Chapter 14

        There were a great many things to do, and it was starting to feel to Tarrin that they were running out of time.

        He was sitting in the small training chamber, nervous and uncertain, waiting for Dolanna to arrive.  He had no idea how it was going to go.  Perhaps a day of staying away from the Weave had corrected the problem he was having, but he wasn't so sure about that.  He had tried to find Tiella before coming to the chamber, but she hadn't appeared in the baths, nor did he see her in the hallways as he wandered about.  Novices had set schedules, so it was certain that she was somewhere specific, and that she would be there again tomorrow.  Keritanima said she would find out where she was, and that made Tarrin a bit uncertain.  How would an Initiate with no direct contact with Tiella be able to find her?  True, she was a Princess, and she was good at finding things out, but he wasn't so sure that she could find Tiella in a day, and not leave tracks that she was asking.

        He'd been so intent on finding Tiella that he didn't get a chance to talk to Dar.  That would be handled after class, because Dar would be easy to track down.  Initiates were given much more freedom than Novices but still only had so many places that they were allowed to go, and since Tarrin was Dar's friend, it wouldn't arouse suspicion if he asked around to find him.

        Tarrin was still a bit unsure about Keritanima's ideas.  He'd never seen spying and intrigue, so he had no idea how she was going to manage all the things she said she would do.  He did like her plan, however, so that told him that she must know what she was doing.  But he had trouble conceiving of something that he couldn't see or touch.  That was an aspect of the Cat growing to hold a position in his mind, and he knew it, but he didn't have much choice in the matter.  It was either give the Cat some room, or have it drive him mad.  It wasn't altering his imagination, but it did have the effect of, as Dolanna put it, grounding him in his senses.  Anything he couldn't see, couldn't smell, couldn't experience, they seemed misty and intangible, and it was a struggle to overcome the Cat and ponder them.

        But fortunately, pondering Keritanima's plans wasn't necessary.  Not with Keritanima there to carry them out.

        The door opened, scattering Tarrin's thoughts, and Dolanna entered.  To his surprise, she wasn't the only one.  Ahiriya, the Fire Seat, filed in behind the diminutive Sorceress, dressed in a red robe that set off her pale skin and fiery hair.  That set Tarrin's mind whirling, and one of his paws began to tremble.  To have to perform for Ahiriya was one thing, but it would become very clear very quickly to her and the Council that he was hampered.  If he was still injured inside, or whatever it was.

        "Good morning, Tarrin," Dolanna said pleasantly.  "This is Ahiriya, a member of the Council.  Often, they prefer to sit in with an Initiate and his instructor to ensure you are receiving proper instruction."

        "Dolanna, this is not a good idea," he said quickly, almost desperately.  "I didn't--"

        "That's Mistress Dolanna," Ahiriya said in an icy tone, glaring at him.

        "Don't push me, woman," Tarrin said to her in a cold voice that promised violence.

        "Tarrin, mind your manners!" Dolanna said in shock.

        "Save it," Tarrin told her bluntly.  "I'm not going to do tricks for the Council, even if I could."

        "You go too far, Initiate," Ahiyira said in a tightly controlled voice.  "I think a few days of penance is in order."

        "I'd like to see you try," Tarrin said in an ominous tone, his eyes lighting from within with their greenish aura.

        Dolanna, who knew him so well, understood immediately what that meant.  "Mistress Ahiriya, perhaps it would be wise for you to leave for now," she said in a calm voice.

        "I'm not letting this impertinent whelp get away with such outrageous disrespect," Ahiriya said in a hot tone.

        "Yes, but if you keep going, he will most definitely cause me to Heal one of you," Dolanna told her in a blunt voice.

        "You wouldn't dare attack a member of the Council!" Ahiriya said in shock, staring at him.

        Tarrin laid back his ears, extended his claws, and growled at her.

        "Oh my," Dolanna breathed, backing away from him.

        If anything convinced Ahiriya that he was serious, that could.  She backed up to the door, keeping her eyes on him, then opened it behind her.  "We'll talk about this later, Initiate," she promised in an ugly tone.  Then she backed through the door and closed it.

        The instant the door was closed, Tarrin's ears rose up to their normal position, and he stood up straight from the crouching stance he assumed.  He looked at Dolanna, his face sober, then he gave her a slight smile and winked.

        "You staged that?" she asked in a gasping voice.  "Tarrin, what on earth are you doing?"

        "I don't need an audience today, Dolanna," he told her.  "I have, I have a problem.  I need your help."

        "What is it?"

        "The fight with the Doomwalker, it...injured something inside me.  I can't control Sorcery.  Every time I touch the Weave, the power just floods into me, and I can't stop it."

        Dolanna looked at him for a moment.  "Floods into you?  I taught you how to control it, dear one.  It is no different."

        "Yes, it is," he replied, sitting down.  "The touching still feels the same, but the instant I do, it's like the Weave tries to reach out and grab me.  When it does grab me, it tries to flood me with power.  I can't resist it, Dolanna.  It's way too much for me."

        "I was told you caused your mother's hair to grow out," she said.  "That is something that even I cannot do, Tarrin.  I would not know where to begin.  So you can still use your power."

        He nodded.  "But if I hold onto it for more than two heartbeats, the Weave realizes I'm in contact with it, and then it tries to burn me alive.  And there's more."

        "What?"

        "I can almost see the Weave now, Dolanna," he told her.  "Even without touching it, I can sense it around me.  And if I concentrate, I can almost see the strands.  Ahiriya touched the Weave when I threatened her.  I could feel it."

        Dolanna nodded.  "I knew, because I was in touch with the Weave myself," she told him with a rueful smile.  "I really thought you meant to attack her."

        "I wanted her out of here," he said bluntly.  "The Council will find out in time, but I don't want the pressure of having to explain all of this with her looking over my shoulder.  I...I can't talk about things with strangers around.  You're the only one in this Tower wearing a shaeram that I trust."

        "I appreciate your trust, dear one, but there are many here worthy of it," she told him gently.  "I understand that you and Sevren have a friendship.  Could you not trust him?"

        He chuckled ruefully.  "Well, he did save my life, so I guess I could.  But I don't know him that well."

        "And what of Jula?  She stood vigil for you when you were injured, and she has befriended your parents."

        "How do you know that?"

        "Because I was there also," she said.  "Jula likes you, dear one.  She told me that she met you before you entered the Novitiate, in the baths, and you impressed her."

        Tarrin remembered indeed, how she braided his hair, and how she joked about it.  She didn't seem like a Sorceress.  "Well, maybe," he said.  "But we're getting off the point, Dolanna.  Can you help me work around this, this problem?  Or at least tell me what's wrong?"

        "I will have to understand what the problem is before I can see about finding a solution for it," she told him.  "Touch the Weave, dear one, and allow it to respond.  I will be here to cut you off if it threatens you."

        He nodded, reaching out.  Just as he told her before, touching the Weave was simple for him, where most Initiates spent months mastering the techniques of achieving contact with the Weave.  As simple as breathing, he touched the Weave, allowed it to charge him with a small amount of the six flows in even measures.  He held it thusly for but a second or two, and then the raging torrent of power found him, and assaulted him.  In instants he was being saturated with more power than he could control, and almost more than his body could withstand, and then it was severed away from him.  That power dissipated quickly and harmlessly back into the Weave.

        "The Weave reacted to you!" Dolanna said in an awed voice.  "I have never seen it act so before!"

        "What do you mean?"

        "When we touch the Weave, it tries to fill us with the same energy it holds itself," she told him.  "It is not a great amount, for the Weave is vast, and most of its energy is stored in strands.  The energy in a strand is not that great, or we would not have to draw from multiple strands at once to build up the magic necessary to weave spells.  But the Weave tried to fill you with more than that.  It actively tried to build up the power in you over the level of magical energy that the strands themselves carry.  To put in other terms, the Weave tries to fill us with the power of a strand, but when you touched it, you somehow opened a pathway directly to a Conduit, and it tried to fill you with its power."

        A Conduit.  "But that's what happened to me," he said in a quiet voice.  "The Doomwalker pushed me into the Conduit running through the Heart.  That's what caused all the light, because it was all I could do to keep from getting incinerated."

        "Oh, Tarrin," she said in awe.  "Tell me what happened.  Leave nothing out."

        Step by step, Tarrin recanted his memory of the fight, and being knocked into the Conduit.  "I don't remember very much after that," he said helplessly.  "The power tried to fry me to ash, and I just had to do something with it to keep from exploding.  They tell me I burned the Doomwalker to ash, and it lit up the Conduit and the Ward."

        "No one could survive direct exposure to the Heart," she said in a quiet voice.  "But you did, somehow."

        "Why is it called that?"

        "Because that is what it is," she replied.  "The Conduit running through the Heart is the largest, most concentrated Conduit known to man.  The Tower was built around it so the katzh-dashi could be very close to it.  The closer we are to the Heart, the stronger our Sorcery becomes.  You have never known anything else, but when you leave the city, leave Sulasia, you will understand.  Far away, it takes us longer to build up the energy to weave spells, because those areas are not as rich in magical energy as the Tower.  The Heart charges the strands around it with much more magical energy than you will find, say, back in Aldreth.  The Heart is literally the heart of our power, and when we are close to it, it makes us stronger."

        "I didn't know that," he said.  "So that's what's happening to me?  Do you think I somehow was affected by the Conduit?"

        "How could you not?" she said.  "I have never heard of anything surviving direct immersion in the Heart.  Even mundane objects thrown into the Heart charge with magical power, then explode.  But you survived it, and it has affected you.  It has opened a link with you, my dear one, a link that fills you with power you cannot hope to control.  But there is hope."

        "What?  How do we fix it?"

        "I do not think we can," she said, "but I--they--may be able to teach you how to control the link.  You cannot control the power, so you must learn how to control the pathway that feeds it to you.  If you can learn to choke off that link, it will give you the time you need to use Sorcery without fear of being Consumed."

        "You don't sound to convinced."

        "Because that may be impossible," she sighed.  "But it is all I can think of.  I will have to take this to the Council.  They are more skilled and learned than I, perhaps they can find a better solution."

        "The Council?  Dolanna, I--"

        "Hush, dear one," she told him.  "This is quite beyond me, and I need guidance.  Even if you do not trust the Council, remember that you are a Sorcerer, and that entitles you to their assistance.  They will help.  They must, it is their duty.  Perhaps one of them can help you find a way to control this ability, for I do not think that I can."

        Tarrin blew out his breath, but had to concede that she was right.  He needed help, and if Dolanna couldn't supply it, he had to find it where he could.  The way things were now, a single slip could fry him to ash, and that was just too dangerous, considering how easy it was for him to call on the power of the Weave.  What he had done for his mother had been totally without thought.  He didn't even remember how he did it.  But it was the most shining example of exactly why he had to get this under control, and do it very fast.  Another thoughtless touch on the Weave could quite possibly lead to his demise, and that was something that he absolutely could not afford.

        "Alright," he sighed.  "I've been wondering something for a while, Dolanna."

        "What is it, dear one?"

        "Why do you speak so formally?"

        She laughed.  "Because the northern common tongue is not my native one, Tarrin," she said.  "I am from Sharadar."

        He stared at her.  Sharadar?  The almost mythical kingdom on the southern continent that took its name from that nation, a nation of magic, learning, and wonders.  "You're from Sharadar?  Why are you up here?"

        "Because I am a Sorcerer, dear one," she replied calmly.  "Sharadar has its own order of katzh-dashi, in their own Tower.  The Heart comes up from the earth here, but it descends into the earth there.  There is a Tower and an order of Sorcerers at both ends of it.  There are Sharadite Sorcerers here, just as there are northern Sorcerers in Sharadar.  Each order is separate, but both answer to the Council and Keeper.  Because of that, there are always communications passing between each order."

        Tarrin had never conceived of that.  He knew that the world was round, but to imagine something piercing the earth and running all the way through it boggled his mind.  "What do the southern Sorcerers do?"

        "The same as the northern ones," she replied.  "Study, learn, and find others with our gifts."

        "I never knew about them."

        "There is a bit of, competition, between the two orders, dear one," she said with a smile.  "The teachings of the other order of katzh-dashi come later in your Initiate."

        "What happened to them during the Breaking?" he asked suddenly.  "Sevren's class didn't cover that."

        "The same as what happened up here, but the southern katzh-dashi were never driven from their Tower.  And yet they too simply vanished."

        "But why keep the other order secret?" Tarrin asked.  "It doesn't make sense."

        "It is not a secret," she told him, "it is merely something not often discussed.  The workings of an order half the world away have little bearing or impact on life here."

        "But they should say something in the Novitiate," he accused.

        "Tarrin, they said nothing about the southern continents, other than references to geography," she reminded him.  "And the Tower does like to keep its profile low.  Telling Novices there is another Tower spreads information that the katzh-dashi may prefer to keep private.  That is why only Initiates learn of the tower in Sharadar."

        "It still seems strange," he said after a moment.

        "Politics usually are, dear one," she chuckled.  "But since I dare not try to instruct you, I think we are done for today.  I need guidance, and must take this up with the Council at once."  She smiled at him.  "And I will be sure to tell Ahiriya that your uncertainty and fear over your condition caused your outburst.  After she understands the problem, she will probably forgive you your behavior."

        "I really don't care," he snorted.  "I'm not here to lick her slippers."

        "That kind of attitude will create trouble for you, dear one," Dolanna warned.  "It is not demeaning to give to others the respect that they deserve."

        "When she proves she deserves it, I'll give it to her," he grunted.  "Dolanna, thanks.  I do feel alot better now.  I was really afraid that something was going to happen."

        "We shall see, young one, and you are welcome," she said.  "Now, since you cannot practice, I suggest you learn.  In the South Tower, there is another library.  The real one, which holds the books that the Lorefinders study and the lore of magic and theory that we keep out of the hands of the Novices.  Go there, and read.  Learn.  There is much you can learn by reading, even if you cannot practice."

        "Nobody ever told me about that."

        "And why do you think that is?" she asked pointedly.

        "Oh, because they don't want to contaminate the process of learning how to touch the Weave," he realized.

        "Precisely.  But since you already have mastered that task, you cannot be contaminated by reading about the experiences of others.  Go there and learn, my dear one.  It will do you good."

        "They'll let me in?"

        "Yes.  You wear Initiate red, and that is all you will need to gain entrance."

        "I'll do it, Dolanna.  Thank you."

        "No thanks are needed, my dear one," she smiled.

        He touched her cheek with his paw, taking in her beauty, realizing again now much the small woman meant to him, then he took his leave of her.

        He didn't like the idea of the Tower meddling in his affairs, but Dolanna was right.  He needed to learn how to control whatever happened to him before it killed him, and if that meant allowing people he perceived as enemies to do it, then so be it.  Better to take the hand of an enemy then refuse it and jump blindly into death.  The Cat was a survivor, and it wouldn't let him refuse a chance to live.  It was a survivor, and would not allow his human pride or distrust to interfere with the need to survive.

        Blinking, Keritanima focused her eyes again, following the intricacies of the Weave that Lula was using.  She sat on a bench in the garden, for unlike most instructors, Lula was a plump, matronly woman who had the soul of a Druid.  She loved the outdoors and the gardens, and she much preferred to bring her students out into the greenery of the garden than keep them cooped up in the small, cramped rooms used for the initial touch.  She told the Princess that she felt she had control of her ability, so they spent their days sitting on benches surrounded by the rainbow of color of the gardens.  Keritanima had to admit, being in such a soothing environment helped her to learn as Lula started showing her multiflow weaves.  The one she was doing right now was a mixture of fire and air, a small ball of yellow light that hovered over her palm.  "Can you see how they go together, dear?" she asked.  Lula called everyone "dear"  or "sweetheart" or "love", even though she knew Keritanima's name.  The Brat Princess had made her name, title, and pedigree very plain to the woman quickly, but she just pushed all that aside like it was dust to sweep under the carpet and treated her like a little girl.  Neither Keritanima or the Brat quite knew how to take that.  The woman was absolutely fearless, and she treated Keritanima like her daughter's best friend rather than an Initiate.  The woman was a mystery that the Brat took to immediately, but Keritanima found almost hopelessly puzzling.  "Now, by adjusting the flow of fire, we can make the light change color," she said, tweaking the weave hovering over her hand just a bit, making the ball shift from yellow to blue.  "Alright dear, now it's your turn."

        Narrowing her eyes, Keritanima touched the Weave and felt the power flow into her.  Touching the Weave was something that was easy for her, almost natural, and she was shocked that some Sorcerers took months to master such a simple thing.  She drew in fire and air, and them pushed them out into the area over her furred hand.  Her amber eyes flickered quickly as they watched the flows begin to intertwine, until a small, dim ball of bluish-green light appeared over her hand.  "Not bad dear, but you need a bit more air and less fire," Lula told her.  Keritanima's brows lowered as she did as Lula ordered, until the ball grew in size and intensity, and then shifted to a solid sky-blue color.  "Very good, dear," she said with a bright smile.  "Can you make it change to red?"

        Narrowing her eyes down to slits, she considered the request.  It was a test, she was sure of it.  She had to increase the flow of fire to go from yellow to blue, but what would require going from blue to red?  Well, they were all colors of fire.  Yellow fire was hot.  Blue fire was actually the hottest, the kind of fire she'd seen in the Royal forges and foundries.  But red fire...that had to be the coolest.  The fringes of a fire were always red.  Decreasing the flow of fire entering the weave, she watched as it slowly shifted colors from blue to white to yellow to an orange-rust color, and then finally to red.  "Very good, dear," she praised.  "Now, how would you make it brighter without changing its color?"

        "Increase both flows proportionately?" she asked in reply.

        "Why don't you try it and see," she winked.

        Keritanima did, increasing the energy in both flows, and the effect was striking.  The small ball suddenly became almost painfully bright, and also expanded in size.  "Very good dear, but remember that working with flows is always a very precise business," Lula told her.  "That was too much.  You have to go in small steps, dear, small steps."

        Dimming it to a less eye-straining radiance, Keritanima looked at Lula and almost beamed.  It was so, wonderful, working with Sorcery.  It was hard to stay in character.  The Brat would never look to her instructor with such respect and a desire for praise.  But then again, Lula had that effect on people.  It was probably why they had chosen her to introduce Keritanima to the Weave.

        "I must say," a nasal voice called from behind, "that this is not at all what I expected to see."

        The little ball suddenly exploded in a blinding flash, as Keritanima lost control of the weave.  She whirled around on the seat and found herself staring at a rather ridiculous-looking rabbit Wikuni.  His head was dominated by the large ears on top of his head, pink nose, whiskers, and a pair of large front teeth.  His fur was a whitish gray all over, and a pair of pink eyes stared out from behind a pair of wire-frame spectacles.  He wore a plain blue waistcoat with a leather belt holding up a pair of blue pants.  A vest covered a white shirt under the waistcoat, into which was tucked the chain of a pocket watch, a technological marvel of the kingdom of Taiga, on the southwestern continent.  The expression on the face was plain, almost dull, as if the mind behind those eyes reflected its rather foppish exterior.  That couldn't be any further than the truth.  Jervis, head spy for his Majesty, Damon Eram, king of Wikuna, was probably the crown's most experienced and competent gatherer of hidden knowledge.  Probably one of the best in the world.  Jervis used his rather ridiculous appearance as a weapon, which hid his true ability and also his lethal abilities.  Jervis often was tasked to eliminate threats to the crown, and that required an assassin's touch.  Jervis had that touch.

        "Highness," he said with a fluid bow.  "I believe that his Majesty sent you here for an education.  This is not the education he expected you to receive."

        "That the girl has considerable talent in Sorcery was blind luck, sir," Lula told him.  "I take it you know him, dear?"

        "He works for my father," Keritanima said in a bored voice.  "He's here to make sure I don't get any silly ideas."

        "Allow me to introduce myself, madam.  I am Jervis, head ambassador to the Tower while our jewel is in your tender care."  He bowed to her extravagantly, his whiskers twitching and his eyes dancing with delight.

        "Well, pleased to meet you," Lula said with a girlish giggle.

        "My ship was delayed, so I'm afraid I couldn't get here sooner," he sighed.  "But, at least I see that her Highness is behaving herself."

        "I don't see what all the fuss is about," Lula snorted.  "Keritanima has been a very attentive and pleasant pupil."

        "Really," Jervis said in a calm voice.  "How do you like the grounds, your Highness?"

        "They'll do," she replied in a distracted voice.  "My room is entirely too small, but I can't make them furnish me with one more appropriate for a high Princess."

        "Not your rooms, the grounds," he said.

        "Oh.  They're pretty, I guess," she replied in a vapid tone.

        "Do you have any complaints?"

        "Where do you want me to start?" she replied.

        "Just have someone leave me a list," he said, waving her off with a hand.  "Considerable, you say?" he said to Lula, using a rather annoying trick he'd learned a while ago, bouncing around in a conversation to try to catch lies and half-truths.  "How considerable?"

        "Very promising," Lula said, both of them missing Keritanima's murderous stare.  "She's got alot of potential.  She could rise very high in the Tower, if she applies herself."

        "Unfortunately, her Highness has other pressing plans, I'm afraid," Jervis told her in an almost sincerely sad tone.  "Perhaps her, gifts, could help her on the throne."

        "I would dare say so," Lula said with a smile.

        "Well, I have matters to tend, so I'll take my leave," he said, giving them both a deep bow.  "Good morning to you, ladies."

        Keritanima had no doubt that reports on her ability and what the Sorcerers were doing with her would be on her father's desk by tomorrow.  The Tower wasn't the only magical order; no less than two priests of the Wikuni god were on the grounds.  The chaplain for Keritanima's private guards and the Royal Marines garrisoned on the grounds, and also a cleric that served Jervis with his magic.  One of the tricks of the clerics was that they could send messages over extreme distances.  That information should be in the palace within the hour, she reasoned.  Jervis would receive a response to it by tomorrow morning.  It was still night in Wikuna, so they wouldn't wake her father up for something that wasn't urgent.  Then they'd wait until a window when both the priest there and the priest here would be awake at the same time to send back any response.

        She thought that it may be worth her while to get her hands on those reports.  No doubt Jervis would uncover some tidbits that may be useful to her as well.

        Tarrin caught up with Dar about noon that day, as he moved towards the main Tower to have lunch.  He simply fell in step with the young Arkisian on the grounds, surprising him a bit.

        "Tarrin!" he said in surprised happiness.  "How have you been?"

        "I'm doing alright," he replied with a smile.  "I see you finally made it."

        "I could have been here two rides ago, but they were holding all the Initiates back for some reason," he replied.

        "How many?"

        "Nine," he replied.  "Remember that short blond that always stared at the floor?"  Tarrin nodded.  "She made it up here.  I don't think you know any of the others.  I know I don't."

        "Well, I'm just glad to have another person to talk to," Tarrin said with a smile.  "I miss all our talks."

        "It seems strange to be in a room by myself," he said.  "My closet-mate is a slack-jawed Torian with about half of his brain somewhere else."

        Tarrin chuckled.  Arkis and the city-state of Tor didn't exactly get along, but Dar was very much above judging people along socially drawn lines.  The Torian probably was a slack-jawed imbecile.  Dar was a very social person, and he enjoyed company.  Probably a function of his youth and insecurity about his position.  After all, what young person wouldn't feel insecure when about to travel down a road of power and danger.  "Well, Keritanima tells me that you're next door to her."

        "The obnoxious Wikuni?  Yes," he replied.

        Tarrin laughed.  "She can be obnoxious, but for some strange reason, we're friends," he told the young man.

        "You seem to attract non-human females, Tarrin."

        "I happen to be a non-human, Dar," Tarrin replied with a wink.

        "Sure, go and throw that in my face," the young man said, and then they both laughed.  "Where are you at?  I'd like to swing by and talk from time to time."

        "Not far from the Headmaster's office," he replied.  "Where he can keep an eye on me and Allia."

        "I haven't seen her in a while.  Do you know that she was actually nice to me when you disappeared?"

        "She told me about that," he replied.  "She's my closet-mate, so she's not very far from me."

        "You mean they allowed that?"

        "Allia didn't give them much choice," Tarrin chuckled.  "You know how she is."

        "Too well," he replied.  "I kind of miss her.  Guess I'm turning into a masochist."

        Tarrin laughed.  "She's not that bad."

        "I seem to recall you telling me that once before," Dar said with a sly grin.

        "Anyway, I hate to impose, but this isn't entirely a social visit."

        "What's up?"

        "I'd like you to do me a favor."

        "Sure, what do you need?"

        "There's a Novice that I'm friends with, the blond that came to the Tower with me," he began.

        "Tiella?  I know her."

        "Good, because I'll need you to talk to her from time to time.  It has to be where a Novice and an Initiate can speak without raising attention."

        "The baths?"

        Tarrin nodded.  "She's doing something for me, Dar.  She may have some information to give you from time to time, information that could get you in trouble if the katzh-dashi find out about it."

        "That's not a problem, Tarrin," he said.  "You know I'll help.  You and I, we've been through alot together, and you're a friend.  Friends help each other."

        "You have no idea how happy I am to hear that, Dar," he said sincerely, putting his huge paw on the young man's shoulder.  "You're one of the few humans around here that will even talk to me."

        "That's their loss, Tarrin," he replied calmly.  "Alot of them are afraid of you, but it's because they don't understand you.  Not like I do."

        "They never really gave you a choice."

        "True, but things worked out anyway, didn't they?"

        Tarrin smiled.  Dar was young, but Tarrin had often been impressed at how mature and wise the boy was.  His parents had raised him very well.  He had a generous nature and an almost inhuman ability to accept others for who and what they are.  Dar was everybody's friend and nobody's enemy.  And that fact would help Tarrin right now.

        "I guess they did," Tarrin said.  "Anyway, enough chatter about nonsense.  Tell me what happened after I left for the Initiate."

        "It's only been a ride or two."

        "Well, it feels like years," Tarrin told him.  "Besides, we never really caught up after I ran away, so we may as well get ourselves current."

        Dar laughed.  "True enough."

        They ran into Allia in the kitchens, and she invited herself to join them as they sat down in the small dining hall used by the Initiates.  She listened quietly as Tarrin and Dar caught up on things.  "So, was today your first day of instruction?" Tarrin asked.

        Dar nodded.  "The history they gave seemed incomplete," he said.  "They made no mention of the Tower in Sharadar."

        "You know about that?"

        "I'm the son of a merchant clan, Tarrin," Dar smiled.  "It's our business to know."

        "I keep forgetting about that," Tarrin chuckled.

        "A Tower in Sharadar?" Allia asked.  "I have not heard of such a thing."

        Tarrin briefly went over what Dolanna told him.  "She said that the Tower up here keeps it quiet, because of how people feel about the katzh-dashi."

        "I don't see why," Dar shrugged.  "Don't they send us to individual teachers tomorrow?"

        Tarrin nodded.  "When they've taught you a few basics, they're supposed to reassemble a class and teach weaves."

        "How have you been doing with that?"

        Tarrin shifted uncomfortably.  "Well, let's say that I've hit an unforseen snag," he said.  "My instructor is talking to the Council to see what they can do to help me work through it."

        "You say that like you're about to be executed."

        Tarrin snorted.  "I think you know how I feel about the Council," he said, and Dar nodded.  "Asking them for help feels like cutting off my own tail."

        "Well, it should work out," Dar told him.  "How about you, Allia?"

        Allia gave him an almost shy smile, something that made Tarrin look at her very carefully.  She was actually nervous to be around Dar.  That was something new.  "I finally managed to touch the Weave this morning," she told him.

        "You did?  That's wonderful, Allia," Dar said, patting her four-fingered hand without thought.  "They say that's the hardest part."

        "That's the first hardest part," Tarrin said.  "Congratulations, deshaida," he told her, putting his paw on her arm.  "I know how it was bugging you."

        "Now I know how you felt, deshida," she said.  "I still seem to have trouble finding it, though.  My instructor told me that it is a common occurance."

        "Master Sevren told me that it takes some Initiates months," Dar said.  "I hope it doesn't take me months.  I've already been here over a year.  I'd like to move into a less restricting environment."

        "Well, Initiates are allowed off the grounds, Dar," Tarrin said.  "Why don't you spend this evening walking around the city?"

        "Because they've taken that freedom away," Dar grunted.  "No Initiate is allowed to leave until further notice."

        "Nobody told me about that," Tarrin said, rubbing his chin.  Why would they hold all the Initiates on the grounds?

        "It just started today," Dar said glumly.  "My first day as an Initiate, and they immediately strip one of our liberties."

        "Maybe it's just temporary," Tarrin said.  "It's starting to get a bit late.  You going to be in your room after class?"

        "I guess," he said.

        "Well, when you're done, instead of going there, why don't you come to the south Tower?  They have another library there.  I'll be there."

        "So we can whisper and get the Loremasters giving us dirty looks?  I'll be there right after getting something to eat," he said with a laugh.

        "But that will interfere with his learning to touch the Weave," Allia reminded Tarrin.

        "Only if he reads the books," Tarrin told her.

        "Then why ask me to come?" Dar asked.

        "Because I want to talk to you," he replied, "and I'll be too busy to swing by your room."

        "Oh.  Well, I guess I can do it then," Dar said with a sly smile.  "If I'm properly motivated."

        "I've got some motivation right here," Tarrin told him, showing him his claws.

        "Well, that doesn't really scare me anymore," Dar said with a grin.

        "It will when you find out why you won't see them for long."

        Dar laughed.  "Alright, in order to avoid becoming Arkisian shishkebab, I'll be there.  But right now, I gotta get back to class.  The others are all leaving."  A group of Initiates in similar beginner's red were all getting up.

        "Alright.  I'll see you tonight."

        Dar nodded, then he got up and scurried over to join them.  They were all giving him strange looks now, but he seemed oblivious to it.  Dar didn't really see him as a Were-cat, Tarrin surmised.  Dar saw him as just Tarrin.

        If only others here could do that.  Tarrin was a loner, and he thought he'd grown used to it, but the constant frightened looks and avoidance others gave him still stung.  Only the katzh-dashi seemed to be able to approach him without fear, but he didn't trust any of them.

        "Keep your schedule open for tonight, sister," Tarrin told her in Selani.  "We're going on a trip."

        "Where?"

        "I want to go make sure my family settled in with my little mother alright," he replied.  "Because mother tells me she's all but adopted you, we may as well make it a family gathering."

        Allia laughed.  "You mother is quite a woman," she said.  "She would've done my clan much honor had she been born to us rather than to the Ungardt."

        "Mother would do well no matter where she is," Tarrin shrugged.  "I also want to make sure my father's alright.  I'm not used to seeing him in a sickbed.  I'm worried about him."

        "He's a strong man, my brother," Allia assured him.  "He should be just fine."

        "I'll know when I see him," he said seriously.

        "You're a lucky man, my brother," Allia said with a smile.  "You have two families now.  Yours, and mine.  If only my father could meet you.  He would be impressed."

        "He may get the chance, Allia," Tarrin said seriously.  "He may get the chance."

        The library in the South Tower was the South Tower.

        The entire tower's volume was completely dominated by the massive library.  It started on the ground floor and extended more than three quarters up the tower's height.  Each floor was huge, more than thirty spans to the ceiling, and there were no separate rooms.  Each level extended right out to the inside of the tower's circular walls.  The levels also served to separate the subject matter of the rows upon rows of books.  They had separate levels for magical theory, magical history of all four orders of magic, history, sociology, and a level dominated by ancient books that were all but falling apart, which housed the oldest lore which the Tower still possessed.  They even had a level filled with nothing but the magical spell formulas that the Wizards used to create their magic, even though that information had absolutely no real value to the katzh-dashi.  No mortal being could use more than one order of magic, Dolanna had told him during the journey to Suld.  That was a law set down by the Gods themselves.  Because Tarrin was born with the ability to use Sorcery, that meant that if he ever tried to learn arcane magic, the magic of the Wizards, he would be driven mad as punishment.

        He sat down at a table not far from where Lorefinders were taking those ancient tomes, literally falling apart, and using Sorcery to copy the words into new books, so that the lore held on the pages would not be lost should the book finally succumb to its great age.  He'd pulled one of those freshly transcribed books from a shelf not far from the Lorefinders, curiosity driving him, and then opened it to find a script that looked like two spiders fighting in a web.

        Blinking, he stared at the book.  He figured that they would be transposing the information into the written common language, but what they were doing was literally copying from one book to another.

        Someone chuckled behind him.  He scented Jula, and turned to find that it was indeed her.  She sat down opposite him and tapped the book, a smile on her face.  "Now if you can read that, then I'm sure the Lorefinders would be overjoyed."

        "What is it?"

        "It's the written language that the Sha'Kar used," she replied.  "You know who they were?"

        Tarrin nodded.  "They were the Non-human race that used to be in the Tower.  When the Ancients left the world, the entire Sha'Kar race went with them."

        "Yes, and everyone who knew their writing died two thousand years ago," she said.  "Nobody's left to teach it, and the Lorefinders have been trying to decipher it for almost a thousand years.  They haven't had any luck so far.  Not even priestly or arcane magic can decipher it.  Many think that the language is in itself magical."

        "Another order?"

        "No, that it actively resists magical attempts to decipher it.  Unfortunately, it seems that all the important information that the Ancients kept was kept by the Sha'Kar.  That leaves the descendants a bit in a pickle."

        "You mean that the Ancients wrote all their knowledge down in this language?"

        Jula nodded.  "That's why we can't unlock the secrets of the Ancients," she told him.  "They have it all written down in code.  It may as well not be written down at all.  Right here in this library is everything the Ancients ever knew, and it may as well be on the greatest moon," she said with a wry chuckle.  "You have no idea how much that upsets a great many katzh-dashi.  It's right here at our fingertips, but we can't read it."

        Tarrin leafed through the book, and found a blurry patch in one corner.  "What is this?"

        "I guess it was an illustration, or drawing," Jula replied. "The magic the Lorefinders use literally copy the contents of one book into another.  They already know what the forms of the letters look like, so they can make those sharp and clear.  But the illustrations are another matter.  Since they don't know what they are, they can't copy them clearly.  So they get copied just as they appear in the old books."

        "Why does this happen?"

        "Age," Jula shrugged.  "Time eats away the ink, the pages wear away, any number of things.  That's why we don't even know what the Sha'Kar looked like.  There are no surviving drawings, illustrations, or paintings of them."

        "Aren't they described in a book?"  Jula shook her head.  "Why not?"

        "Would you describe a pair of pants in a book of history?  A flower?  A spoon?"

        "That's a silly answer."

        "No, it's not.  Those are common everyday things, things we expect would be around two thousand years from now.  Why waste time describing something everyone has already seen?"

        Tarrin thought about it.  "Oh," he finally realized.  "Everyone back then knew what a Sha'Kar looked like, the way everyone today knows about the Wikuni."

        "Precisely.  So they never really went into depth about them.  All the books about the Sha'Kar were written in their language, and we can't read them.  All we've managed to find out about the Sha'Kar is that they were a very human-looking race, just a bit taller than humans on the average, and were frail and delicate beings.  They also had large eyes, and some in the Tower think that they may have had pointed ears."

        The description sounded a little like Allia, up until the "frail and delicate" part.  Allia was by no means frail and delicate.  She only looked delicate, because she was so beautiful.  Maybe the Selani and the Sha'Kar were very, very distantly related.

        "When alot of people in the Tower saw Allia, they thought that maybe the Selani and the Sha'Kar shared some kind of common ancestor," Jula told him, mirroring what he was thinking.  "I think they've already put Sha'Kar books in front of her to see if she could read them."

        "She didn't tell me about that."

        "I guess she didn't think it was very important," Jula told him.  "And since they're still working to break the language, I guess that means it didn't work."

        "I guess not."

        "So, why are you in here?" Jula asked.  "You should be in class."

        "My instructor had to talk to the Council, so I was given the rest of the day off," he replied.  "She told me to come up here and read instead.  But she didn't tell me what to read."

        "I suggest that you start with Studies On Efficiently Spinning Weaves," she told him.  "It was written by a Sorcerer named Walina about a thousand years ago, but her techniques on weaving spells are still fundamental principles taught to all our students.  She was a real trailblazer."

        "Where can I find that book?"

        "It's that big book they keep on the pedestal in the entrance hall," she smiled. "But you can get another copy over there.  Nobody's allowed to touch the original."  She pointed to a shelf across from the Lorefinders, just behind the circular desk that served as the main station for the librarians.  "You should just ask the librarians, Tarrin.  Tell them what you're interested in, and they'll send you right to it."

"I wasn't sure they'd let me have important books, since I'm just an Initiate."

        "Tarrin, this library is for any who can touch the Weave," she told him. "You have as much right to be here as the Keeper herself."  She glanced around.  "Well, it's about time for me to get back to what I was doing.  I'll see you later."

        "Later," Tarrin mirrored, standing up with her.

        Walina's book was very interesting.  She described the raw forces that the Sorcerer was working with when they were touching the Weave, and then went on to discuss techniques of weaving flows that expanded on simple spellcraft.  Techniques like knotting a weave so it would sustain itself for a while without having to be maintained, and layering one so that a second weave would activate after the first unravelled.  Sorcery was limited in that there was no such thing as permanent spells for them, except when using Ritual Sorcery.  All their magic lasted only as long as the Sorcerer concentrating on it.  The effects of that magic could be permanent, like healing, but the magic itself was not.  Knotting a weave made it draw on its own magic for a while, depending on the complexity of the weave and how well the knot was made.  But even a knot only lasted a while before the weaves naturally untied themselves.  Layering, Walina wrote, required tremendous skill to use, because placing one weave inside another without them interacting took considerable skill.  Tarrin could see why.  His own knowledge of Sorcery was somewhat limited, but his own short experience with it told him that flows loved to interact.  To weave them in such a way that they wouldn't interact wouldn't be easy.

        He was interrupted by someone knocking on the table, and he immediately scented Allia and Dar.  He looked up in surprise, and realized that he'd been reading, totally absorbed, for the entire afternoon.  "I wondered if you were awake," Dar said with a chuckle.  "That must be some book."

        "Actually, it is," Tarrin replied.  "How did it go for you?"

        "Boring," he grunted.

        "How was your day, sister?" he asked Allia.

        "They have started teaching me weaves," she replied.  "I still cannot touch the Weave half the time, but they seem to be rushing me."

        He only gave her a terse nod.  He already had a good idea why.  "Wait here a second," he told them, standing up.  He went over to the librarian's station, where two small, older women busily sorted through a large number of books.  They were sisters, from their scent, and had similar brownish, leathery skin and graying brown hair.  They wore dresses of a pearly gray, made of a good wool by the smell of them, and were both well made and well maintained.  "Excuse me, but can I borrow this?" he asked, holding up the book he was reading.  The woman looked up at him, and to her credit, didn't so much as flinch when she realized who was talking to her.

        "Let me see it," one of them said, holding out her hand.  Tarrin gave her the book, and she glanced at the cover and opened it.  "Yes, you can take this one with you," she told him.  "Just write your name down on this sheet of parchment," she instructed, hastily scribbling the name of the book in a column on the right.  There were alot of names and alot of book titles on that sheet of parchment.  She turned it around and offerred the quill pen she was using to him.

        Tarrin took the small pen between two large fingers, struggling with it a bit.  His body was very handy and he felt comfortable in it, but his oversized paws were simply incapable of some things.  One was handling the tiny quill pen with enough delicacy to be able to write legibly.  He had the agility and dexterity, but to try would probably break the pen.  Such a delicate thing put between his fingers would most likely break, no matter how gentle he was trying to be.  He solved the problem by taking on his human hands, feeling the ache instantly shoot through his knuckles and fingers as soon as claws were replaced by nails, and he quickly scrawled his name down on the page.  It wasn't very pretty, because the shooting pain made it difficult to write with elegance, or even efficiency.

        "You need to work on your penmanship, Initiate," she said in distaste, looking at the writing.

        "That's the best I can do," he told her bluntly, letting his paws come back.  He cracked his knuckles and flexed his fingers, working out the pain.  "At least until you have a pen that fits in these paws."

        "Alright, I can accept that," she said with a straight face.  "You have to either bring the book back or check it out again in three days.  Don't be late."

        "I won't," he said, putting the book under his arm and then going back to his friends.

        Lounging in his room, Allia sitting on the bed behind him, playing idly with his tail as she read from a book given to her by her instructor, Tarrin puzzled through the book written by this Walina.  Even though he'd had so little practical instruction in Sorcery, alot of what the woman wrote made alot of sense, and it went beyond the tricks she wrote about.  The woman seemed to have a fundamental understanding of the Weave that went quite beyond that of the normal Sorcerer.  She explained the flows and their power, the act of using Sorcery, even the mysterious seventh sphere in terms that Tarrin could easily understand.

        Though Dolanna had already told him, Walina's writing drove home the very significant point that Sorcery was the magic of life.  It represented the six basic forces that affected mankind:  earth, air, fire, water, the power of the gods, and the human mind's intelligence and drive, and in a more esoteric way, the human will.  It also encompassed the seventh sphere, that which held all the others together, and the power of this seventh sphere was limited only by the ability of those who tried to use it.  Where the other six spheres represented single forces, the seventh was both its own unique power and a power that comprised the other six, at the same time.  It was all six, and none of them.  That didn't make much sense to him, and Walina didn't explain it.  She wrote that it was a paradox, a living representation of the mysterious ways in which the world wo