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

Chapter 5

It was absolutely ghastly.

Tarrin wasn't the only one to stare at the circus ship of Renoit's Most Excellent Travelling Circus in utter dismay. It was hideous. In his entire life, he didn't think he had ever- ever -seen such a horridly bright and glowing hue of pink. It seemed to catch the light and shine it back in the viewer's face, bowling over any who stared at it and leaving spots in the eyes of people who stared at it too long in the sunlight. It was horrible, it was almost embarassing to look at, it was so glaringly, blatantly loud that it almost made his ears twitch to look at it.

How could a Shacean galleon be transformed into such a blaring eyesore? It was almost unbelievable that what was standing before them now was the same type of ship as the Star of Jerod. If the paint wasn't bad enough, the shiny filaments woven into the ropes of the rigging gave the ship's sails a glittering, silvery appearance. And the sails. They weren't white or canvas, they were a patchwork of a riot of conflicting colors, as if a warehouse full of blankets and quilts had been sewn together to form the eleven sails hanging from the masts and between the foremast and the spinnaker. Even the masts were painted that horrid pink color. And not to be outdone, the visible helm was lacquered and laminated in bright blues, greens, and reds, sparkling in the sunlight, with little rhinestones and other sparkly things glued to it to make it scintillate in the rocking of the sea.

"I am not getting on that thing," Keritanima declared adamantly, dropping her pack on the dock. "I should order the Wikuni here to sink it as a public service to the world."

"I never thought that I would see such a thing," Allia agreed.

"I don't know, I kind of like it," Dar said, which earned him four very ugly looks. "Hey, we always looked forward to seeing it. They used to perform in Arkisia every spring."

"The tragedy of a wasted youth," Azakar said.

"I think I'd rather swim to Dala Yar Arak," Faalken muttered.

"The ship carries a carnival, children," Dolanna told them. "It is supposed to be as festive as the troupe which it carries."

"That looks like it partied itself to death, Dolanna," Faalken grunted.

"Be that as it may, Renoit has agreed to interview us. This is our best chance, so do not do anything to ruin it for us."

"There goes my idea," Keritanima muttered to Tarrin in Sha'Kar. "I'd rather face my father's entire fleet than be seen on board that deck."

"I thought you said you knew Renoit," Miranda asked.

"I do, but you forget our ultimate objective. To pass as carnival performers and be able to move freely in Dala Yar Arak, we must be carnival performers. Renoit is going to place us within his carnival so that we may pass for real performers. Some of us already have skills and abilities that will make this easy. For others, it will not be quite so easy."

"I'm starting to like your idea, Kerri," Tarrin replied to her in Sha'Kar. "Should we sink it now, or sink it later?"

"I will have none of that," Dolanna told both of them, in almost flawless Sha'Kar. That made Tarrin gape. How had she learned so quickly?

"Magic," Keritanima told him when he gave Keritanima a curious look. "She used Sorcery."

"I didn't think we could do that."

"Well, I certainly don't know how she did it, and she won't tell me," the Wikuni said with a hostile look at Dolanna's back.

"Let us go aboard and meet Renoit's troupe," Dolanna announced.

Tarrin scratched at the skin on his wrist. The manacles were gone from his arms, locked in the elsewhere that the amulet provided. They were too loose on his human arms anyway. The itching was normal, just as common as the nagging pain that focused in those limbs and body parts that were most radically altered when he held human form. Hands and feet, ears, skull, and his spine. Actually his entire skeleton, for he was about a hand shorter when in human form than when in his normal form. The tattering of his trousers, where his claws snagged on them when he put them on, had brought the ragged end of each leg close to his ankle, so they at least didn't look too much out of place. But the shoes were another matter. Haley had conjured them using Druidic magic. One of Druidic magic's little unique tricks, the ability to summon or create objects made of natural materials, or which existed naturally. He had conjured leather shoes that fit perfectly to his human feet, a parting gift for the Were-cat. They felt wrong, after so many months walking around barefoot.

Walking up the gangplank with all their belongings, they stopped just on deck. The deck, thank all that was holy, wasn't painted. It was varnished to protect the wood from the seawater, but at least it looked normal. It was the only thing that looked normal on the ship. Moving about on it were men and women, some young, and all of them looking to be in fantastic physical condition, wearing plain, drab clothing and no shoes. Dolanna had once said that Renoit's performers doubled as the ship's crew. Judging by the ease with which two young humans moved through the rigging, walking confidently along narrow ropes and along spars, he didn't doubt it. Dolanna called to a young man with raven hair, telling him to go get Renoit, and the group stood there and waited.

Tarrin scrubbed vigorously at his scalp, where his cat ear usually would be. "Would you stop that? You look like you have fleas," Keritanima told him.

"It feels like someone glued my ears to my head," he replied, scratching harder. "And these nails just can't get the job done. I keep trying to extend my claws."

"That would be a neat trick," she said with a toothy grin.

The man that had to be Renoit arrived a moment later. He was a tall man, but the rotund roundness of his body told him that he was no performer. He was obese, but the way he moved said that he carried that weight lightly, easily, and that he was much stronger than one would think for such a large man. He was a man unfettered by his own weight. He wore a costume not too much unlike the garish uniform of the Wikuni captain, a blue waistcoat with a white vest and red shirt underneath, tan trousers tucked into black kneeboots, and a wide-brimmed with a large blue feather stuck into the brim. He carried a polished ebony cane in his left hand, a cane with an onyx pommel and brass bindings. "Ah, Dolanna," he said in a Shacean accent. "So good of you to come so quickly, yes. These are your companions?"

"Yes, Renoit," she said with a smile. "You already know Faalken," she said, motioning to him.

"A Knight. A good bodyguard and strongman you will make, my friend, yes. A carnival needs good strapping men to protect it."

"This is Azakar, another Knight," Dolanna said, stepping up to him.

"This is a man destined for the stage," Renoit said appreciatively. "Such arms. Such a chest! He could pick up the mast!"

"With help," Azakar said calmly.

They moved forward. "This is Miranda, an aide to her Highness."

"What do you do, my dear?" he asked immediately.

"What do you mean?" she replied.

"What can you do?" he asked again. "All who travel on this ship must contribute to the carnival."

"I'm very good with my hands," she said.

"Ah, but you have the body of a dancer," he said, looking her up and down deliberately. "You will dance for us, Miranda, yes, and many hearts will flutter with the swaying of your hips."

"As you know, her Highness travels with protection. Binter and Sisska provide that," Dolanna said, introducing the two Vendari, who were hidden behind illusions of large, imposing human bodyguards. "Because of the situation, these two you may not have, Renoit. Their duties prevent them from being too far from their charges."

"That, I can live with, yes," Renoit agreed. "But you can also serve the Dancer with your swords as well as the Princess."

"We would be honored to do so, Captain," Binter said in his deep voice.

"The honor is ours," Sisska agreed.

"This is Allia. I'm sure that she can excel in whatever task you give her," Dolanna said, motioning to the Selani.

"A Selani," he said in surprise. "A great honor it is to have you here, maiden, yes. Many skills you can show to my performers, and many things you can do to astound the audience."

"If Dolanna so orders it," Allia said tightly.

"I do so order it, Allia," the Sorceress said with hard eyes. "This is Tarrin. His worth to you will be more clear once we leave Dayise, and we can show you his true talents."

"Tall, slim. Good legs. This one is an acrobat, yes," Renoit said speculatively, looking at him.

"More than you realize, Renoit," Dolanna promised in a light voice, moving down the line. "This is Kerri. I think it would be best for her to be known so. Her longer name may incite worry among your crew."

"Quite so," he agreed, assessing her. "And what skills do you possess?"

"I can juggle and perform sleight of hand," she replied calmly.

"Jugglers I have, and there are no shortage of magicians here. No, your body cries out to move to the beat of a tamborine. You will dance for us, Kerri, and make men's knees turn to water."

"I will not," she said in sudden icy fury. "I will not abase myself in front of a crowd of lecherous-"

"Dancing is beauty, young Wikuni," Renoit cut her off. "Your beauty begs to be appreciated. You have the body of a dancer, and a crime it would be, yes, to deny it the chance to shine."

"Kerri," Dolanna said sharply. "You agreed-"

"I never agreed to being put on display," she seethed.

"We will talk about this later," Dolanna promised, giving the Wikuni a flat look, then she moved on to let Keritanima fume. "This is Dar. He may appear young, but he has a talent which no other performer can match."

"And what would that be, Lady Dolanna?" Renoit asked, giving him a curious look.

"He is a Sorcerer, Renoit, whose aptitude in the art of Illusion is quite profound."

"Yes, that is a skill any carnival would jump to possess," he agreed. "As you know, Lady Dolanna, bringing your group aboard is not safe for me. I must insist on the full amount we bargained, up front. And there is the matter of lost revenue if we leave tomorrow. Vordeaux does not expect us for another ride."

"Vordeaux is not on the travelling manifest, Renoit," Dolanna told him. "Because of our haste, we can only stop twice, and only then to allow the newcomers the chance to perfect their places in your performances. You will be compensated for the missed bookings."

"Where would you like to stop, then?" he asked curiously.

"Tor, and Shoran's Fork," she replied. "Both are large enough to take on all the supplies we will need, and provide enough of an audience for our new performers to become accustomed to performing before crowds."

"I will have to send a letter of regret to Countess Jiselle," Renoit said with a sigh. "Jan, show our new members to quarters," he called. "Lady Dolanna and I have some business to discuss."

A young woman, tall and slender, a bit flat-chested and narrow-hipped, scurried over. She had the body of an acrobat, all wiry toned muscle and exacting movements. She was rather pretty, with tawny hair that reminded him of Triana and a narrow face with a small nose and eyes. A very faint scar ran over her left brow. She wore plain trousers and a canvas shirt tied at her ribcage to expose a midriff of knotted muscle. "Certainly, Renoit," she said in a Tykarthian accent. "If you'll follow me," she said, motioning towards the sterncastle and the stairs going below decks.

"I am not going to dance," Keritanima promised in a hissing voice. "I won't! I'll jump overboard first!"

"Good luck changing his mind," Jan told her with a chuckle. "Renoit has a miraculous eye. He can always spot what someone can do best right off. If he says you'll do best dancing, then you're probably a very good dancer."

"Of course I am, but I'm not going to dress in a skimpy costume and shimmy my tail for the enjoyment of drunken lechers."

"You make it sound so dirty," she giggled. "It's alot of fun. I wish I could dance, but Renoit keeps me with the acrobats. He says I don't have enough chest to be a dancer."

"I never realized that dancing invoved your breasts," Keritanima said in an icy tone.

"I'm sure it doesn't, but it's what we'd call window dressing," she said, looking back and winking.

"This from the same Wikuni that wore dresses low enough to show her belly button at the bottom of the neckline," Tarrin noted to Dar.

"That's entirely different, Tarrin," she said waspishly. "I wasn't jiggling my breasts in your face either."

"Poor me," Tarrin said with a wink to Dar, which earned him a punch in the shoulder from the Wikuni.

"All these cabins are empty," Jan announced, pointing down a hallway that Tarrin realized was where the hold should have been. But since the ship carried only people, they had converted the hold into more quarters. No doubt that they only had enough hold to carry the materials they used in their carnival. "Everyone can have a room. They're not luxurious, but they're big enough."

"Thank you, Jan," Faalken said to the young girl. "Alright people, pick a room, but leave the ones closest to the intersection open."

Tarrin took a room between Keritanima and Allia, staying as near to his sisters as possible. They always seemed to do things that way, even when they weren't thinking about it. The room wasn't all that big, but it was clean, it had a sturdy, good-sized bunk built into the side of the wall, and a table and chair which were bolted to the floor. A large chest stood in the corner of the room, also nailed down to keep it from sliding during rough seas, which was more than large enough to hold everything he owned with plenty of room to spare.

He sat down on the bunk, feeling its firmness, and wondered about what they were doing. After trying to stay inconspicuous, now he was going to be performing before live crowds. He still wasn't sure how to take that. It didn't make him nervous, but he didn't know how he was going to react to it. He really didn't. He was certain that he could do it, in his natural form, he could out-tumble any human alive, but he wasn't sure how it would feel. He had never done it before, showed off to people who had paid to see him do it.

Then there was the other thing. They didn't know what he was, at least yet. He had no doubt that Dolanna would warn Renoit, who would then warn the others on the ship. He didn't really care anymore what other people thought of him, but the prospect of spending another two months trapped on a ship didn't appeal to him. Especially with a bunch of strangers who would make him edgy when they were around. Another group of humans to distrust. And he was just getting to the point where he could tolerate Kern's men. He almost liked Kern. The man had certainly proved himself in Tarrin's eyes. But he didn't know Renoit, and he had the feeling that Renoit was going to be as different to Kern as night was to day.

The door opened, and Binter entered. He looked funny with that Illusion hiding his true appearance, but at least the illusory mask fit him. Stern, grim, unbending, that was the way he looked, just like the real Sisska. "Sisska," he greeted as the massive Vendari closed the door.

"You need to talk to her Highness," she said calmly. "She is almost to the point of throwing things."

"Why?"

"Because she does not wish to dance," she replied. "She finds it unacceptable."

"I don't see why she's going nuts about this, Sisska," he said. "She's shown more to perfect strangers than she would in a dancing costume, and she could really be a good dancer."

"I think it is the fact that she would have to dance before crowds that disturbs her, Tarrin," she told him. "Keritanima doesn't like being put on public display. She has hated it ever since she was a child. Dancing for spectators would certainly be the same thing."

"She knew this was coming, Sisska," he said, standing up. "Dolanna told her."

"I think she would have been happier doing something less, noticable," she said delicately. "Keritanima is a good dancer, and that will draw every eye to her. She knows that."

"She'll just have to live with it, Sisska. We're not in control here."

"And I think that is what annoys her more than anything else," she told him. "Her Highness is not used to being in such a subservient position."

"It's all water under the bridge," he said dismissively. "I'll be over in a minute. So long as she doesn't throw anything at me, I'll be happy to help."

"Thank you," she said, then she nodded to him and left.

He finished settling in and came out, to find himself staring face to face with a small red lizard-like creature, with reptillian wings beating at the air. It had a maw full of needle-like little teeth, and its yellow eyes were lucid. "Chopstick, come back here!" a male voice called, a voice that had the most curious warbling in it, almost like the man wasn't sure what tone of voice to use. Tarrin stared at the little creature. It was a drake! A very small drake, a little reptile that looked like the Dragons of legend, only much, much smaller. This one had red scales, iridescent and polished, and a narrow muzzle and little black horns that swept back behind its eyes. It couldn't be more than two spans long from nose to tail, and would easily fit in his cupped palm, if he were in his normal form. A thin man in a gray robe with white symbols sewn all over it came around the corner, wearing the most ridiculous conical hat that had to be nearly a span long. His hair was white, but his face and skin was more approapriate for a young man who just left home. "Oh my, you must be the new people," he said, beckoning to the little drake with a hand. The little drake fluttered over to him and landed on his shoulder, regarding Tarrin with those staring yellow eyes. "Allow me to introduce myself. I am Phandebrass the Unusual, sage, explorer, student of the arts of Arcane Magic, and prestidigitator extraordinary." He gave Tarrin a steady look. "I say, have you seen my familiar?"

"I think it's on your shoulder," he said.

"Oh, dear me yes, how silly of me," he said with a rueful chuckle. "Did I introduce myself?"

"You just did."

"Jolly good. I always forget about that," he said in that strange voice. "Have you seen my drake?"

Tarrin wasn't sure if he was being serious or not. And it wasn't exactly putting him in a good mood. "Isn't it on your shoulder?" he asked in a less light tone.

"No, my boy. I say, you're remarkably dense for such a sensible looking young fellow. My other drake."

"How was I to know you had more than one?" he asked defensively.

"I say, kids today," the man muttered. Tarrin wasn't sure what that meant, for the man couldn't be more than twenty five. "Turnkey!" he shouted. "You're being a very naughty drake! Come out this instant!"

And with that, the bizarre man puttered down the companionway, shouting for his other little pet. But the red drake turned on the man's shoulder and stared at Tarrin intensely, like a wary rabbit keeping an eye on a circling hawk.

"You have to excuse him," a young girl, probably fifteen, said as she came around the corner. She wore a simple dress of brown wool, a peasant's dress. She had a rusty colored hair, a dark red, but not quite auburn, though her skin was dusky and swarthy. She was either Arkisian or Arakite. He'd never seen red hair on an Arkisian or Arakite before. It was a rather exotic look. "Phandebrass usually isn't this distracted. I think he's been working magic again. It always leaves him a little scattered."

"That's not scattered, that's windblown," he told the girl, which made her giggle.

"Well, he'll grow on you. Just like a fungus," she winked. "I'm Tess."

"My name is Tarrin," he replied. "Sorry to greet and run, but someone's waiting for me."

"That's alright, I have to help Phandebrass find Turnkey."

She gave him a bright, inviting smile, then she rushed off after the odd man. That worried him more than the strange man did. She had no idea just what she was making eyes at.

Keritanima was obviously in a fury. She sat on her bed, stock still and upright, and her amber eyes were absolutely blazing. "You need to calm down, sister," he told her immediately.

"Oh, no," she seethed. "I am not going to dance. I'll sink this ship first."

"You're being silly," he told her. "Dancing isn't that bad."

"No? No? How would you like to wear a couple of ribbons and gyrate around while people try to look up your skirt!"

"You never said you were wearing a skirt," he noted.

She glared at him, hard enough to make him put his hand back on the doorknob. She looked ready to bite him. "Don't you start with me, Tarrin," she snapped. "I don't see him making you wear a little bit of fluff and-"

"Sister," he interrupted, approaching her and putting his hands on her shoulders. The feel of her silky fur was odd under human hands. "Before you go off the deep end, let's find out what Renoit wants. Is that too much to ask?"

"Oh yes it is," she said adamantly.

"You're not being rational."

"I don't want to be rational!" she screamed at him. Since he was right in her face, her voice made his ears sting. "You mark my words, Tarrin, if he tries to make me dance, I'm going to stick that feather of his up his-"

He put a hand on top of her muzzle, which cut the location of that promise short. She looked up at him with furious eyes, but he wouldn't back down. "Let's not get nasty, Kerri," he chided.

"You get nasty," she accused.

"I'm expected to get nasty. It's a cat thing."

"It's not fair," she fumed. "You get to have all the fun."

"Want to trade?" he asked immediately. "I'll wear a dress and dance, and you can be an acrobat."

She gave him a strangled look, then burst out laughing. "You'd look so darling in a dress," she said with a wink.

"Only if I wear a matching hairbow," he told her dryly.

She laughed again, then leaned up and licked him on the cheek. Her version of a kiss.

"Are we calm now?" he asked her.

"A little," she replied. "But I guess I'll have to take this up with Renoit. Screaming and throwing things down here won't help."

"I don't think so," he agreed calmly.

"You look so weird like that," she noted, looking at him. "It looks unnatural."

"It feels unnatural," he agreed with her, flexing his fingers. They all cracked audibly.

"How is it?"

"It's starting to throb a bit," he replied. "I've been like this for about two hours. I'm starting to reach my limit."

"Dolanna said you have to stay like that til you can't take it any more. And each time you do, you can stay like that longer the next time."

"She's been right about that," he admitted. "I can hold it a little longer each time. I guess it's just like building up endurance when you run. Every time you wear yourself out, you can run a little further the next time you do it."

The door opened, and Faalken peeked in. "Dolanna wants us in the hold," he announced.

"Alright," Tarrin told him. "Shall we?" he asked Keritanima.

"Do we have a choice?" she asked.

"I guess not, but we can pretend," he told her, which made her chuckle.

The hold was more like a huge closet than a large empty space. It was what was left of the original hold, and it was packed with boxes and crates, as well as a large canvas pile that had to be the tents they used. Assembled inside was the entire carnival's staff, about thirty men and women of various sizes and shapes. There were five Wikuni among them, a big cat like a cougar or puma, a wolf or dog, a bear, a bobcat, and a ferret or weasel. The wolf-like one and the bear were huge, but the other three were sleek and looked very supple. The humans followed the same templates. Most were thin and looked athletic, but some were heavily developed and looked physically powerful. They were almost equally split among gender, looking to be half and half, except for the Wikuni. All five Wikuni were male, and they were already starting to give Keritanima and Miranda speculative looks. The rest of his group was there as well, gathered together on one side.

"I see the rest of you are here," Renoit said as Tarrin, Keritanima, and Faalken entered. "Very good. My friends, we have been hired by Lady Dolanna here for a special task. That task is rather simple. We will be performing in Tor and Shoran's Fork, then we will move on to Dala Yar Arak for the Festival of the Sun."

"What about our other bookings, Renoit?" one of the performers asked.

"Cancelled this year, or at least postponed. Lady Dolanna has graciously compensated us for the lost revenue. In exchange for that, we're taking her and her group to Dala Yar Arak. While with us, they will perform in the carnival just like any other member. We'll probably try to make up our missed appointments on the way back from Dala Yar Arak, but that's going to depend on how things turn out. Sometimes Emperor Kartaka holds us over." He pointed to the others. "We have picked up two new strongmen, two dancers, two acrobats, and an Illusionist. Lady Dolanna will act as a secretary and treasurer, and the two large people behind the Wikuni will be acting strictly as guards and defenders."

Dolanna stepped forward. "Certain truths must be made clear now, so there will be no misunderstandings later. There are several things about us that you must understand, so that we have no friction. The first is Tarrin. Would you please, young one?"

He knew exactly what she wanted him to do. With a mere thought, he released himself from the human form, and returned to his natural humanoid form. The aching throb vanished immediately, replaced by a sensation of rightness that marked the return of his paws, ears, and tail. His shoes vanished into the elsewhere, and the manacles returned from it, trading places in a way. He regarded the assembled performers with steady, emotionless eyes, daring them to stare.

"As you can see, Tarrin is not human. And you will find him to be no more or less amiable than any other person," Dolanna told them. "Necessity requires him to hide himself in public, but when the ship gets under way, he will appear either like this, or as a large housecat. It is in his power to assume that form." She pointed to Binter and Sisska. "They are the second issue. Dar," she prompted. Tarrin felt both of them touch the Weave, and then the illusions hiding them were gone, showing the performers a pair of monstrous Vendari warriors. "They are Vendari, travelling with us for reasons best left undiscussed. The third is Allia," she said, pointing. "Allia is Selani, and her customs are not like those to which you are familiar. Treat her with respect, and you will find her to be a good person. I do not think I have to say what will happen if you do not."

"So," Renoit said, stepping forward again, "we have some very special guests with us. I would like to remind all of you that this is the best time to display the hospitality for which we are well known. And remember, they will be performing alongside you soon, so welcome them into our family."

Tarrin snorted, then turned his back to them all and started walking away. More strangers was the last thing he needed. Surrounded by strangers on another moving prison, and this moving prison looked like a floating perfume shop. Embarassment added onto insult. There were a few gasps from behind when he shifted into his cat form, gasps of surprise that he ignored as he padded through the open door.

"You will have to excuse him, Renoit," he heard Dolanna say after he turned the corner. "Tarrin is not a, friendly, person. He is very hard to know. Your people should approach him with care."

Hard to know. He wasn't hard to know, he just didn't want to be pestered by strangers.

Tarrin spent the entire day in his room. He didn't want to go out on deck and mingle with the performers. He didn't want to deal with strange people. What he wanted was to go back on land, go back into the city, but he had a good understanding why. The cabin and the ship were already starting to seem too small. The city was large, expansive, and though there wasn't anything natural left on the islands, it was unexplored territory that didn't feel like a floating cage. Compared to the ship, it was almost a paradise. He would even risk crossing paths with Triana just for one more night in a place which he couldn't cover in a matter of hours.

It all seemed so ridiculously unfair. This trip, this quest, everything, it just kept having less and less meaning for him. He understood why he was doing it and the importance of it all, but more and more it was becoming a major chore. He had no idea what he had done to deserve to be treated in such ways. He wasn't sure why his mind and heart were changing, but he could feel it happening. Perhaps it was the Cat, perhaps it was just his reaction to months of enforced limits. He'd felt those limits keenly on the Star of Jerod, after spending so much time on the ship that he knew every nick and ding in the companionways and on the masts. He'd developed cabin fever after about a month with Kern. He already had cabin fever now, and the ship hadn't even slipped its hawsers yet. He felt that the feeling of being trapped had started eating away at what civility he had left, and it was also making headway into undermining the underlying need of his journey. If only they could get to Dala Yar Arak by land.

The upcoming trip was looking to be extremely unpleasant, and there was no doubt that it would be hard on him and everyone around him. He understood that he'd changed a great deal in just a couple of months. He remembered a time when he would talk to strangers, to try to get to know them. But that seemed a lifetime ago. Now everyone that he didn't know was a threat, a challenge, an opponent. Anyone he didn't already know was a potential enemy, and that wouldn't let him try to befriend anyone else. But in his situation, he guessed that that was a good thing. He remember what Miranda said about men looking for him. There was no telling who was hired by the ki'zadun to track him down and try to kill him, so it was best to treat everyone like he was sent by Kravon to do him in.

There wasn't going to be another Jula.

He wasn't going to let an untrustworthy person that close to him again, and because he wouldn't let anyone get close enough to prove or disprove his trust, then that made everything all nice and neat. There wasn't going to be another misplaced trust. There wouldn't be another episode of believing someone was good just because they belonged to an order he thought was good. No more turning his back on someone he thought was his friend.

That still stung, and deeply. He hadn't spent alot of time with Jula, but the time he had spent with her or around her had totally disarmed him. She had with a few short meetings totally subverted his suspicions. He was amazed that he had done what he did, now that he thought back on it. He wouldn't have put down his guard around someone else he'd known as well as her. Maybe he was just weak over a pretty young lady. Perhaps that helped disarm him, then allowed her to strike the first time he let his guard down.

Just for a fluttering instant, there was chagrin over what he did to her. He had left her to die, knowing full well that he had delivered a mortal wound. He had just walked away, leaving her to suffer in a pool of her own blood. That seemed, callous. But then he remembered what she did to him, and it suddenly didn't seem good enough. He should have clawed out her eyes, tore out her tongue, broke all four of her limbs, then driven a spike through her back and let her try to find her way out of the room. Instead, he had been merciful. Well there wouldn't be any more of that. Mercy was for the weak, and he wasn't going to be weak.

That was the old Tarrin. That was when he had the luxury to be friendly or trusting, before harsh reality had taught him some very hard lessons. Out here, in the cruel world, he had to meet its cruelty head on. He had to fight tooth and claw for what he wanted, or else he would never get what he wanted out of life.

He was getting worked up. He settled down and closed his eyes, conjuring images and memories of Janette. That was always easier in cat form. His memories of her all took place while he was a cat, and they were flavored by the cat's mind and instincts. They always made more sense when he remembered them in cat form. It never ceased to calm him down, to make him content. Just the memory of her scent, a scent that had the power to make him feel completely secure, was usually enough to bring over him a kind of temporary feeling of safety, of home, though it was a mere shadow compared to being held in her arms. When he was there, it seemed that the world was being held away, and she would be there to banish everything that made him worried or afraid. That kind of security seemed so distant to him now, the selfless, almost blind trust that only a child or an animal could have for another being. He had that kind of trust in his little mother, and to a much lesser extent, Dolanna. She too could soothe him in ways that nobody else could, not even Allia. Perhaps it was an extension of trust, a trust that she could make things right again, no matter how wrong they seemed.

Had he been in humanoid form, he would have chuckled wryly. The mighty Were-cat, so wrapped up in his self-reliance, was almost childishly dependent on others for his own sense of security. Without Dolanna, Allia, Keritanima, and Miranda around him, he would feel totally lost. Each of them had that strange unspoken power over him, the power to make him feel secure, something that he couldn't really bring to himself anymore. They were family, and Tarrin's human part was powerfully grounded in family. That was something that was strong enough to carry over, to make him want to form a new family group, so strong that it overrode the Cat's independent nature.

It was just the situation. He'd only been Were for about six months or so, and that was just a drop in the bucket compared to all the other craziness that went on after he got to the Tower. It was all still so new to him after seventeen years as a human, no matter how normal it felt. He was just what Jesmind called him, a cub, a mere child, and he had no guidance from his elders. He was adrift on a sea of chaos, with a leaking boat. That he'd gotten this far was amazing to him. It gave him just a bit of hope he'd live to get the leaking boat back to land. If someone else didn't come along and capsize him first.

The door opened, and Allia entered the room. She was wearing a loose fitting black vest that left her arms and midriff bare, showing off her brands and her tight stomach, not to mention her ample bosom, and a pair of sleek cotton trousers that hugged her full hips enticingly. Her ivory amulet was displayed proudly, standing out in stark contrast to her chocolate skin. He tended to forget how perfect, how beautiful, she really was, because he saw her every day. To him, she was just Allia, not a stunning woman of exquisite beauty and formidible strength and skill.

"Brother, Dolanna wanted you to know that we'll be casting off soon," she told him, then she seemed to notice that he was staring. "What?"

"I'm just remembering how pretty you are, sister," he told her in the manner of the Cat, a method of communication that her amulet would allow her to understand.

"You've seen alot more than this, deshida," she said with a slight smile.

"Sometimes it's not the product, it's the packaging," he told her, an old Wikuni adage Keritanima had used a time or two. He wasn't quite sure what it was supposed to mean, but it certainly made sense in the context he was using. "Where did you get those?"

"Renoit's acrobats gave them to me," she replied. "I was just glad to get rid of those Arakite robes. They were stifling. At least these fit well enough."

"The vest is a bit loose. Don't be bending over in front of any men."

"Tarrin, brother, if they want to look, I'll open the vest for them," she said bluntly. "I'm not a squeamish human girl. They can look all they want, but touching is another matter."

"They'll never ask, but they'll all want you to do that," he told her with a cat smile.

"Whatever," she said, sitting down on the bed and looking down at him. "Are you going to be alright?"

"What do you mean?"

"I'm not dead, brother. I can see that you're upset."

"I'm not upset, it's just more like I'm annoyed," he replied. "I don't know if I can take being cooped up on this ship, surrounded by strange people, for very long."

"Dolanna said it would take us about fifteen days to reach Tor," she told him. "I know that Tor is surrounded by forest. Maybe she could be persuaded to give you a day or two to yourself."

"Goddess, that sounds like paradise," he said with a large sigh. "To be surrounded by trees and green and smells again. I'd drag a Giant by the ear for a longspan for that."

"Patience, deshida," she said in a loving voice, reaching down and scratching him behind the ear. "Sometimes you have to travel the saltflats to reach the oasis."

"Patience isn't something I have alot of, sister," he grunted.

"You should get some, then," she told him. "The things I've taught you should show you the wisdom of patience."

"Maybe, but I am what I am," he told her.

"And I wouldn't have you any other way," she said with a warm smile. Allia always did know exactly what to say. Sometimes he seriously underestimated his quiet sister.

"Come up on deck with me," she asked. "I'll carry you. You don't let me do that often."

"You never ask."

"You're always in Miranda's lap," she retorted. "What is it about her that you find so interesting?"

"I have no idea," he replied honestly as Allia picked him up. "Something about her just sings to me. I really think it's the Cat more than me."

"Maybe it can see something that you can't," she proposed.

"Probably," he agreed.

The air was warm, promising the arrival of spring, and the sky carrying only a few clouds. It was afternoon, nearly sunset, and the tide was falling so quickly that one could watch its retreat from the land. The four moons, which goverened the intricate and complicated tide action, had to be at a concerted point for the tide to drop so rapidly. It did happen from time to time that the four moons all pulled the tide at the same time and in the same direction, creating what many sailors and historians called the Great Tide. Be it low or high, it was always the most severe tidal movement of the seas to be seen, moving the sea in or out by as much as fifty spans of water at the northern lattitudes. Tarrin watched the tide drag the ship away from the dock, being held comfortably in Allia's arms as she and Dar shared space at the rail to watch the ship leave. The others were nowhere to be found, and the performers were all busy with getting the sails ready to be unfurled.

But the tide didn't hold his attention for long. She appeared between two warehouses and rushed out onto the dock, moving towards the ship. But she seemed to realize that she wasn't going to be able to catch the ship, so she slowed to a standing halt and stared out at them with those penetrating green eyes. She was everything he remembered her to be, and the very sight of her made his blood run cold.

Triana.

Tarrin looked at her, and he just knew that she could see him. She was staring right at him, through him, her eyes hot and her expression obviously aggravated. She frightened him. He wasn't too proud to deny that simple fact.

"I see her, brother," Allia said with a slight hiss as his claws dug into her skin. "You can stop punching holes in me."

"See who-oh," Dar said, shading his eyes and looking at the dock. "Is that Triana, Tarrin? She looks mad."

"That is her, Dar," Allia answered for him, as they all stared at the imposing, intimidating Were-cat matron.

And then her voice rang out, as if she was just in front of them. "Count yourself lucky, cub," she said in a voice filled to near bursting with power and determination. "If not for all these witnesses, I'd be over there right now to beat some manners into you."

"She sounds mad," Dar breathed.

"She is mad, Dar," Allia said in a testy tone. "We have slipped through her fingers again. Someone like her does not take well to failure."

"Tell her to just leave me alone, Allia," he told her.

"Don't bother, cub," Triana's voice rang out again. "I can hear you just fine like that. Don't be making your friend do your taunting for you."

"It has to be magic," Dar said. "A Druidic spell."

"Obviously," Triana's voice snorted, which made Dar pale. "Don't think you're getting far, cub. It's not just me anymore. After what you did in Den Gauche, now all of Fae-da'Nar is hunting for you. Make it easy on yourself and surrender to me, and I'll do what I can to keep you alive."

"I've seen what your forest kin have to offer, and I'm not afraid of it," Tarrin shot back pugnaciously. "You better warn them off, Triana. You may be able to handle me, but I doubt that they can. I don't want to do it, but I'll kill anyone who gets in my way."

"If that's the way you want it, then so be it," she said emotionlessly. "I'm through with you. The next time we meet, one of us won't live to the end of it."

Then she turned and walked away, leaving the dock workers and pedestrians to gawk and gape at her passing. Triana, being such an old Were-cat, was tall, much taller than most Wikuni. That height made her stand out.

"Strong words, brother," Allia cautioned.

"I can back them up, sister," he assured her.

"I certainly hope so," she said, turning around and carrying him from the rail. "I certainly hope so."

Renoit was a portly man who moved with an ease that hinted he was much stronger than he appeared. His black hair was graying at the temples, but it was still full and long, curling luxuriantly around his shoulders. His brown eyes were very lucid and bright, as if they displayed openly the vitality and vigor the man possessed. He was absolutely everyone on the ship at once, both seeing to the ship's operation and talking to performers as they practiced on the deck. He wore a frilly shirt with a vest over it this day, and a pair of black pants and boots with a red sash, a clean, very sturdy shirt that looked very new. If he only knew how close he was to losing it.

The battle had been joined. Tarrin sat on a hatch in cat form not far from a group of seven slender young ladies, two of which were Keritanima and Miranda. The dancers. As promised, Keritanima had all but thrown a fit when the lead dancer, a tall, buxom Ungardt-looking woman named Lirenne, asked her to dance something that she knew so she could get an idea of the Wikuni's training. The shouting had attracted Renoit, who was trying to sweet-talk and flatter Keritanima into dancing. Little did he understand that he was dealing with a woman who knew how to sweet-talk better than anyone else on the ship. That gave the Wikuni princess a considerable defense against it when used on her, for she was too wary and distrusting to fall into the trap of flattery easily.

Tarrin stayed out of it. Mainly because he didn't want to get within reach of his sister. She had a tendancy to throw small objects close at hand when angry, and Tarrin fit that description. He didn't relish the idea of being the world's first sentient projectile weapon, and Renoit certainly wouldn't appreciate getting a face full of four clawed paws. Four of his five limbs ended in sharp, pointy appendages, which had the potential to do serious damage if there was enough force behind them.

He hadn't seen a performance like this since the Brat. Keritanima was in rare form, dressing Renoit down with a savage efficiency that left very little ground untilled. She insulted him on every level she could think up, leaving no subject, no matter how low or personal, unused. She waved her arms, shook her finger in his face, and reminded him in a shrill voice that she wasn't about to compromise her austere and royal dignity for anyone, no matter who he was or what it meant to her.

"Well, just answer me one question, Kerri," he said in a mild voice. Tarrin was impressed that he hadn't gotten angry. "Did you dance at balls?"

"Of course I did!" she spat.

"Do you like to dance?"

"Oh, no, we're not going there," she sneered. "I danced because it was expected, not because I liked it. And it certainly wasn't what you want me to do."

"I want you to strut," he said bluntly. "To challenge every eye that looks upon you. To make humans wish they were Wikuni, and make Wikuni wonder why they never got the chance to meet a woman like you. You were born to dance, young Wikuni, your body begs to be appreciated."

"That's my business," she said ominously.

"I am not going to argue, no," he said calmly. "Dolanna told you to dance, so you will dance. How you feel about it is of no matter. You will do it because you were told to do it, and I know people like you. Even though you hate it, you will do your best, because you could not live with yourself if you did badly on purpose."

Keritanima glared murder at him, but said no more. Clearly, Renoit had won this battle, but Keritanima's eyes promised that it was just the opening clash in the war.

Speaking of wars, the war between Azakar and Faalken had escalated that morning. Azakar came up from below with murder in his eyes, and missing all of the hair on the left side of his head. Somehow, Faalken had snuck into the young Knight's room and shaved all the hair off the left side of his head while he slept. Faalken came up not too much later, whistling idly to himself and looking for all the world that he had done absolutely nothing that made him feel guilty. Tarrin felt that doing that was hitting below the belt, but then again, he wasn't quite sure what rules existed in a battle of pranks. If there were rules. Dolanna had taken enough pity on the young Knight to use her Sorcery to grow his hair back out, if only to stop the giggling and pointing from Renoit's performers. Now Azakar would retaliate, but Tarrin had to admit that he'd have to really work to come up with something better than that.

Laying down on the hatch, Tarrin closed his eyes and soaked up the late spring sunshine, tuning out the world. He hadn't slept all that well last night. Triana's appearance, and her promise, had upset him more than he let on. Before, he wasn't sure if she was an enemy or not. Now he knew, and it worried him. She was not someone that he could easily dismiss. She proved she could beat him in a fight, and that meant that he had to make sure that they didn't fight again. Or, if they did, he to have an advantage over her. Jesmind said that she may not be able to get him help. He didn't really blame her, she did what she could. It was just too bad. He wanted to be accepted by his own kind, but they were so rigid, so unforgiving. Before, Jesmind had denied him because of the Tower, and now he was being hunted because he was forced into a fight that he could have avoided if Triana would have only talked with him. Instead, she made all those demands, and goaded him into a fight he would have preferred to avoid. He meant it when he told her that he would kill any of the Forest Folk that threatened him. What he was doing was way too important to let them stop him.

He had to keep reminding himself of that. More and more, what he was doing was becoming less and less tangible. He'd noticed it before, but every day that went by made it less and less important to him. He knew what had to be done, but it was starting to feel more and more like it was never going to be finished. Too many people were trying to kill him, and he wasn't sure if he was going to live through it. To spend the rest of his days in fear, hunted and pressured, seemed totally insane to him., but he was doing just that to himself.

The sun was blocked, and he opened his eyes to see Allia sit down beside him. She looked much more relaxed for some reason. Usually her time on a ship put a tightness in her that only he could notice, a set to her body and a tautness in her expression that denoted her fear of the sea. But it was gone, at least for now. Maybe a day or so on land had reassured her that the land would always be there. She didn't say anything, she just picked him up and put him on her lap, stroking him behind the ears, in all the places he liked to have scratched. The scent and feel of her closeness overwhelmed him, and he began to purr in utter contentment.

If there was more to life than that, then life needed to have its head examined.

How long he laid there was lost to him, but he knew he could count on Renoit to disturb it. "Ah, there you are, my dear," his voice called. "It is time for the acrobats to practice. Time for you and that other one to earn your passage. Where is he?"

"Right here," she replied calmly, running her four-fingered hand all the way down his back.

"Oh, that's right, he can do that, yes," he mused to himself. "Well, the time for laziness is over. Work, it calls to you, yes. Time to display what amazing talents you bring to my troupe."

Tarrin opened his eyes and gave Renoit a flat look, then jumped down off of Allia's lap. The portly man's image blurred as he changed form, until he was looking down at the man with his cat's eyes. That seemed to make Renoit uncomfortable. "This way," he said, motioning towards the stern. There were ten slender figures there, two of them with tails. Wikuni. The acrobats had gathered in the wide, empty deck space between the main cargo hold hatch and the sterncastle, with only the aftmast interrupting their practice area.

They were all young. Young, thin, and very athletic, the way acrobats should look. There were six young men and four women, one of the young men being a sleek cat-like Wikuni, and one of the females being some kind of simeon Wikuni whose facial features were almost perfectly human. Only the fur ringing her pretty little face and her brown-furred tail gave her away as Wikuni. Tarrin and Allia absolutely towered over them, the oldest of which couldn't be more than nineteen. The tallest of them only came up to Tarrin's collarbones. The looks they gave him were pensive, uncertain, and not a little bit anxious. Except for one. The tallest of the young men, a dark-haired Shacean with a wiry frame and a narrow, ferret-like face gave Tarrin a slightly hostile look. The young man looked at Renoit and chattered at him in Shacean, his tone not entirely friendly.

"Henri, that is unseemly," Renoit said in common. "You disrespect those who are not blessed to know the True Tongue."

"I do not see why I must abase myself to speak such a filthy language," the man said arrogantly. Tarrin developed an immediate and intense dislike for the young man. From the look of her, so did Allia.

"You will do it to accommodate those unlucky enough to not know it," Renoit said patiently. "Not everyone is lucky enough to be Shacean. Now, show our two newcomers the ropes. It is up to you as lead acrobat to work them into the act."

Henri, the man, said something under his breath in Shacean, which made a few of his companions giggle behind their hands. "Alright then, what can you do? You look too tall and gangly to be any good," he said to them.

"I can do anything you can do," Allia said in a neutral tone. She did dislike him. Tarrin had to supress a smile. He'd better keep his tongue in line, or Allia would tie it in a knot for him.

"What about you, mongrel?"

"I can do anything you need me to do," he said in a tight voice. "And if you call me that again, I'll break both your arms and tie them in a knot."

"I am the lead acrobat and third in command on this ship," he sneered. "You will treat me with the respect due to my station."

"You won't have much use for your title once I rip off both your legs," Tarrin told him in a hostile voice, narrowing his eyes and extending the claws on both his paws.

"Tarrin," Allia's voice cracked, holding up an arm across his chest to hold him back. "He is young and foolish. Give him a chance." She looked right at him, her expression sober and serious. "You tread very close to losing your legs, young human. We will treat you with respect, but we demand respect given in return. It is the Selani way. Insult my brother again, and I will show you how the Selani deal with insults. That is also the Selani way."

If the boy was frightened by Allia's declaration, he didn't show it very much. "Whatever," he snorted. "We will begin with a test. Show me why I should allow you to perform with my troupe."

"Let's cut this short," Tarrin said. "Show us the hardest move you perform, and we'll do it."

"It's not that easy," a young girl said, a girl with hair the color of eggshells, a curious beige color that wasn't quite blond, not exactly light brown, yet not quite white. "Our hardest maneuvers are done while working together. It's when we're doing the vaulting pyramid."

"We are not up to that yet," Henri said. "Prove you can move without injuring yourself first. A good acrobat is flexible and limber."

Without batting an eye, Allia reached down and grabbed the bottom of her foot, then pulled it out to the side. And kept pulling, and kept pulling, until her leg was sticking straight up, held by the ankle. It looked like she'd dislocated her hip to do that, but she was obviously not in any pain. Allia was probably the most limber person he'd ever seen outside of himself. His cat-augmented skeleton gave him a range of motion impossible for humans to duplicate. He proved that by arcing his leg back and up while he hunched down slightly, until the heel of his foot was sitting on the top of his head, right between his ears. He then wiggled his toes at Henri.

"Wow," one of the young men breathed.

"We are warriors, young human," Allia told him simply, putting her leg down. "Both me and my brother are much more conditioned than you are. A conditioned body is a paving stone on the path to victory."

The beginnings of animosity appeared in Henri's expression. He stepped back a pace and motioned at the deck. "That is not proof of ability," he said. "Show me you can perform without embarassing the rest of us."

"I am finding you tiresome, human," Allia said, removing her dagger from her belt and placing it on the deck. She stretched herself a few times, then stepped out onto the open deck and performed a complicated series of handsprings, then vaulted into the air and spun several times with enough speed to make her look like a little ball, then her feet landed lightly on the deck as solidly as if she were stepping over a rock.

"I'd say that's good enough," one of the girls said, which earned her a hot look from Henri.

"What about you? Can you at least do that?" Henri asked, pointing at Allia.

Tarrin looked up into the rigging. It was high enough, he wouldn't be getting himself tangled into those ugly ropes. He stepped into the open deck, bent down, then launched himself into the air. He tucked into a ball and rotated with enough speed to make the deck and rigging-blocked sky trade place dizzyingly, but his cat instincts allowed him to know at all times where the deck was in relation to his position and facing. He rose impossibly high, ten spans into the air, then dropped down and snapped into an extended position with perfect timing to put his feet on the deck solidly.

Exactly where they had been before he left it.

"I can do it again if you want," he said to Henri's flabbergasted expression, crossing his arms and looking down at the dark-haired youth.

The look of surprise didn't last long. It was quickly replaced with open hostility. "I do not know what witchcraft you worked to let yourself do that, but I will not be party to it," he sneered. "I will not shame this fine circus by displaying a freak!"

He didn't say anything else after that. Tarrin's manacled wrist struck him squarely in the temple, and he went down in a twitching heap. Tarrin whipped his paw around, flinging a little blood that was on the manacle onto the stunned performers, pointing at them. "Anyone else want to call me a freak?" he demanded with glowing eyes, ignited from within with the greenish radiance that marked his anger.

"I-Is he dead?" one of the girls asked in fear.

"If I wanted him dead, he'd be laying in two different places," Tarrin said in disgust. This was a monumentally bad idea. He turned and walked away, leaving Henri to bleed on the deck as the acrobats, and most of the ship's passengers, looked on in silence.

There was going to be fallout, he was sure of it.

Tarrin laid on his narrow bunk in cat form in the darkness, a darkness that was not dark to him, staring at the blank wall. From their viewpoint, a total stranger comes aboard, then whacks a respected member of the circus for what most would perceive to be no provocation. Nobody would talk to him now, not that he really wanted it, but what was worse, the accusation would be there in everyone's eyes as he moved around. He could tolerate the silence, but not the fear. That had been what had driven him so crazy in the Tower, the fact that everyone walked around in utter terror of him. He had been aboard the ship for less than a day, and already he had given them something about him to fear.

And the part that would get him into the most trouble with the performers was that he had no remorse at all. He'd do it again in a heartbeat. That little punk had openly insulted him, even after he'd been so blatantly warned what it would cause. But he did it anyway. All the blame sat on Henri as far as he was concerned.

And it hurt. Tarrin could tolerate many things, but not being called a freak. He would probably feel different if he'd been born Were, but he hadn't. More often than not, he felt the freak, and to hear someone say it so openly had stung him more deeply than even he realized. Henri's statement had struck at Tarrin on a level that most verbal abuse couldn't reach, and it was a miracle that he didn't take the little arrogant ass's head right off after he said it. He had no idea what had held him back, but something certainly had. He had no explanation for it.

The door opened, and Dolanna stepped in. He had been waiting for this. No doubt she would harangue him about spoiling their one, only, and best chance to reach Dala Yar Arak and be able to move around openly. She would look at him with those eyes, those eyes that said everything to him that her mouth was too afraid to say, eyes that would accuse, show disappointment, be frustrated with him. Dolanna's opinion of him was something that mattered a great deal to him, and to see it damaged in her eyes always stung.

"Change," she ordered in a calm, sober voice. He sat up and did so, then sat down cross-legged on the bed from the squat in which he had appeared after shapeshifting. "You disappoint me, Tarrin," she said bluntly. "Renoit is starting to second-guess his agreement with us. I explicitely promised him that we would cause no mischief, and you break that promise on the very first day. What defense do you have for this attack?"

"He called me a freak," he said in a savage hiss, anger boiling up with frightening speed, the Cat awakening from its dormant place in his mind at the smell of that anger, curious to see if it was something in which it should intervene. "He was being really snide and snotty, insulting both of us. Then he called me a freak. I just couldn't take it anymore."

"I see," she said, her tone slightly hostile. "I see that it was not enough justification to strike him down. Had I not healed him, he would have died."

"Like that means anything to me," he grunted, looking at his feet.

"And that is precisely my problem," she told him in a tone that made him look at her. "I had hoped that it was the trauma that had turned you this way, that your ferality was a condition of your circumstance, but I see I am wrong, and Haley was right. You are truly feral. And there is no more hope for you now."

She stood up, looking down at him with eyes that had absolutely no emotion in them. "You will confine yourself to your cabin during daylight," she ordered. "You will not interact with the performers. You may only come out at night, and even then only in cat form."

"You're grounding me?" he said incredulously.

"No, I am isolating you," she replied, turning her back to him and walking towards the door, then stopping beside it and turning to face him. "You have done enough damage, Tarrin. Now I must contain it, and contain you. Were it not for the seriousness of our mission, I would drop you off at the nearest land and let you go, but I cannot. You cannot. There will be no more unprovoked attacks, Tarrin. I am tired of cleaning up the messes you make.

"I cannot defend your actions any longer," she told him, putting her hand on the doorknob. "I have tried to make you feel comfortable by treating you like anyone else, but I see that was a grave error. From now on, you will not be treated like everyone else. You have dug your own hole, my dear one. Now you must stand in it."

"How dare you pass judgement on me!" he suddenly roared, snapping to his feet by the bunk and glaring at her. "If anyone could understand the way I feel, I thought it would have been you! They were warned not to be hostile to me, Dolanna, and that kid did it anyway! He called me a freak! Do you have any idea how that makes me feel? Do you think it doesn't remind me of what I used to be, and what I've lost? I never asked for this, Dolanna, and now I'm being punished for it! Do you have any idea how helpless it makes me feel to know that I never had a choice? I had a life, Dolanna, and it was taken away from me with no regard as to what it would do to me!" He turned from her and looked at the wall. "When he called me a freak, all I could think of was that I am one!" He whirled on her, holding out his clawed paws. "Look at me. Look!" he said in a nearly hysteric tone that made her take a step back. "I used to have hands, Dolanna, human hands that could pick up a fork or spoon. I used to be alone in my own head, I used to be in control of myself. I used to be normal! But now I'm not, and I never had a chance to be anything else!

"Do you think I like being like this?" he said in a shrill voice. "Do you think I like knowing that killing a man means as much to me as picking a burr out of my tail? Do you think I like seeing the fear in people's eyes when they look at me? I've lost everything I used to care about, and all I had left was my friends. And now I'm losing them too!" Tears formed in his eyes as he stared accusingly at Dolanna. "I want my life back, Dolanna, and I can't have it! I'm so tired of being this way, but I don't have a choice!" He whirled around and put his back to her, paws on the sides of his head.

"Tarrin, I-"

"Get out!" he screamed. "Leave me alone!"

Wordlessly, Dolanna left. Tarrin knelt on the floor, then put his forehead to the wood, weeping out the pain of deep wounds, wounds that he thought had healed long ago.

Outside the door, Dolanna leaned against it, tears flowing freely down her face. Allia and Keritanima stood in the companionway, ready to help subdue their brother had he stepped over the line. That Dolanna now feared him, feared that the trust he had for her wouldn't be enough to protect her from him was enough of an indicator of how dangerous she felt he had become. Tears stained her pale cheeks, and they were out of place with the wan smile that graced her features.

"We heard the yelling, Dolanna," Keritanima said quietly. "Is he going to be alright?"

"Yes, Keritanima," she said wearily, tears and smile painting a paradox on her features. "I think that he will be just fine."

"It sounds like he is crying," Allia said in concern.

"It is a long time coming, Allia," Dolanna said. "Never before has he admitted, even to himself, the pain his condition causes him. He has never mourned the loss of his humanity, of his former life. What he is doing now is what he should have done the very first day after he was turned."

Both of them stared at Dolanna for a long moment, then tears formed in Allia's eyes. "My poor deshaida," she whispered. "Even to me, it was as if he accepted it."

"What choice did he have, sister?" Keritanima said with a sniffle. "I know how it feels to be trapped in a life you don't want."

"We should-"

"No," Dolanna said, holding Allia back. "This is not a time when he would appreciate company. Leave him be."

She gave the door a long, searching look, placing her hand upon it as if she were laying a gentle hand on someone's back. "Just leave him be."

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