Chapter 20

        He had no idea where he was.

        He only knew that he was clean, dressed in a soft cotton nightshirt, and the room held traces of the scents of Allia and Keritanima.

        He was alone, and the room was illuminated by a single candle, burned well near to the nub.  His body still ached, but it was a faint pain, distant and weak, and it would soon be gone.  He felt extremely weak, and it was an effort to sit up in the bed and put his back against the headrest.  His tail was tingling from where he was laying on it.

        The manacles.  They were still on his wrists.  Nightmarish images swirled around the dark corners of his mind, images of what he had done while out of control.  He couldn't remember details, but he knew that he had killed many people.  He wasn't quite sure how he felt about that, but he was so weary that he knew that in his current condition, he wouldn't care if he destroyed an entire kingdom.  He was just too tired, too numb.  He knew that he would have to reckon with what he had done later, but at that moment, he was still in shock.  It wasn't the time.  Physically, he wasn't much better off.  He had been healed, or he had healed himself, but it had left him so weak that he could barely move.  He felt a bit dizzy any time he moved his head, and there was a light fuzz over his consciousness that demanded he return to sleep.  But where the body was willing, the mind was not.  A tremendous amount had happened, and his mind couldn't reconcile with putting it off until later.

        He had snapped.  Really snapped, not just lost his temper.  It was exactly what Jesmind had been talking about, something she said would happen eventually, no matter how careful he was.  He had never felt so helpless in his life.  That much, he clearly remembered.  The Cat had kicked him aside like a misbehaving pet and taken full control of him, and he watched himself acting and reacting through eyes he could no longer control.  He still couldn't recall specifics of what happened, but something deep inside told him that he didn't want to know.  He did remember killing.  Many, many people.  That much was clear, but not how many, and how, and where he was.  He only remembered searching for a way out, and killing anyone who got in his way.

        Leaning forward, he put his paw to his cheek and rested his elbow on his knee, freeing his tail and feeling an angry buzz flow down it with the restoration of blood into the appendage.  He didn't remember much of what happened after being freed of the collar, but he remembered everything before that with perfect clarity.  Was this Firestaff what the katzh-dashi wanted from him?  Jula had mentioned it.  That Tarrin had the power to defeat the Guardian and claim it, and that it would bring back someone named Val.  He had never heard of it before.  What was it, anyway?  It seemed logical that this Firestaff thing was what everything was about.  But why keep it a secret?

        He just didn't know enough about it to really know what to think.  He had only heard that one reference.  But he did remember her talking about some group named the ki'zadun.  The Black Network.  The name, Tarrin had not heard, but the title was somewhat common knowledge.  They were a large organization of men and women devoted to ruling the entire world.  They were rumored to be supported by the Black Kingdom, Stygia, one of Sharadar's closest neighbors and oldest enemies.  It was reputed that the Witch-King of Stygia was the ultimate leader of the organization, using them as a covert army to spread his influence throughout the world.  But whether that was true or not, Tarrin did not know.  It was, after all, only rumor and gossip, tales told around the parlor on stormy winter nights.

        Could Kravon be a member of that network?  That was the only name that Tarrin had ever gleaned out of his would-be assassins.

        Tarrin winced slightly, and a growl issued from the back of his throat.  Jula.  He didn't know if he got her, but she was going to pay.  He trusted her!  He trusted her enough to turn his back on her, and she drove the proverbial dagger into it!  It was a betrayal at a high level in his mind, and a part of him had been permanently hardened against trusting others.  He knew the term for it.  Feral.  But he didn't care.  He would never trust anyone like that again unless they proved themselves to him beyond absolutely any shadow of a doubt.  He would not let that happen again, no matter what.  Even if it meant sleeping with his back to the wall for the rest of his life.  Nobody would imprison him again!  Just the thought of it sent a cold chill through him, and he felt the Cat rouse from its corner in his mind and assess possible threat to its freedom.  The Cat was still active, still vigilant so soon after it had taken control, sezied his body to do what his conscious mind could not, or was not doing fast enough.

        As soon as he was well enough, he was going to find her, and make her pay for what she did to him.

        Looking down at his left paw, he flexed it a few times.  It felt...odd.  It was fully functional, just like his right paw, but there was a strange fuzzy sensation about it, and it felt curiously weak.  He spotted the problem.  The manacle on his left wrist was slightly bent, and it was pressing against an artery.  He clutched the heavy steel cuff in his other paw and squeezed carefully, bending it back into a more comfortable position.

        He stopped and looked at the manacles, his eyes distant.  They had bound him with those manacles.  Chained him to a wall and taken away his freedom.  They represented the one thing that he feared over all others, the physical manifestation of his greatest fear.  And it was something that he was terrified that he may forget some day.  There was nothing that Tarrin desired more than freedom, nothing that he would not do to keep it, preserve it, or reclaim it.  His freedom represented everything that he was, both as a person and as a Were-cat.  The manacles represented everything that he could become.  He had killed.  Killed many people.  Not even he knew how many, but he had the feeling that his memories of his actions would indeed slowly return to him.  He had become the one thing he had always feared he would become.  He had turned into a monster even worse than any Troll that ever lived, and it was all because they had taken away his freedom.

        Never again.  It would never happen again.  And every day, those manacles would be there, on his wrists, their weight reminding him what price his freedom cost him, and they would never let him forget.

        Closing his eyes, he leaned his head back against the headboard, feeling his ears bend a bit between his skull and the rough wood.

        Never again.

        The door opened, and the light from beyond touched his eyes.  He opened them and found Allia entering quietly, holding a cup of some steaming liquid.  She was alone.   She wore a pair of leather breeches and a cottons shirt, and her shaeram hung visible about her neck, resting on the soft gray cloth.  She didn't say anything at first, she only smiled at him warmly and sat down at the edge of the roughly made yet solidly constructed bed.  She looked directly into his eyes, her own serious and searching, and then she handed the cup to him wordlessly.  It smelled of chicken and salt.

        "Where is everyone?" he asked weakly.

        "Waiting outside," she replied, putting a hand against his forehead.  "We thought it best for me to come in first."

        "Why?"

        "Because we weren't sure who we would find when you woke up," she said gently, but her words were blunt.  It wasn't Allia's nature to evade things.  "You were completely out of control, my brother.  We didn't know if passing out would return your mind to you.  But I see it did."

        He nodded, taking a sip of the hot broth.  It tasted sweeter than the rarest wine to him.  "Not too quickly," she warned as he started to gulp it down, ignoring the burning of his tongue and throat.

        "What happened?" he asked in a small voice.  "I don't really remember anything."

        "You fought your way back to us, deshida," she told him, patting his shoulder.  "You--" she closed her eyes.  "You used Sorcery the likes of which has not been seen in eons.  You very nearly killed me with it."

        He gave her a stricken look, but she only smiled at him.  "There is no blame anywhere, brother," she assured him.  "You gave us plenty of warning to get out of the way."

        "I don't remember any of it," he said in a frightened tone.

        "There wasn't much to remember," she said.  "You blew a hole up to the Nave, then you rose up and killed the high priest with Sorcery.  I think he had a special meaning to you.  Your choice of death for him was...exotic."

        "Irvon," he spat, trying to sit up.  "He had me thrown in a dungeon cell!  He had to pay for that!"

        "He paid, brother, he paid dearly," she assured him.

        "Where are we, sister?  I've never seen a room in the Tower like this."  Not even the Novices' rooms were quite that small.  It only had room for the bed and a single washstand, which had a tiny chest tucked underneath it.  There was just the door, with no windows, and the walls were a featureless, ragged gray stone with no decorations to break up their monotony.

        "We are not at the Tower," she hissed.  That surprised him.  "We will never go back there!"

        "What's the matter?  Didn't they send the Knights to get me back?"

        "No, we arranged that," she said hotly.  "The Tower has no honor!"

        That was serious.  "What happened?" he asked.

        "Dolanna discovered a terrible truth about the Tower, my brother.  It is something that you may not want to know."

        "Allia."

        "I would think twice, my brother.  In your current condition, it may send you back into a rage."

        "Right now, Allia, I couldn't rage myself out of this bed," he told her.  "Better get it overwith now, while I can't do anything about it."

        She sighed.  "Dolanna discovered that it was not your enemies that sent Jesmind to kill you.  It was the Tower, and they sent her to infect you.  Deshida, the Tower deliberately turned you Were."

        Tarrin gaped at her, his heart lurching.  But in his weakened condition, it couldn't lurch that much.  He felt shock, disbelief, betrayal in that proclomation, but it also followed a twisted logic that had gnawed at him for months.  He should not have survived against Jesmind.  Now he knew why he did.  They had sent her in there to fight, to make it look good, but ultimately only to bite him and then leave him.  He added that horrible truth to the great weight looming over his mind, something to work out when he felt more prepared to deal with it.

        But it did expand his plans for vengeance.  The Keeper wasn't going to get away with ruining his life.  He was going to make her pay for it.

        "Whoever took you used the same collar the Tower used to control Jesmind," she added.  "It was stolen from their vaults some days ago."

        "Jula," he hissed, his ears laying back.  "It was Jula."

        Allia gave him a surprised look.  "Jula?  But she is your friend!"

        "She was lying," he hissed.  "She was lying all along.  They have to catch her, sister.  I don't want to have to chase her across the West to kill her."

        "Save that talk for when you are stronger, my brother," she told him.  "You need to lay back down and sleep.  Dolanna used a weave on you that will allow you to recover your strength much more quickly than usual, but even with that, it will take time.  We didn't know if you would survive long enough to get you to safety.  I have never seen you so wounded.  It hurt me to see it."

        "I don't know if I can," he told her in a small voice.  "I'm afraid, Allia."

        "Lay back," she said in a gentle, matronly voice, taking hold of him by his shoulders and helping him lay back down.  "I will sing to you a song of peace, my dear brother, a song of peace and harmony, to soothe the whirling of your mind."

        And then she began to sing, her rich, timbred voice raising in sweet melodies, singing a song of happiness and prosperity.  Tarrin was captivated by the rich beauty of her voice, a voice that would charm the most savage monster, and he felt his fears and worries dissolve and blow away like sand upon the wind.  She held his paw in her hands, and the feel of her touch, the sound of her voice, her spicy scent overpowering the smell of stone and polished wood, they all put him at ease.  His every sense was overwhelmed by her closeness, and his utter trust and love he held for his tall, beautiful Selani sister allowed his mind to step down from his worries and fears and find nothing but sweet, rich harmony.

        Such gentle thoughts faded by the time he was again awake.

        Allia was giving him hot looks as he paced through the room, stretching himself out.  He still felt somewhat weak, but he was more than strong enough to do what he had to do.  He felt somewhere between sleep and awake, where his anger had been reduced to a hot spot in his mind, a mind that seemed curiously distant to him.  He had no idea why, but it was allowing him to think somewhat clearly about what he had to do, and what had to be done.

        He was still very angry, but he had a strange feeling of helplessness about it.  He was angry, he was outraged...and yet, he didn't feel quite as angry as he actually was.  It was an eerie feeling, almost bizarre, and he had no explanation for it.  He suspected that the trauma he suffered at the hands of his bestial half had something to do with it, and at that moment, he really didn't mind all that much.

        There would be a reckoning, and he preferred it not to be now.

        "Take them off," she said in a dangerous voice.

        "No," he replied flatly, ignoring her.

        It was all about the manacles.  They were still locked around his wrists, and he refused to remove them.  They represented what had happened to him, and in a strange way, he feared to take them off, else he would forget what happened while he had them on.  The memories of his actions were only just beginning to unravel from the confused mess of emotion and images knotted in his mind, a common effect after the Cat had taken control of him.  It had happened before, but never quite so severely.  Then again, he had never lost control of himself so utterly as he had earlier that day.  It was still hazy, but the raw truth was that he had gone on a rampage, and a large number of people had died at his paws.  That much he was certain of, but the specifics of it were still lost in the mists of his instincts.

        "Take them off."

        "I'm not going to take them off, Allia," he said bluntly, turning around.  "Deal with it."

        He found himself laying on the floor, with her knee in his back.  "I said take them off!" she said harshly.  "I cannot stand to see you with those things on your arms!  Take them off now!"

        "No," he said in a dangerous tone, getting up with her on top of him.  His strength carried her up, until she was forced to back away or be tipped over.  "Get used to it, sister, because I'm not taking them off."

        "You are so dense!" she shouted at him.  "Take them off!"

        "No," he hissed, glaring at her.  She gave him a startled look, then took a step back.  Tarrin sighed, looking away from her.  "I'm sorry, sister," he said contritely.  "I just can't take them off."

        "Alright, but we'll talk about that later," she said.  "What are you planning to do?"

        "I'm going back to the Tower," he told her.  "My things are still there, and I'm going to catch up with the Keeper."

        "I think I can live with that," she said.  "What do you think we will do now?"

        "Now?  We run," Keritanima said as she opened the door.  "It's good to see you up, brother."

        "Kerri," he said with a smile.  "Allia said you came to my rescue."

        "You'd do the same for me," she said as she hugged him.  "I don't think we're going back to the Tower.  Not now.  I've given myself away, and I wouldn't trust any of them."

        "No, I don't think so," he said.  "But I have no idea what to do now."

        "Now, we get as far away from them as we can," Keritanima said.  "Inland, or to the desert.  One or the other."

        "I don't have a problem with that," Tarrin agreed.  "But first, I have a little visit to make there."

        "What for?"

        "I want my things, and I'm going to pay the Keeper a little visit," he said, flexing his claws in an ominous manner.  "Jula too, if I can catch her."

        "Tarrin, just drop it," Keritanima said.  "They can't do anything more to you."

        "This isn't about danger, this is about justice," Allia said.  "They must pay for their crimes."

        "Allia--"

        "Don't try to stop me, brother," she said hotly.  "What they have done to you is wrong.  They must be punished for it."

        "Allia, let me take care of it," he said.

        "Tarrin, what you're talking about is dangerous.  You don't just walk into the Keeper's room and smack her around."

        "They'll never see me," he said in a grim tone.

        "It's dangerous."

        "I don't care."

        "This isn't like you, Tarrin."

        "No, it's not."

        "Do not think to leave without me," Allia said hotly.

        "Why don't both of you park it for a while?" Keritanima asked.  "They're not going anywhere."

        "Jula is," Tarrin said dangerously.  "If I don't catch her before she gets away--"

        "Tarrin, she's had hours to get away," Keritanima said.  "She's already gone."

        "I'm still going to try."

        "Stubborn fool," she snapped, sitting on the bed.  "I don't have any other brothers, and if you get yourself killed over something stupid, I'm never going to forgive you."

        "I'll keep him safe, sister."

        "You'll stay here," Tarrin told her.  "I'll move faster alone, sister.  For this, I need to be alone."

        Allia glared hotly at him, but finally submitted to his steady gaze.  "Alright, but be careful."

        It was late in the evening, and Jula was terrified.

        It didn't look it, but Jula was always one to be rather good at acting one way while feeling another.  She moved with quick, smooth precision through the Tower, rushing back to her rooms after picking up some instructions from her superior.  The Black Mistress had not been happy about the abysmal failure, but at least she didn't assign any blame to Jula.  Jula had done her job, and done it well.  That the Wikuni witch had somehow figured out a way to track down the Were-cat had been the ultimate in bad luck.

        Just thinking of it both made her blood boil, and run cold.  The Cathedral stronghold was one of the ki'zadun's oldest, largest, and strongest hidden bases.  A thousand men and women were commonly within the passages, and those passages stretched out to every corner of Suld like a great spider's web.  The only section of the city they avoided was the area around the Tower, and that was because many of the Sorcerers with special affinity for Earth would be able to detect the tunnels.  That was why the blond Sorceress had had to lead Tarrin to the Cathedral, for it was the closest entry point into the complex from the Tower of Six Spires.

        It was a complete loss.  Irvon's death had only been the beginning, as Knights and Wikuni Marines used ropes to slide down the hole created by the Were-cat--she had never dreamed of feeling such power!!--and had radiated out from it like a ripple spanning out from a drop into a pond.  They killed or captured almost everyone inside the complex, who was still rocked back on their heels from the incredible savagery of the Were-cat's rampaging.  Hundreds of years of work and planning had been destroyed in a single morning, and men that could not be replaced were either dead or captured.  The entirety of the ki-zadun's operations in Suld had been compromised.  Only the agents in Court and in the Tower had survived the sweep, because many of those tunnels opened up into the private residences of officers and ranking members of the Network.  And what they had found in writing or records was even worse, for they exposed the operations of the Network in several other cities in Sulasia, the Stormhaven Isles, ShacË, and Tykarthia.  The Network was large, it was powerful, and it was anywhere there were men and women of power.

        Jula's name had somehow slipped through the sieve, but she wasn't one to take chances.  So she was readying to leave.  If anything, Tarrin was still out there, and he wasn't about to forget about her.  Nobody knew where the Knights had taken him, but wherever it was, she doubted he was still there now.  His regeneration had probably restored him to mobility, and she had no doubt that she was probably at the top of his list of people to kill.  The collar subdued his will, but not his memory.  He knew who collared him, and judging by what he did to the people in the passages, she was taking no chances on any feelings of mercy he may be having.

        Some of them made her physically sick.  She had to admit, though, when Tarrin killed someone, they were dead.

        Besides, with Suld compromised, all the remaining agents were scattering, in case their names did come up.  Only a select few, like the Black Mistress, were remaining in place, mainly because their names wouldn't appear anywhere, and their positions were vital to Kravon to keep track of their enemies.  Jula knew her identity, but she wasn't fool enough to repeat it.  Besides, with her leaving, it was one less danger to the Mistress' position.  Jula was very secure in that she would be allowed to live, for the ki'zadun had very few Sorcerers, and those that they did have were very important.  She would be more useful somewhere else now, possibly Tor, Arkis, or maybe even Telluria.  Somewhere warm.  Jula was sick of cold.

        She reached her room with a sigh of relief, and found everything where it was supposed to be.  She was packing light, only personal keepsakes and a few dresses, and enough gold to get to Den Gauche.  From there, she would travel to where they wanted her to go.  Her single suitcase stood on a neatly made bed in the frugally appointed room, which was somewhat messy after her rush to prepare for her journey.  The room was empty, and much to her relief, all she had to do was pick up her bag and go.  She crossed the room, reaching out for her bag--

        --and suddenly found herself face-first against the far wall, face throbbing and buised, a tremendous power holding her feet some half a span off the floor.  By the neck.  With only a slight chill through her, she realized who it was, and why he was there.

        So close.  She had been so close.

        "I know much, Tarrin," she said in a calm, reasonable tone, making no attempt to resist.  "I can tell you who's been trying to kill you, and who ordered me to capture you.  You can even go kill her, because she's right here in the Tower.  All it will cost you is letting me live."

        "That's too high a price to pay," he replied in a brutally cold tone.

        She screamed only once, when those claws drove into her back.  That scream turned into a ragged, stifled gasp when they hooked around her spine, just below her ribcage, and then ripped.  She felt a section of her spine tearing free of her back, making a sickening sound like ripping of cloth, but it was a ripping of flesh and a snapping of bone and sinew.  She could feel the hole it left behind, a hole so large that a child put his arm inside it, a hole that poured out her blood over legs that could no longer feel, could no longer move.  The pain transformed into an icy coldness, a cold that warned her of her own impending death.  Not from a blow from his paw, but from her lifeblood flowing out of her.  Tarrin had opened her up like a fish, and now she was going to die slowly.

        He threw her aside roughly, coldly, and she landed on her back, with a pool of blood forming around her.  She looked at him, and saw nothing but pure, abject hatred.  And a half a span of her own spine clutched his bloody paw.  Her breath was coming in shallow, quick pants, and the cold spread up into the places where she could feel, the cold of the grave.

        "That was for taking my freedom," he hissed.  "If you survive, then consider us even."

        He threw the grisly object in his hand down onto the floor, a trio of bloody pink bones with gray nerve dangling out of each end, and then he turned his back to her fearlessly and stalked away.

        Shaking fingers reached into the pouch at her waist, fingers that fumbled open the flap.  The cold was growing, growing, and her sight and clarity were fading with every beat of her heart.  She heard him leave, knew that she had only precious moments before she would be dead, and only few seconds of rational thought before the cold within overwhelmed her.

        Jula was a survivor.  She had survived a long time, becuase she always understood the risks, and always planned for when those risks went bad.

        Her trembling fingers pulled from the pouch a small glass vial, a vial filled with dark red blood.  It was stoppered with wax to keep it from drying, and the mark of death was etched plainly onto the side of it.  The vial she stole at the same time that she stole the collar.

        Not death.  Life.

        Biting through the stopper with chattering teeth, Jula let the blood flow into her mouth.  She bit her own tongue and swirled it around in her mouth, letting that blood enter her bloodstream, then swallowed all of it.  She put her head back as her tongue went numb, and then her stomach, and then they began to itch.  Then to burn.  That feeling began to radiate out from her tongue and stomach quickly, washing over her, even into areas left paralyzed by the destruction of her spine.

        She gave out only a single ragged laugh as the tidal wave of pain swept over her, blasting away all conscious thought.

        Myriam Lar was very upset.

        She sat at her dressing table, brushing out her thick auburn hair staring at her own reflection absently.

        Tarrin Kael was gone.  The Knights had swept him up and spirited him away, and they wouldn't return him.  Not only that, they had left the grounds and removed themselves to the chapterhouse.  Darvon wouldn't say why, but the tone of his voice made it clear that he was mortally offended by something that the Tower did.  She didn't know what they knew...because if they did, then they would be justified.

        It still sickened her, but there had been no choice.   At the time, they had only known of Allia when the plan was made.  The Tower needed to be the ones to recover the Firestaff.  There was no choice in the matter.  Only in the hands of the katzh-dashi would the relic be safe from misuse.  In the wrong hands, it could be disastrous.  And soon it would reveal itself again to the world, following the five thousand year cycle of power that governed its operation.  At the end of that cycle, or the beginning, it would reach its peak.  And for one day and one day only, any who held it to the four joined moons could command its might, and bestow upon themselves the power of a God.

        Not just any god.  An Elder God, a truly immortal deity who would rival in power with the others of that most elite group.  A god with no constraints, with no bounds, existing outside the structured pantheon.  The Elder Gods would be forced to rise up and deal with the usurper, and it would be a war that would destroy the world.

        That couldn't be allowed to happen.  The katzh-dashi would find it first, find it and keep it, securing it away until that day came and went, and it would be nothing but a useless curiosity for another five thousand years.

        In this mad crusade, the katzh-dashi found themselves outnumbered and overwhelmed.  Other groups, nations, kingdoms, they had more resources, and they already had a head start.  The scramble to find the Firestaff, what some called the Questing Game, began more than a year ago, when a battered scroll was discovered in ruins in Sharadar, a scroll that hinted at the long-lost location of the Firestaff.  It was written that it existed behind the wind, within the realm of eternal shadow, and guarded by a defender of power.  The Book of Ages also mentioned the ancient artifact, a device with the power to destroy the world.  It wrote that Mi'Shara, nonhuman noble-born Sorcerers, had the best chance of finding the artifact.   But it also wrote that anyone who could find the Firestaff and either defeat or outwit its Guardian could gain ownership of it.  A Mi'Shara simply had a better chance.

        Mi'Shara were frightfully rare beings.  When the choice was made to use a Were-creature to create one, there was only Allia, and there was a sincere fear among many in the Council that she would not be enough.  So plans were made, and a Were-creature was located and captured for the task.  The arts of Communing with the Goddess, to directly ask her questions of great importance, required High Sorcery.  And even then the answers were usually very unreliable, either being too cryptic to comprehend or outright wrong, when she deigned to answer at all.  The Goddess' unwillingness to lead her children had confounded Keeper and Council alike since the katzh-dashi had returned to the Tower, but in this case they had produced a good result.  When asked if there was a human Sorcerer of noble blood to be found, the cryptic response led to Tarrin.  He was the only noble-born Sorcerer they could find, an obscure villager in a long-forgotten corner of the kingdom, who was the son of an Ungardt princess.  Dolanna was sent to perform the Test there, even though they already knew he had potential.  She was also selected because she had made a study out of Were-creatures, both their society and their physiology.  If anyone could keep the fledgeling Were-cat sane, it was Dolanna.

        They needed Tarrin, they needed him desperately.  Keritanima had shown shocking potential, especially after she had absolutely stunned everyone by leading the quickly created alliance that attacked the Cathedral of Karas to get him back.  She was not the spoiled, self-centered, immature brat that everyone thought her to be.  Myriam had had the luck of being in Jervis' office, railing at him for his little activities the night before, when the news reached him.  His jaw abosolutely dropped from his head.  If Keritanima could fool Jervis, then that meant that she had all of Wikuna fooled as well.  But where Keritanima showed incredible potential, control, and aptitude, she didn't have his raw power.  Tarrin was a Weavespinner.  A Weavespinner!  That unprecedented power had not been present on the world since the time of the Ancients.  If a Weavespinner couldn't challenge the fabled Guardian of the Firestaff and have a chance at victory, then Myriam couldn't think of anything that could.  He was their best chance, and now he was out of their hands.

        A dark shadow passed over the light flowing from the large window, closed against the winter chill, and Myriam found the breath to scream when something grabbed her by the back of her nightgown and pulled her out of her chair.  The ceiling and floor traded places wildly until she found herself on her back on the floor, a knee on her pelvis and a huge, padded hand holding her by the throat.  Two slits of intense green radiance marked the silhouette of a human figure, a figure with the other hand held up and away.

        Not a human.  A Were-cat!

        "Tarrin, are you out of your--"

        "Silence!" Tarrin snapped in a voice tight with fury.  "I know the truth, Myriam!  You did this to me!"

        Myriam Lar, Keeper of the Six Spires, ruler of the katzh-dashi, one of the most powerful people in Sulasia, wet herself at that infuriated proclamation.  But then again, few human beings could stare death in the face and not be affected in some way.  Tarrin was infuriated, and his Were-cat nature would not allow him to handle that fury in a very gentle or painless manner.

        "You watched me, spied on me, let me go on here and suffer, and you never had the nerve to tell me!  I should kill you for this!  I want to kill you so bad that I can taste it!  You destroyed my life!"

        "What was done was done for the good of everyone," she said in a quavering voice, seeing her own death in those twin slits of unholy green fire.  "It was not done without great need, Tarrin.  We need you.  We need you now more than any person, any kingdom, any civiliation, has needed someone before.  And you can't do what you need to do unless you are what you are now.  Yes, we changed you," she admitted in a tight voice, tight with terror.  "But it was only because we had no other choice."

        Tarrin grabbed at a bulge in her nightgown, then Myriam gasped in pain when he snapped the chain holding her shaeram around her neck.  He held that gold amulet in his paw lightly.  "I want to kill you so bad I can taste it, but that's not good enough."  His paw suddenly exploded in white light, Magelight, and she felt him weave a spell into that amulet.  He plunged the amulet down and pressed it against her chest, just under the collarbone on her right side, and she screamed in total, mindless pain.  The amulet's gold burned into her skin, charring it, burning through and into muscle, even as the magic behind it burned into her soul.

        When he relented, Myriam curled up into a defensive ball, crying and moaning, feeling the searing pain shudder through her with every beat of her heart.  "I did that because there was no other choice," he hissed.  "I'll never trust you again, Keeper.  Know that.  But also know that you have a traitor among you.  If not for my need to keep others safe, I would kill you and be done with it.  But their lives are in as much danger as yours, and it's all because of that.

        "Jula collared me," he told her as she looked up at him.  "She said someone ordered her to do it, someone here in the Tower.  And it's a woman.  I don't give a damn about you or the Tower, but I do care for those I'm leaving behind, and they're in danger so long as that traitor stays among you.  I'm letting you live only because you're the only one that can keep my friends alive, Keeper.  And if they die, then so will you."

        "What happened to Jula?"

        "I punished her for taking away my freedom," he said in a cold voice, a voice full of tightly controlled fury.  "Just be glad I'm not doing the same to you.  I should, but if I kill you, my friends will be in danger, and you'll just be replaced by people who will come after me.  Now that you understand the consequences of chasing me down, I'm sure that you'll think twice about it.  You have no idea what I'm capable of, Keeper.  I'll raze all of Suld to the ground just to kill you.  So leave me be, and I'll let you live.  And every time you start to forget my warning, just reach up and touch your brand.  It won't let you forget."

        He stared down at her, then those slits of ominous radiance blinked.  And then he was gone.

        Choking, coughing, stifling a sob, Myriam Lar, Keeper of the katzh-dashi, rolled to her knees, clutching her chest. The brand was throbbing, pulsing with pain, and she could feel its shape.  It was a perfect brand of a shaeram.  She rose up while supporting herself with her other hand and vomited, reaction to the fear, the shock, and the pain.

        It was survival, but it was also doom.  Without Tarrin, the entire world was in danger.

        And there was nothing that she could do about it.

        Entering the courtyard perhaps for the last time, Tarrin stared around the majestic scene, his heart heavy and his soul dimmed.  He hated doing things like that, but it there really wasn't a choice.  Getting Jula had been absolutely vital.  He wouldn't be able to sleep at night knowing she was out there, with her collar, waiting for him again.  The Keeper too had suffered for her crimes, and even now he regretted not just ending her, or even not being more thorough with the punishment.  But to kill like that mortified his human soul, even as the memory of what he had done had begun to return, memories that horrified him so deeply that he couldn't even express it in words.  It had shocked him into a strange feeling of disassociation with himself, where what he had done seemed to be someone else, and it drowned out anything he may be feeling other than his anger for those who had wronged him.

        If there was anywhere he would go, it would be the courtyard.  The fountain still splashed its melody of nature, and the statue of the Goddess still stood atop it, all stone and water but also beauty and warmth.  But he couldn't feel those things, could barely feel anything other than a numbness to his emotions, a blanket laid over his mind that only allowed the fire of his anger to bleed through.  The statue's expression was melancholy, as if she could feel his pain, and would join in his suffering.  The tent still stood to the side, where he and his sisters and sat and studied night after night, where he had gotten to know Miranda, where he had started to feel that there was hope for them all.

        In a way, now there was.  He was not going to stay there.  Suld was dead to him now, and he had to leave.  They planned to go to the desert, to beg sanctuary from Allia's clan.  It was as good a place as any.  Tarrin felt a distinct lack of interest in wherever his sisters decided to go.  He would be with them, but it no longer mattered to him.  Very little did, now that his unfinished business was no longer unfinished.

        Things had come undone.  Keritanima's secret was out.  She had commanded the host that reclaimed him, and now everyone knew that she was much smarter than she appeared to be.  Allia had almost become unhinged by his abduction, and it had taken some serious talking to convince her to let him handle the vengeance.  Vengeance was an important business to the Selani.  No crime went without a justifiable punishment.  The Knights were leaving the grounds, breaking away from the katz-dashi over what they had done to him.  The Cathedral had been purged, and it left precious few priests afterward to care for it and the congregation.  The entire city was under martial law, as the King sent out his army to reclaim control of the streets after the fighting touched off a riot in the Market Quarter.  It was a chaotic mess, but it was something that barely captured his attention.  It was as if he had switched himself off, shutting down the parts of himself that felt or reacted to feelings.  The only thing that came through that was anger, a towering, seething fury that demanded for those who hurt him to suffer in kind.

        It will pass, my kitten, the voice of the Goddess called to him.  Like all things.

        "Goddess," he said in a calm, defensive voice.  "You knew."

        I knew, she admitted.

        "Why didn't you tell me!" he shouted suddenly, rushing up to the statue.  He fell to his knees by the lip of the fountain's pool, and the water inexplicably stopped pouring from the fountain's upper layer.  He thrust his paws out at that statue, manacles on his wrists, showing them to her.  "I deserved to know that they did this to me!"

        Yes, you did, she agreed.  But why I didn't tell you is exactly why you are here now.  Does branding the Keeper change what has happened?  Did crippling Jula make your pain any less?

        "She betrayed me!" he screamed.

        And you betray yourself by reducing yourself to her level, she replied sadly.  You are a dry branch in a bonfire, my kitten.  Your instability makes you dangerous, so I did not tell you.  I would not tell you, even if I could have.  If only for the sake of those around you.

        There was no way he could refute that.  If he had known the truth earlier, he probably would have lashed out and killed the entire Council.  And that would have made things very, very messy for him and his sisters.

        Things have come to you of their own volition, kitten, she said in a gentle voice.  These were things that I couldn't tell you, because they would have interfered with the choices that you have made.  And it is time for you to make them.

        "What are you talking about?" he asked, curiosity overwhelming the anger he was starting to feel against the Goddess.

        You have an understanding of what is going on now, she explained.  It is time for you to choose where you are going to stand within it.

        "What do you mean?  Is this about that Firestaff thing?"

        Of course it is, my kitten, she replied.  Right now, that is the most important thing in the world.

        "What is it, Goddess?"

        The Firestaff is an ancient artifact, kitten, from a time before the Blood War.  It was created so long ago that there is nothing left of those who made it, and all history of them has been lost over the ages.  It holds the power of creation inside it, an echo of the power that Ayise used when she created the world.  If someone were to hold that staff on a certain day, and at a certain time, that power would be imbued upon the holder, and he would become a god.  That day comes every five thousand years.  And that day is approaching us soon, my kitten.  Right now, half of the people on Sennadar are scrambling to find that staff, dreaming of immortality and godhood.  But most of them don't realize the terrible price that they'll have to pay, and the damage it will do to the world.

        "What do you mean?"

        Tarrin, that power will exist outside of our rules, and that means that the new god will have no constraints.  Ayise will be powerless to stop him, because he will not be one of her children.  We will have to rise up and destroy the invader, because his very existence will threaten the Balance.  Tarrin, my kitten, such a war would make the Blood War look like a skirmish.  It would destroy every nation in the world, and send Sennadar hurtling back into the stone age.

        Tarrin's eyes widened, and he gaped up at the statue.

        Can you imagine what horror that would bring to the world?  It's not something that we Gods relish, believe me.  But we could avoid all of it, my kitten.  If someone trustworthy were to find the Firestaff and keep it away from everyone else, that day could come and go without anything drastic happening.  It would be harmless for the next five thousand years, and the world would continue on as it has been.

        "Me," he breathed.

        You, she agreed.  The katzh-dashi created you, literally, to find the Firestaff.  You represent their best chance to locate it.  Myriam Lar intends to lock it away, but as you saw, the Tower is not a secure place.  I can't trust my order to take care of it, my kitten.  So that leaves me with you.

        It is much to ask of you, Tarrin, she said sadly.  All you want is to live in peace.  I know it, and it pains me to ask anything more of you.  You've suffered enough.  And, to be honest, that is something that you can do.  You could leave here and return to Aldreth, or go to the forest, and live in peace.  But if someone gets the Firestaff and uses it, then your peace won't last.  I can't say one way or the other what would happen if you don't do this for me, my kitten.  Things could turn out alright, but they also could not.  I'm not one to sit around and trust to blind luck.

        I can't trust my own order now.  Believe me, Tarrin, I had no idea they managed to infiltrate my Sorcerers so thoroughly.  I have you, and you represent everything I always tried to endear in my children.  But I also know that I can't force you to do anything.  I can only ask you.  It's not something I would ask lightly, my sweet child.  It will be a dangerous road, and its outcome is uncertain.  There is a very good chance that you won't live to see the end of it.  But of all those who seek the Firestaff, you, Tarrin Kael, Mi'Shara, you have the best chance to succeed.

        Would you be my champion, Tarrin Kael?  Would you seek out what must be sought, and protect it from those who would use it to harm our world?  Would you take up my quest?  Or will you return to the forest, or seek shelter among the Selani?  Either way, I will still love you.  Your decision, your choice, it is your own, and either way, I will support it.  But there comes a time, my kitten, when the needs of an individual are outweighed by the needs of the many.

        It is this choice that I have been preparing you to make, Tarrin.  You must choose between danger and safety, pain and tranquility.  Mine is the longer road, full of danger and sharp corners, but at least its ending is much more certain than the much easier path.

        "But why me?" he asked plaintively.  "Why give such trust to me?  I don't even trust myself!"

        Think about it, she replied.  What does being a god represent to a mortal?  It represents immortality, and it represents power.  Tarrin, my sweet kitten, you already have both.  What more would being a god bring to you?  I know your heart, my kitten.  Such things are not what you desire.  All you want out of life now is a small cottage in the forest, where you can simply live.  Of all the mortal-kin on Sennadar, you have the least ambition to such a lofty position, and that makes you the most dependable of them all.

        Tarrin couldn't refute such simple logic.  And she was right.  Tarrin had no desire for such power.  All he wanted to do was find somewhere nice and secluded, and just live.

        He lowered his head, staring into the water, his mind lost in deep thought.  He was torn between his Were impulse to run into the forest and be free, and his sincere love for and sense of duty towards his mysterous deity.  She was giving him a choice, a choice between what he wanted to do and what she needed him to do.  Either way, he would leave with her blessing.  He had already suffered a great deal, and the Goddess made no guarantees that he wouldn't suffer more.  He may even die.  He would be risking his life for something that seemed intangible to him, a fairy tale lost in the mists of antiquity.  But the consequences of his inactivity had been plainly spelled out.  If he did nothing, then there was a good chance that the entire world would suffer.  He didn't want any of this.  All he wanted to do was be free.  But agreeing to this would restrain his freedom yet again, place him in the yoke of yet another master.  It went against his nature, just as much as doing nothing went against his human ideals.  He was torn within himself, caught between his Were instincts and his human ethics, and neither was strong enough to overcome the other.

        He remembered Miranda's words, a fleeting memory fluttering before him.  Sometimes, what one person wants or needs is overshadowed by what others need of them.

        And before his eyes, he could only see Janette, his little mother, and before her stretched a future of frightening ambiguity.  She was so young, so young, and her life could be changed, or ended, by the decision that he made.

        In the end, there really was no choice.

        "I will," he said in a quiet voice.

        The statue suddenly began to glow, and its eyes became incandescent.  You won't be sorry, my kitten, she said in a delighted voice.  There are rewards, you know.  I wasn't allowed to offer them to you as enticement.  It had to be a choice made unswayed by promises of reward.

        Tarrin ignored that.  He wasn't very happy about it.  But he would do it.  She was his Goddess, after all, and he would do what she asked.  If only because she asked.  "What do I do?"

        I can't give you any direct help, Tarrin, she warned.  To do so would upset the rules.

"Rules?  What rules?"

        Tarrin, you are not the only champion of a God playing this game, she warned.  There are some Younger Gods who would risk destruction to gain that staff, because it would add to their power.  They are forbidden from directly aiding their mortal champions, just as I am forbidden from aiding you.  All I can tell you is that the first step to finding the Firestaff is to find the Book of Ages.

        "But that's been missing for centuries!" he said helplessly.

        Yes, but you already know where it is, my kitten, she said impishly.  There are only three cities with libraries extensive enough to hold such a prized tome.  And you can rule two of them out.

        Extensive libraries?  There were indeed three cities highly reputed for their libraries.  One was the Library of the katzh-dashi, in Suld.  Another was the Cathedral of Knowledge, which was in Sharadar.  The third was the Imperial Library in Dala Yar Arak.  It certainly wasn't in Suld, but how could he rule one of the other two cities out?

        The Tower!  Dolanna said that the Sorcerers in Sharadar had their own Tower!  If the book was there, they would have found it, and let the katzh-dashi know!

        "Arak?" he said uncertainly.

        Don't ask me, she said in a light voice.  I'm not allowed to tell you.  I wouldn't be allowed to agree with you either, if I thought it was a question.  But I would be allowed to agree with you if it was a statement made in sincere belief.

        "It has to be," he said.  "There are Sorcerers in the other two cities."

        I do believe that you're right, she said with a silvery laugh.

        Dala Yar Arak.  The largest city in the Known World, home to millions of people.  Capital of the largest, most powerful, and most feared empire on the face of Sennadar.

        He had to comb the largest city in the world and find a single book.  It defined an impossible task.

        "You're not making this easy for me to take, Goddess," he said with a grunt.

        She laughed.  It's why it's a quest, my kitten.  If it were easy, it would be called an errand.

        "I guess so."

        Remember that you're not alone, kitten, she warned.  You're only one player among many, in a game of quests.  You're all racing for the same prize, and only one of you can have it.  You have an advantage over them, my kitten, but remember that getting the prize and keeping the prize after you get it are two different things.  The Questing Game has already begun, and there are players ahead of you, as well as behind.  Keep both eyes open, and trust in your friends.  They will be there for you when you need them.

        There was a short silence.  I know that this only adds on to an already eventful day and night, my kitten, but I had no more time.  Think about things for me, and know that one can always find forgiveness outside before he can find it within himself.  Take comfort in that forgiveness, and let it help you find it within yourself.

        "Can I let them know?"

        Of course, she replied.  They are players as much as you.  But when you go, there are five people that you absolutely must take with you.  Without them, your chance to succeed is greatly diminished.

        "Who?"

        Allia, for one, she replied.  Without your sister, you would be lost.  You would not be a complete family without Keritanima, and trust me, having her Royal Highness' pedigree to throw around could be a tremendous advantage for you.  You also need Dolanna, because she is the only one who can soothe you and help you deal with what you are.  You need Azakar, for his strength and his lineage, and you will need Dar.

        "Dar?  Why Dar?"

        Not everyone is as valuable as he appears, my kitten, she replied.  Dar has qualities that you overlook.

        "What about the others?"

        Others will certainly join you, my kitten, and you should always welcome friends, she told him.  But those five I named, their unique skills and attributes will be a very great boon to you.

        "What do I do with them?"

        Well, you can start by getting yourself to Dala Yar Arak, she said impishly.  What you do when you get there is up to you.  But it would be best to get there first, wouldn't it?

        "I guess," he sighed.  He had thrown off one yoke, and had just taken on another.  But at least this driver he could tolerate.  His faith in the Goddess was the only reason he could allow it.  "I'll find your Firestaff, Goddess, and then I'll make sure nobody can get their hands on it.  Then I can be free."

        You will be free, she promised, and you will be happy.  I will make sure of that.  But right now, time is wasting, my kitten.  You have to go.

        He nodded.  "What about the tent?"

        I will keep watch over it.  You never know, you may come back here some day.  I'll make sure that the books are here waiting for you if you do.

        He felt...ridiculous.  Why was he doing this?  He had his freedom in his paws, and he was throwing it away.  But it would be an empty freedom, a freedom with a dark cloud hanging over it.  If someone else found that strange artifact and used it, it could destroy everything.  Tarrin could endure being in thrall to the Goddess, mainly because he was one of the few people he would trust.  He felt that she did indeed love him, and that working for her would be a mutually respectful relationship.  He was nobody to go on some mad quest.  He was a village boy who had started with dreams of Knighthood, and now only had dreams of tranquility.  But galavanting off on some search for a lost artifact had never crossed his mind.

        Standing up, he stared up at the statue.  He wondered when he wouldn't feel numb anymore, and how he would feel about this when he didn't.  How he would feel about alot of things.   He was still operating in a daze of sorts, an unfeeling state of mind that only allowed his grim tasks of payback to be considered.  It was a heightened state of unfeeling, and the Cat had alot to do with it.  He stared at the statue for a very long moment, her words echoing in his mind, her choice stretching out before him like a road laced with broken glass.

        But there really was no other choice.  His little mother was depending on him to make her world safe, and it was something that needed to be done.  He wouldn't trust an artifact of that kind of power in anyone else's hands.  He would find it, and when he found it, he would destroy it.