Chapter 8  

      Tarrin was quite amazed as he stood in the Hall beside the other entrants into the Novitiate.

      This Selani was gorgeous.

      She was stunningly beautiful, with swarthy, creamy brown skin and exotic white hair that was so thick it was amazing, silky and very fine, and hung down to her backside in loosely curled waves of brilliant white.  She had a face that artists would sell their souls to capture on canvas.  She was ethereal, delicate, and quite exquisite, with her slender nose and high, arched cheekbones and almond shaped eyes that were so intensely blue that even the pupils had a bluish cast to them.  Tarrin could readily admit that he had never seen any woman that could compare to the ethereal beauty of this Selani woman who stood before him.  Her body was as perfect as her face.  She was amazingly tall, only a bit shorter than Tarrin himself, who stood a head over most men.  Her generous figure and shape were perfectly proportioned for her tall stature, and she had a figure that rivalled Jesmind's, the first woman he'd seen that could compare with his fiery bond-mother.  And just like Jesmind, Tarrin's sharp eyes could see the definition of the muscles in what brown skin he could see, for she wore a baggy sand-colored, long sleeved shirt and a matching pair of pants.  She may look slender and delicate, but this was one flower with steel for a stem.  Selani were warriors, and she had a warrior's body.  Her scent was metallic, almost coppery, a clear symbol of her non-human heritage, but at the same time it was very spicy and clean, and he found it to be quite appealing.  Tarrin noticed idly that she only had four fingers on each hand.  Three fingers and a thumb.  And her hands were not malformed, nor was she missing fingers; that was how they were meant to be.

      She also had a look of aloof distance on her face.  Elsa had said that she didn't like humans, but to Tarrin, it was more like a resentment at being in her current position.  Tarrin had felt like that a few times, and that was exactly how he looked when he was in them.  She didn't want to be here, and that was plainly visible.

      The little ceremony of induction into the Novitiate was dry and dusty, and Tarrin didn't even listen to the Keeper as she droned on about being there to learn, obeying their teachers and the Sorcerers and all that rot.  He was considering the Selani.  Tarrin had an intense interest in her, for some unknown reason.  She looked aloof, but Tarrin saw under that, and to him, she looked alone.  He thought that, if he approached her the right way, that they could become good friends.  He wondered if that wasn't why he was so interested in her.  She looked very lonely to him, and he didn't like to see anyone suffer like that.  The days alone with nothing but his fear as he ran from Jesmind and the Goblinoids had put a soft spot in his heart to people in similar fixes.  Here was a young woman taken very far from everything she had known and thrust into a sea of confusion, where nothing was comfortable or understood, and surrounded by people to whom she could not relate.

      After the little speech, the twenty or so new Novices were allowed to go sit down.  Tarrin made a special note to sit next to the beautiful Selani woman, and once blessing was said, he turned to her.  "My name is Tarrin," he told her.  "I was told to show you the places in the Tower after class."

      "I was told of you," she said in a toneless voice, which was quite pretty.  Her accent was thick, and it made her voice sound very exotic.  It was almost as if she was trying to sing the words of the Common tongue.  "I do not need to be guided.  I can find my own way."

      "As you wish," he said in a carefully neutral voice.  "Whatever makes you feel most comfortable."

      That word had the desired effect.  She blinked those luminous eyes once and regarded him carefully.  "You are devious," she said in a calm voice.  "There is more of a cat about  you than fur, strange one."

      "I meant no offense," he said.  "You just look very unsettled.  I meant to offer you friendship."

      "Friendship is a thing that is earned, not given," she told him abruptly.  "But your concern for me touches my heart.  I would accept your offer.  We will go see these places after this class."

      And she spoke not another word.  An Initiate gathered up the new Novices and escorted them to a large room with many chairs, all facing a small podium with a huge slate board behind it  A small man with thinning brown hair and wearing a tight-fitting tunic and hose in the Sulasian style stood at the podium.  "Good morning," he said as they were seated.  "My name is Sheldin Brewer, and I will be your instructor in the subjects of history and geography," he introduced.  "I know that some of you already know a good deal of history, and some of you know geography, but just be patient so that those who don't have a chance to catch up a bit."

      And so he began.  Tarrin knew a goodly amount of history, thanks to his father, but this Sheldin touched on events and places that Tarrin had never heard of.  He also knew just about everywhere, as he roughly sketched in the four continents of the Known World and the kingdoms and nations on which they stood, and described very briefly the continent across the sea which was the domain of the Wikuni.  Although it was a dry subject, the man's light manner and keen knowledge of his material made the class actually enjoyable, and he was surprised when the man broke the class for lunch.  "All of you are to sit together at the table directly in front of the Mistress of Novice's table," he instructed.  "An Initiate will come and escort each of you to where you need to be after lunch.  We will meet again in this room tomorrow after breakfast.  Good day to you."

      "The man is learned," the Selani said in her calm voice as they walked back to the Hall.

      "Yes, he is," Tarrin agreed.  "I'd expect him to try to pull you aside pretty soon," he said.

      "Why?"

      "I don't think he'll pass up a chance to learn about your desert," Tarrin told her.  "Nobody but your people go there, so he'll jump at the chance to ask you about it."

      "It is our home," she said.  "That is all there is to tell him."

      "True, but he'll still want to know," he said.  "Men like that are driven by the hunger to learn."

      "It is a good quality," she observed.  "There is honor in knowledge."

      She still hadn't told him her name.  Tarrin didn't want to push her too hard, though.  He had the feeling that she could be very touchy, and he thought that if he put the wrong foot forward now, it would ruin any chance to strike up a friendship with her.  Making friends with her was as much for him as it was for her, for in her Tarrin felt there was a kindred spirit, someone else here that did not quite fit in.  From her he could expect honesty, and she had already put him at ease by not showing any fear of him.  After they'd been seated in the Hall and the blessing was made, Tarrin discreetly watched her as she ate.  He was curious about what she would and would not eat.  She did not disappoint him by showing certain peculiarities.  She would not eat pork, he noticed.  Nor would she eat any chicken or goose.  He didn't know if those were personal preferences or racial or cultural preferences, though.  She ate a great deal of cabbage and stringed beans, he saw, and she especially seemed to enjoy the boiled potatos.

      Initiates began to arrive, pick out a certain Novice or Novices, and then leave with them, taking them to their assigned work duties.  Tarrin waited until he was sure the Selani was done with her meal, and then turned to her.  "Do you feel like looking around?" he asked politely.

      "It would please me to do so," she answered in a similarly polite voice.

      Tarrin had a good memory, and Dar had been a good guide, so he mirrored his friend's course of the tour, showing her the important areas of the Tower.  She seemed more or less unimpressed with most of it, showing interest only in the library.  Tarrin gritted his teeth a bit when he showed her the baths.  He had no idea how she was going to accept it.

      "Ah, yes, this place," she said when they came down the stairs.

      "They explained how it works?"

      "Yes," she said.  "I find nothing wrong with it.  A similar custom exists among my people, but we use a sweat tent.  Such an amount of water would never be used for bathing among me people.  It is too precious."  She looked at the water longingly a moment.  "If only we had such riches at home."

      "If water was this abundant there, it really wouldn't be a desert anymore," Tarrin noted.

      She gave him a sidelong look, and then she laughed.  It sounded like a cascade of silver bells.  "I guess it would not," she agreed, smiling in spite of herself.  "I would like to go outside," she said.  "I came here in the night, so I did not get the chance to see much of the outside.  But I saw much grass and other plants."

      "Yes, most of the compoud is grass.  I wonder how they keep it so short," Tarrin mused aloud.  "There's a really big garden behind the tower proper," he told her.  "It's very lovely."

      She was awed more at the sight of the grass than she was with the massive size of the central Tower and the six smaller towers surrounding it.  The sweeping, elegant bridges that connected the upper levels of the towers to the tower proper were nothing to her, for she was staring out at the expanse of the lawn.  She even reached down and touched it.  "It is so green," she said in a wondrous voice.  "I have seen grass and forests ever since I left my home, but I was so spiteful at being sent here that I did not look at it.  It is a beautiful sight."

      "It's all I've ever known," Tarrin told her.  "Maybe someday I'll see your desert, and then I'll be able to compare them."

      "The Motherland is not without its own beauty," she told him.  "The Painted Lands have such color that it would take your breath, and the mesas and ravines of the Broken Lands cast shadows across the land that merge with the color of the rock and the sheen of the heat that make the colors dance like rock snakes.  We have green, but it is so small compared to the rest of the land that it is easy to miss.  Here, everything but what the humans build is green, or brown."

      "Let's go look at the garden," he offered.  "And there's something else there that I think you may want to see," he added.

      She was impressed with the gardens, spending a great deal of time going from flower to flower and plant to plant, looking at them, touching them, and smelling them.  Tarrin didn't have to get that close to smell them, he could do it from where he stood.  But it did make him appreciate the beauty of the gardens just a little bit more, watching her take in the sights of the living beauty of the gardens.  After they'd worked their way through most of it, he got her attention with a paw.  "Come on, there's something else I want to show you," he said.  "It's kind of a secret, though, so don't tell anyone about it."

      She raised an elegant white eyebrow.  "Then lead on," she said.

      It took him a while to find it again.  The scent trail he'd made before was about two days old.  Since he and Dar had crisscrossed the whole hedge maze more than once, that put their scents all over the place, and after that much time it was hard to tell the trail that led true to the ones that went to dead ends.  He relied on his memory for most of it, and had led them almost right to the center.  It was finding that elusive choked-off passage that was challenging.  The Selani was starting to get a bit restless as they reached another dead end.  "What are we looking for?" she asked.

      "It's a very small passage that's so overgrown it's almost invisible," he told her, frowning.  "It's very hard to find."

      "I saw such a thing not long ago," she told him.

      "You must have sharp eyes," he said.

      "Yes," she told him.  She led them back to the place unerringly, and it was indeed the opening to the maze's heart.  "This is it," he told her.  "Thanks."

      "You are welcome," she said as she followed him into the living tunnel.

      The serenity and beauty of the maze's heart had just as much effect on her as it had had on Tarrin.  He still felt the same wonder and peace he'd felt the day before as he looked on the lovely statue in the center of the fountain.  They stood at the entryway for several moments, as the Selani stared at the statue in mute awe.  "My roommate and I found this place a couple of days ago," he said in a hushed voice.  "We don't think anyone else comes here anymore."

      "It is a wondrous place," she told him.  "The statue looks almost alive."

      "I know," he said, motioning her to follow him.  They sat down on the stone bench in front of the fountain.  "Well, I hope you found the time we spent together tolerable," he told her.

      "I think you can stop with the subtle games, Tarrin," she said with a little smile.  "If you are trying to connive yourself into my good graces, you may stop."

      He flushed slightly.  "I didn't mean it like that," he said.  "I just didn't want to offend you."

      "You have put quite an effort into trying to talk to me, and befriend me.  Why?"

      He looked at those intense blue eyes, and decided that blunt honesty was the only recourse.  "When I saw you, you looked very lonely," he told her.  "I didn't want you to be here and be unhappy.  And aside from Dar, my roommate, and the two Novices that travelled here with me, none of the other Novices will so much as talk to me.  I thought that since you're not human either, we could talk to each other on the same ground.  If you understand me, that is."

      She gave him a long, penetrating look, and then put a hand up against his cheek.  "You are very perceptive, Tarrin," she told him honestly.  "I do not want to be here, and I do feel a bit lonely and homesick.  I am touched that you would put yourself out so much for my benefit when you do not know me.  You have much honor, Tarrin.  I would be honored to call you friend."

      "I would accept it gladly," he replied.

      She smiled.  "My name is Allia.  Allia Do'Shi'Faeden, of the clan Faedellin."

      "That's a pretty name," he said.

      "Thank you."

      "How did you come to be here?" he asked.

      She sighed.  "It was not by choice," she said.  "My father, the clan-chief, decided that a better understanding of the humans would be a wise thing.  The lands of our clan rest by the mountains that separate the desert from the place you call Arkis, and over the recent years more and more of them have appeared in our lands.  Some seek trade, but most come seeking to take from the land that which is for the Holy Mother Goddess.  Our lands are rich in the metal gold, and many come to steal it from our lands.  Gold is sacred to our Holy Mother Goddess, and we do not take it from the ground, but the Arkisians take without regard to the wishes of us or our Goddess.  My father decided to send one clansman here, to this place, to undergo the learning that is offered so that we may better understand the humans, and to find ways to stop this thieving without having to wipe Arkis from the world.  My father chose someone else for this task, not I.  Not long before he was to make the journey, a katzh-dashi appeared at our camp.  He took my father aside for some time and spoke with him.  After they were finished the katzh-dashi left, and my father told me that I would go in the stead of he who was chosen.  I was not happy about the choice," she said sourly.  "I do not like humans.  I think that the thieving swine Arkisians should be driven from our lands and made to come no more.  After I made my feelings known, my father demanded twice over that I be made to do it.  He told me that a wise chief always considers all options before making such decisions.  He even made me swear a Blood Oath on it," she said with a sour grunt.  "That was not nice.  I am honor bound to treat those I hold in contempt with a respect I do not believe they have earned."

      "Not all humans are the same," he told her.  "I used to be human, before this happened to me."

      "No, not all humans are," she agreed.  "I understand that, but I still do not like them.  I feel that any other breed of human would do the same as the Arkisians, should our desert be by their lands."

      "I really can't say," he said.  "Probably.  Humans are driven creatures, and greed is a powerful motivator.  Besides, they probably don't even realize they're taking something your people hold sacred."

      "They do so once," she said with a note of finality.  "It has long been the custom of our people to kill all who seek to invade our lands, save only merchants, who are given safe passage.  For a long time, that was enough to keep all but the honest away.  But lately we have had to kill more and more gold hunters who ignore the laws and the dangers."

      "Well, things will work out," he told her.  "Much as I like it here, we'd best not tarry.  Odds are they either have people watching us, and they'll notice we're missing.  And I don't want them coming in here looking for us."

      "Truly," she said.  "I have noticed such watchers throughout the day."

      "We'll have to come back when we can slip away," he said.  "I like it here, but the idea of others tramping around in here offends me."

      "An interesting notion.  Why?"

      "Because this place almost seems holy," he told her.  "I get the feeling we're welcome here, but I'd rather not insult whoever watches this place by leading others in here too."

      Allia looked around.  "Maybe you are right," she said slowly.  "I have been honored to feel the touch of the Holy Mother Goddess upon my soul, and the feeling of this place is something like that.  I think that some God or spirit does keep watch over this courtyard."

      Tarrin was pleased to know that he'd not been far from the mark.  Not long after they'd left the hedge maze, the Keeper herself approached them.  She was alone, which said much about how safe she felt in the confines of the Tower grounds.  Her face was pleasant, even serene, and when she spoke, it was with a calm, light manner.  "Ah, Tarrin, Allia," she said.  "I've been looking for you."

      "Yes, Keeper?" Tarrin asked after he bowed to her.  Allia also bowed, but it was a very stiff one.

      "I've been thinking about you two, and I thought to approach you with an offer."

      "Speak on then," Allia said in her calm voice.

      "Neither of you are suited for the chores of a Novice," she said.  "Both of you are warriors.  If it does not offend you, Lady Allia, would you two like to spend your afternoons with the Knights?  Both of you can continue to study the warrior ways, and perhaps our Knights can learn from you.  And maybe you can learn from each other.  Tarrin, you are an adept in the Ways, and Allia, you are an adept in your people's style of combat."

      Allia looked at Tarrin.  "I did not know this," she said.  "You know the Northmen's hand-fighting?"

      "I am one of them, Allia," he told her.  "Well, I was, and only on my mother's side, but yes, I learned it."

      "Long have I wanted to see if the Northmen were worth their mettle."

      "So the idea pleases you, Allia?" the Keeper asked.

      Allia gave Tarrin a speculative look.  "The idea does please me," she said.

      "Good.  Oh, just one word of warning.  As you can see, Tarrin isn't human.  He's a Were-cat, and if you're not familiar with his kind, they have magical capabilities.  One of them is that their blood and spittle can change other humans into Were-kin too.  We honestly have no idea what effect it would have on you, Allia, since you are Selani.  So you should exercise a bit of caution.  Don't put yourself into a position where his blood gets into your mouth, and Tarrin, please don't bite her."

      "I'd never dream of it, Keeper," Tarrin said in shock.

      "Nothing is without risk," Allia said philosophically.

      "Good," she said.  "You may go back to your exploration now.  Have a good day."  And then she turned and walked away.

      "You did not tell me you followed the path of honor," she said, a bit accusingly.

      "I don't make much of an issue of it, Allia," he told her.  "People are afraid enough of me as it is.  I don't need for them to find more reasons to not like me.  Oh, and the fact that I can change people is kind of a secret, Allia.  Please don't repeat it."

      "It will not pass my lips except when we are alone," she promised.  Then she wiped at an arm.  "I am in need of a sweat tent," she sighed.  "I have not cleaned myself in some time."

      "You don't smell it," he said.  She gave him a cool look.  "Allia, I'm not human either.  My senses are very acute.  Trust me, you do not smell."

      "Well, if I must use that bathing pool, then that is what must be."

      Tarrin sensed that she was very uncomfortable with that notion.  "If it doesn't sound too forward, do you want some company?" he asked.

      "Yes, that would please me," she said in a gratified voice.

      He found out why once they reached the baths.  Allia had never in her life been immersed in water that went past her knees.   She was sincerely afraid of the idea of going into the waist-deep water, though she would die before she admitted it.  He also found that, like him, she had absolutely no fear of appearing in front of others nude.  Tarrin found that quality to be refreshing.  She undressed herself boldly before him as he did so himself, then he lowered himself into the pool and waited for her.  She stood at the lip of the pool hesitantly, looking out over all that water with a bit of a wild look in her eyes.  He stood by the lip right under her and reached up a paw.  "Come on," he said gently.  "If you want, I'll teach you how to swim.  The water's not quite deep enough for it, but I can give you an idea."

      She took his paw, and lowered herself into the water.

      She still had that wild-eyed look, and she would not let go of his paw.  He winced a bit under her grip.  This woman was strong.  He thought that the relaxing heat of the water may loosen her fear somewhat, so he led her towards the far end, into the hotter water.  He was very careful to stay as close to the lip as possible, to give her something solid to reassure her.  "Let me know if it gets too hot," he told her as they advanced into the hotter water.

      The hot water had its desired effect.  The grip on his paw relaxed, but she still would not let go.  He decided not to make an issue of it.  She was doing something that she'd never done before, something that was new and a bit frightening.  "I know it's a strange sensation," he told her. "Come on, let's go out into the middle.  Once you see that you're not going to go in over your head, I think you'll be alright."

      She looked at him intently.  Her eyes blazed for just a moment when she realized he knew she was afraid, but then, curiously, they softened, then took on an appreciative look.  "You are very subtle," she said, then she laughed.  "Very subtle indeed.  Am I so obvious to you?"

      "No, but I could tell that you didn't like the idea," he told her.  "And the grip you had on my paw told me alot once you got into the water."

      She smiled then, a glorious smile that would make any man's knees weak.  "You are quite a man, Tarrin," she said in her accented voice.  "You will bring me much honor in our friendship."

      "Well, thank you," he said.

      "Now, you may wash my hair," she said in an imperious voice.

      "Yes ma'am," he chuckled, reaching for a cake of soap, right after she let go of his paw.

      Allia, Tarrin found, was a very serious, sober woman, dignified and very much bound to her precepts of honor and propriety.  That wasn't a bad thing, not at all.  But, on the other hand, he discovered that, once you got past that towering barrier of iciness that she put to the human world, she was a warm, vibrant person with a very rich sense of humor and a very perceptive view of the world.  Tarrin saw alot of Jesmind in her, for they had the same practical, no-nonsense view of the world, and both had the same tendancy to speak whatever was on their minds.  That told Tarrin that Allia trusted him, and that pleased him greatly.  They talked of unimportant things during the course of the bath, as he washed her hair, then she unbound his braid and returned the favor.  All in all, he liked Allia very much, even after only a short time to get to know each other.  Much like he and Dar had done, Tarrin and Allia simply clicked, quickly finding a common ground and using it to build a friendship.

      By the time he helped her from the water, they were both laughing and carrying on as if they'd known each other all their lives.

      There were a couple of frictions, however.  The main one was Dar.  Because he was Arkisian, Allia took an immediate dislike to him, and Dar was instantly afraid of her.  That was a wise thing, Tarrin guessed, and from then on the young man avoided Tarrin like the plague any time he was with Allia.  Tarrin didn't ignore Dar, he just divided his time between his two friends so that he could spend time with both without leaving out the other.

      The next day, Tarrin and Allia walked out onto the training grounds wearing their practice clothing.  For Tarrin, it was his old leathers.  For Allia, it was the same sand-colored baggy clothes which she had worn the day before.  She'd worn Novice clothes that morning, and looked distinctly uncomfortable in them.  She was wearing the trousers rather than a dress, and when he asked her why, she laughed in his face.  "Selani do not wear such ridiculous things," she told him.  "It would tangle my legs when I fight."

      After a quick consultation with each other over the rules of the sparring match, they faced off to quite a crowd of Knights and apprentices looking on.  They had never seen a Selani face off against an Ungaardt before.  The rules they'd chosen were what Allia called "child's rules".  Tarrin didn't want to hurt her, since he was so much stronger than she was, so he'd insisted.

      What he didn't gamble on was that he had to hit her in order to hurt her.  She was wildly, impossibly fast.  He'd never seen anyone who could move with the blinding speed with which she evaded his attacks.  Tarrin himself was fast, inhumanly fast because of his Were-cat nature, but she was even faster than him.  Tarrin was quickly put on the defensive, using every block and evade tactic he knew to keep her blurring hands and feet away from his sensitive parts.  The unfamiliarity of his own body worked against him, as he struggled to work the forms that he knew around his new body, but facing an opponent like her was no time to experiment, so he simply tried as best he could to defend himself against her using what he knew and his natural speed and agility.  They helped, but her own speed and agility neutralized that advantage, and his promise to pull punches eliminated his strength advantage.  With no advantages over her, he was facing someone more adept in her style of fighting than he was in his, and the pummelling he endured proved it.  But, after a while, he had to concede that he had never been as good as she was, even when he was human.  Allia could give his mother a good fight.  He would have paid money to see them face off against one another.

      After about an hour of getting beaten like a dog, Tarrin started to come to understand her moves, and started anticipating her attacks.  She used set, specific forms, and once he identified them, he could predict which move she would flow into next.  It still didn't help much, for her speed allowed her to change moves in mid-attack.  She beat him almost at will, punching and kicking him almost anywhere she pleased for that first hour, until he managed to mount enough of a defense that her attacks could no longer find him.  That look of light amusement dissolved into a set look of concentration as she had to start working to get past his defenses.  She could still do it, but it wasn't nearly as easy as it had been before.

      Tarrin came to understand why the Selani were so deadly at that point.  Had this been a real fight, and had he not been a Were-cat, she probably would have killed him by now.

      "Enough of this play," she said.  "Now we spar for real."

      "How do you mean?"

      "I mean that we do not pull punches," she said.

      "I don't want to hurt you," he said.

      "You will not, trust me," she said with a challenging smile.

      "Alright, they're your bones," he shrugged.

      One hit was all it took.  Tarrin knew that.  He had not used his full strength in their earlier spars.  He blocked a side kick with a forearm with enough power to knock her off balance, and then he put a foot right in her belly.  He did not pull the punch.  Allia folded around his foot and was knocked backwards a few spans, then she sat down heavily on the ground, wheezing and gasping for breath with both hands to her belly.  Tarrin knelt by her and put a gentle hand to her belly.  He didn't feel anything wrong there; he'd just knocked the wind out of her.

      "Goddess!" she said in a choked, breathless voice.  "What did you hit me with?"

      "My foot," he said calmly.  "I'm alot stronger than I look, Allia.  I tried to warn you."

      "So you did," she wheezed.  "I will listen to you next time."

      Two instructors and a Sorceress came over.  "Are you alright?" one of them asked.

      "I will be in a moment," she said in a breathless voice.  "You pack quite a punch, friend Tarrin."

      "Maybe too much of one," the instructor said.  "It will be very hard to train you when you have such a strength advantage."

      "I can be careful," Tarrin said.

      "It isn't the same," the man said.  "You have to learn by doing, and doing your best.  If you pull punches in training, you'll not learn as well as you could."

      "I think that the Tower has something that could even things," the Sorceress said.  "I'll make a few inquiries.  I believe that we have a magical object that will augment the user's strength.  Would that make it right to train him?"

      "Would that give the wearer the same resilience as Tarrin?" the instructor asked.  "Great strength does more than let you hit hard.  It also gives you the ability to absorb blows.  It has to be the same."

      "I had never considered that," Allia confessed, speaking in a more normal voice.  "We are a strong people, but we teach that speed can overwhelm power.  Speed is more important than power."

      "I've always believed that you need a balance of the two," the man told her.  "Speed alone and power alone aren't enough.  You need both.  You'll find that most of the toughest men are also among the strongest.  You can use that power to defend as easily as to attack."

      "That's what the Ways teach," Tarrin told him, helping Allia to her feet.  She put a hand delicately to her belly, but said nothing.  The Sorceress stepped forward and put her own hand on Allia's stomach.  The Selani looked about ready to kill the woman, but said nothing.  "You've got a very nasty bruise forming here, and that blow injured the muscles in your abdomen.  You're going to be very tender unless you let me heal this," she said.

      "Then do so," Allia said in a calm voice, a voice that Tarrin could tell was tightly controlled.  The Sorceress put her hand under Allia's baggy shirt, and Tarrin felt that sensation of drawing in again.  Allia sucked in her breath at the icy touch of Sorcerer's Healing.

      After that, Tarrin looked up.  "It's getting late, and this is a good place to stop."

      "Yes," she said.  "I learned much today.  I became overconfident, and I paid the price," she told him, putting her hand on her stomach.  "I underestimated you.  Tomorrow I will not do so again."

      Tarrin winced.  She'd beaten him almost at will all day.  He'd gotten in that one shot because she didn't know the nature of her opponent.  He had no doubt that she wouldn't approach him the same way again.

      "But I am impressed.  Your Ungaardt Ways are effective, but I can tell that you feel uncomfortable with them."

      "I wasn't this way when I learned," he told her.  "I'm still getting used to it."

      "Yes, that would change things, would it not?" she observed.  "I will train you in the Dance," she said.  "They are more suited for you than your Ways, anyway.  And I will teach you a civilized tongue," she added.  "If we are to be friends, then we should be able to speak in a way that pleases us both."

      "I won't mind," he told her.

      "My language is not easy to learn," she warned.

      "If we have anything, Allia, it's time," he said.

      "Very well.  Then let us begin now.  Greetings.  Azra shan."

      Tarrin's life settled into a daily routine at that point, as he became settled into life in the Tower.  The trials of the road faded from his worries, but the ever-present threat of Jesmind never went far from his mind.  In the morning before breakfast, his time was spent with Dar, as they talked, and dreamed, and did the things that friends did.   Tarrin liked the dark-skinned young man a great deal, for he was witty, friendly, and was very intelligent and mature for his age.  Tarrin had no doubt that Dar would succeed at whatever he decided to do with his life, because he was so smart.  After breakfast, and for the majority of the day, he belonged to Allia.  Dar didn't seem to mind the Selani monopolizing Tarrin's time, for he'd listened and understood when Tarrin explained to him that Allia had nobody else.  Dar himself had many other friends among the Novices, but Allia had only Tarrin.  Just like him, the others were afraid of her.  They feared her because she broke one boy's arm for patting her on the backside during dinner.  Allia did not like to be touched by strangers, and much like Tarrin, she was not afraid to make it well known in any manner she chose.

      After lunch, Tarrin and Allia went to the field, to train.  That was, Allia trained Tarrin.  She was quite a master of her fighting art, which she called ji'shen, which meant "the Dance" in the Selani tongue.  They did indeed have an aritfact to even things between them, a pair of gloves made from a Troll's hide, which granted the wearer the proportionate strength of a Troll.  The gloves smelled absolutely hideous, and the time he was on the field taught him how to ignore his nose as much as he learned the flowing, viper-like forms of Allia's fighting style.  While they fought, Allia continued to teach him the words of the Selani tongue.  Tarrin was a very bright young man, but he had a special talent for languages.  He picked up on her native tongue quickly, and she was amazed at how precise his memory was.  She only had to explain something to him once, or tell him the meaning of a word once, and he remembered it.

      After they trained, they both found a way to slip away before dinner, and they met again in the hidden courtyard in the middle of the hedge maze.  There, she continued teaching him not only her language, but a very complicated hand-gesture language that her people had created, so that they could communicate without speaking.  It was technically a violation of her sacred vows to teach him that, she admitted, but she had no doubt that it would never go past him.  She had placed her trust in him, and he in her.

      They would then go to dinner, and afterward, they would retire to the baths.  At that time of the evening, they were literally deserted.  It was not even staffed by Novices.  Here, his training yet continued, or they simply talked.

      They were there on that rainy summer evening, listening to the rumbles of thunder that filtered through the thick walls of the Tower.  Tarrin was laying on the stone on his belly, arms folded up under his chin, eyes closed as he enjoyed a backrub from his companion.  The fact that both of them were nude, and that she was sitting on his backside, never occurred to either of them.

      It was strange, how they had come together, he mused silently as her delicate yet strong four-fingered hands worked a knot out of his muscle.  They shared a friendship that had become shockingly deep in an amazing amount of time.  Much as he'd started to feel about Jesmind, Tarrin knew in his heart that he could trust his white-haired friend with absolutely any secret, and that it would go no further.  He had told her secrets, things that he'd never told another person, not even Dolanna.  She was the only living being aside from himself and Jesmind that knew what had happened between them.  The whole story.  He confided his deep-most private self to her, and she helped him talk out many of the strange impulses and feelings he had from time to time, which were extensions of the Cat which was inside him.

      "Keep your tail still," she chided.

      "What?"

      "Keep your tail still," she repeated.  "I'm sitting on it, and every time you move it, it presses up against--"

      "Alright," he cut her off, and she laughed her silvery little laugh.  In that respect, she was even worse than Jesmind ever was.  She would talk about things that would make him die of mortification without so much as batting an eyelash.  Where Jesmind would not do it in public, Allia would.  He didn't want to know what his tail was doing, because she'd give him an explicitly graphic description of the whole thing.  The fact that he was not ashamed of his body, yet he could still be embarassed by talk, amused her greatly for some reason.  "I swear, sometimes you're worse than a wife," he said.

      "We should be married, with what I've let you touch," she told him in the Selani tongue.  Unlike her stiff, formal way of speaking when she used the human language, her mode of speech in her native tongue was much more relaxed.  Although he didn't have the accent quite down, and he didn't know all the words, he did speak enough of it to understand her when she used it.

      "You asked for it," he shrugged.

      "So I did," she acceded.  "But you really should be careful of your claws.  I had trouble sitting down for three days after that."

      "I said I was sorry," he snorted.

      "And you think I'll forgive you so quickly?  I may need a favor someday," she teased.

      "You could have asked to be healed."

      "And how would I explain claw scratches there?" she asked.  "You know they'd start asking questions, Tarrin.  What we do in private is our own affair, and they have no right prying."

      "But we don't do anything."

      "Precisely," she said.

      "Sometimes I don't understand you at all," he said sourly, putting his head back down.

      "Let's just say that I think that if they thought we were lovers, they would separate us.  And I don't think either of us would permit that."  He knew she wouldn't.  He was all Allia had here.  She almost clung to him and his friendship, surrounded by people who were either afraid of her or treated her like a laboratory experiment.  Tarrin and Allia both had to endure endless interruptions from assorted Sorcerers, asking endless questions.  One even asked to take a sample of their blood.  The katzh-dashi's endless quest for knowledge was an admirable trait, but when that endless part was directed right at him, he found the whole matter to be very annoying.  Tarrin was her only friend, the only person she felt comfortable enough to talk to.  She was acquainted with the Knights on the field, but didn't really consider them to be friends.  Faalken once confided that everyone thought that she considered herself better than everyone else.

      Well, in a way, she did.  She had an aire of superiority about her, that was true, but it was not arrogance, it was more like a knowledge that she could kick anyone's backside in the Tower without working up a sweat.  Her own people were a very proud race, and they did consider themselves above the humans.  But that was a natural trait; every race considered itself better than all the others.  It was only basic nature.  Tarrin caught himself sighing alot and saying "humans" in that same condescending tone that Jesmind had used.  But she never acted that way to Tarrin.  To her, he was an equal, a comrade, a good friend.

      "I've been meaning to ask something," he said.

      "What?"

      "Why are there so many different ways to say 'friend' in Selani?" he asked.

      "Well," she said, "that is because there are different levels of honor associated with each," she told him.  "A visitor of another clan who is received with honor is a shih or shai, depending on if it is male or female."  Selani had different forms of words when addressing women or men.  It was the only language Tarrin had heard of that did that, and that made it very complicated.  "A passing acquaintance in the clan is a shina or shaina.  A friend is a shida or shaida.  A very close, dear friend who is not of your own family is a bashida or bashaida.  The closest form of the word is the Brother in all but Blood, or Sister, depending.  That is deshida or deshaida.  It is a serious taboo to use the wrong form."

      "Is that so?" he mused.  "Well, if we have to use the term we feel in our hearts, then I must call you deshaida," he said.

      She was quiet a moment, then he heard her sniffle a bit.  "Tarrin, I am honored," she said in a quiet, emotional voice.  "But if you would be my brother, then you must accept the rites of my people," she warned in the human tongue, so there would be no mistake of translation.

      He urged her to get off of him, and they sat down by the water's edge, their feet dangling in the hot water.  Tarrin looked at her, and his eyes never really failed to go her shoulders.  On each shoulder, she carried a single brand.  On her uppermost left arm, it was a circle with a line through it and a crescent just inside the circle and over the line.  She said that the circle and crescent were the symbol of her clan, and the line through it was the mark that denoted her status as the blood of a clan-chief.  On her uppermost right, she carried a sword-on-spear symbol that she said was the holy symbol of her Goddess.

      "Would you be willing to truly become my brother, a brother in all but blood?" she asked.

      He didn't even have to think about it.  "Of course I would," he told her.  "You're very important to me, Allia.  You and Dar are the only things that keep me from going crazy here."

      "There is more to it than that," she warned.  "You would be bound under the Oaths.  For you, that would mean very little, for you have no true clan chief.  But it would put you somewhat under the dominion of my Holy Mother Goddess, for you would have to swear an oath to obey her will."

      "What would she want of me?" he asked curiously.

      "I would have to ask her," she said.

      Tarrin gaped at her a bit.  "You've never told me you talk to your Goddess," he said.

      "Don't you?" she asked, lapsing back into Selani.

      "Not really," he said.  "Karas is the God of the Sulasians, but he's never spoken to me."

      "The Holy Mother has a more intimate relationship with her people that most Gods, deshida," she told him.  "If I pray, she will answer.  I must pray and ask her guidance on this.  She may not accept someone not of the Blood."

      What startled him was that she clasped her hands together at her breast and closed her eyes.  Obviously, she meant to do it that moment.

      Tarrin wondered at her request while she was silent.  Even though it hadn't even been a month, Tarrin already felt that he was that close to her.  She was the older sister he didn't have; to his surprise, he found out that she was thirty-seven years old.  Selani aged at a slower rate than humans.  Among her people, thirty-seven was barely of marrying age.  As long as it didn't mean consigning his soul to an unknown God, he was more than willing to make her happy by accepting the oaths of her people.  Tarrin wasn't a overly religious person, since neither of his parents were very serious about it themselves, but he started getting edgy when his soul was in the balance of things.

After a while, she opened her eyes.  "The Holy Mother will accept you," she said with a smile.  "She likes you, actually," she said with a gentle smile.  "She is very thankful to you for being so good to me.  She also said that since I am violating my oaths in teaching you what you should not know, that you had best be made a brother of the Blood.  She was quite put out with me over that," she said with a depressed look in her eyes.

      "What would she demand of me?"

      "Tarrin, the Holy Mother demands nothing of us," she said gently.  "What we do with our lives is our own choice.  That you acknowledge her is enough.  The Holy Mother Goddess has no dominion outside the boundaries of our deserts, so there would be no demands set upon you.  But also that means that she cannot help you."

      "I've never had a God help me before," he shrugged.

      From seemingly nowhere, Tarrin almost thought he heard the impetuous stamp of a foot.

      "What was that?" Allia asked curiously.

      "Maybe it was thunder," Tarrin said.  "The storm's still going on outside."

      "Ah.  It is your decision, Tarrin."

      "Allia, I've already made up my mind," he said.  "You're already like a sister to me, and I love you as much as my own family.  I would be honored to formalize the relationship."

      She smiled broadly at him.  "Maybe it was the Holy Mother's hand that guided me here," she said.  "I am now glad beyond reason that I forced to come into the human lands, else I would never have met you."

      Tarrin reached up and put the palm of his paw against her cheek, swallowing up the delicate side of her face in his huge paw.

      And so Tarrin stumbled into his room late that night, with his shoulders throbbing, but feeling very good about the whole thing.  Allia never told him that it would be her Holy Mother Goddess herself that would put the brands on him.  She had reached out from wherever it was she was at and touched him with her power, and that had burned the symbols into his shoulders just the same way they appeared on Allia.  The pain was part of the rite, an acceptance of the pains and trials that came with adulthood, and he'd been warned that to scream was unseemly, and that he had to remain still and now squirm, for the branding was not instantaneous.  If one moved or flinched, it was an evasion of the duties of adulthood, and that person took a bad brand, and was ridiculed and scorned.  Tarrin had a bit of an advantage there, for his Were-cat nature allowed him to endure quite a bit more pain than a standard human.  He still nearly blacked out though, which, he'd discovered, was an honorable thing.  Blacking out was not in his control, and it proved that the person being branded was strong enough to hold still even under such intense pain.  People who blacked out, curiously, did not take a bad brand, even though they did move.  Tarrin suspected that the Holy Mother Goddess had a great deal to do with that.

      Tarrin just worried that his regeneration would heal over the charred burn marks.

      "You're in late," Dar noted as he turned to look at Tarrin from the writing desk.

      Tarrin hunched over a bit, his tail drooping.  Even putting himself in the water of the bathing pool hadn't eased the residual pain after the branding.

      "What's wrong?" he asked.

      "Allia branded me," he said shortly.

      "What?"

      "She asked me to become her brother, and I said yes.  The brands were so that could happen.  I couldn't be her brother until I was seen as an adult in the eyes of her people, and that meant I had to be branded.  It meant alot to her, and to me."

      "You take friendship seriously," Dar said, getting up.  "I'll go steal some ice from the cold room," he offered.  "That should take most of the bite out of it."

      "I appreciate it," he said gratefully.

      He returned a bit later with a small bowl of ice, which was wrapped into a kerchief and applied to one shoulder at a time.  The ice blissfully numbed his throbbing skin, and he leaned back on his bed, back against the wall, sighing in almost ecstatic relief.

      "That must have really hurt," Dar said.

      "It was worth it," Tarrin said.  "I can't even begin to explain the relationship I have with Allia, Dar.  It goes way beyond simple friendship.  I've never had so deep a connection with anyone.  We love each other about as much as two people can who aren't married."

      "Well, so long as it makes you happy, then I say congratulations," he said with a smile.

      "It's not like we're betrothed, Dar," Tarrin chuckled.

      "I know," he said.  "But in its own way, it's just as profound, I think."

      "More or less, yes," he agreed.  "I did more than profess love for her.  I promised to be like her own brother in every way.  And family can be just as close as married couples."

      "And in such a short time," he said.  "What will your mother say?"

      Tarrin gave him a look, then laughed.  "We said the same thing," he admitted.  "We don't understand why we took to each other so quickly either.  Maybe it was fate."

      "I don't believe in fate," Dar said with a smile.  "It may have been the Gods."

      "I doubt that," Tarrin chuckled.  "Like me being friends with Allia was so important that it was demanded by the Gods.  Get real."

      Again there was that same sound, like the stamping of a foot.  Tarrin sat up and looked around, and so did Dar.  "See?" he said after a moment.  "One of them is talking to us now."

      Tarrin gave Dar a look, then he laughed again.  "Give one knock for no, two knocks for yes," Tarrin said in a spooky, melodramatic voice.  He shifted the ice against his shoulder, wincing.  "These should be healed by tomorrow," he said.  "I really hope that the brands don't heal over.  I don't like the idea of being charbroiled every time Allia wants to prove to someone I'm an adult."

      "At least you'd get used to it," Dar grinned.

      "Not that, I won't," he grunted.  "I've never felt pain like that before in my life.  Not even my transformation into this shape was half as painful, and that was so painful I blocked most of the memory of it from my mind."

      "That may be why the brands seem to be more painful," Dar said with surprising insight.

      "Perhaps," he said, putting the melting ice in the wet kerchief back in the little bowl.   "In any case, I'm tired, and I think I'll go to sleep."

      "I'll turn down the lights."

      "Don't bother.  I want to sleep the other way tonight, and the light won't bother me at all."

      Tarrin had an ulterior motive, of course.  He didn't know if he'd have the same pain in the cat shape, and he was willing to try it and see.  He undressed and changed form quickly, and, to his dismay, he discovered that the pain was just as present.  He hobbled a bit, for he now had to support his weight on the branded limbs, but managed to curl up in a dark place under his bed and go to sleep.

      Wake up, something seemed to whisper to him.  You have to wake up.

      Tarrin opened his eyes.  It was dark in the room, and the sounds of Dar's breathing told him that his friend was sleeping.  That was the only sound he heard.  From outside the door, he could hear faint scraping noises, and then the sounds of a man breathing.  Breathing that was a bit fast, Tarrin noted as he got up and padded out from under the bed, the pain in his forelimbs more or less shunted aside.  He sat beside the door and hunkered down, smelling at the air drifting in from the other side.  There were two human smells, both human men that smelled slightly of ale and prostitutes.  And Tarrin could smell clearly the presence of steel, and of one other metal that took him a moment to identify.

      Silver.  The only non-magical substance other than fire or acid that could do him real injury.

      His ears laying back, Tarrin listened intently as the two began to whisper.

      "Is this the right room?" one asked.

      "I'z be certain o' that," the other whispered back in a bizarre accent Tarrin had never heard before.  "This'n be the right room, rightly so.  Remember now, we'z can't kill the critter with nothing but this here sword," he instructed his companion.  "It don't like silver, none at all.  Now you'z be getting that magic trinket out and ready, so's the critter don't be a' hearin' us open the door.  The boss done say that if we wake it up, it'll right fast send parts of us'n all over the room."

      Tarrin changed form silently, his eyes flat and his ears laid back.  They were here to kill him.  But they didn't know that he was already awake.  The thought that they were there to try to kill him filled Tarrin with a sudden rage, a rage that he fought desperately to control.  For the first time in a very long time, the Cat in him rose up and tried to take control.  He knew it was futile to try to outright resist it, for when it was his life in jeopardy the Cat called in a voice too powerful to deny.  He had to try to channel the rage, focus it, to keep from totally snapping and going into a berzerking rage that would put innocents in danger.

      "Are you's ready with the trinket?" the man whispered.  Tarrin's sensitive ears pinpointed exactly where that voice had come from.  And that was the man with the silver weapon, the weapon that represent the threat to his life.

      Tarrin took stock in the door, measuring it carefully.  Then he balled up a fist, reared back, and punched his paw through the door.

      His paw opened the instant it was through, and his aim had been true, for the palm of his paw came into contact with a nose.  His fingers closed around that head, wrapping more than well enough around it to get an unbreakable grip, and then he yanked the man back through the door.  Tarrin noted that where his hand going through the door curiously made no noise at all, there was a sudden, loud tearing snap as the door was shattered from the force of Tarrin's pull, a sound accentuated by the shriek of the man in Tarrin's clutches.  It was a small man, thin and wiry, wearing dirty townsman's clothing and with a silvered sword in his hand.  The sight and smell of that weapon made Tarrin's eyes go totally flat.

      Grabbing hold of his wrist with his other paw, Tarrin closed his fist.

      The man's scream was cut off with horrifying abruptness, for he had no mouth with which to use, and no brain with which to direct the mouth that was not there.  Tarrin's fingers drove into the skull and the brain, his inhuman strength digging down and under and then crushing everything that had been below the man's forehead, shattering bone and liquifying flesh.  Blood and worse spurted out from between Tarrin's fingers as his fingers closed inside the man's head, literally tearing off the man's face.  The other man looked into the door in shock as the dead man fell away from Tarrin, a hideous gaping hole where the front of his head had been, and blood and bits of flesh dripped and oozed from between Tarrin' fingers as he watched the body fall to the floor.

      The man shrieked in abject horror and turned to flee, but Tarrin was on him before he could take a single step.  He tackled the man and sent him sprawling to the floor, quickly getting on top of him and putting a paw on his chest to hold him down, and then opening his other paw, allowing what was left of the other man's face to drop from his grip.  The man stared in desperate terror at the bloody paw raised over his head, claws out, with bits of flesh, bone, and brain dangling from the fur and from the claws.  Tarrin's eyes glowed from within with an unholy greenish radiance that made the man squeak once he beheld them, and his face was twisted into a snarl of fury that almost made him like a raging beast.  Tarrin very nearly killed him out of rage, but he managed to maintain at least some semblence of sanity.  This man had been hired to kill him.  Tarrin wanted to know who had done it.  "Who sent you?" Tarrin asked in a hissing voice that made the man go very still.  "Who sent you?"

      "I-I can't say!" he wailed.  "They'll kill me!"

      "If you don't, I'll make you beg to die," Tarrin told him in a voice so evil that the man tried to sink through the floor to get away from him.  "I'll gut you like a pig and drag you around by your entrails until you feel like talking."  Tarrin lowered his paw, driving the tips of his claws into the skin of the man's belly.  He squealed and writhed, then screamed in pain as Tarrin sank a bit more of his claws into the man's flesh.

      The man bellowed as Tarrin slowly twisted his paw, digging the claws in deeper.  "It was a Wizard!" he said in a high-pitched voice.  "I don't know his name!  Belleth knew it!"  Tarrin twisted his claws.  "Kravon!" he shrieked.  "I work for Kravon!"

      Then Tarrin felt a coldness at his back.  He turned around, ignoring the many Novices that had opened their doors to see what the commotion was about.  The shadows behind him seemed to coalesce, and then two slits of pure green radiance appeared.  The unearthly cold told him all he needed to know.

      It was a Wraith.

      The man looked over Tarrin's hip at the apparition, and then he screamed a scream of such terror that it chilled Tarrin's blood.  He did himsel