be afraid? She cleared her throat, then started again. "I wanted to, thank you, for what you did for me," she said, her voice backed by courage, from the sound of it.

"It was nothing," he told her. "I'd do the same for any of my kin."

"It's not nothing to me!" she said with ferocity in her voice, coming off the door and standing straight and tall. Nearly defiant. "You gave me back something I thought I'd lost forever," she said, her voice wavering again. "I can't repay you for that. Ever. But it's only half of what I'm missing."

Tarrin's mind began to consider the implications of that, but she continued. "You gave me back the chance to have my own children, but-" She came to his bed, leaning over him, and he could see into her eyes. He could see the desperation there. "But I don't trust anyone else, Tarrin! I couldn't take a mate. I wouldn't let anyone get that close to me, except for you!"

That stunned him, but she didn't give him a chance to think about it. "Give me this one thing, and I'll never bother you again," she said in a pleading tone. "You gave me back my ability to have a child. I want that child to be yours. It can't be anyone's but yours."

He shook off the astonishment. She trusted him! She actually trusted him! That was almost as impressive as the fact that she wanted him to sire her child, something that made the human in him go into apoplexy. Mist, who was so alone, had finally shaken the steel around her heart and opened it to another. But it was fragile. He could see it all over her. If he rejected her, rebuffed her, it would completely destroy her. She had finally gone against the very fiber of her being and let her guard down to another. If he didn't honor the tremendous risk she was taking, it would make him no better than the worst villain in the world.

What she was asking was serious, and she seemed to understand it. It may not mean much to a Were-cat, for the males of his kind had no involvement in the rearing of a child, but Tarrin wasn't born Were. His human sensibilities rebelled against what she was asking. But there was no way even the human in him could look into the desperation in her eyes and say no. It was too important to her, and he wouldn't deny her the one thing she'd dreamed of for a very, very long time.

He reached up and put his paw on her arm. "It's not a bother, Mist," he said gently. "You don't have to think that you have to never see me again if I do what you want."

"Will you? I'm begging, Tarrin! Please?"

"It's too important to you, Mist," he said calmly. "I wouldn't deny it from you, no matter what. If it's what you want, then I'll do it. But you have to get permission from Triana. If she catches us in here, she'll flay us both."

She nearly jumped up and down. And she was trembling. She reached down and put her paw against his cheek, then she turned and literally ran out of the room. She almost didn't get the door open before trying to go through the doorway. She left it open after nearly breaking it down trying to get out of the room. She was certainly in a hurry.

Tarrin blew out his breath and laid back down. What was he getting himself into? He wasn't afraid of Mist; what he'd seen was too much from her heart to be a lie. She'd wanted a child all her life, and Tarrin realized that he was the only one around who could fulfill that lifelong dream. He had healed her, but now he had to give her more to complete her dream. And he found he was willing to give her that. He felt so sorry for Mist, he had so much compassion for her, he would do anything she asked if it helped make her feel better. He didn't love her, but what she wanted of him didn't require love.

All he hoped was that she didn't close herself up again after getting what she wanted. He didn't want her to be alone. That was a fate worse than death, as far as he was concerned. He would give her what she wanted. He just hoped she would be his friend after that was done.

He could hear them in the hallway now. "Triana!" Mist said in a strangled tone as their voices came audible. "I'll be careful, I promise! I wouldn't dream of hurting him!"

"I don't know, Mist," Triana said in a hesitant tone. "He's still tender. Something like that would open that wound again."

"Triana, I swear that I'll be as careful as possible," she said in an adamant voice, all wheedling and emotion banished for it. "He understands, Triana. I know that much. I've wanted a child for so long, and he's the only one-"

"Laren is only a few days out, Mist," Triana said in a reasonable tone. "You won't hurt him."

" No," she said fiercely. "I don't know him, and I don't trust him. Tarrin gave me back my womanhood, he deserves to be the father of my cub. I want it to be Tarrin. Nobody but him."

"So, you're saying that you trust Tarrin enough to-"

"I trust him," she said bluntly.

There was quite a silence from the hallway. "Alright. But if you open that wound, I'm going to rip out your spleen. Do you understand me?"

"I won't put a claw on him, Triana."

"It's not your claws I'm worried about," she snorted. "Go on, before I change my mind."

" Thank you!" Mist said with an explosive release of breath. Then she was back in the room, door closing behind her. Her paws went to the tail of her ragged shirt the instant the door was closed. "I'll be very careful, Tarrin," she assured him as she pulled her shirt off. "I won't hurt you, I promise."

"I trust you, Mist," he said calmly as she shrugged off her pants, then quickly yet confidently came up to the bed.

"I believe you," she said in a sincere voice as she gently got into bed with him. She put no weight on his chest as she leaned in and gave him a passionate kiss on the lips. "I believe you."

Tarrin learned two things from his interlude with Mist. First, that his physical condition was just as delicate as Triana said.

The second was that he had earned Mist's undying loyalty.

She had admitted as much to him afterwards. She had been so concerned for his condition that it nearly made it impossible for them to carry through with it, but Mist's powerful impulse to have a child finally overwhelmed her fear of hurting him. It hadn't hurt too much, but it was worth the disocomfort to bring about a little healing in Mist's tortured soul. Mist had been alone for more than half her life, living on the fringe of everything, a prisoner of her own fear.

But she was a prisoner no longer. Centuries of isolation flooded out of her in words, as she confided in Tarrin an entire lifetime of pent-up emotion, experiences, and secrets. She told him absolutely everything, leaving nothing hidden, giving to him the totality of her in a display of the trust that had so newly found its way into her heart. She had had no one else to talk to in so long, nobody that she would trust enough to hold the information that she gave to him. She was an intelligent woman, understanding that it was her instincts that wouldn't let her get close to others, yet still incapable of conquering them. Until now. Tarrin's selfless act of charity had restored her body, and it had also allowed her to find the courage to overwhelm her fear and reach out to him. At first, it had been solely because he was male, and was the only one that could get her pregnant. But after she thought about it, she confided, she realized that he was the only male she would allow to get that close to her. She had been struggling against her fear at first, even at the very thought of it. Mating with him would require intimacy, a willingness to put herself in a position where he could harm her. It required trust. She hadn't had that trust at first, but then she understood that she would have to trust at least one male enough for him to get her pregnant. Tarrin was injured, he was weakened, and he had the mighty Triana's respect and affection. Those were enough in her mind, at first, to attempt to try. She'd felt she could maintain control, and mating with a weakened male would allow her to retain the upper hand. But then, she'd told him, she realized that he wouldn't harm her. Not because he couldn't, but because he wouldn't. She realized that, and when she did, she realized that she did indeed trust him.

Trust him enough to submit her safety to him and go through with the mating, to put her naked throat within reach of his claws when she would be in no condition nor position to guard against her own safety. She knew she'd be vulnerable during the mating, but the very thought that he would try to harm her had become ludicrous to her. But still, knowing it was one thing, but believing it was another. That was why she had been so nervous. She had really reached deep into herself to bring herself to ask him, and he had fortified her own security in her decision when he had agreed. Not because he wanted to mate with her, not because she didn't look like she was going to take no for an answer, but because it was what was best for her. He was willing to mate with her because it was what she needed, not what he wanted. That concern for her well being had solidified her feeling of trust for him, had set it in stone in her mind and heart.

Forever after, Tarrin would be someone she could trust.

She laid beside him on her side, looking at him with those green eyes as her fingers gently tested the bandage for signs that the wound had opened again. He'd found that she was even more attractive when her ragged clothes were off, all soft skin covering hard steel for muscles, a form and figure that begged to be touched, fur that was surprisingly silky to the touch, and a responsiveness that would drive a male of any species wild. Mist's senses were acute, even for a Were-cat, and that made her surprisingly sensual for a woman who had shunned contact for centuries. The tight defensiveness that had marred the beauty of her eyes was gone now. He knew it wasn't gone forever, but when she felt that she was secure, when she was alone with him, it wouldn't be there. That was when he understood Triana's warnings. Mist was feral. That would never change. But at least she had managed to shunt off some of that fear and distrust. She had learned to trust again, even if it was just one person. That was a significant step for her, a step back towards being able to function in Were-cat society. She would always be feral, but he hoped she wouldn't be as feral as she had been when he first met her. That was where he could be, where he could end up.

"Does it hurt?" she asked in concern, putting the pad of her palm on the bandage.

"Only when you do that," he replied dryly. That made her paw flinch away from him.

"Sorry," she said contritely. "Tarrin, I just want you to know-"

"I already know," he assured her, smiling. "This isn't permanent. We may have to do it again, but once you're pregnant, you'll be going your own way."

"I don't want you thinking that I'm just using you. I, appreciate what you've done for me. I can't thank you enough."

"I think that was thanks enough," he said with a wink.

She actually blushed slightly. She had been… intense. Because she had been barren, and because she didn't trust males enough to mate with them, she hadn't had any intimate contact for nearly three hundred years. After she overcame her worry about hurting him, she had tried to make up the lost time. "I wanted to make sure, that's all. This is new for me."

"I hope it won't be the last time," he said, wincing a bit as he rolled on his side and looking down at her. "You can't live all alone, Mist. You should give some people a chance. Kimmie loves you. She's your daughter. Don't you think she deserves the same chance I got? I was here for you for a couple of days. She's always been there for you. She needs you, Mist. Don't turn your back on her."

"I, I want to give her a chance," she said uncertainly. "I really do. I'm just-"

"Just follow your heart, Mist," he said, putting a paw over her mouth to silence her. "You took her in when she needed you, and when you did that, you overcame your fear. She trusts you. She stays with you because she loves you, and she's been trying to get through to you. There's no reason to be afraid of trusting Kimmie. If there's anyone in the world that's always been there for you, it's probably her."

"I know," she said in a groaning voice, laying back on the bed and putting her paw to her forehead.

"You can put your trust in a complete stranger, but you can't trust your own daughter? Excuse me if I sound rude, but that's mean."

"Alright!" she said in a ferocious snap. "You're making me regret this, Tarrin."

"Liar," he teased with a light smile.

"Don't you call me a liar, you half-whelped kitten," she shot back, but there was no animosity in her voice. She was being playful! "I certainly don't regret taking you for mate. I forgot how sweet it could be."

"And I'm injured," he said enticingly. "You'll find a strapping, tall Were-cat with a nice body, and-"

"No," she said. "Not a stranger. Not like that. Not someone I can't trust."

"You're just painting yourself into a corner again, Mist," he sighed. "If you can't trust your own kin, who can you trust?"

"You," she said emphatically. "I can trust you. I think I can trust Kimmie too."

He realized that arguing with her would be pointless. She still wouldn't be receptive to the idea of opening up to her kin. That would be a job more suited to the patient Kimmie. All Tarrin could do was make her more amenable to the ideas that Kimmie would certainly plant into her. He realized that when it came to Mist, even a less feral Mist, anyone who wanted to be close to her would have to prove themselves to her. Until they did that, then she would be just as she was before.

"You don't mind, do you? Being my mate for a while?" Mist asked.

"For the thirtieth time, no," he said in a bit of exasperation. "I like you, Mist. Don't give me a reason to doubt that now."

"I like you too," she replied. "Can I sleep here? I don't want to be alone. Not tonight."

"Mist, you can sleep with me any time," he said gently as he looked down at her, stroking her cheek with a furred finger.

She gave him a shy smile, then the texture of her scent changed in a way that he found strangely appealing. "I won't be quite so rough this time," she promised in a husky voice, her arms looping around him very gingerly, intensely aware of the injury to his chest. She pulled him down to her carefully, then she kissed him with a passion that made him immediately surrender to her desire.

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