Chapter 3

There was nothing left of the Black Ship, but there was plenty of it floating on the surface.

Tarrin's eyes fluttered open, and he coughed out a mouthful of briny water as the sunlight stung at his vision. He was floating on the surface, bobbing on the waves still lapping from the sinking of the Black Ship. He only vaguely remembered the explosion of the vessel, the impact of which had driven him under and knocked him out. Only his grip on his staff saved him, the Ironwood staff whose bouyant ability was so powerful that it lifted him back up to the surface. The sun wavered on the edge of an inky black cloud of greasy smoke that billowed up from the surface of the sea, and smaller pieces of debris were still raining down from it, peppering the surface of the ocean like stone thrown into a pond by children.

The injury to his chest throbbed with the beating of his heart. The seawater only burned it more, and he clutched at it and panted for breath. No wonder Sheba had been willing to pit her priest against Kern's unknown magic. He'd never experienced anything quite like that before. Just by touching the wound he could tell that the skin and flesh were charred, and because it was a wound inflicted by magic, it wouldn't simply regenerate. Dolanna would have to heal it.

Putting an elbow over his staff, he got control of the pain, shunted it aside enough to be able to think clearly. He was floating in a debris field, and he wasn't alone. Several other Wikuni also clung to twisted lengths of wood, and all of them looked the worse for wear. He had no idea what made the ship explode, but he had a pretty good idea that Dolanna had something to do with it. She would be the only one with the experience or training to lay an entire vessel low so effectively. Many of them were wounded, some of them laying on flatter pieces of debris unconscious with other Wikuni making sure they didn't slip off and drown. All of them looked stunned and dazed, and Tarrin couldn't blame them. The sound of it, the pure concussive force, it was something that he could appreciate to create that kind of condition. It had even knocked him out, and he was substantially tougher than a human or Wikuni.

He could see the Star of Jerod. It was a bit battered, some of its rigging was on fire, and a couple of sails were now laying on the deck, but it seemed to have survived more or less intact. Kern's men were putting out the fires, and he could make out Binter, Sisska, and Azakar at the rail. They were the only ones tall enough to stand out through the haze, steam, and smoke that clung to the surface of the sea after the explosion. No doubt that Keritanima had to be close by, for both of the Vendari protectors to be in the same place. That was a tremendous relief. The galleon had been very, very close to the Wikuni clipper when it exploded, and that much destructive power could have ripped the old galleon apart. It had certainly scorched her entire starbord beam, and chewed up the rigging a bit, but the masts were still standing, and it looked that Kern hadn't lost many men to the explosion. Kern would have to make repairs before the ship could get under way, but at least they'd be capable of getting under way.

One of the Wikuni drifted closer and closer to him, and he realized that it was Sheba herself. She had her back to him, clinging listlessly to her ship's steering wheel, and a very wide swath of her fancy red coat's back had been ripped away. A deep slash went across her furred back, bleeding liberally, and two small shards of wood were embedded high on her right shoulder. Tarrin grabbed the wheel without thinking and pulled her closer, seeing that she was unconscious when he turned her around. She was really rather attractive, in a feline kind of way. The Cat in him could appreciate the grace of her hybrid features, the human head sporting a cat's slender snout and wide cheeks, and a pink button-nose. Half of her right ear was missing, and the right side of her muzzle had a deep cut in it that sent a thin, steady rivulet of blood into the water.

Without thinking, he reached over as he touched the Weave, and he wove together a spell of healing. At his touch, those wicked slashes and lacerations healed over, and the missing section of her ear grew back and sprouted black fur. She was an enemy, or she had been. But now she was defeated, and the Cat held no grudges against an enemy that was honorably bested. Neither did Tarrin. She was no longer the antagonist, she was an injured victim in need of help, and Tarrin couldn't turn his back on her suffering.

If only he could heal himself.

Her bright green eyes fluttered, and she groaned. Then they affixed on him and focused, but her expression of dull awareness didn't change. "You," she said slurringly. "What did you do to me?"

"I healed you," he replied bluntly. "You were hurt."

"Why'd you have to go and do that?" she snapped at him with sudden energy. "Can't you just leave me alone now? You've won!"

"I don't think anybody won here," he replied with a calm look.

She snorted, and then to his surprise, she let go of the wheel. She slipped under the water quickly, but fortunately he had enough presence of mind to snare her around the wrist with his agile tail and haul her back up to the surface. She spluttered and spewed out a shocking amount of water from her mouth, then began to cough. She had breathed in the water on purpose! She tried to kill herself!

Grabbing her by the scruff of her tattered coat, he hauled her back up onto the wheel, letting her cough all the water from her lungs. "Are you crazy?" he demanded in surprise.

"Just let me die, you fool!" she snapped at him. "It's what's going to happen to me anyway! Either going to the bottom or getting my neck stretched, either way I know how things are going to end up!" She tried to struggle out of his grip. "At least this way I won't be humiliated by hanging from a yardarm for the amusement of a bunch of clod- grubbing, dirty humans!"

"Fine," he said gruffly, letting go of her. "I don't care about you one way or the other. If you want to kill yourself, be my guest."

She glared at him, then the corner of her mouth turned up and she winked. But any attempt to slide off the wheel again was stopped when a dark shadow loomed over them, making both of them turn and look. It was the Star of Jerod, and either it had drifted over to them, or they had drifted towards it. Azakar hung from a net ladder along the side, a dark hand reaching down and grabbing Sheba by the scruff of her neck and physically lifting her out of the sea. Tarrin felt tremendously relieved for some reason when the Mahuut youth reached his huge hand down for Tarrin, and Tarrin reached up his paw. He was pulled up out of the water, keeping a stubborn grip on his staff, then he was passed up to Sisska's waiting taloned hands. Binter was the one to grab hold of him and put him on the deck, where he was immediately smothered by Allia and Keritanima. He gasped when Keritanima crushed him in an embrace, which made her immediately back off and pull open his shirt.

"Have I told you today that you are crazy, my brother!?" Allia raged. "What possessed you to do such a foolish thing! You could have been killed!"

"The end justifies the means, sister," Tarrin told her weakly. "I knew that they'd be too busy dealing with me to press an attack against the ship. I was right."

"You stubborn, pig-headed, suicidal maniac!" Keritanima bored at him, inspecting the wound. "How dare you get yourself all torn up! How dare you nearly give me a heart attack!"

"Better a heart attack then an arrow in the chest," he told her.

Her answer to that was to press two glowing hands against his chest. It felt like the touch of a Wraith, and he rose up on his toes and gasped as furiously cold energies raced into him through his wound. That cold was replaced with a surging heat, and the fading of the cold took the pain with it. He put a paw to his chest, and felt smooth, pink skin where a charred hole had been. When did Keritanima learn to heal?

"Where is Dolanna?" Tarrin asked as he looked around. All his friends were there except for Dolanna.

"She's below, resting," Faalken replied. "The circle took alot out of her. I think one of her pupils was holding back some," he said, with an accusing look at Keritanima.

"A circle is always most exhausting for its lead," she replied primly. "I didn't hold anything back. I gave her everything she asked of me, and more."

"Well, it is much of what I can do to stand," Allia said.

"Me too," Dar agreed. "I think Dolanna took a few years of my life back there."

Keritanima turned to where Sheba was sitting on the deck with several of her crew. They were under the careful watch of Kern's men, holding swords on the seated, injured Wikuni. Keritanima's amber eyes were blazing, and the look on her face was infurated, but it didn't seem to impress the notorious pirate. "This is all your doing, you idiot!" she screamed at Sheba. "How dare attack the conveyance of the High Princess! My father will-- "

"Your father was going to pay me a bloody fortune to drag your disobediant tail back to Wikuna," Sheba interrupted. "I may be a pirate, but I have my own priest of Kikalli, wallflower. You'd be flattered to know that your father is offering a fifty thousand crown reward for whoever returns you to him." She looked away. "I saw you in the porthole, and realized that you somehow convinced that cagey old Kern to give you passage. Kern's usually not stupid enough to take on such a dangerous cargo."

Keritanima drew herself up with an icy stare, and looked down at the panther Wikuni. "I think we both know who's the bigger fool here," she said in a cold voice. "I'm not a piece of jewelry you can lock in a trunk and deliver up to my father on a velvet cushion."

"Yes, well, Trevon assured me he could counter the witch cat Kern had on board. If I'd have known he was carrying a pack of Sorcerers to boot, I wouldn't have taken you on." She looked at Tarrin, then put her eyes on the deck resolutely. "At least do me the courtesy of letting me jump overboard."

"I think not," Keritanima snapped. "You were going to collect a bounty on me, so I'm going to return the favor. Dayisè would certainly pay me a pretty penny to hand you over to them, with as many Shacèan ships as you've sunk in the last few years."

"You'll never get anywhere near Dayisè," she snapped in reply, her green eyes blazing. "Damon Eram has every port from Suld to Tor blockaded. Wikuni warships will intercept this ship and search it when you try to approach. And you know what will happen if Wikuni ships find you."

"Then I'll sink them the same way I sunk you," Keritanima told her with a snort and crossed arms. "I'm not just a pretty trinket anymore, Sheba. I have real power now, and I know how to use it."

"What did they teach you, princess?" Sheba sneered. "To roll over and play dead? Maybe how to juggle fire? Perhaps how to whine even louder to get your way?"

Keritanima snarled viciously and grabbed Sheba by the collar, and cocked back her other hand as if to punch the woman. But Sheba's sneering grin faded when fire erupted around Keritanima's closed fist, shrouding it in a fiery nimbus.

"That's enough of that, miss," Faalken told her, pulling her away from Sheba with gentle force and holding her by the shoulders. "It's not seemly to threaten the defeated. It's bad form. And the defeated had better remember which end of the sword is pointing at them," he said in Sheba's direction.

"I think this one is the priest, Highness," Binter said in his deep voice as they looked at him. He was holding a badly injured lion-Wikuni up by the back of his neck, like a large doll. The figure had been wearing robes, but they, as well as most of his fur, had been burned off. His right eye was lost, with a deep slash running above and below the bloody socket.

"Is he dead, Binter?" she asked, her voice still quivering with anger.

"Not yet, Highness, but he will be if he's not healed."

Keritanima only hesitated a second. "Throw him back over the rail, Binter," she said calmly.

"What?" Faalken gasped, as Dar stepped into Keritanima's face and declared "you can't treat him that way!"

"I'm not bringing a hostile priest aboard, Dar," Keritanima said bluntly. "He can bring the entire Wikuni fleet down on our necks. If we save his life, it'll certainly cost us our own."

"It's not right to abandon the injured, no matter how potentially dangerous they could be," Faalken said adamantly. "It's not right."

"I'm sure that the Knights can afford right and wrong, Faalken, but things work a bit differently out in the real world," she replied in a very authoritative voice, as Kern's men took the injured priest from Binter and laid him out on the deck. "The man is a liability, and a risk to our own safety. I won't let him bring more Wikuni onto our tail."

"To show no mercy to a defeated foe is dishonorable," Allia told her. "He should be at least allowed to heal, and then set adrift with supplies. That way he cannot bring harm to us, but we can show the mercy that honor demands."

Cries from Kern's sailors brought attention back to the priest, and all of them watched in not a little shock as Tarrin casually brought his foot down on the injured Wikuni's neck. The blow crushed his windpipe instantly, but the broken neck caused instantaneous death before he had a chance to asphyxiate. Tarrin reached down with his clawed paw and picked up the body, and then callously threw it over the rail. They all stared at him in surprise, and not a few faces had slightly horrified looks on them.

There was no emotion in it for Tarrin. He was an enemy, plain and simple. And enemies were there to be eliminated. He put his staff on his shoulder and regarded all of them with a serious face, devoid of any sign of guilt over his deed. "The problem is solved," he told them all in a calm voice, then he swept that emotionless gaze across the sitting or kneeling pirates. "And the same fate awaits anyone that causes trouble," he warned them in a cold voice, then he pointed to his friends with a clawed finger. "They believe in mercy. I do not. The first time any one of you causes trouble, I'll kill all of you. It's that simple. You're nothing but dead weight to me, and if I had my way, I'd throw all of you over the rail right now."

Without another word, Tarrin walked through them, knew they were watching, that they were surprised at what he did. But he didn't care. Dead weight, that's all those Wikuni were, and they'd be sure to cause grief.

Well, he meant it. The first time one of them caused trouble, he'd kill them all. After all, they were warned.

He walked through them calmly, almost serenely, then went below decks to check on Dolanna, to make sure she was alright.

They meant nothing to him.

"That was some cold-blooded--" Sheba began, but Keritanima cut her off.

"Now maybe you understand what you're dealing with," she warned Sheba. "I'm sure all of you know the kind of person that Royal politics produces. Don't think I'd even blink over having all of you killed. So that means that your behavior is a matter of life and death. Don't forget that."

But the worried look that passed between Keritanima and Allia, out of sight of the others, told the dark-skinned Selani that Keritanima was just as startled and dismayed over what they just watched their beloved brother do as she was.

Allia understood that the transition for Tarrin had been very difficult. She understood that much of what he did was actually the animal inside him reacting to the situation, and for many of his deeds, he could be forgiven. But she had never seen him do, never believed him capable, of what she had just witnessed. Those paws which were so gentle, which handled children with such painstaking care, whose very touch could transmit the warmth that flowed from his heart so freely, she had never before seen them as instruments of death, even when he used them to deliver mortal wounds. She couldn't believe that the sober young man, with such a capacity and compassion for others, was capable of such callous diregard, of such calculated evil.

Biting her lip, she gave Keritanima a very fearful look. He said he had changed. She still couldn't believe that he had changed that much.

It was something of a reversal of roles for him, and it felt strange.

Usually, it was Dolanna that seemed to be there when he awoke from whatever had tried to kill him this time. It felt strange to him to be the one sitting on the edge of the bed, holding Dolanna's hand gently in his paw and waiting for her to wake up. Faalken had assured him that it was nothing but simple exhaustion, and in that respect Tarrin agreed. Leading a circle was an effort, and to use such powerful Sorcery for such a long time had no doubt taken its toll on Dolanna's strength. Dolanna was very skilled, but even she admitted that as Sorcerers went, she was not among the strongest. Where she lacked in raw power, she more than made up for it in skill and experience. What Keritanima or Tarrin could have done without so much as a wave of the hand would put Dolanna on her knees.

Dolanna. She was so much to him. She was a mother and protector, and a part of Tarrin's mind would always respect her, look up to her, seek her out for answers, and her presence always had a calming effect on him. Without Dolanna, he would feel lost, and just the slightest thought that someone would hurt her was enough to make him growl in suppressed rage. He loved her, loved her deeply, but it was a strong love of friendship and trust rather than a romantic interest. Much like the love he held for his sisters. Dolanna was a part of his family, and he would protect her.

"How is she?" Dar asked as he entered. The young Arkisian put his hand on Tarrin's shoulder and looked over him, down at Dolanna. His face was pale, sallow, and it almost looked as if his cheeks were sunken. The effort of the circle had worn on Dar as well, whose power was so new to him. But he still managed a bright smile when Tarrin looked into his eyes, albeit a weary one.

"Fine. And you should be in bed," he said gruffly.

"I'll be alright. I wanted to make sure Mistress Dolanna wasn't hurt."

"She's the same as you, Dar, tired," Tarrin told him. "Now go lay down before you fall over."

"Are you alright, Tarrin?" he asked in concern, the hand on his shoulder gripping slightly. "I saw that burn, and--"

"I'm fine, Dar," he said, cutting him off. "Keritanima healed what I couldn't regenerate."

"And what about the rest of you?" he asked in a compassionate voice. "What I saw you just do wasn't something that the Tarrin I know would have done."

"I do what I have to do," he said bluntly, brushing Dar's hand away. "What you don't understand is that the priest would have done everything Kerri said. This is the real world, my friend, and out here we have to play for keeps. I won't allow any of you to get hurt, Dar. I'll kill ten thousand Wikuni to keep just one of you safe."

"Well, it's nice to be appreciated," Dar told him in a tired voice. "I think I will go lay down. See you later."

Tarrin sat in silence, then was silently joined by Faalken, and they sat in quiet watch over the sleeping Sorceress. Faalken's eyes were calm, but there was just a hint of disapproval in them. Tarrin knew that Faalken disagreed with what he did, but he would live with it. Faalken was a realist, and in time, he'd understand.

After a time, Dolanna drew in a deeper breath, and they both leaned in as she opened her eyes. Those dark eyes were clear and lucid, but her face still looked drawn and exhausted. "What a welcome," she said with a gentle smile, squeezing Tarrin's paw fondly. "I am flattered, my dear one, that you would stand vigil."

"Of course I would, Dolanna," he told her gently. "How are you feeling?"

"I am tired," she announced. "But a night of sleep will correct that problem. Are we safe from the Wikuni?"

"Aye, Dolanna," Faalken said. "Tarrin's little stunt threw them into disorder, and after Sheba's priest whacked Tarrin with magic, Keritanima went nuts and blew up the pirate ship. We have the survivors on deck."

"Kerri did that?" Tarrin said in wonder.

Faalken nodded. "I guess she knew where and how to hit it," he replied. "It took just one shot of Sorcery, and it went up in a fireball."

"Keritanima would know where the ship's stores of gunpowder are kept," Dolanna said in a tired voice. "What about our crew?"

"No casualties aside from those taken before you raised that barrier," he reported. "Kern's already repairing the damage, and he says we'll be under way by morning."

"Excellent. Make sure Captain Kern understands that haste is essential, Faalken. We must be in Dayisè before the carnival leaves port."

"I remind him about every hour, Dolanna," Faalken told her. "Would you like some tea?"

"Yes, please," she replied. "Tarrin, a word with you," she said as Faalken left to fetch her some tea.

"Yes, Dolanna?"

"Never do that again," she told him adamantly. "You scared a year from my life when you jumped out of the rigging."

"Well," he said sheepishly, scrubbing the back of his head with his claws, "it was the only thing I could think of to keep a whole bunch of our people from getting killed. I wasn't about to let them board the ship."

"Tarrin," she said in exasperation, "I know you mean well, but you must start doing what I tell you to do. Your constant rushing off to complete your own plans is eventually going to cost us."

"Well, you never told me not to board their vessel, Dolanna."

"Stop splitting hairs with me, young one," she said in a commanding tone. "I will have your word that you will not do such a crazy thing again without at least warning me first. Had I thought to have Keritanima tell me how to strike the ship with Sorcery, you would now be on the bottom of the sea."

"Alright," he told her. "No more crazy stunts."

"That sounded suitably evasive to me, young one," she warned in a frosty tone. "I will have your word not to strike out on your own without warning me first."

He gave her a penetrating look, but there was no way he could match wills against Dolanna. "Alright, alright, I promise," he said. "I'll tell you what I intend to do."

Faalken returned with a steaming cup of tea. "Here we are," Faalken said, sitting down and handing the cup and saucer to Dolanna after she sat up and leaned against the back wall bracing the bunk in which she was laying.

"Thank you, Faalken," Dolanna said. "Now then, young one, I think you should go above and help with the repairs. They could use someone with your advantages in their task."

"Yes, Dolanna," he said automatically, and he stood up. She smiled patted his paw, and that made him feel much better for some reason. "I'll make sure we're under way by sunrise."

Tarrin leaned down and allowed her to kiss him on the cheek, then he left her. Now that he knew she would be fine, he felt alot better.

The Star of Jerod was underway again by morning. The sterncastle was only partially repaired, with planking laid over the wide hole caused by the attack, and a couple of the ship's sails had to be replaced. A new wheel had been hastily built, which looked almost comically slapdash, but it worked. The ropes that tied the wheel to the rudder had been repaired. Tarrin, Binter, and Sisska had a great deal to do with the speed of the repairs. Their inhuman strength, combined with their clawed appendages, allowed them to scurry up and down the masts and pull up booms, spars, and sails. Tarrin was totally at home and at ease in the rigging, scampering from boom to boom and mast to mast with total disregard for gravity, focusing on the job at hand. Direction from the sailors told him where to take what, and that allowed them to get the galleon back to where it could get them into port.

The captured Wikuni had nowhere to be other than the deck because of a full hold, and that was where they stayed the night. Tarrin watched them half the night, unable to sleep himself, watched them sulking and giving the men Kern put to guarding them dirty looks. Tarrin had the feeling that his presence in the rigging was a very healthy deterrent to a possible attempt to escape their irons and try to take over the ship. In all, they were defiant and abrasive, but he could smell their fear. They knew what the shore held in store for them. Sheba was listless and sluggish, and the other Wikuni seemed to be demoralized from their commander's lack of desire to try to escape.

The morning was bright and sunny, surprisingly warm, and a strong wind pushed the Star of Jerod steadily to the southeast, to the island city of Dayisè. Tarrin lounged in Miranda's lap as she worked her needlepoint with steady, smooth strokes, and nearby were Faalken, Azakar, Binter and Sisska undergoing their daily practice sessions. Azakar hadn't really tried to bully him since he cut him, and Tarrin rather preferred it that way. He didn't need a nursemaid. He was sorry that he scratched the Mahuut, but he did like the way things turned out. The captive Wikuni watched the four warriors practice with steady, emotionless expressions, seemingly understanding that they would be facing some serious adversaries if they tried to rebel. Dolanna was recovered, and had the others below so she could instruct them in Sorcery with the presence of the Wikuni upsetting her students. Dolanna was still unhappy that he didn't take part in her sessions, but she didn't understand things.

If he did go to her instruction, he'd want to use Sorcery. He'd already found out what kind of danger that possessed. He wanted to learn about it, but not when it made him yearn to reach out for the Weave. Before the power of High Sorcery found him, the feeling of the Weave was...sweet. Almost a physical sensation of pleasure. He liked touching the Weave, he liked using Sorcery. But when it could cost him his life to do it, he couldn't afford any temptations. He needed to talk to her about it, to explain it. Maybe she would have an idea if he told her the same way he thought about it. But when he talked to her, more often than not, his true feelings or ideas didn't seem to want to come out. He didn't know why they did that, but they did. Only Allia, who knew him so intimately, could manage to see to the heart of things where he was concerned, though Keritanima had gotten better and better at it lately. He thought it was yet another aspect of the Cat rising up in him, making him want to be secretive, as cats tended to be.

It did seem to fit.

Closing his eyes the instant Miranda's fingers touched the back of his head, he submitted to her as she scratched him behind the ears. "I'm almost finished with this," she told him, taking her hand away. He looked up at it, and saw that it was a rather pretty embroidered representation of a shaeram, done on the breast of one of Keritanima's silk dresses. Miranda's work was exacting, precise, and very elegant, much as the mink Wikuni's personality tended to be. Miranda was a perfectionist, he'd learned, and she was good enough never to be too far off that lofty mark. "I guess I have enough time to put some roses on the cuffs. Binter, how far are we from Dayisè?" she called.

"By this speed, we should make it in three days, Lady Miranda," he replied calmly, even as he used his heavy tail to bludgeon Azakar to the deck. Binter and Sisska manhandled the oversized human youth in ways that Faalken never could, but it was good for him. A good student was one that could be overmatched by his instructor. That gave the student the respect he needed to accept training from the instructor, because an instructor that could be defeated by his student wouldn't be taken seriously by the student once he realized that. "Keep your guard up, Azakar," Binter chided. "Expect attack from any direction."

"I'm still not used to the tail," he complained.

"Then adjust," Sisska told him in a voice remarkably similar to her lifemate's. "There is no room for error in battle, young one. There is life and death, and death brings little honor."

"And never underestimate the opponent," Binter told him again. That was something that Binter preached. "Treat any foe as if it were capable of killing you, because it can. Give honor to your foe, as is only proper for one willing to gamble its life against yours."

"I already learned that lesson," Azakar grunted, and Faalken laughed.

"That he did. Tarrin almost broke him over his knee," the Knight laughed.

"Now, guard stance," Sisska ordered, taking her lifemate's place as Azakar's opponent.

Tarrin watched Sisska maul Azakar for several moments, giving the young man a very pointed reminder that, though he was competent and well trained, he was still just a baby compared to grizzled veterans like Sisska, Binter, and Faalken. But that was only entertaining for so long. He felt the sudden urge to see if he could find that last rat that had managed to elude him down in the hold, so he jumped down from Miranda's lap and padded across the deck, heading for the stairs going below. He passed in front of the seated, chained Wikuni without fear, ignoring their looks of fear and hate.

But he had gotten just a little bit too close. He glanced one of the Wikuni suddenly drop down, and then something hit him in the back. He felt his back snap as something crushed him into the deck, and only air and blood escaped from his mouth as he was crushed under a great weight. But the attacking object was neither silver nor magical, and his body mended itself almost as quickly as it had been injured. Blind rage flew into his mind in a fleeting instant, and he quickly shapeshifted back into his humanoid form. That move incited several gasps and cries of shock from the Wikuni, who had never seen him do that and probably hadn't realized that the witch-cat and the cat-like man were the same being. But his attention, and his sudden anger, was directed at the large hyena Wikuni that had brought the heel of his boot down on his back, trying to kill him. That Wikuni's eyes were bulging in confusion and fear, which turned to horror when Tarrin grabbed that foot by the ankle before he could draw it away.

Tarrin's method of punishment was as final as it was direct. Holding the Wikuni by the ankle, he dragged the hyena, who was now shrieking in terror, close enough to grab him. Claws plunged into the Wikuni's chest, tearing a scream of agony from the hyena, which escalated into a ragged shriek when Tarrin's claws hooked into him and picked him up off the deck. With that bloody hold on the body, the Were- cat reared back with a clenched fist and punched the Wikuni dead in the mouth, with enough force to snap the head back unnaturally far to the accompanying sound of breaking bone, and make the entire body shudder. The impact was enough to rip his claws from the chest as the body recoiled from the power of the blow, pulling out a section of rib with it as the dead Wikuni dropped to the deck. Tarrin relaxed his claws, dropping the length of pink bone absently, and glared at the remaining Wikuni with death burning in his eyes.

"Tarrin, no," Miranda said in a sharp voice. She was standing, the dress folded over her arm, showing no fear of the situation. Tarrin's blood boiled, the Cat raging up from the corner of his mind in a fury, and his every instinct told him to kill these dangerous enemies before they did something else to mess things up, but the calm command in Miranda's voice took hold of him at that same level that caused him to be so infatuated with her. He found himself stepping back from them almost unwillingly, eyes locked on Miranda, who showed no fear and did not blink when she stared him down. "I think the survivors will be much more, tractable, now. No doubt they'll prefer the hangman's rope over having you be the last thing they see."

"By the Scar, Tarrin, do you always have to be so messy?" Faalken asked disapprovingly, looking at the wide pool of blood forming around the body of the Wikuni that attacked him.

"Be a dear, Tarrin, and dispose of that," she said, pointing at the corpse.

Without changing his stony expression, Tarrin picked up the body, by the free-moving head, carried to the rail, and then threw it over the side and sent it into the deep. He had no idea why he was obeying Miranda, but he was. Much as he had once felt about Azakar, a subtle intimidation present in her eyes that was sufficient enough to force him to obey. Almost as an afterthought, he picked up the rib and tossed it over the side

"Now, it's your choice, honored guests," Miranda told the Wikuni bluntly. "You can behave and live to see Dayisè, or Tarrin will kill you one by one. It's your choice."

"Here now, what foolishness is this?" Kern demanded as he scurried from the stern. "Did ye just kill a prisoner, Tarrin?"

"He was attacked first, Master Kern," Miranda said calmly. "If he was a normal cat, it would have killed him. I heard his back break."

"Aye, Captain," Faalken agreed. "I saw it myself. The dearly departed smashed Tarrin to the deck with his foot as he walked past. He got what was coming to him."

Kern gave Tarrin a wary eye, then he nodded. "Alright then. Just be more careful, lad. No need to tempt them into such things. Just keep a good distance from them."

Tarrin leveled a flat glare at Kern and growled at him, which made Kern take a quick step back. "N-Now see here, lad, on my ship you obey my orders. I tell you now to keep your distance from the prisoners."

Still baring his fangs, Tarrin weighed the threat in that challenge. Kern was respected, and Tarrin would feel bad if he killed him. It wasn't seemly to kill respected individuals, unless there was a really good reason. Kern was right that his authority on the ship was absolute, and Tarrin had to respect that authority. It was only seemly to obey the laws of someone else's den. Lowering his lips, hiding those long, white fangs, Tarrin only nodded with a grim expression, then turned his back on the prisoners, shifted into cat form, and padded over to the bulwark and laid down in a rope coil not far away.

If anything, that one act had utterly silenced the Wikuni. They no longer whispered among themselves, and almost every eye was pinned to where Tarrin lay, seemingly asleep.

"Mind ye, if a one of ye gives him another reason to kill, I won't stand in his way," Kern warned them. "Ye can hang from a yardarm in Dayisè, or ye can get your sorry carcasses tossed over the side. As lady Miranda said to ye, it be your choice."

That generally ended that. Azakar and the Vendari went back to training with Faalken observing, and the Wikuni were very quiet and very still. Kern returned to the sterncastle, but Miranda knelt by the rope coil and gave him a disapproving look. "I don't know how you keep getting yourself into trouble, you wayward child," she told him with a sudden impish grin and a wink. She reached down and picked him up, then settled him on her lap again as she sat back down to her needlepoint.

Dolanna, however, wasn't quite so receptive to the news. After they came back on deck from their instruction, he could clearly see her eyes flash, and see the infuriated expression on her face as Kern informed her of the incident. Tarrin didn't quite understand why she was getting so angry. The Wikuni had attacked first, and Tarrin had warned them what would happen if they tried anything. There was no blame on him in the matter. In fact, he had told them that he'd kill them all. And he would have, if Miranda hadn't interceded. They weren't important, weren't even worthy of having their sorry pelts pulled out of the sea. They were pirates, predators of the shipping lanes, and they deserved to die for those crimes. And every moment they were on deck was a blaring shout in his ears that his family was in danger. He hadn't had any decent rest since they were brought on board, and he doubted he'd have any until they were gone.

"Tarrin, come here," Dolanna ordered in a hostile voice, pointing to the deck in front of her.

Tarrin looked up at Miranda, who calmly moved the dress and her arm so he could jump down from her lap. He did so, approaching his mentor with not a little trepidation, sitting calmly in front of her and waiting.

"What you have done is reprehensible," she told him. "You specifically promised me that you would not do such things, and it took you all of a day to break your word. You are coming close to forcing me to punish you, and that is something that neither of us will enjoy."

"It wasn't my fault," Tarrin replied to her in the manner of the Cat.

"Do not meow at me, student," she snapped in a commanding tone. "Present yourself to me this instant."

Tarrin forgot that she couldn't understand him like that. He shapeshifted to his humanoid form, going from having her tower over him to towering over her, looking down at her with a curiously neutral expression. "It wasn't my fault," he repeated. "They attacked me first. They knew the punishment for disobedience."

"That is not your decision to make!" she raged at him. "It is not your place to determine who lives and who does not! This vessel is under the flag of Kern, and those matters are for him and him alone to determine!" She crossed her arms and glared up at him, which took Tarrin aback. This kind of vehemence was so totally unlike Dolanna that he wasn't sure if she was as well as she led him to believe. "You are acting little better than them, Tarrin!" she said, pointing savagely at the captive Wikuni. "You disappoint me."

Tarrin lowered his head. There wasn't very much he could say to that. He had no regrets over what he did, only that Dolanna seemed to disagree with them. Her opinion of him, and her friendship, were very important to him. He stared at the deck in front of her plain brown dress, noticing that she was wearing new slippers.

"Look at me, Tarrin," she ordered, and he met her gaze involuntarily. "No more of this. Do you understand me? No more. From now on, you adhere to the rightful law, rather than your own."

"Yes ma'am," he said guiltily.

"Now go below. You are to spend the day in your room. You may come out at dinner."

He glared at her suddenly, more than a little irritated that she would dare to punish him, but the steel in her eyes caused his indignance to fade to an expression of suppliance. "Yes ma'am," he sighed, shuffling past her, shifting back into cat form, then walking slowly towards the stairs.

In the tiny cabin he shared with Dar, Tarrin silently fumed. The idea of being sent to him room was infuriating enough, but to be punished for something that was the right thing to do annoyed him to no end. He wouldn't dare cross Dolanna, he had too much respect and love for her, and he admitted to himself that she was the dominant in their relationship. She was like a mother-figure to him, and that alone was the only thing that made him obey her. He would do almost anything for her out of love and respect, but that authority was enough to make him do the rest of it against his will.

That he would show throat to someone he could break over his knee made him snort slightly, but that was the way things were.

He paced back and forth on the floor, his mind racing, but then he began to calm down as the instincts of the Cat, so strong in him when in cat form, began to defuse his anger. It saw no reason to be angry. He was there because he agreed to it. He could have refused. And after all, the room wasn't that bad. It had a nice bed with soft covers that were perfect for snuggling down and sleeping out a boring day. He jumped up onto the bed and did just that, laying down on top of the goosefeather pillow, letting the scents of the wool and cotton and feathers mingle with the salt air and the tar and wood of the ship, and the lingering scents of Dar and his sisters, who visited the room quite often. Those scents were the important ones, the smells of family. It made him miss his natural parents and Jenna, dearly loved people whose faces and scents were still sharp and clear in his mind. Those thoughts conjured up the vision of Janette, his little mother, and that immediately brought a blanket of content security and warmth over him. Thinking of Janette never failed to make him feel like purring. They were few, but they were his family, the people that he loved, and the only reason he was on the ship, heading out into unknown dangers against his own instincts, was because of them.

So much of everything centered on them. They were everything to him, and there wasn't anything that he wouldn't do, no depth to which he wouldn't go, to defend and protect them. His sanity almost orbited his tight-knit group of friends and siblings. Without them, there just didn't seem to be any reason to be here. Every day he would look out over the sea, and the vision of his home would appear, the cool forests at the edge of the Frontier. The place he grew up, the familiar paths and game trails, the little village with the hardy people who lived on the fringe of civilization and accepted life as it came to them. He had no reason to be here aside from his oath to the Goddess and his friends. But the word he gave to the Goddess was an intangible thing, and because of that, the Cat in him had trouble rationalizing his devotion to it. But his friends were an immediate, tactile foundation to which to attach his life and his focus. He had been withdrawn from them lately, not very talkative, existing at the edge of their circles, but they had become the totality of his life. Without them, he would leave the ship, leave the quest, and return to Aldreth.

At least he thought so. It wasn't something that he thought of for very long, when he allowed himself to think about it at all.

He had had enough of thinking for a while. Curling his tail around himself, he settled in and, in an exercise that was no longer more than an idle thought, lured himself to sleep.

That sleep was disturbed by the smells of pork stew. Opening his eyes, he saw Dar entering the cabin carrying a thick bowl of it. Dar was sweating, and the acrid scent of it marred his usually pleasant spice- like scent that all Arkisians seemed to have. It wasn't all that warm, so he must have been laboring on the deck.

"Tarrin," he said with a smile, holding up the bowl. "I brought you some lunch."

Jumping down off the bed, Tarrin shifted back into his humanoid form and looked down at the youth. Dar's brown eyes were as compassionate and expressive as ever, eyes that could never hide the young man's true feelings. Anyone with a mind to do so could read Dar's every emotion in those brown eyes. Those eyes looked at him with friendship, even a little fraternal love, and he smiled as he offered the bowl. Dar had always been a good friend, a true friend. He didn't speak that much, intimidated by the august presences that surrounded him, and it was very easy to overlook him when he stood among the giants and rarities that made up Dolanna's rather unique travelling retinue. He wasn't Were or non-human. He wasn't powerful or massive. He wasn't commanding and regal. He was just Dar, and Tarrin wouldn't want him any other way. A sincere young man with a large, good heart and the amazing ability to make friends with anyone.

"Thanks, Dar, I was getting a little hungry," he said, taking the bowl. "I'm surprised Dolanna let you bring it."

"She didn't," he said with a cherubic smile. "I didn't exactly tell her."

"You'll get in trouble."

"So?"

Tarrin smiled in spite of himself. "Is she still mad?"

"Not exactly mad," he replied, sitting down on his narrow bunk as Tarrin did the same at his bunk and began to eat. "I think annoyed would be a better term. She was rather irritated that you did what you did."

"He had it coming," Tarrin said immediately, enjoying the cacophony of various tastes in the stew. Kern's cook was a skilled man, capable of doing wonders with salted sea rations, and Kern both cursed him for his eccentricities and praised him for the morale he brought to the crew. He was a Shacèan, and they were well known for the many fine chefs that their kingdom produced. Shacè was a kingdom of indulgent diners, so they demanded fine cuisine prepared by highly trained cooks to satisfy that desire.

"That may be, but I think you'd better avoid Allia for a while."

"Why?"

"Because she is mad at you," he told him. "She wasn't happy at all over what you did. You know how Selani are. She said what you did was dishonorable."

"She'll get over it."

"She will, but until she does, we have to suffer. Have you ever seen her when she's angry?"

Tarrin chuckled. "I have," he said. "Maybe you should send her in here."

"I guess. Maybe Kern will let me ride behind the ship in a rowboat until it's over."

Tarrin gave him a slight smile as he got up and left, and he took that opportunity to finish his stew before Allia arrived. When she did, he very prudently put the bowl under the bunk, out of her immediate reach. She looked very hostile, and her scent was sharp and almost emanated her displeasure. She glared at him a moment. "Dar said you wanted to see me?" she said in a stiff voice, in common. That was a certain signal that she was very unhappy.

"I always want to see you, Allia," he told her. "Now just get it off your chest."

That was done with no reservations. Tarrin's head snapped to the side when her open palm struck him in the cheek. Allia was slender and had a very feminine form, but her wiry arms held deceptive, considerable power. Arms used to swinging weapons put enough behind the blow to jar a tooth partially loose. "You dishonor the clan, brother!" she snapped at him in Selani. "You killed a defeated opponent, then you killed a prisoner, someone who could not fight back! That is cowardice! If the Holy Mother were to witness such dishonor, she would burn your brands from your shoulders!"

Tarrin rubbed his cheek, looking at her calmly. "Be that as it may, sometimes we have to do things that seem dishonorable to survive, Allia," he told her. "Keritanima would agree with me."

"There is no life in dishonor!" she raged. "You have shamed the clan, and our family!"

"Why? Because I saved us alot of grief, or because I retaliated against someone who tried to kill me?"

"What do you mean?"

"Didn't they tell you? That prisoner stomped on me. He broke my back, and if I had been a normal cat, it would have killed me. I may have killed a chained prisoner, but he tried to murder a defenseless animal."

She looked a bit taken aback. "No, they didn't tell me that," she admitted. "In that situation, I guess it would be sanctioned to strike back. He did hit you first, and so he was prepared to accept the consequences. But that doesn't absolve you for the priest," she said sternly. "Honor demands showing mercy to the defeated. Killing him like that was dishonorable!"

"He wasn't helpless, and he was far from defeated, sister," he told her. "If he'd recovered, he would have used his powers to call the entire Wikuni fleet down on our heads. I did that to protect us, and no other reason. I wasn't about to let him call in more ships to try to sink us."

"That doesn't matter, my brother," she said sternly. "You can't judge people by what they might do."

"I wasn't. I was judging him by what he already did," he told her. "They attacked us, Allia. That made them enemies! You told me yourself that you show no mercy to an opponent."

"Unless the opponent surrenders!" she snapped.

"He never surrendered."

"He wasn't capable of surrendering!" she said, with a bit of exasperation in her voice. "Stop trying to dance around the matter, Tarrin. It's not going to work!"

"Honor may not like what I did, but the situation justified it," he said bluntly. "He was in a position to bring harm to us, and I won't let anyone hurt you, Allia. I'll kill a thousand men to keep one from laying a finger on you."

"I don't need your protection, my brother," she said in a cool voice. "I am an adult, a branded member of society, and if you don't recall, I taught you how to fight. I don't need you standing behind me with your arms around my waist."

"It's not just you," he said, turning around. "It's Kerri and Dar and Faalken and Zak and everyone. You're all I have, and just the thought that something may happen--" he bowed his head and crossed his arms before him. "I feel myself slipping more and more every day, sister," he said quietly. "I'm changing. I'm turning, hard. And I don't care. If someone were to hurt one of you, I don't know what I would do. I'd probably destroy myself and everyone around me."

"Tarrin," Allia said gently, putting a slender, four- fingered hand on his shoulder. "You shouldn't worry about such things like that. We are your friends, but we are not your children. We can take care of ourselves."

"I know that, sister, but I still can't help worrying," he said gruffly. "I've heard Dolanna talking. I know what's happening to me. She says I'm turning feral. Well, I guess she's right. She keeps saying that you are the only things keeping me from slipping away from the civilized world. I think she's right again. If you were--" he stopped, then collected himself. "If you and the others died, there wouldn't be anything left for me. I don't think the Goddess herself could keep me out here. There isn't a day that goes by when I don't yearn for the forest, for home, but my oath to the Goddess keeps me out here, on this damned ship, away from where I want to be."

"Home is in your heart, not at a fire," she told him, embracing him from behind. "I think you're wrong about things, my brother. You're much stronger than you'll admit to yourself. You don't have to cling to me, to cling to us. You can stand on your own feet."

"Sometimes I wish it were that easy, deshaida," he sighed. "I've been trying."

"That is why you're staying away?"

"Partly. I don't go to your classes because I don't want to learn Sorcery right now. The main reason is, well, I guess I don't have much to say."

"You've said a great deal to me today," she challenged. "We are family, Tarrin. These are things you should have told me rides ago."

"Probably, but it's hard to put it in words, sister," he said. "And I don't want to worry you."

"We worry as a family, brother," she said to him in a voice of unshakable resolve. "We are a family. The burdens of the clan are shared equally." He turned around and looked at her. "Keritanima and I, we are your family, my brother. There is nothing you can't tell us. We will always be here for you."

More than once, he'd seen Allia's nearly unnatural ability to completely overwhelm someone with an eloquent sentence or two. She didn't speak much, but she always knew exactly what to say. He embraced her wordlessly, letting her loyalty in him bolster him, calm his worries. Allia was a being of unfathomable strength. He tended to forget that, and the reminders of it always managed to surprise him. With her support and love, he knew that things would eventually work themselves out.

The morning was bright and sunny, but a bank of clouds hung heavily on the western horizon. Tarrin sat sedately on Miranda's lap as she worked on a sleeve of one of Keritanima's dresses, her hands moving with that exacting precision and speed that always impressed the Were-cat. She could write even faster. She was embroidering tiny little roses on the cuff of the sleeve of the cream- colored dress.

It was a day, much like any other on board the ship. Azakar was being harried by Faalken, Binter, and Sisska near the stern, and Dolanna had Keritanima, Dar, and Allia near the bow, teaching them more and more about Sorcery. Tarrin didn't really have anywhere to go, so he kept Miranda company. Not that she needed company. Miranda seemed to be perfectly content to be alone, just as she seemed to be content to be with company. She was an enigmatic Wikuni, and someone to whom Tarrin could relate. He rather enjoyed someone who didn't talk for the sake of talking, like some others did.

"You're getting in the way, Tarrin," she chided, lifting the sleeve up so she could see what she was doing.

He hunkered down, then laid down on her lap, letting her return to her more comfortable position. His eyes were on the prisoners. They sat amidships, under lean-tos made of sailcloth, with two cutlass- wielding sailors keeping an eye on them. They were universally quiet and a bit sulky, and he could understand why. But not one could look in his direction and hold his gaze for more than a moment, other than Sheba. She seemed almost indignant in her glares at him. She was chained to the other pirates, but she stood where they sat. The days since the loss of her ship had seemingly returned her combative personality, as she shook off the defeat and the imprisonment. She was nearly getting cocky again, being waspish with the men guarding her. Her behavior confused him, because only a day ago, she was more than willing to jump over the rail and let the sea claim her. Something had changed that had curbed her desire for self-destruction, but he couldn't imagine what it could be.

He jumped down off Miranda's lap and changed form, then leaned against the bulwark and rail and looked down at the insufferably cute mink Wikuni. She glanced at him and gave him a cheeky grin, then went back to her needlepoint. "You want to talk?" she asked.

"I guess," he replied.

"Something had to get you off my lap and back on two feet," she said with a wink. "The only thing you can't do like that is talk. That kind of narrows the options, you know."

"I'm just wondering what's made Sheba so happy," he said, looking down at his claws and inspecting them.

"I'm not sure yet," she replied. "I've been watching her, and she's definitely thinking that her flag's been raised to the top of the mainmast." She bit the green thread apart, then pulled out a spool of red thread from the shoulder satchel she commonly carried about. "I can't see a reason for it."

"Do you think that it's dangerous for us?"

"I doubt it," she replied. "She only has twelve men, where we have nearly fourty, and several of which could kill her entire complement single-handedly. She's not going to start trouble. She'll be keelhauled if she does, and she knows it."

"I've never understood that term."

"What term?"

"Keelhauled."

"Well, when you keelhaul someone, you tie a rope to them then throw them off the bow of the ship," she replied. "They get pulled under, and dragged against the ship's bottom. That may not sound bad, but there are these little shellfish called barnacles that collect on a ship's bottom, and their shells are sharper than the edge of a good sword. It's about the same as getting dragged behind a horse over broken glass. There isn't much left that comes out from behind the stern."

"Sounds unpleasant."

"Slightly. Ships have to pull up onto beaches from time to time to get their hulls scraped. The barnacles slow a ship down. It's a messy job, and most sailors that get roped into it have shredded meat for hands by the time they're done, if they're not careful."

"I wonder who thought that kind of punishment up."

"Not someone I'd like to meet, I assure you," Miranda said, threading her needle.

"For someone who hates to sail, you know alot about sailing."

"I'm Wikuni, Tarrin," she grinned. "I may not like sailing or the sea, but I can't get away from it. Not when it's my people's national pasttime."

"You have a point there," he admitted.

"This girl will keep her tail on dry land, thank you," she said. "At least when I can."

"How is Kerri?"

Miranda glanced at him. "That's a strange question."

"Well, I haven't really been talking to her lately," he admitted. "I haven't been talking to anyone, for that matter."

"Whose fault is that?"

"Let's not go there, Miranda."

A sudden gust blew up, causing the sails above to snap against the force, making him look up. The wind was picking up ahead of that line of clouds, obviously a storm line, and the ship began to pick up its speed. It began to rock to and fro slightly as it plowed into the waves.

"Looks like we'll be making up some time," Miranda said, looking up. "That rainline won't hit us for hours, and it's going to push us ahead of it. We may be in Dayisè tomorrow night."

"I didn't realize we were so close."

"How big do you think Shacè is,Tarrin?" she winked.

"I grew up in a village, Miranda," he replied. "To me, the next village was an entire world away. The whole world seems big to me."

"I guess it is, but to a ship, distances don't mean that much," she said. "Only really serious trips, like back to Wikuna, take a long time."

"How long did it take you to get here?" he asked curiously.

"Almost two months," she replied. It would take a little over a month to get back to Wikuna, if we were going that way."

"Why the difference?"

"It has to do with wind and sea currents," she replied. "There are wind patterns and an ocean current that make getting to Wikuna from here faster than getting here from there. To get here, a ship has to sail from the northern lattitudes. That's why the Stormhavens and Suld are such large ports, and we visit them so often. To get back to Wikuna, we'd have to leave from Dayisè and travel along the southern lattitudes, where the winds favor a westward journey."

"I didn't know that," he said musingly. "It's surprising the Wikuni go so far from home."

"To most Wikuni, the sea is home," she replied calmly. "Those back in Wikuna just hold down the homeland until it's their turn to go out."

"Strange."

"We're a race of wanderers, Tarrin. I guess it would seem strange to someone that would have been happy sitting in one place all his life."

"Oh, not me," he chuckled. "I was getting out of Aldreth. I wanted to see some of the world."

"Well, you've seen some of it. What do you think so far?"

"I think I'd have enjoyed it a great deal better if things had gone differently," he said soberly, flexing his paw. "Much differently."

"Do you regret it?"

He looked out to sea, his expression distant. "I want to, but I can't. Part of being like this is a sort of forced acceptance. The instincts have imprinted on me, Miranda, in a way that makes it hard for me to remember how I used to be. Even the first day after the change, I wasn't sure if I'd been born any other way."

"Hmm," she said, putting a finger to her cheek and regarding him. "I wonder what you looked like, before that happened."

"Now that, I can show you," he said, closing his eyes. It had been a while since he'd done it, and he had good reason. Looking within, he tried to conjure up an image of himself before he changed, but it wasn't easy. That part of his life seemed like ancient history, and he had to concentrate before he felt ready to attempt a change. He gritted his teeth and did so, feeling his body contract slightly as it was forced to flow into a mold that didn't entirely contain it. He felt the muggy sea air on his human hands and feet, felt it on his human ears, and felt the immediate nagging ache spring up throughout his entire body. He turned to face her, saw her surprised expression, holding his arms out so she could see that he really didn't look that much different at all.

"I didn't know you can do that," she remarked. "Keritanima never told me."

"I don't do it often, because holding the human shape is unnatural for Were-cats," he told her, feeling the aching turn into a pounding throb that coursed through his body, keeping time with his heart. "It's painful." He reverted back to his natural, humanoid form, and felt the ache immediately vanish. He swished his tail a few times to get the tingles out of it.

"Well, call me partial, but I like you better this way," she said with a wink. "You look better with fur, Tarrin."

"I would call you partial, Miranda," he said, running a fingertip up her white-furred arm.

Keritanima, Allia, and Dar emerged from the doorway leading below, and they immediately rushed over to Tarrin and Miranda. "You missed a great session, Tarrin!" Dar said. "I managed my first Illusion!"

"He's good," Keritanima admitted. "I couldn't tell it from the real thing. Dar seems to have a natural aptitude for it."

"It's that artist's soul, sister," Tarrin told her. "Dar has a vivid imagination,and that's vital for good illusions." He turned to Dar. "Show me."

He nodded, closing his eyes and looking like he was concentrating. That looked out of place on the dusky-skinned youth's usually amiable, carefree face. Tarrin felt him make contact with the Weave, and a perfect image of a brightly-plumed, short- beaked bird, green with tail feathers of red and gold and a heavy, hooked beak that narrowed down to a very sharp point, appeared before them, flying in place. There was no sound or scent to the image, for those required seperate weaves to create, but Tarrin had to admit that it looked absolutely real. "Impressive," he said, looking at it. "That's really very good work, Dar. I think you found your talent."

Dar absolutely beamed.

"Is that what you studied today?" Tarrin asked Keritanima.

She nodded. "Dolanna's been teaching us weave by weave. I wish she'd just show me all of them. She knows I just have to see her do them, then have her explain to me which flows to nip and tuck to alter the weaves."

"Put a sock in it, Kerri," Dar told her. "At least you didn't complain today."

"Complain? What about?" Tarrin asked.

"Dolanna usually teaches us weaves that our sister already knows," Allia replied to that. "Our deshaida is easily bored, and she complains about it. That interrupts our studies."

"I can't help it if I learn faster than you two," Keritnaima said defensively.

"You can't help it that Lula taught you all that when she wasn't supposed to," Tarrin retorted.

"Well, that too," she admitted with a slight grin. "Have our guests caused any mischief, Miranda?"

"None today, Highness," Miranda replied in that calm, sober voice of hers. "Sheba has been acting like the queen of Garramon, but there hasn't been any other unusual activity."

"Is that so? I wonder what's gotten her all confident all of the sudden."

"Feel free to find out," Tarrin told her.

She looked at him. "You're awfully talkative today," she noted. "Decided to give over on the isolation attitude and spend time with your sisters again?"

"Want me to go back up the mast?" he asked pointedly.

"No!" she said instantly, putting her hands on his forearm. "I'm not saying it's bad, I'm just saying you're doing it. I'm glad you're talking again. I missed you, brother. I don't have anyone to laugh at when you're not around."

He gave her a sudden glare, but she laughed and put her arms around him fondly, then gave him a light lick on the cheek. Her version of a kiss.

"Looks like Zak's getting beat up more than usual today," Dar said, looking to where the warriors were training. Azakar was indeed being manhandled by Sisska, but that in itself wasn't unusual. It was the blood flowing from the cut on his forehead and his shoulder that made it different. Sisska was using a sword, and it was apparent she was sparring with full contact.

"I don't know why they're so hard on him," Miranda said.

"Because an enemy would be even harder on him," Allia answered. "Right now, Azakar must learn how to focus through the pain of his injuries and keep his mind on the task at hand. It is as much a training exercise as learning how to use a weapon."

"My mother used to do that to me," Tarrin grunted. "But she used a padded wooden pole."

"Why not a sword?" Allia asked.

"She didn't believe in scarring up her son," he replied. "She believed that scars were trophies, and she wasn't about to give me any false trophies."

"I've heard alot about your mother, Tarrin," Keritanima said. "I'd really like to meet her."

"She's curious about you," he said. "So is my father."

"Why is that?"

"Because they know you're not a ditz," he told her.

"You told them?"

"Sure," he said. "Because I know they won't let it go any further."

"See if I tell you any more secrets," she fumed. "I'm mad at you, Tarrin!"

"You don't have any more secrets, Kerri," he said with an exaggerated calm.

She was about to retort to that, but Dolanna joined them from the stern. She was wearing a plain brown dress, just like many of her others, and she was carrying a book, held in the crook of her arm. "Kern says that we will reach Dayisè tomorrow," she announced.

"What will he do with them?" Dar asked, motioning at the prisoners.

"Most likely, he will hand them over to the authorities," she replied. "The amount of gold offered for their capture is considerable. It will more than pay for the trouble we have caused him."

"I'm glad he's getting something for it," Tarrin said. "We've cost him crewmen, starved the ones that are still alive, forced him to dock in a pirate's nest, and gotten his ship beaten up." He made a face. "Tomas is going to kill me."

"I am sure that Tomas knew there was a risk that his ship would come under attack, young one," Dolanna assured him. "That he was there to offer us passage was a gift from the Goddess."

"Sometimes I think I wandered into his yard by more than accident," Tarrin said, mainly to himself.

"I sure wish I could have met them," Dar said. "From the way Tarrin described them, they were good people."

"They certainly are, Dar," Dolanna agreed. "They are very good people."

"Tarrin knows how to pick friends. After all, look who he has with him," Keritanima said with a roguish grin.

"Sometimes I think I should have left a couple of them at the dock," Tarrin grunted.

Keritanima stuck her tongue out at him. "I'm going to go find out why Sheba is so happy," she said in a churlish tone. "At least I know she's an enemy." Then she stomped off, her tail lashing behind her.

"That was unlike you, my brother," Allia said, but she had a slight smile on her face.

"How do you mean?"

"You left some skin on her."

"Would you like to play some chess, Tarrin?" Dar asked.

"Later, young one," Dolanna interrupted. "I need to speak with Tarrin. He will be available for you when we are done. You and Allia should practice your weaving. You will not improve without practice."

"Yes, Dolanna," Allia said obediently. "Come, Dar. Let us find a quiet place to practice."

"Sure," he agreed, and the pair moved towards the bow.

"What did you want to talk about, Dolanna?" Tarrin asked as he fell into step with her, as she started walking along the bulwark.

"Tomorrow we are going to reach Dayisè, dear one," she said. "It is a very large city, and it is full of many people."

He thought he knew where she was going. "I'm not going to cause trouble, Dolanna. Not unless someone does something to set me off, anyway."

"That is only part of the reason I wish to talk to you," she told him. "We must plan for the eventuality that our enemies know where we are headed. We did stop in Den Gauche and Roulet, and there is a chance that the pirate priest gave away our location before the battle. That means that there is a chance that we may find a hostile reception awaiting us."

"What does that have to do with me?"

"Of all of us, you and the Vendari are the most striking, my dear one," she told him gently. "Allia can conceal herself beneath a cloak, and Keritanima is just another Wikuni. But you stand out, and there is no way we can hide the Vendari. They are simply too huge."

"But you have a plan."

"I have an idea," she agreed. "Keritanima and myself are skilled enough to weave together Illusions, and hold them for a considerable amount of time. But that leaves us one short. We need to keep you concealed, dear one, so you have a choice. You can take cat form and hide in Miranda's satchel, or you can take human form and travel with us openly."

"I can't hold the human shape for more than about five minutes, Dolanna," he grunted. "It hurts too much."

"Have you been practicing?"

He gave her a blank look.

"Tarrin, Jesmind said herself that the ability to withstand the pain is a function of age and experience. And experience is gained through practice."

"Well, she did say that, but it never occurred to me," he said sheepishly.

"You must practice, Tarrin. You must practice shapeshifting, and you must learn more about Sorcery. Even if you cannot use it, you must continue your education in its operation. You cannot spend your days sleeping. You have wasted two entire months, and we do not have the leisure to take our time."

"I just didn't feel much like practicing, Dolanna," he said, absently ducking under a boom. "I've had alot of things on my mind lately."

"That is not an excuse," she told him flatly. "Training and practice is a discipline, not a exercise. You must train yourself to practice every day, no matter how you feel."

"Well, I'll admit to that, but I don't really want to learn any more Sorcery," he told her. "Not until I can use it."

"Why not? You can improve without the actual need to touch the Weave."

"That's exactly why I don't want to learn," he told her. "If I start learning Sorcery again, it will make me want to touch the Weave. And that's a risk I can't take, not unless something serious depends on the outcome."

She looked at him a moment. "Yes. I guess you are right. It would be frustrating to learn about something that can be dangerous for you, even when you want to practice with it."

"Exactly."

"Alright, you may forego training in Sorcery until we can devise a compromise. But you should practice your shapeshifting every day. You should try to hold the human form as long as possible every day, at least once a day. I think you will find that your ability to tolerate the discomfort will improve, and you will be able to hold the form longer and longer."

"I'll start with it today, Dolanna," he promised.

"You should talk to Allia," she said. "The Selani are very skilled in mental discipline. She may be able to teach you Selani techniques to help deal with the pain. It may increase your ability to tolerate it."

"That's a good idea," he agreed, nodding.

"Oh, and a private question."

"What?"

"Keritanima left this book in my quarters this morning. I thought it to be just one in her collection, but within was the strangest thing. It looked to be a tutorial on learning a foreign language, one which I have never seen before. Do you know of this book?"

Tarrin's eyes widened, and his tail stood staight out.

"I think you do know of this mysterious book," she said with a sly smile, presenting the book to him. "I would very much like to be privy to this, discovery, Tarrin. I think I know what that book holds, but I would hear it from you first."

"It's a primer to learn the language of the Sha'Kar," he told her in a very low voice. "We discovered the original during our plans to escape from Suld, and Keritanima had Miranda transcribe them into this book. We learned how to speak it, but we still haven't managed to learn the written language yet, because it's so strange. I'll bet that's why Kerri brought the book. She's been working on it for a long time now."

"That is what I suspected," she said. "I am amazed that the three of you managed to find something that every Sorcerer in the world has strove to discover for a thousand years."

"We knew where to look," Tarrin grunted.

"Where was that?"

"In the Cathedral of Karas," he replied.

She looked at him, then she laughed ruefully. "Of course. They would have lore about their ancient enemies, would they not? I take it that that was why Keritanima had the plans of the Cathedral? So the three of you could infiltrate it and find this hidden knowledge?"

He nodded. "We stole alot more than the primer, but we don't have it with us. It's hidden back in the Tower."

"What information is that?"

"Assorted stuff," he replied. "Kerri was the one that went through it, but even she didn't look very hard. She was too excited over finding the primer. Once she found that, she stopped looking at everything else."

"I can imagine," Dolanna mused. "Why did you not tell me this, Tarrin?"

"I guess because it never occurred to me," he said. "That information is tied up a great deal in the very personal issues me and my sisters have with each other. I guess I considered it too private to share, even with you."

"Well, I cannot fault you your loyalty," she sighed. "But to think that all this time, this wonderful tome has lain within my reach. Had I only discovered it sooner!" She handed the precious book to Tarrin. "I think you should return this to Keritanima. And have a talk with her," she said with a smile. "I get the feeling that she left this in my cabin on purpose."

"Why?"

"Because Keritanima the Brat was flighty and erratic, but Keritanima the Princess is a very calculating and careful woman," she replied. "She would not leave something so vital laying about on purpose. I think she wanted me to find it."

"Maybe," he grunted. "Not that it matters now."

"I will see you later, Tarrin. Remember to practice."

Tarrin stood there a moment, looking down at the book. He had no idea that she even brought it, that she would risk it. But it was the one. He opened it and looked at Miranda's exacting, precise writing, and he wondered just what in the furies Keritanima was up to. Dolanna was right, she would never leave this book laying around for anyone to pick up. But was it an honest accident, or was it Keritanima playing intigue again?

Well, there was a very easy way to find out. He approached the Wikuni from where she was standing off against the panther- Wikuni, Sheba, without fear. As he approached, he heard the subtle,wicked barbs pass between them. It was apparent that they didn't like each other.

"Kerri, we have to talk," he said when he reached them, putting a paw on her arm.

"It'll--"

"Now," he said adamantly.

"Oh, very well," she said, submitting to that tone of voice.

"I see the cat has the owner on a leash," Sheba said with a sneering grin, looking right at him with her green eyes, so much like his own.

Without batting an eyelash, Tarrin grabbed the pirate by the front of her shirt, then hauled her up off the deck. He turned and swung her out over the rail, holding her at arm's length over the water with an ease that made it seem he was holding a coil of rope rather than a full-grown woman. "Maybe you'd like to swim for shore," he said in a dangerous voice.

She grabbed his wrist in both hands and gave him a nervous look, though she was trying to keep up her fearless front. "I'm sure it would be good exercise, but I don't think I'm up for it right now," she managed to say, in a surprisingly steady voice.

Tarrin had to supress the sudden, powerful urge to just drop her. He dragged her back onto the deck, then tossed her down with a negligent flick of the paw. She sat down hard and looked up at him, her eyes flashing in anger and outrage, but the lethal look in his own eyes cowed her immediately.

"That's quite an arm you've got there, Tarrin," she said, giving him a false smile. "I'm sure you'd play a killer game of wicket."

"And I'm sure you'd love being the ball," Keritanima dug, getting a hostile look from the seated Wikuni. "Come on, Tarrin. I'm sure that Sheba has run out of things to say. Her memory isn't quite that deep."

Sheba glared murderously at the princess, but she led Tarrin away by the arm. "What did you want?" Without saying a word, he handed the book back to her. "Oh yes, this. Did Dolanna find it?"

"And she looked right through your little game," he told her bluntly. "What are you doing?"

"I'm stuck, brother," she said sourly in Selani. "I can't crack the Sha'Kar language. I need help, and Dolanna is very educated. After I teach her the spoken language, I think she can help me decipher the written language. I wasn't sure if you and Allia would approve of adding her to our rather tight inner circle, so I did it the other way."

"You should have asked us."

"I know, but I absolutely need Dolanna, brother," she said defensively. "If you or Allia said no, then I would have had to break your trust. At least this way, you'll only be mad at me a while. If I'd have had to do it the other way, you'd be mad at me for years."

"If you would have made that clear, then I doubt Allia would have said no," he told her chidingly. "Allia trusts Dolanna. So do I."

"I know, but I guess you can't change a Wikuni's fur."

"Maybe the Wikuni should look into trusting her siblings."

"That was low, Tarrin," she said sourly in Common.

"Perhaps, but it was the truth," he replied bluntly. "I didn't know you even brought the book. I thought you left it in Suld."

"No way!" she said adamantly in Sha'Kar. That she would switch to that language made it apparent how serious she wanted to be about privacy. That he could understand it so easily was a testament to how well she taught him. "I can't stop 'til I find the answers, brother, and that means that the book stays with me. Don't worry, I sleep with it under my pillow, and if I don't have it, then Binter or Sisska does. Nobody will take it from them."

"That makes my head spin," Kern said gruffly as he approached from behind. They both turned to look at him.

"What does, captain?" Keritanima asked in Common.

"How you three always bounce around in languages," he replied. "It makes my ears burn."

"Some insults carry more impact in their native tongues, Kern," Tarrin said dryly, which made the grizzled old captain chuckle.

"I'm teaching my brother Wikuni too," Keritnaima winked. "That way we can insult each other on even more levels of subtlety. If you want to insult someone, then use Wikuni. The language was designed for it."

Kern laughed. "I speak a word or two of it, if only to not let Wikuni traders get the drop on me," he admitted. "But I'd appreciate it if ye didn't bandy that about. Wikuni don't like dealing with people who can understand how badly they're cheating them."

"I didn't know that," Tarrin said as Kern ambled away.

"What?"

"That I'm learning Wikuni."

"Well, you are now," she grinned. "I feel jealous that Allia taught you her language, but you still haven't learned mine."

"You never offered to teach it. Now that I think of it, I've never heard you speak it."

"That's because Wikuni usually don't use it unless only other Wikuni are around to hear it. We're like the Selani, we like to keep our language somewhat secret. It helps us cheat others."

Tarrin chuckled. "I knew all Wikuni were pirates at heart."

"Not pirates, traders. Pirates are people who can't haggle, so they're forced to earn a living the dirty way."

"Same difference," he teased.

"Believe it or not, we use Common in Wikuna almost as often as Wikuni. Our kingdom has sorta become bilingual. We teach Common to our children at the same time they learn Wikuni, because they'll eventually be dealing with people that don't speak Wikuni, and it always puts your potential trade victim at ease if you speak his language fluently. Speaking Wikuni is saved for personal dealings, and we use it for all official court functions and ceremonies."

"That's why they made you learn all the native tongues of your trade allies," he realized.

"Exactly. So I could put them at ease, then rake them over the coals with trade treaties," she winked.

"It explains why you're so fluent too. Allia still has trouble expressing herself in Common, and Dolanna always sounds so formal. You have an accent, but it sounds more like a regional dialect than a non- speaker's accent."

"Yup," she agreed. "I'm used to speaking Common on a regular basis, so it makes me sound much more natural using it."

"Do you speak Shacèan?"

"Certainly. They're strong trade allies with Wikuna. They're the only kingdom we sell gunpowder to." She glanced at him. "I take it we're done talking about this?" she asked, holding up the book.

"Not much we can do about it now," he said. "We should tell Allia about it. And if we explain the reason behind it well enough, she'll agree that it was necessary. But she won't like you acting without letting us know first, Kerri. Believe me, I get that from her enough as it is. Expect her to be mad at you for a while."

"Like I said, better a little mad than alot of mad."

The night was clear, crisp, and cool. The Skybands and the four moons, all slivers of light in the sky, competed with the brilliant stars to illuminate the night. Nights were never fully dark on Sennadar, except when the clouds concealed the sky.

The night sang to him, in ways that the others would never understand.

Tarrin stood at the bow, to get as much of the ship out of his view as possible, and stared up into the night sky, his mind carried along by the song of instinct, the sounds of the sea, the smell of salt water and the hint of ground and earth carried in the air. Cats were nocturnal creatures, always more active at night than during the day. It made it hard to sleep at night, and often he wound find himself doing just what he was doing, staring up at the night sky and communing with the forces that shaped his life. It was usually an intensely private practice, something he didn't even share with his sisters, because they couldn't fathom its importance to him or how it made him feel. The night was his time, the time of the hunter, when the cloak of darkness enshrouded the land and allowed him to move in utter stealth and harmony with his environment.

Of course, the ship was not the kind of place for that. All the rats were long gone, hunted to extinction by Tarrin's nightly prowls, leaving the hunter with no prey, and nowhere to feel completely at ease. So he stood at the bow, staring up into the night sky, knowing that the sky would look the same whether he was standing on a ship or staring up at the sky through a break in the forest canopy. It allowed him to forget, if only for a little while, where he was and what he was doing. It allowed him to ignore the constant nagging of his instincts to run to the forest, to take up his rightful place in nature. It allowed him to feel what he was in a crystalline clarity that often was unattainable when outside of what he considered to be his own environment.

It was the night, and it was his time. He was a creature of the night. He was the night. Too long, he had forgotten who he was and where he was supposed to be. Too long, it had been since the last time he had succumbed to the powerful instincts inside him and allowed them to join to his human consciousness seamlessly and without struggle. Too long, had he turned his back on his kind.

Too long, he had been aboard the cursed ship.

Tomorrow they were supposed to get to Dayisè, and it would probably be in the rain. The front line was barely a mile behind them, moving slowly as it chased the ship that day, an abrupt beginning of cloud that separated the sky. He could smell the rain when the wind gusted from behind them, smell that it was a steady rain that farmers enjoyed, a rain that would last for a whole day and methodically saturate everything exposed to it. He would be on dry land. It would be among people, and it would only be an island, but it would be enough. Two months trapped on this moving prison had nearly been more than he could stand. Only the presence of his sisters, Dolanna, and Miranda had kept him calm enough to endure it. Tomorrow would be a reprieve, a temporary stay of his punishment, where he could put his feet on soft earth and feel the wind in his hair, smell the scents of life once again. Even if they were going to be smothered in the miasma of a foul- smelling city.

Dolanna's warning was still in the forefront of his mind, but it would be worth the risk. They may run into danger, but better to face danger than be pinned aboard the vessel for another day.

Looking up into the night sky, Tarrin's mind wandered. He wondered how his family was doing in Dusgaard. He hoped that his little mother was doing alright. He worried for Tiella and Walten, who were still in the Tower. He wondered how Sevren was doing, trying to discover the spy within the Tower. He feared for Aldreth, over the rumors that the Dal army had marched over his home village. He hoped Jesmind was well, wherever she may be.

Jesmind. It had been a long time since he'd thought about her. Part of the reason was because an idle thought of her conjured up more and more thoughts and memories. There was a great deal of emotion tied up with his fiery-tempered bond mother, both positive and negative. And though it seemed strange to him, even the bad memories could make him smile. He understood her better now, understood what she was trying to do. He missed her. Even when they were enemies, he had a great deal of respect for her, and he looked up to her. Few women--few living beings-- could match her raw ferocity when fighting, a ferocity that could intimidate anyone. She was fierce in everything she did, from fighting to looking for dinner to making conversation. She attacked life, subdued it, lived every day as if it was both her first and her last.

He doubted he would ever see her again. He walked a different path, a path that would take him well away from his own kind, and it was a path fraught with danger. He didn't know if he would live much longer. And if he didn't, then so be it. He was more concerned about his friends and family than himself, and so long as they were alright, then he was content. They mattered more to him than him.

Sprinkles of rain began to patter onto the deck. He loved the night, but he hated getting wet. It was time to go below.

Tomorrow was a new day.

©2000, James Galloway. All Rights Reserved.