Chapter 4

"Incredible," Dar mused.

The city of Dayisè was presented for them dead ahead, and it was amazing. The city was situated on a large island, and it spilled over onto two smaller islands that were very close to the first. The three islands were ringed by a large network of small rock spires and islets, creating a natural breakwater that protected ships from stormy seas. The central island had a large hill at its center, and built onto the sides of that hill were some of the most extravagant and fanciful estates and homes Tarrin had ever seen. There were even two huge stone bridges that spanned from the center island to the smaller ones, spanning so high that a galleon could pass under it without losing its mast. Like Den Gauche and Roulet, Dayisè's skyline was absolutely dominated by red, from the red tiles that they used to roof their homes and buildings. Those buildings stood like trees in some vast forest, totally dominating the three islands upon which they rested.

And the ships! Ships of every type imaginable stood in the harbors, or sailed to or from the islands. Ungardt longships, rakers, galleons, cogs, caravels, Wikuni clippers, even the military Wikuni frigates jostled with one another on the seas and along the docks, as smaller fishing vessels and private ships, even longboats and rowboats, moved between their larger neighbors. The flags they flew represented nearly every seafaring nation, race, or culture that existed in the world and plied the twenty seas, from as far away as Godan-Nyr, Sharadar, Valkar, even the Utter East empire of Shin Lung, a place which only the Wikuni visited. Only the hated Zakkites were not represented in the harbors. The ships were packed in, and many of them sailed near to the islands, sharing the warm waters and taking up the wind

The grand magnificence of Dayisè assaulted the young onlookers who stood at the rail. Only Keritanima seemed unimpressed by the great metropolis. Even Allia, with her dislike of the sea, stood gaping in wonder at the large city resting on the small islands. But Tarrin was slightly disappointed. He was hoping for a city on an island, not an island that was a city. There was only a little green, and that was near the top of the hill on the central island. The city had infested the rest of the land. Nowhere but there could one look and see something other than the hand of man shaping the world to suit him. He admitted that the city was impressive. Grand, even. But he was more impressed by a thousand year old oak tree than any construction ever assembled by human hand.

"Arkhold is larger than this, but it's the way you see it," Dar added, staring at the city in the afternoon sun.

"There are no farms. How do they eat?" Allia asked.

"Their food comes in on ships, Allia," Keritanima replied. "At least everything but the seafood. Fish is something of a staple in Dayisè, because imported food tends to be more expensive."

It looked to Tarrin to be a good idea gone spiralling out of control. He couldn't fathom why they would build a city on an island some fifty longspans off shore, and a small island at that compared to other human-bearing islands. And why had it grown so large that it had totally displaced the natural habitat? There was no food to grow, and nowhere to grow it. What did they do to earn their livings? There had to be alot of people on the islands, but a city could only sustain itself so much on inns and shops. "How do they make money?" Tarrin asked curiously.

"Most of Dayisè is devoted to trading, Tarrin," Keritanima replied. "Merchants and agents of governments come here to buy and sell large amounts of goods. The city itself is mostly made up of inns and boarding houses for the many sailors that come to port with the goods their employers are trading. More money changes hands in Dayisè in one day than an entire month in Sulasia."

"Shacè must be rich," Dar said. "All that revenue must generate staggering taxes."

"They wish," Keritanima replied. "Dayisè is a Shacèan city, but they pay no taxes to the crown. Why else do you think so many merchants choose to do business here?"

"How did they get away with that?" he asked.

"When Dayisè was founded, it was something of a penal colony," she answered. "The king then had to make people come here, and part of the incentives were that nobody living on the islands had to pay a brass bit in tax. Where King Louis screwed up was that he extended that moratorium to business done on the island as well, to entice craftsmen to move to the island, and the decree was made in such a way that it couldn't be repealed. Merchants began to start taking advantage of it. That is the result."

"Why did he want a city way out here?"

"At that time, they were having alot of trouble with raids from Trigador, an island nation some two hundred leagues south. Dayisè was originally an outpost city and naval base, to discourage raiding."

"I still don't see why some other king just made a new decree," Dar fretted.

"Because of us," Keritanima said smugly. "Queen Maria tried to do that, but the Wikuni threatened to embargo Shacè if she carried through with it. By then, the Shacèans were absolutely dependent on the gunpowder we sell them to protect themselves from Trigador and what was then Rauthym. Maria really didn't have a choice, so she killed the decree. After Rauthym flew apart in a civil war and Trigador was mauled by Arathorn, they tried again, and Wikuna embargoed them."

"Blockaded them," Dolanna corrected as she, Faalken and Azakar joined them. "The Wikuni blockaded Shacè from all seaborne trade, and attacked Shacèan ships. It was called the Veiled War, because no formal declarations had been made by either side. The Wikuni triumphed, and Shacè agreed to drop the attempts to tax Dayisè. But the ultimate result of that was the weakening of Shacè as a whole, and the undermining of the kingdom's rule. It caused a revolution about ten years later, which is what caused the eastern duchies to break free from the crown and join what was left of Rauthym's duchies. By the time the Crown regained control, it had weakened its position. That position has weakened to its current state, where the king has authority only within his capital city, and the outlying aristocracy rule however they wish. Shacè is but a candle flame from igniting into another civil war."

"That's how you see it," Keritanima sniffed. "Wikuna had an absolute fortune tied up in Dayisè. We had to protect our interests."

"I have noticed that Wikuna often protects its own interests with no regard as to the damage they cause to others," Dolanna said with a calm look at the princess. "No less than five revolutions, the collapse of Rauthym, and the destruction of Trigador can be traced back to the Diamond Throne."

"You make it sound like the Wikuni are bullies," Azakar said.

"They are," Dar said. "And they've gotten alot worse over the last few decades."

"Blame that on my father, not on me," Keritanima said defensively.

"You all should be packing your belongings," Dolanna told them. "We will be leaving the ship as soon as we dock."

Leaving. Tarrin turned and looked back at the old galleon, a legend on the Sea of Storms. He hated being stuck on it, but it had served his group well. Kern had delivered them to Dayisè, more or less on time, and things looked to be going well. Dolanna didn't know if this Renoit was still in Dayisè, but at least Kern had gotten them there in enough time to make it possible, rather than certain, that he was gone. Some of the delays hadn't been his fault, after all. Being iced in in the Stormhavens had thrown a chunk of time into their trip, but Kern had pulled them through. He had alot of respect for the grizzled sailor, even if he didn't entirely trust him. Kern was, after all, human, and that was more than enough to make Tarrin stay on his guard.

But it had been a good trip, all things considering. They were still alive, at any rate, and that had to count for something.

Going below, Tarrin and Dar packed their sparse belongings in relative silence. Tarrin didn't own all that much, and his staff was now in Azakar's hands. The Mahuut Knight couldn't look like a Knight, and the staff would help the disguise of an Arakite merchant. Arakites were always armed, and well known to carry around either elaborately decorated walking sticks, canes, or staves, which doubled as weapons should they be under attack. Dolanna had dressed up his Ironwood staff to go along with the very expensive silk robes she had made for him, the robes of a successful Arakite merchant. Dolanna would pretend to be one of his wives, and the rest of their group would be his hirelings and bodyguards. An Arakite merchant would certainly be travelling with either wives or concubines. Faalken would be his bodyguard, for it was also common for Arakite merchants to travel with such men. Dar was Arkisian, and because of that, he would serve as Azakar's doman, or heir, a youth in Azakar's trading house that was learning the business from his elders. Allia would be Azakar's maidservant, wearing a heavy robe with a veil that would effectively hide the features that marked her as Selani, and would instead only let the onlooker see the dark skin that would make him assume she was Arakite. Dar spoke Arakite, which was still the national language of Arkis, and had extensive education in economics, which would reinforce the illusion and help cover Azakar's mistakes. Tarrin and Keritanima also spoke Arakite, and it was going to be their job to translate any Arakite dealings for the others. He was going to ride in Miranda's satchel, but either Keritanima or Allia would be close enough to listen should he need to say something to them. Keritanima and Miranda would also be merchants, but Wikuni merchants, with Binter and Sisska serving as their bodyguards underneath Illusions created by Keritanima and Dolanna. For Wikuni and Arakites to travel together was not unheard of, especially if the Wikuni were courting the Arakite for the rare silks, chaba wood, gems, salt, or spices that Yar Arak exported.

It was a very effective ruse Dolanna had devised. Azakar's sheer size and his ability to intimidate would allow him to avoid the majority of attempts of others to talk to him, and Dar would be there to help him through any forced conversation with real merchants. Because Arakite merchants travelled with such large retinues, and dealt so much with Wikuni, it would allow them to travel together without raising too much suspicion.

"Catch, Tarrin," Dar said in Arakite, which caused the Were-cat to turn around in time to snatch a sheathed dagger from the air. It was Tarrin's, the dagger he'd won at the fair just before leaving Aldreth, which he had lent to Dar some days ago. Dar grinned at him. "I see you're not getting rusty," he continued in Arakite.

"I don't get rusty with languages, Dar," he replied in flawless, fluent Arakite. "It's a knack."

"That accent is not a knack," he criticized. "It's atrocious."

"Blame my father. He sounded the same way."

"Then I'll have to have a long talk with him when we get back to Suld," he said, closing his pack and tying it shut. "I'm ready. I hope we'll have time to buy some new clothes."

"Who knows how long we'll be here?" Tarrin shrugged, tying closed his own pack. Tarrin only owned a few sets of clothes, the dagger, and a few other small personal items. He didn't really need a great deal of excess baggage slowing him down. That made his own backpack very light. He slid it onto his back and settled the straps into a comfortable position on his back, then changed form to make sure the backpack would go into that elsewhere the same as his clothes. It did so, and, satisfied, he shifted back to his humanoid form. He touched the shaeram around his neck, remembering a time when he almost took off his own head to get rid of it. How things had changed. It meant much more to him than a collar now, it represented the Goddess, and it was something that never failed to send a little electric tingle through his fingers when he touched it. It still represented a little bit of captivity, to the Goddess if anyone else, but she had already proved that she was the gentlest of mistresses, and someone whom he could tolerate for the time he would be subservient to her.

There was a knock on the door, then it opened. Azakar looked a bit silly in the robes, and the look on his face made it apparent how much he disliked Dolanna's plan. "Mistress Dolanna wants us up on deck. We're starting to get ready to dock."

"I'm not ready yet," Dar said, pulling the robe she had made for him over his head. He looked like a smaller version of Azakar in that robe.

"Well, step on it, cousin," Azakar chided. "We can't keep Mistress Dolanna waiting."

"Zak, you look like a butterfly," Tarrin noted.

"Please. I've already been called a fluffy dandersnap by Faalken. That was right before I threw him overboard."

"You didn't!" Dar gasped.

"Some insults can't be left unchallenged," Azakar said bluntly. "He should be glad he wasn't in his armor yet. His armor would have sent him straight to the bottom."

Dar gave Azakar a strangled look, then burst out laughing.

"Azakar," Tarrin said as he started closing the door.

"What?"

"Don't even think of trying to throw me over the rail."

"I'm not that stupid, Tarrin," he said waspishly as he closed the door. That only made Dar laugh harder.

On deck, they were all there. Faalken's hair was still damp, and the sight of it mad Dar explode into laughter yet again. That drew a nasty look from the Knight, but it did nothing to make the young Arkisian stop. Everyone was in costume, he saw. Azakar and Dar wore flowing, voluminous robes of very bright reds and yellows. Dolanna wore a simple silk robe of white with a veil over her face, which marked her as a married woman in Arakite society, and Allia wore a robe of green, which denoted her as a servant. She too was veiled, allowing one to only see her dark skin and lustrous blue eyes. Blue eyes were uncommon among Arakites, but not among halfbreeds. And since halfbred Arakites were held in contempt, it was logical for one to be a servant. Faalken wore his Knight's armor, which was good enough because only the surcoat held any heraldry that marked him as a Knight of Karas. He wore a very plain wool surcoat now, dyed blue, with only a white sunburst design for decoration. Keritanima and Miranda wore similar dresses of a very lustrous satin, a common material and cut for well-to-do Wikuni merchants, but Keritanima had changed her hairstyle from the flowing, curly way she usually wore it to a severe bun behind her head. The move altered her appearance in a startling manner. She looked much more mature, stern, august, almost a little severe. Because the fact that her dress had no neckline, only a stiff collar that begun just under her chin, matched a very stiff-backed posture and appearance, it made her look like a completely different person. The dress itself was just as severe as Keritanima's appearance. It was gray, a gloomy, drab gray, and it covered everything but her head and her hands. There was a bit of lace at the cuffs, and a bit more on the dress's high neck, with just a hint of lace running along the many little pearl buttons that went up the front of the bodice. It was something a spinster would wear, and it made her look totally different. Miranda's dress was the complete opposite. Her neckline could almost be called a waistline, ending just above her belt. A single band of cloth crossed over her breasts between the two sides of her neckline to make sure her dress didn't slip and expose anything best left unseen. The dress's cream color blended in an odd way with her white fur, making it hard to find where the dress ended and the fur began. It was an illusion of showing everything while only showing about half of everything. The beaten gold belt and a ruby pendant necklace broke up that expanse of white. What surprised him was that Miranda had dyed her hair and her tail both. Where he expected that silky blond, he found instead a dark mahogany.

"Wow," Dar said as he looked at the pair.

"Impressive, isn't it?" Keritanima said with a wink, which dropped the stern expression and allowed a hint of the old Keritanima to peek out. "Meet Kaylin, Mistress Merchant of House Eram, and her new partner, Allison, Mistress Merchant of House Alagon."

"What do you think, Tarrin?" Miranda asked, turning around for him.

"I think I'm talking to strangers," he replied.

"That's the idea, silly," Keritanima chided.

"Where are the Wikuni pirates?" Dar asked curiously. Tarrin looked towards the amidships, and they were indeed gone.

"Kern moved them into the hold while we were changing," Faalken answered, ruffing his hair with a hand, then shaking the water off of it. His dark, curly locks were plastered to his face, and that made Dar giggle like a little girl.

"We did not want them to see us in our disguises, so I asked Kern to put them out of sight. Sheba could cause us trouble if she managed to make her Highness' location well known. There is a reward out for her capture."

"You look damp, Faalken. Did you take a bath before changing?" Tarrin asked in a calm voice. Faalken glared at him a moment, and that made Dar explode into helpless gales of laughter.

"I see this mutinous dog stopped by your cabin," Faalken said darkly, pointing at Azakar. "I hope we do get attacked. I'm going to let them carve a few slices off your backside, Zak."

"They can try," Azakar shrugged, but there was a slight smile on his face and a twinkle in his eye. "I'm not so sure you could protect me anyway. It's a good thing I'm here. Old Knights like you should stay on the training field and leave the real fighting to us."

"Here we go," Dolanna said in a low voice to Tarrin as Faalken and Azakar began exchanging barbs. "Azakar has declared war. Faalken will be unable to resist retaliating. There will be a war of pranks."

"At least we'll be entertained, Dolanna," Tarrin said sagely.

"So long as they do not bring down the inn around us," she sighed.

The group settled more and more into their disguises as the ship approached the city. They passed the outer fringes of the anchored ships, ships anchored outside the city for one reason or another, probably to avoid paying a berthing charge. It was about that time that a sleek Wikuni frigate, one of their purely military vessels, came into sight from behind another galleon. It was a larger frigate, polished, clean, and immaculate, and it moved on the breeze directly in front of them. Then it dropped its anchors and opened its gunports.

"This is not good," Keritanima said suddenly, peering at the ship. "It's military, but it's flying the flag of the House Zalan."

"What does that mean?" Tarrin asked calmly, staring at the ship.

"That means that it's acting directly under orders from Arthas Zalan," she replied soberly. "Arthas Zalan is Sheba's father."

"Do you think he knows we have her?" Dar asked a bit uncertainly.

"I don't see how he could possibly find out, but he wouldn't be stopping us for no reason. Especially when we're not in open water. If he fires on us, he'll have hell to pay for it from the Dayisan Council. And that doesn't even come close to what my father will do to him for tarnishing the Wikuni reputation."

"I think that now would be a very good time to return below decks," Dolanna said urgently. "We cannot let them see us in our disguises any more than we can Sheba."

"I think you have a point, Dolanna," Keritanima said seriously, looking at the bristling warship.

The others turned to go back to the cabins, but Tarrin didn't go with them. He instead shapeshifted into his cat form, then padded along the busy sailors up onto the steering deck, to sit sedately next to Kern by the makeshift helm. Kern was bellowing orders to lower sails and drop anchor, but he wasn't ordering them to prepare for combat. Kern obviously felt that the Wikuni wouldn't dare shoot at them when they were sitting in the middle of a flotilla of civilian vessels.

Tarrin watched as Kern's sailors expertly brought the ship to a stop not twenty spans from the frigate's broadside. Easily within shouting range. The wind blew the galleon to the side, and it rotated on its anchor chain to turn its side to the frigate. Kern had them do that on purpose, so he could look right at the Wikuni ship's commander without having to leave the helm.

"Ahoy, captain, yer blockin' my line!" Kern boomed. "I'd ask ye to move yer ship out of my way! I have right of way!"

"I'm not here to accede to human demands," the Wikuni captain shouted back. He looked like a peacock in his multi-colored uniform and jacket, with a ridiculous widebrimmed hat on his head. He was a dog-Wikuni, or some kind of canine, maybe even a wolf, tall and gangly with brownish fur and a white patch of fur over his left eye. "You're holding Lady Sheba Zalan of the House Zalan! You will surrender her to my custody immediately!"

"You mean Sheba the Pirate?" Kern asked acidly. "Aye, I've got her sorry hide on my ship. And it'll take me a ride to scrub the stench of her out of the hold! But I ain't gonna hand her over to ye, boy, cause ye'll just give her another ship to sail and send her back out to terrorize the sea lanes! And there's the matter of the reward, too!"

"That was not a request!" the Wikuni snapped, his fangs baring slightly. "Hand her over, or I'll blow you out of the water!"

"That'll be a neat trick, shootin' my ship out of the water without hurtin' yer precious Sheba, now won't it?" he asked with a wicked grin. "Besides, if ye do take a shot at me, I'll toss her over the side wearin' ten leg irons! I don't think she'll be swimmin' too well."

That put the Wikuni captain at a loss. He obviously hadn't considered what to do if Kern didn't hand her over. He spluttered a few times, then seemed to regain control of himself. "Father Tonta, would you kindly set fire to their sails?" he asked of his priest in a very loud voice, meaning for Kern to hear.

But Tarrin was already one step ahead. He jumped up onto the scarred railing and regarded the Wikuni frigate with glowing green eyes. He touched the Weave smoothly and easily, feeling the itching of High Sorcery start to seek him out, but he had enough time to weave together a thick rope of air and divine power, then release it at the Wikuni priest. It took the form of an invisible fist, and it struck the priest squarely in the middle of his ursine snout. The big bear Wikuni crumpled to the deck, out cold.

"It ain't that easy," Kern said with a waggling finger. "Ye got yer magician. I got mine. And as ye see, my magician beats yer bear. Now, if ye try that again, I'll have my magician tear out yer mainmast."

The captain stared at the priest in shock, then gaped at Kern with something approaching horror.

"Now kindly get that scowl out of my way, before ye make me angry," he snapped.

"Not until you release the Lady Sheba!" he blustered

"If ye want her that bad, you can fish her out of the Dayisè dungeon and deal with the Council, but yer not gettin' her off my ship!" he said adamantly. "Not without paying me the reward!"

That made him hesitate. "What reward?"

"There be a bounty on Sheba's head," he called back. "Ten thousand gold crowns, dead or alive. Pay me that reward, and I'll hand her over to ye."

"That's piracy!"

"No, what Sheba does be piracy. What I be doing is called blackmail. Ten thousand, take it or fish Sheba out of a dungeon cell." He put his hands on the railing and gave the captain a savage grin. "Would ye be wantin' her dead, or alive?"

The ugly immediacy of Kern's threat hit the captain like a fist. He stepped back visibly and regarded the grizzled captain with astonishment, then he tore his hat off his head. "All right all right! Ten thousand crowns!"

"Cash."

"How dare you--"

"Send over a chest, or ye'll be gettin' yer precious Sheba back in six seperate bags," he warned.

"I don't have that much money!"

"Then ye be havin' a serious problem. I'll just send ye as much of Sheba as ye can pay for. I'll keep the rest." He looked at his fingernails, then buffed them on the front of his canvas shirt. "Let's say, oh, two thousand crowns a limb. I'll give ye the torso for free. I be feelin' generous today."

"That's monstrous!"

"No. Sending good men down just for what their ship carries be monstrous. Yer precious Sheba be ten times more a monster than me."

"I can pay you five thousand in cash, and I think I have cargo and some jewelry that will cover the remainder," the captain said after a moment of intense silence. "It's the best I can do. I just don't have any more."

"I'll take yer five thousand, and I'll be takin' twenty kegs of gunpowder from ye to cover the difference."

"I can't give you that!"

"Then ye only be gettin' back half of Sheba. Which half do ye be wantin'?"

The captain glared furiously at him, but he finally slumped his shoulders in defeat. "Agreed. I'll start ferrying over your ransom. But don't think I'll forget about this! And neither will the Wikuni!"

"I don't think the kingdoms of the West be forgettin' that a Wikuni noble house be comin' to bail out the worst pirate on the Sea of Storms," Kern shot back. "After word of this do be gettin' out, there may not be many ports to welcome Wikuni ships."

That made the captain stare at him in momentary terror. Then he whirled around and started shouting orders.

"That was nervous," Kern whispered to Tarrin. "I do be appreciatin' yer help, lad. Ye put the priest out."

Tarrin jumped off the rail and onto the deck, then shifted back into his humanoid form. With Sheba being released, there was little reason to hide from the Wikuni. They'd know about him just as soon as Sheba started talking. "Why did you give her up?" he asked Kern curiously.

"Because I be in no shape to take on a Wikuni frigate," he replied calmly. "Best to give her over and get what I can be gettin' in the bargain, since they'd be gettin' her back no matter what. It be cheaper for them to buy her from me than it would be for them to be bribin' the ruling council of Dayisè. At least this way, I be seein' profit from the exchange, rather than Dayisè."

"True," Tarrin agreed. The galleon was still damaged from the fight with Sheba, and the frigate had cannons trained on them already. At such close range, they wouldn't last more than a few heartbeats. Kern would end up either handing her over or killing her, and killing her would be a death sentence for the Star of Jerod. At least by dragging money out of the Wikuni, Kern was getting something for his trouble. "Why ask for gunpowder?" he asked.

"Because I can sell it for a thousand crowns a keg," he said with a grin.

"Good reason," he said, rubbing his chin absently.

It took about a half an hour for the Wikuni to arrange the ransom in two longboats, then launch them. Kern's men hauled up the cargo quickly and efficiently, and it was stacked after it was checked to make sure it was the real thing. Kern then had his men bring Sheba and her surviving crew members up from the hold. Sheba looked victoriously smug, even arrogant, and she immediately started issuing outrageous demands. It only took seconds for her to get on Tarrin's nerves. He'd never directly talked to her, never even so much as given her a second glance, and from the way she was acting now, he was glad of it. He'd have killed her. When she looked at Kern after the man had come down from the helm, Tarrin accompanying him, she gave him a smile, but had eyes full of hate. "You're a dead man now, Kern," she warned with a bit of a sneer. "The first thing I do after I get a new ship is come and hunt you down."

"I don't think so," Tarrin told her, stepping between them and staring down at her with glowing, ominous green eyes. "If you so much as touch this man or this ship, I'll make sure you wish I'd never saved your life."

"I'm not afraid of you," she sneered.

"Then you're a fool," he snapped, grabbing her by the shirt and hauling her off the deck. He brought her nose to nose with him, her feet dangling over the deck, and he saw her eyes, eyes so much like his own, widen in fear. "If you come within a mile of Kern, I'll hunt you down and gut you, then tie you to the mast by your entrails," he hissed in a savage voice. "Don't think I can't do it. Don't forget how I almost brought your entire ship down around your ears. Now get out of my sight, before your father gets back nothing but a pelt."

And with that, Tarrin threw her over the side.

She made the most wonderful scream as she fell, which was cut off by her impact with the water. He didn't look over, but the savage curses and vile promises hurled at him from below made it apparent that had her head above water.

"Kern," Tarrin said in a steady voice, looking at him.

"What is it, lad?"

"I think you need to get yourself a cat."

Kern looked at him, then his eyes widened, and he grinned. "Aye, I do believe ye be right. A nice black cat."

"We'll find something suitable in Dayisè. I'll give it some instructions."

"I be appreciatin' that, lad."

After Sheba was fished out of the sea, things went smoothly. The panther Wikuni glared at him from the other ship, her eyes boring into him as she spoke to the ship captain in hushed tones, but Tarrin didn't give her much mind. He turned and shifted back to cat form, then laid down by the ship's crudely fashioned emergency wheel. After the Wikuni were loaded aboard the frigate, it raised its anchor and pulled away from the galleon without so much as a word from its captain.

"I think ye can tell Dolanna to come back up," Kern told him as the galleon began moving towards Dayisè again.

Tarrin nodded to him, then padded towards the steep stairs to the deck. He shifted back into his humanoid form once he was in the companionway below, then opened the door to her cabin. "Dolanna, the Wikuni are gone," he told her. "We're moving again."

"I felt the ship's motion, dear one," she told him lightly, adjusting the veil over her face a bit to get it off the base of her nose. "Any problems? I heard Sheba screaming."

"She threatened Kern, so I tossed her overboard," he replied bluntly.

"Well, I suppose she had that coming," she mused. "Tell the others to go back on deck."

"Yes ma'am," he acknowledged with a nod.

He opened each cabin door and told the occupants that it was over, and they began to arrive back on deck. Azakar still looked uncomfortable in his brightly colored robes, and Faalken's continuous jibes didn't help the matter. The cherubic Knight was careful not to get within arm's reach of the hulking youth, mainly because he was wearing his armor this time. Tarrin didn't waste time, he shifted back into cat form and climbed into Miranda's shoulder bag, then pushed and nudged at the contents until he could lay down somewhat comfortably. He got jabbed by one of Miranda's needles, which required another round of settling in until the needles stuck into skeins of yarn and bobbins of thread no longer posed a stabbing threat. Miranda picked up the bag after he stopped moving and rested it on her shoulder easily, looking down into the open mouth of it and giving him a cheeky grin.

"How do they keep control of all this?" Dar asked curiously. "There are so many ships. How do they know where to go?"

"Most of them don't," Keritanima replied. "Most of the quays are first come, first served. Some of them have specific berths. Those are the ones that have the red paint along the edges of the dock. That means someone owns that berth, and only certain ships can dock there. The rest are run by the city."

"It seems crazy. How do they move their cargo if they don't know where they're going to be docking?"

"That's how they've done it for hundreds of years," she replied. "I don't know the specifics of how they transport cargo, but they must have some kind of system."

Tarrin peeked out of the shoulder bag to see them approach Dayisè. They had cleared the ring of anchored ships and were moving into the harbor. He noticed that there were no sea fortresses, no naval defenses in place to defend the island city from shipborne attack. Then again, who would dare attack? The sheer number of ships coming and going, all of which would probably join in the defense of the important city, meant that an attacker would have to fight an armada of various ships to gain access to the islands. Kern directed the ship into the middle of the rows of stone quays, until he pulled up to an open slip at the end of one of the larger piers. It was painted red-Tomas must own the berth--and men were on hand to accept ropes thrown from the ship so it could be pulled in and secured.

It only took about twenty minutes to go from the Wikuni frigate to being tied to the dock. Once the ship was stable, the gangplank was lowered, and Kern approached them from the steering deck. "Here ye be, Mistress Dolanna," he told her in his gravelly voice. "I hope ye have a good journey."

"Your aid was indispensible, Captain Kern," she replied with a gentle smile, letting him take her hand. "We thank you, both for your aid and for your discretion."

"Tell Kern to expect a new cat sometime in the next couple of days," Tarrin told Keritanima in the manner of the Cat.

"Uh, Kern, Tarrin says to expect a new cat in the next couple of days. If that makes any sense."

"Aye, it makes perfect sense," he replied. "He said he'd be teachin' a cat that looks like him how to act, so I can use it to bluff anyone who knows about him."

"Clever," Keritanima said appreciatively.

"Good journey to ye, Dolanna," Kern said. "I got repairs to oversee."

"May the winds ever favor you, Kern," Dolanna replied. "Alright, my friends, let us find an inn, then I will attempt to locate Renoit. Keritanima, help me hide your Vendari companions behind Illusions."

Dayisè's streets were wide, and there was a curious lack of horses that were common in Suld. The place smelled of people and fish, rotting fish, and the wastes associated with both of them. But the sea breeeze blew in from the ocean, cleansing it of much of the miasma that hung over Suld. Tarrin peeked out of the shoulder bag and watched people go by, people dressed in every imaginable style and manner. Suld was a port city, but Dayisè was a port first and a city second. What caught his attention was that ever third person was Wikuni. The Wikuni almost owned Dayisè, it seemed, for there were a tremendous amount of them walking the city streets. Azakar led their group along the streets, following Dolanna's quietly relayed directions. None of the Wikuni gave Keritanima or Miranda even a second look. After all, Keritanima looked totally different from what she did now, and the Vendari bodyguards that always accompanied her were absent. Nobody would believe that the fox-Wikuni was the High Princess.

"Get down, Tarrin," Miranda said under her breath.

Tarrin hunkered down a bit so he couldn't be seen, but kept looking about intently. The architecture of the city was modest, most of the buildings being made of a grayish stone with white streaks in it, probably quarried from the islands themselves. Most buildings were directly against the street, making the place feel more like a hallway than a thoroughfare. Most of the buildings were inns or taverns, but that was a function of their location. So close to the docks, they were in an area that catered either to cargo or to the men that crewed the ships. Because sailors were a very rowdy bunch, most of the buildings showed some minor damage, and bits of broken glass and the occasional splinter or tankard shard could be found near the walls of the buildings. The run-down appearance of the area told them that the owners weren't all that worried about appearances anyway. There were very few horses, and the ones that were there were all pulling carts. There were some litter-carriers, hauling about this or that rich person, even a coach or two. But almost everyone was on foot, and most of them had the look of seafarers. There were a surprising number of women about, obviously citizens who looked after the businesses that catered to the very many travellers and sailors that frequented the city, but a good number of them were wearing the revealing dresses and had the general appearances of prostitutes. For such a group, there was no doubt that there were a good number of brothels in the city. That didn't count the freelancer hard currency girls. It was a Shacèan city, and his father had told him often than Shacèans didn't look down on prostitution. It was a job, just like any other, and it wasn't a bad thing for a woman to be a prostitute. There was a great deal of money to be made in the trade, if the woman had the right body and face. Shacèans were a rather liberal sort when it came to that kind of thing, a facet of their general happy-go-lucky and free- wheeling culture. But not every woman was wearing a dress with her breasts hanging out of it, and those women disappeared as they moved further and further from the docks. Some were wearing very well- made dresses and jewelry, markers of either well- to-do husbands or good business practices, but most were dressed in simple garb that marked them as workers or servants. Most of the rich-looking women were escorted by armed men who kept an eye on the other pedestrians, trained bodyguards not unlike Binter and Sisska.

Dolanna's directions took them to a slightly better part of the city, a neighborhood where the paint was a bit fresher and the streets not as populated by salt- smelling men. A residential area, where the citizens lived and the better or more refined inns and taverns could be found. She pointed Azakar to an inn called the Dancing Swan. "That is where we will go," she told him. "I have stayed here before."

"Looks common," Keritanima said, sniffing slightly.

"It appears common, Kaylin," Dolanna said, using Keritanima's assumed name. "But you will not find a more interesting innkeeper."

"Really," she drawled as Azakar opened the door.

The interior was clean, well maintained, and elegantly decorated. Art hung on the walls, and a young, handsome boy sat in the corner playing a curious wooden instrument with strings that he held under his chin. The sound of the instrument was haunting, and it was quite lovely. The place smelled of humans and alcohol, but the most sumptuous smells of roasting beef, pork, and goose wafted from a door in the back. A huge chaba wood bar, deeply burnished so the red hue of the wood shined, dominated the back wall of the inn, and the floor was peppered with a great many circular tables, all with padded chairs pushed underneath them. There were a surprising number of patrons, filling the tables, as well-dressed serving maids moved between them with grace and poise. A large man stood behind the bar, serving drinks, but it was not to him that Dolanna looked. She looked to a man dressed in a white silk shirt with a brown vest, a man that looked young and vibrant, with dark hair and handsome looks. He had a slightly narrow face and looked light-boned and slender, but the warm smile on his face seemed to brighten the room.

"Snazzy," Miranda said, looking around.

"Elegant," Keritanima agreed.

Dolanna walked up to the table and lowered her veil, which made the man's face light in recognition. "Madame Dolanna!" he said with a slightly twanged voice, a Torian accent. "So good of you to visit with me again! I didn't know that you had your eyes on marriage, or I would have suited you," he said with a sly wink.

She smiled. "A costume, nothing more, good Haley," she replied. "I have need to move about without eyes following me. How have you been?"

"I've been destitute without your company," he said in a completely insincere voice. "My nights have been long and lonely, and all the color has bled from the flowers."

"Flatterer," she said with a slight smile, motioning for the others to join her. When they got closer to him, Tarrin caught his scent, and it almost immediately made his hackles raise. It seemed human, but there was something more in it, something extra. He wasn't entirely human. "Haley, you remember Faalken. These are the other members of my group. Azakar, Dar, Allia, Mistresses Kaylin and Allison, and their bodyguards Ben and Sestra."

The man Haley seemed to stare at Binter and Sisska, then gave Keritanima a rather curious look, but then his smile returned. "I see you travel with an unusual group," he said. "I'm surprised her Highness there agreed to not be your shining star."

Dolanna gave him a curious look, then she chuckled ruefully as Keritanima glared at him. "I do hope you will be discreet, my friend. This is part of the reason why we travel like this."

"For you, Dolanna, I'll cut out my tongue and let you keep it until you leave," he said grandly. "I take it you're looking for rooms?"

"If you have them," she nodded.

"Of course. Nobody's rented the top floor suites, so consider it to be yours. Seven rooms, with a view you'll not find anywhere else on the islands. I'll even give it to you at cost, because you are an old friend."

"You were always good to me, Master Haley," she told him gratefully.

"What's 'at cost'?" Keritanima asked.

"Why, it's a steal at ten nobles a night," he said with a bright grin.

"Ten nobles! That's piracy!"

"For seven rooms, included meals, the services of a maid and page, and a view that will take your breath away, ten nobles is a bargain," he replied with a wave of his hand, as if her argument was baseless. "The usual rate is twenty."

"What is a noble?" Allia asked in a whisper to Dar, so quiet that only Tarrin's sensitive ears picked it up past him.

"It's a coin worth five gold crowns," he whispered back.

Tarrin converted it quickly. For a night here, they could rent rooms in a boarding house for all of them for three months.

"We accept, old friend," Dolanna said with a gentle smile, taking his hand. "And tell me, has Renoit left for his spring performances?"

"Renoit? He's still performing in the Circus Square, so I guess he hasn't left yet," he replied. "Did you want to see his troupe? I have to admit, they are astounding. More than worth an afternoon."

"Perhaps we will at that," she said. "If you do not mind, we really must settle in. It has been a long journey."

"Of course, of course! Dareen, escort our guests here to the Grande Suites," he ordered one of the pretty young ladies standing behind him. "They are to be treated like the old friends they are."

"Yes, Master Haley. If you would follow me please," she told them.

"I don't like him," Keritanima said waspishly as they went up the stairs.

"You just don't like someone that's more royal than you," Dar jibed.

"He's much more of a princess than me," she shot back.

The suite was huge. It was a large central sitting room with six assorted bedrooms leading away from it. It took up the entire top floor of the inn. Each of the six rooms were large, but some were obviously meant for wealthy guests, and some were meant for their servants. Each was well decorated, but the lavishness of the larger bedrooms was apparent to any who cared to look. Tarrin remained in cat form as Dareen showed them the suite, then promised to have a very large meal brought up for them. Only after she left did he wriggle out of Miranda's shoulder satchel and shift back to his humanoid form.

"This room is mine!" Keritanima shouted from one of them, probably the largest and most luxurious of them all.

"Six rooms, ten of us. Some of us are going to have to double up," Faalken said.

"I hope your snoring isn't as bad on land, Faalken," Azakar said.

"I'll do my best to make it worse," he teased.

"I really need to take a bath," Dar said, tugging at his robes.

"Haley has a large bathing room in the basement," Dolanna told him. "Or he will have a bathtub brought up to us, as we please."

There was a knock at the door, which sent Tarrin back into cat form immediately. Dar opened it, and found a young, slim, pretty girl in a black dress, with an apron. Her blond hair was tied back in a tail, and it dangled all the way to her thighs. The dress ended above her knees. "Andevous, madamme. Abuyi Lisette. Jui sun cecì chate deaux?"

"Do you speak the common tongue, young one?" Dolanna asked.

"Oui, madame," she said in a heavy accent. "Do you require anything?"

"I think I need a cold bath," Faalken said, looking at the young girl. That got him an elbow in the ribs from Keritanima. She winced when her elbow made connection with the steel of his armor.

"Just a meal for now, my dear," Dolanna told her. "I will call you if we require anything more."

"Oui," she said, giving a bobbing curtsy. "I will hurry the meal."

"Be still my breastplate," Faalken said, watching the door for a moment after she closed it.

"I think it's your codpiece you should keep still," Keritanima said waspishly.

"I love Shacèan maids," Faalken said with hearty sigh and a look at the door.

"You love anything in a dress. That's one reason I'm so worried about wearing the robes," Azakar told him, which made the Knight glare at him.

"I think I broke my arm," Keritanima said sulkily, rubbing her elbow.

"That'll teach you to elbow a Knight."

"I'll just set fire to your breeches next time," she told him with a slightly ominous smile.

"I think the maid already did that," Faalken said, which made Allia and Dar break out in laughter and drew a nasty look from Keritanima.

"Children," Dolanna chided. "We should settle in. We will probably be here for a few days."

"I don't see how someone so old can be a child," Keritanima said in a surly tone as Faalken and Azakar entered one of the rooms.

"Faalken's temperament passes a great deal of idle time, Keritanima," Dolanna told her in a calm voice, though she was smiling. "Given the choice of spending a month with him, or a month with you, I would choose him. He is much more entertaining."

"That was low, Dolanna," Keritanima said shortly.

"At least he does not shed," she said, passing into one of the rooms.

Miranda burst out laughing, but it came up short when Keritanima whirled on her and gave her an ugly look. "Don't you start too!" she snapped.

"Kerri, I never stopped," she said with a cheeky grin. "And you do shed."

Keritanima growled in her throat, then stomped into one of the rooms. She made sure to slam the door. Hard.

Miranda giggled like a little girl, then looked down and gave Tarrin a cheeky grin. Then she winked. "You two better claim rooms," Miranda told Allia and Dar.

"What about you?" Dar asked.

"My place is with her Royal Shedding Highness," she said simply. "Binter and Sisska will get a room too. They may be Kerri's bodyguards, but even they need time to themselves sometimes. I'll keep an eye on her Highness."

"We appreciate your consideration, Miranda," Sisska said in her deep, unfeminine voice.

Tarrin jumped up onto the deeply cushioned couch, upholstered in dark satin, then laid down sedately near the arm. "I think Tarrin is claiming this room as his own," Allia said with a smile at him. Tarrin nodded to her. "Alright then. I think I would like to unpack this," she said, holding up her pack.

All the others went into rooms, leaving Tarrin alone. He didn't mind all that much, for he was rather tired, and it had been a long day. The couch was soft and pleasant, and it would make a perfect bed for him. Azakar was carrying his pack, so he knew where to go to get his things. He had just drifted off to to sleep when the door opened, and two large men carried in a table. More men behind them brought in chairs, and then a series of ladies lavished large amounts of sumptuoussmelling food onto the table. Haley himself stood at the door watching the activity, and his smile returned when Dolanna came out of her room. "As promised, one meal to die for," Haley told her, kissing her hand as the last servant filed out. "After you dine, I'll have bathtubs brought up so you can wash the sea off of your skin."

"That would greatly please me, Master Haley," she said sincerely.

"You never told me you had a pet, Dolanna," he said, looking at Tarrin. "I didn't see it when you arrived."

"Mistress Allison was carrying him in her bag," she said calmly. "The cat likes it in there, and it makes it easy to transport."

"He's a big cat," he said with a smile, approaching Tarrin, as if to pet him. But the closer he got, the more striking the dissimilarity of his scent became. It was blazingly obvious to him that Haley wasn't human, wasn't what he appeared to be. Didn't Dolanna know that? Was he an enemy, a lurker, someone who preyed on the unwary? Tarrin laid his ears back when Haley got near, and then hissed at him when he reached out to pat him on the head. A clawed paw took a swipe at that hand, which was out of range, but it got his attention. Haley backed off, slowly, giving Dolanna a rueful grin.

"I am so sorry, Haley," she apologized as Tarrin growled at the man threateningly. "I have never seen him do that before."

"Maybe your cat can smell me," he chuckled ruefully. "I know I don't smell like a human."

That got his attention. That he referred to them as human meant that he wasn't one himself.

"Tarrin's sense of smell is quite acute," Dolanna agreed. "Now that I think about it, it makes perfect sense."

"Tarrin?" Haley said with sudden interest, giving Dolanna a sharp look. "You mean this is the Tarrin?"

"How do you mean?"

"Dolanna, how did you get this far?" he asked suddenly. "Do you have any idea how many of us are looking for him? I don't believe that you got all the way to Dayisè!"

"We have been aboard a ship for two months, Haley," she replied.

"Yes, of course," he said to himself. "The search has been on land. But you must have come ashore, or else Triana wouldn't have sent messages about him. Did he really destroy half of Den Gauche?"

Triana? How did he know Triana? He--

--of course! He was part of Fae-da'Nar! But what was he?

"You have me at a disadvantage, Haley," Dolanna said seriously. "I did not think that you kept in touch with the others."

"Dolanna, what have you done to me?" he groaned. "I've already given you hospitality, but now I'm harboring a Rogue. If the Circle finds out about this--"

"They will not, Haley," she said. "We will only be here for a few days, at the most. Then we will be gone." She looked at Tarrin. "You can change, dear one. He already knows who and what you are."

Tarrin jumped down off the couch, then shifted into his humanoid form. Haley stared at him for a moment, eyes searching, then he sighed ruefully. Then he chuckled. "I don't believe this," he grunted.

"Who is this, Dolanna? You know he's not human, don't you?"

"Tarrin, remember when I told you that I had a Were-wolf friend, who taught me most of what I know about Were- kin?" He nodded in acknowledgement. "Well, this is the Were-wolf. Haley, meet Tarrin. Tarrin, this is Haley."

"Triana wasn't lying," Haley said appreciatively, looking up Tarrin's considerable height. Tarrin looked down on the slender man, finding it hard to believe that he was Were. He didn't look Were, though he did smell it. But then again, Jesmind had told him once that Were-cats were unique in that their human shape was no longer their natural form. It stood to reason that all other Were-kin could take a human shape. And when he was in human shape, he looked just he had, completely human. Haley, in human form, would look perfectly human. "You're a bit raw on the edges, boy. You need to leash that temper."

"What are you going to do?" Tarrin asked bluntly.

"Tarrin, Haley has welcomed us and given us hospitality," Dolanna said. "That means that until we leave his home, he will protect and see to our needs. Because he gave you hospitality, he will not do anything to you, or against you."

"It's a Were-wolf custom," Haley told him calmly. "Until you leave my range, you are pack-mates. That makes you family. But now that custom is making me choose between custom and law."

"Law?"

"You're a Rogue, boy. I should be trying to rip your head off right now, but I've given you hospitality. Every Were-kin, Dryad, Druid, Faerie, Pixie, Sylph, Nymph, Gnome, and Centaur in the West is hunting for you. I'm shocked you made it this far without running into someone."

"How did Triana get here before we did? Is she still here?" he asked.

"She didn't come here, boy. Triana is a Druid, and Druids can send messages to other Druids. I'm nowhere near Triana's ability, but I know enough Druidic magic to be able to receive messages. Every Druidic adept in the West is hunting for you."

"I'm not surprised," he said with a grunt and a sigh. "Everyone else certainly seems to be after me. Why not the Druids too?"

"I am surprised at you, boy. Do you have any idea how many people you killed in Den Gauche? You wiped out nearly half the city!"

"So?" he asked in a grim, blunt voice.

Haley paled and stared at him in a bit of shock, then he cleared his voice. He gave Dolanna a desperate look, but her own expression was just as calm, even cold, as his. "Dolanna, you are my friend, but I just cannot allow him to go out and-"

"You do not understand the situation, Haley," she said calmly. "What happened in Den Gauche was entirely the fault of your Were-cat, Triana. She pushed him into a corner, and he fought back in the only way he had available to him."

"He's feral, Dolanna! Almost as feral as Mist! Maybe even more so! He's not insane, but insanity would be better than this!"

"Surprising that you can make that conclusion so quickly," she chided him. "I will be the first to admit that he has developed feral tendencies, but given the tremendous amount of stress that has been placed on him, it is no surprise. He is not truly feral, Haley. Not yet."

Tarrin looked down at the Were-wolf calmly, his green eyes boring into him, and the impulse to strike first, strike now, crossed his mind more than once. This Haley wasn't coming across as someone that was going to be very helpful, and he had the power to bring the Druids down on him like a hammer. He was hovering very close to being an enemy in Tarrin's eyes, and that was a very unhealthy position for someone standing within his paw's reach. Haley looked up at him with his dark eyes, and he showed no fear. No fear-smell flashed through his scent. He was not afraid of Tarrin. That may be a bad mistake.

"Don't look at me like prey, boy," Haley warned him in a dangerous tone. "I know how to fight Werecats." He turned his back on Tarrin deliberately, a clear indication that he had no fear, then walked to the door and opened it. Then he turned and gave Dolanna a penetrating stare. "I've given you hospitality, and that means that I won't raise my hand against you. But I want you and him out of my inn tomorrow, Dolanna. I won't harbor a Rogue for any more than I absolutely have to. And after you leave, I suggest you make sure I don't find you. If I do, then I'll have my duty to perform, and I fear it won't go over very well with you."

"As you wish, Haley," Dolanna said calmly, and then he closed the door.

Tarrin gave Dolanna a calm look, but she dismissed it with a wave of her hand. "Do not worry about him, Tarrin. Haley is a very old friend. I will talk to him this evening, and hopefully we can reach accommodations."

"You came here on purpose," he realized.

"Yes," she admitted. "Haley is a Druid. I knew that, and I knew that he would know where you stand among his society. That was information I needed to know. But he also gives us a way to present a defense for you to them. If I allow him to observe you, and let him understand why things have happened as they have, then hopefully he can convince the others that you are not as much a threat as they believe."

"I guess," he said as Faalken and Azakar came out of their room.

"I heard what was going on, Dolanna, but we decided not to barge in and mess things up," he told her. "I doubt that two Were-kin on edge would be very receptive to party crashers."

"Wise as always, old friend," she told him with a straight face. "And I will tell you now. Haley's condition is among one of the best kept secrets in Dayisè. That secret will not be revealed by us. Is that understood?"

"Aye," Azakar said as Faalken nodded.

"Is that clear, your Highness?" Dolanna called in a raised voice.

From behind the door of the room she chose for herself, there was an angry stamp of a foot.

"I am glad that that is settled," Dolanna said calmly. "Now, our dinner has arrived. Let us get to it before it gets cold. Tarrin, fetch the others, if you please."

The meal was spectacular, and the long rides living on sea rations made it that much more heavenly. Tarrin found himself competing with Azakar over who would get the largest portions, even though there was more food on the table than the entire group could possibly eat. Tarrin had forgotten what meat tasted like without a cup of salt on it to keep it from spoiling, and it had been since the Stormhavens since he'd had goose or venison.

After the meal, Tarrin lounged on the couch lazily as Dolanna and Faalken went downstairs to speak with Haley. The others said their goodnights and wandered to their own rooms, to partake of beds larger than rowcots that didn't sway with a ship. Tarrin missed the swinging of the deck, in a curious way. Such motion wasn't all that bad when one wanted to be lulled to sleep, but then again, he'd rarely slept in his bed in humanoid form. His cat form was much more comfortable for sleeping in cramped conditions. Now that he was thinking of it, he'd spent the last two months in cat form more than in his humanoid form. He found it hard to believe that there had been a time that he didn't know how to shapeshift. It was second nature to him now, something he didn't even have to think about anymore.

He worried about Haley. The Were-wolf was in a position to do some serious damage. He could call on the others, and they could come, or at the very least try to get here before they left. Tarrin wasn't all that worried about a fight with him, he looked rather scrawny and easy to overwhelm, but that possibility wasn't lost on him either. He'd rather avoid fighting with him, if only because he was a friend of Dolanna. That gave him a little respect in Tarrin's eyes. Not much, but some.

He wondered what it would be like to be something other than a cat. Wolves were fairly large animals, and he rather doubted that there were any wild ones on the cityislands. How did Haley stand it? Surrounded by humans all the time, unable to express the other side of himself. At least Tarrin could move about in his other form at will, being lost among the other domesticated animals. But Haley was a large predator, an animal that organized into packs that cooperated with each other. How did he translate that into living on the small island, surrounded by humans and Wikuni? For that matter, why was he here in the first place? A Were-wolf would have no business in such a place. Maybe he did change form and go out. Not to hunt people, or even animals, just to go out and walk around in his wolf form, pretending to be someone's pet. A pet that would turn heads, but a pet nonetheless. At least Tarrin didn't attract attention. He was just another cat.

Cat. He had to find a cat to replace him on the ship. He owed Kern that much for everything the grizzled old sea captain had done for them. With everyone in bed and Dolanna downstairs, he figured it was the perfect time to go ahead and do just that. It was dark, and that meant that the cats were out, searching for their nightly meals. It wouldn't be that hard to track down a stray black cat and offer it a permanent home.

Besides, after two months cooped up with the others, he wanted a little time by himself.

Getting out of the inn was as easy as going downstairs and padding through the crowded common room, then out the open door. Nobody noticed him in the bustle of serving girls and raucous patrons. After slipping out, he was loose on the streets of Dayisè. They were crowded streets, filled with many Wikuni and sailors of every nation on the planet, and it was still well represented by merchants and other business men. The other business of the night was prostitution, and he only had to walk a few blocks before returning to the areas where hard currency girls plied their trade. But his business that night had nothing to do with harlots or merchants. The scents of other cats weren't easy to find, and he realized that the island nation didn't have a very large population of land-based animals common to mainland cities. There were wild cats about, but they were very spread out and not easy to find.

Tarrin spent a few hours tracking down the widely scattered wild cats, but none of them were suitable. The cat had to be black, and had to be large enough to pass for him. He found nine cats during those hours of slinking through alleys and winding streets, avoiding the humans and Wikuni, and none of them were the right coloration. He worked his way back towards the docks, finding another scent in a filthy garbage-strewn alleyway that had human scents in it as well. A relatively fresh scent. Looking up, Tarrin realized that the smell, masked by the stench of the refuse, was strong enough to put the owner of it in the alley. There was also a strong smell of blood. He hadn't seen any humans when he came in, and there wasn't a blood trail to justify the strong smell. But there was alot of blood near the alley's end, even spattered on the walls. Whatever had happened had happened here, and that there was no blood trail leaving said to him that the victim had to still be here.

It took only a moment to find the source of that smell, and the discovery filled him with a near rage. It was coming from a very young woman, barely more than a girl, who had been thrown into a pile of reeking garbage. She had been beaten so severely that he couldn't make out any facial features, and was still literally pouring blood from many savage lacerations and slash marks, saturating the garbage upon which she had been cast. Someone had literally tortured the young woman, whose clothes marked her has a prostitute, then left her for dead. Tarrin changed form and gently lifted her out of the pile, then set her on the dirty cobblestones of the alley's paved floor. She was still alive, but that would only be for a moment longer. She was nearly gone. Tarrin instinctively reached out and touched the Weave, and placed a paw on her bare, slashed belly. She had nearly been disemboweled by a knife. She was injured both inside and outside, broken bones, cuts, abrasions, bruises to her internal organs, one of her eyes punctured by the point of a knife. That someone would willingly inflict such ghastly injuries to a defenseless woman and leave her alive, letting her suffer until time took her from the world, seemed monstrous. Utterly monstrous. There was more, lower down, an anomoly in her body's chemistry--

She was pregnant! She was with child, and many of the injuries centered around her stomach. Had the attacker known she was bearing life? If so, had the attacker specifically focused on killing the unborn?

High Sorcery would not be held back this time, but it didn't matter. Tarrin's fury gave him an icy control that knuckled the awesome might of High Sorcery under, and without thinking about it, he managed to control that power that had always overwhelmed him before. Tarrin's paws limned over with the ghostly radiance that marked the use of High Sorcery, and he wove together those flows of water, earth, and Divine power that made up a healing spell, then released it into her. The girl's back arched severely as the intense cold sensation froze over the pain, but her slashes and lacerations stopped bleeding and began to seal over. Hidden injuries also healed over at an astonishing rate. Her eyes filled back in and repaired themselves, and her broken nose took on the shape it had originally held. Bone marrow was magically incited to produce the essential elements that made up blood, and broken bones quickly and seamlessly set themselves and fused. After the healing was done, Tarrin wove together a pure weave of Divine energy and released it into her, letting the power of the Weave itself infuse the girl to replace the vital energy she had lost in the healing. She would still feel exhausted, but it would be more of a feeling of exertion than the usual feeling that someone had sucked all her blood out through her nose that accompanied normal Healing. She was pregnant, and if he didn't replenish the energy she had lost, her unborn would suffer because of it.

Her eyes fluttered open as Tarrin pulled his paw away. They were beautiful eyes, blue as the sea, and they were well matched to her blond, honey-colored hair. That anyone would try to kill such a pretty young girl itself was criminal. She looked a bit confused, staring up at him blearily, then she coughed a few times to clear some blood from her lungs. "Who did this?" Tarrin asked in a quiet tone full of promised vengeance.

She looked at him, her eyes clearing. "My, my, shado," she said in a heavily accented voice. "My agent."

"Agent?"

"He who arranges my customers, yes."

"Where is he?"

"What will you do?" she asked after a moment.

"What he did to you," he replied in a tone of utter emotionlessness.

That made her eyes harden slightly. "Go out and turn left. Two streets down, in the Laughing Mermaid inn," she said. "Make him hurt."

"He'll hurt," Tarrin said in an ugly tone, flexing his claws menacingly. He leaned down and sniffed delicately at her neck and shoulder. His scent was still on her from his contact, and it sealed the man's doom. That scent was blazed into his memory, and there was nowhere in Dayisè where he would be safe from Tarrin's avenging fury.

It didn't take him long to reach the Laughing Mermaid. It was a rangy, run-down place that catered to sailors and the prostitutes that served them. The place had no door, just two shutter-like wooden panels hanging in the doorframe. He pushed them open and stepped into the inn, his sharp eyes taking in all of the patrons in the large common room in a single glance. Most were armed, and many of them had the look and bearing of men used to having the floor rock underneath them. But one stood out, because his hair was wet. It would need to be wet, because with as much blood as the girl lost, some of it had to get on her attacker. Tarrin moved directly towards the man, who was sitting at a table in the back of the inn, attended by four young women who were dressed as prostitutes. Tarrin knocked one drunken man out of his way as he moved directly towards the man, inciting a loud protest in a slurring voice. But he paid it no heed. He reached the table and stood there for a second, giving the ladies a chance to get out of the way. The man noticed him and looked up, his face serene and a smile gracing his features. "Well, you're an interesting Wikuni. Have a taste for human girls?"

Tarrin put his paws on the table and leaned forward, just close enough to get a very good whiff of the man's scent. It was him. And the smell of the girl's blood was still all over him.

"You didn't clean off all the blood," Tarrin told him in an icy tone.

That serene smile dropped, then turned into a mask of terror when Tarrin's eyes exploded into the green radiance that clearly marked his rage. It would be the last thing the man would ever see. The girls shrieked in terror when Tarrin's paw lashed out and hit the man square in the face, palm first, the padded palm breaking his nose and his claws punching through both eyes. Tarrin's claws hooked into the sockets, and he dragged the man back across the table by that grisly clawhold, as the man shrieked in agony and grabbed his wrist with both hands. Tarrin picked him completely up off the table by that grip, then slammed him down into it with enough force to shatter the table and drive the man to the floor. Blood erupted from his mouth and sprayed on Tarrin's palm, when wood shard penetrated deeply into his body, stunning him enough for Tarrin to let go, then hold out a single finger with claw extended, a claw sharper than any knife. He slashed the man five times, in the exact places where he had slashed the girl, then backhanded him to break his left cheekbone. Claws punched into flesh as Tarrin picked him up off the broken table, then he turned and whipped him back down, letting him smash into the reed-strewn floor with enough force to break bones and split the wood beneath him.

That was enough. He wouldn't survive from those injuries. Shaking blood from his paw absently, he stared directly at the four horrified young women, his expression blank. They were clutching onto each other. He noticed the dead silence in the inn; the fury and speed of his assault had taken them all aback, and he was done before even one tried to intervene. "Don't grieve for him," Tarrin told them in a cold tone. "What he got is what he gave to a young girl not an hour ago, something he would have done to any of you. He got what he gave. No more, no less."

Then the turned and left the man to bleed on the floor, and wait for Death to come and claim him.

That bit of business concluded, Tarrin walked out of the inn and into an alley, then changed form and stalked off. He was still trying to find a cat to replace him, and he wasn't going to stop until he did.

He snuck back into the inn close to dawn, his business finished. He found a suitable cat about an hour after killing the man who had so grievously injured the young girl, and spent most of the rest of the night teaching it what it needed to know. Once he had that done, and assured the cat that Kern would feed it and care for it, he took it to the Star of Jerod and woke up Kern. He introduced the cat, explained how to instruct it to pretend to be him, then explained the cat's demands in return for this service. Kern was very receptive, for a cat's demands usually went no further than a steady supply of food and a warm place to sleep comfortably.

The inn's common room still had people inside it, but it was nearly empty. Only a couple of patrons and a single serving girl remained in the room, the three men drinking from tankards and talking in low tones as the girl cleaned tables nearby. Haley stepped from a door near the bar and his eyes seemed to be drawn directly to where Tarrin was standing, near the stairs. He gave Tarrin a blunt look, then pointed to a table near the back, to which Haley moved and sat down. He was demanding an audience of sorts, he guessed. There was no real reason to refuse. Tarrin jumped up onto the table and gave the Were-wolf a calm look.

"And where have you been all night?" he asked in a slightly hostile voice.

He didn't see any reason to reply. He wouldn't understand anyway. He just stood up and walked to the edge of the table, then jumped down and started for the stairs.

Upstairs, he settled onto the couch just as the door to Allia's room opened. She padded out on bare feet and a nightgown lent by Dolanna, looking like a dark-skinned rose in the pink garment. Her long silver hair was a bit wild, and her eyes hung heavily. The night without sleep didn't affect Tarrin at all, for he could go days, rides, without any real sleep. Allia didn't sleep long, but she always had trouble waking up.

"Tarrin," she said sleepily. "Dolanna was looking for you. You were gone all night."

"I had to find a replacement cat for Kern," he told her in the manner of the Cat. "It wasn't easy."

"That Haley was also looking for you. I don't know why."

"He probably had a good reason," he said knowingly.

Keritanima and Miranda came from their room. Keritanima was wearing one of her dressing gowns and looked very much like herself, rather than the strict, stern Kaylin. Miranda wore a soft robe that was tied loosely, hanging off one shoulder. Miranda looked as if she wanted to go right back in there and go back to sleep. "Morning," Keritanima said.

Dolanna's door opened, and she stood in the doorway. She gave Tarrin a blunt look, obviously she wasn't happy about something. "Tarrin, come in here, now," she said in an authoritative voice.

Getting up, he padded into her room calmly. There really wasn't much she could say. After all, she didn't tell him that he couldn't go out. He sat on his haunches and looked up at her expectantly.

"Change," she ordered, and he did so, going from looking up her great height to looking down at her. She grabbed him by the paw and turned it over, looking down at the dried blood clinging to the pads. "Really, Tarrin, can you not go out by yourself without killing someone?" she said in exasperation.

"He had it coming," he said flatly. "He nearly killed a young girl."

"And when were you elected judge and executioner?" she demanded. "They are not your fights, young one. You should have turned him into the watch."

"Some things can't be forgiven," he said in a ruthless tone, looking directly into Dolanna's eyes to challenge her position.

"Word of it reached us," she told him. "That an exotic Wikuni killed a man in the middle of an inn's common room. The method of killing immediately told me who it was. Right now, the Watch is hunting for you, so I do not suggest you go out in your natural form."

"That's not a problem," he told her. "Nobody's seen me change, so nobody knows where I am."

"I do," Haley said from Dolanna's door. Tarrin hadn't heard him open it. That said a great deal for the Were-wolf's stealth. "Dolanna, you lost all the ground you gained last night. I'm not going to let him run through the streets and kill people whenever he feels like it."

"Perhaps it would be best to hear his reasons before you pass judgement, Haley," Dolanna told him. "Well, young one? Exactly what did provoke this?"

Without emotion, staring directly at Haley the entire time after he entered the room and closed the door, Tarrin recanted the story of how he found the young girl, then what he did to the man who put her there. "I don't know where you grew up, but where I was raised we believe in an eye for an eye," Tarrin told the Were-wolf in a neutral tone. "I did to him what he did to her."

"And why didn't you turn him into the watch?" he asked.

"Because they wouldn't have done what needed to be done," he replied calmly.

"Why bother?" Haley asked. "What was the girl to you?"

"She was in need," he said, glaring at the Were wolf.

Sighing, Haley sat down. "Boy, you just have no idea what you're getting yourself into," he said. "Fae- da'Nar forbids us to act outside the laws where we are unless they jeopardize our own lives or livelihood. I may not like what the man did, but I can't go around and dish out my own version of justice to whoever I feel deserves it."

"I'm not part of your order," Tarrin told him.

"You better be, boy," he replied bluntly. "If you're not, then they'll kill you."

"They can certainly try," Tarrin seethed.

"I think we can dispense with the threats," Dolanna interrupted. "Tarrin does not kill indiscriminately, Haley. He usually has a good reason."

"Boy, I'm not calling you down," he said. "I'd probably have done the same thing myself. I'm not heartless. But I understand that the well being of the Forest Kin depends on us being able to function within the human society. When among humans, it's important that we don't upset them, and we act more human. If we mess that up, many of the things that we need will be out of our reach, because the humans won't trust us anymore."

"So, what would you have done?" Tarrin asked, giving Haley a slightly cross look.

"I don't really know. But the point is, I would have weighed the consequences before just charging off. That's something that you can't seem to be able to do, and that makes you dangerous." He gave Tarrin a direct look. "You're feral, boy. You think you know what that means, but you're not even halfway close. If you keep doing what you're doing, dishing out justice, killing anyone you deem in need of it, you're going to get harder and harder. Killing will be easier and easier, and you'll find it to be the quickest and easiest way to solving your problems. Dolanna told me you feared becoming a monster. If you keep up the way you're going now, you're going to be that monster. It won't be the savage mindlessness you fear, it will be a cold and calculating sadism that will make people fear you ten times more than if you were insane. Werecats are all half feral, that's one of the reasons the rest of the Were-kin don't like them. But Were-cats like you and Mist define everything the rest of us don't like about your kind."

Those words struck Tarrin, and they were right. At first, he found it hard to kill. Now it was as easy as deciding between having pork or beef. But there was little remorse, little regret mixed up in it. It was more of a declaration of what he was rather than a condemnation of what he had become. He had to admit to himself that he was hard, that he was feral. But the moral consequences slid off of him like water. There was no impact there.

"I can see that I'm right. I can also see that you don't care," he noted. "That's more or less what I expected. You don't see anything wrong with what you've done because it makes perfect sense to you. That's a function of the instincts inside you, instincts that have convinced your human mind that its way of doing things are best. You have to do something about that.

"Part of being able to function in a human society is being able to make hard choices," Haley said, staring into Tarrin's eyes. "We all have instincts, and they're very strong. You have to learn when to tell them no. You've lost that ability. If you hope to be accepted by Fae-da'Nar, you'd better learn how to do that again."

"I don't want acceptance," Tarrin told him flatly. He understood what was waiting for him if he became soft. Enslavement, imprisonment, to be used by people he would trust for their own ends. Deception, abuse, and sorrow. He could do without that. "I don't want to change."

"Then you have little hope," Haley sighed. "You seem to have conquered the madness, but if you can't conquer your instincts, they'll kill you."

"Then let them try," Tarrin said, snapping his paw across his chest in a combative display. "They can get in line behind everyone else."

"Tarrin," Dolanna said quickly. "Haley's eyes are on the manacles. Why do you not explain to him how they got there, and what they mean to you."

With no emotion, Tarrin stared right at him and related how Jula had betrayed him, and how he had been taken prisoner. "These remind me of what happens when I trust people," he said heatedly, holding up his arms to let Haley see the heavy steel cuffs. "These warn me of what happens when I let people get close to me, and I wear them so I'll never forget. I'll never be put in a cage again. Never!"

"Tarrin's position is more than what you believe, Haley," Dolanna told him putting a gentle hand on Tarrin's arm. "I cannot deny that he is what you believe him to be. But how he got there is not because of his own choice. To a Werecat, there is nothing more terrifying than to be stripped of freedom. Would you not expect him to erect a defense against it?"

Haley only gave her a blank look.

"Tarrin is not as controlled by his instincts as you believe. Yes, he killed a man. But it was a man that had attacked a defenseless woman. Tarrin's instincts have merged with his human morality to create within him a very stark view of right and wrong, of proper and improper. Tarrin said it himself when he told you that he gave to the man what he gave to the woman. No more, no less."

"I'm not disputing that, Dolanna," he said. "I said that I probably would have done the same thing. But I wouldn't have killed him in the middle of a common room with some fifty witnesses."

"You are splitting hairs, Haley," Dolanna said with a slight smile. "I know Tarrin. He has triggers, and so long as none of those triggers are touched, he is perfectly fine. To injure a defenseless woman like that is one of his more sensitive triggers. Tarrin is extremely protective, even over those whom he does not trust, if he deems them incapable of defending themselves. Especially children. And the girl he described could not have been much older than a child."

"You're talking to a blind man, Dolanna," Haley said. "I'm not saying I don't agree or disagree. Personally, I like the boy. But speaking from the standpoint of Faeda'Nar, his behavior is totally unacceptable."

"Then why get me riled up?" Tarrin demanded.

"Because you have to understand things," he replied calmly. "If we were in the forest, I'd have no problem with what you do. But this is human society, so there has to be constraint. Gutting someone in a common room with people watching isn't much of an exercise in self control." He pointed at Tarrin. "The only place for you is the forest, boy. You've proved that you can't function in human lands."

"We have little choice, Haley. I told you what we are doing."

"I know, but you may want to think about leaving him here, then picking him up when you come back from Yar Arak. Someone like him in Arak? He'll depopulate half the country."

"Maybe they are due for it," Dolanna said.

Haley laughed. "Probably. I've never met an Arakite that wasn't a sadistic, arrogant brute. But if the fact that he's a Were-cat were to be common knowledge, it would permanently damage our standing in human society."

"So, you're saying that you don't disagree with what I do, only that I shouldn't do it in public? Isn't that a bit hipocritical?" Tarrin asked him.

"I never said that the rules had to make sense," he said with a rueful chuckle. "There have been a few times I've felt the impulse to change form and take out someone's throat. I just know better. That's something you need to learn too." He sat down in a chair. "You're not the only one like you. There's another. Her name is Mist. She's a Were-cat, and she's almost exactly like you. The others don't let her come into human lands any more than absolutely necessary. She has this bad tendancy to leave a trail of bodies wherever she goes, like another nameless Were- cat I'm not going to mention. She never kills someone without a good reason, but the human law doesn't see it that way. Faeda'Nar tolerates her because she minimizes the damage by only coming out of the forest very seldomly. So long as she stays outside of human eyes, the Forest Folk don't object to her. It's when her activities start getting noticed by humans that they do something about it. That's how it works, boy. In the forest, we do as we please, but we act our environment. When we go into human territory, we try to act human. They have enough reason to fear us as it is. We don't need to aggravate things."

"So, I am to assume that you are finished admonishing him?" Dolanna asked.

"It's not quite that bad, Dolanna," he replied with a grin. "He just needs to learn the distinctions between proper and improper behavior. I hope our little discussion helps you see that line." He got up again. "Now that that little bit of unpleasant business is behind us, why don't we go downstairs and get something to eat? But you, boy, will either have to take human form or stay up here. With what you did, it's best for you to keep that appearance hidden."

"Come down, Tarrin. It is a good chance to practice holding the human form."

"Is he any good at it?" Haley asked.

"He can hold it for a few hours, but there is always discomfort," she told him.

"That's normal for Were-cats. I've never quite understood why they're like that."

"Jesmind told me that the Were-cats can't hold the human form long because it's not their natural form anymore," Tarrin told him, closing his eyes and bringing his human appearance to mind. Then he willed the change. There was an immediate odd sensation from where his tail and ears were supposed to be, there was a dimming of his vision and smell, sounds weren't as sharp or lucid, and he felt curiously diminished, and that constant nagging pain started taking its place in his body. Allia's exercises and meditative training had helped with some of it, but he couldn't completely put it out of his mind. "You said that all Were-cats are half feral. That may be a reason why."

"Or a symptom of what makes you different," Haley agreed. "You look odd like that."

"What do you look like when you do that?"

"I guess I owe you that much," he chuckled, bending down and taking off his shoes. Then he reached behind him and pulled a seam in his trousers apart, ripping the thread holding it together. Then he changed.

Tarrin was impressed. Haley was huge. He was just as tall as Tarrin, stocky and burly while remaining curiously sleek and sinewy, a perfect blending of wolf and human. Lupine eyes, yellow and luminescent, capped a wolf's head, but he had human like expression and intelligence. He looked like a Wikuni, with his pelt of grayish and white fur, his long, bushy tail, and his long, clawed hands and wolf-like back legs. Trousers that ended at the ankles of the slim man of medium height ended at the knees of his lupine hybrid form. "Meet Scar," Haley said in a deeper voice, "something of my alter- ego. Everyone thinks that Scar is a rogue Wikuni trader and fence. Because Were-kin in hybrid form look almost exactly like Wikuni, it makes it possible for us to move around like this in coastal towns." He held up a large, long hand, and Tarrin noticed the long yellow claws capping each finger. They looked sharp.

"I have forgotten how large you are like that, Haley," Dolanna said mildly, looking up at him.

"I forget sometimes myself. Unlike your kind, boy, we Werewolves don't really like this form. We'd rather be either in wolf form or human form. This attracts too much attention when not along the coast."

"We don't really have a choice," Tarrin told him, flexing some stiffness out of his human fingers, then becoming transfixed by the sight of them. He'd forgotten what they looked like. "What do Were-cats do when inland?"

"The same," he replied. "They're usually mistaken for Wikuni. Most Were-cats move around too much anyway. For a territorial breed, you never seem to spend any time in your range." He flowed back into his human form, then put his shoes back on. "Now you see why I wear a doublet and cape," he winked. "It covers the rip in the seat of my breeches."

"How often do you go around as Scar?" Tarrin asked curiously.

"Not often," he replied. "I don't really need to anymore. Nobody bothers me. I'm much too well established in Dayisè to be harassed."

"I didn't realize it was a problem here."

"Dayisè is a cesspool of intrigue, boy," he replied. "Everyone plots around here, right down to the youngest scullery boy. It's a Shacèan trait, that the Wikuni share only too closely. I don't think there are two more underhanded races in the world."

"Then why are you here?" Tarrin asked curiously.

"I've never been what you'd call a backwoods Were-wolf," he winked. "I like human luxuries and refinements. My kin don't think too highly of me for that, so I decided to settle in the one place they'd never come to call. Most of my kind would rather run through the forest and howl at the moons. Me, I'd rather have a good book by the fire."

"What about your instincts?"

"Oh, I indulge now and again," he replied. "I go on a hunting trip twice on the mainland twice a year. Most people just don't know how I hunt. I may like the city and humans, but I am a Were-wolf."

Tarrin was starting to lose his suspicion about Haley. Despite his seeming hostility, Tarrin understood that he was taking that stance because of Fae-da'Nar, not because of his personal feelings. And now he had a better understanding of what that meant. Haley himself was a rather friendly fellow, and the fact that he was Were allowed Tarrin to approach him on a more comfortable level. He had made it clear why they would reject him, and what he would have to do to get them to accept him. But what were they planning?

"You said you got a message from Triana," Tarrin said suddenly. "What did she say about me?"

"Only that you destroyed half of Den Gauche," he replied. "And anyone who sees you better contact her immediately. Oh, we're not supposed to try to handle you ourselves," he winked. "It seems that you frightened her. That's impressive. I didn't think anything could frighten Triana."

"Did you contact her?"

"Not yet, but I will," he said bluntly. "I'm not stupid enough to get on Triana's bad side. That's one woman you do not upset. She won't let you forget about it. Ever." He gazed at Tarrin with sincerity in his eyes. "After you leave my inn, I'll contact her and tell her you're in Dayisè. If you're smart, you'll be gone before she gets here. I have the feeling she has a rematch in mind, boy. You don't get a second chance with Triana. If you see her, you'd better run."

Tarrin remembered their first meeting. She had kicked him all over Den Gauche, beaten him senseless and made him feel like the half-whelped cub that he really was. Only wild luck had saved his life. No, he wouldn't let himself get anywhere near that dangerous Were-cat. He feared her, and he had the feeling from Haley's talk that it was the smart thing to do.

"With luck, we will be gone by tomorrow," Dolanna told him. "I do not think it wise to tell you how we will leave, or with whom, because your friends may use that knowledge to try to find us."

"I can live with that, Dolanna. The less you tell me, the better. You better have your people pack. I still want you out of the inn after breakfast. I'm not going to delay calling Triana, because she'll grill me when she gets here. My story has to be solid, and that won't work if you're here a few days before I get around to it." He glanced at Tarrin. "It's nothing personal, boy, but I fear Triana alot more than I like you. I'm not an idiot."

"I'm not offended, Haley," Tarrin assured him. "You have a duty to perform. Sometimes duty makes us do things we don't like to do."

"Now then, let me give you a farewell feast," Haley said. "It's the least I can for having to throw you out like troublemakers."

"We are troublemakers, Haley," Dolanna said with a slight smile. "Just a different kind of troublemaker."

Haley chuckled, glancing at Tarrin. "There's no doubt about that," he agreed.

©2000, James Galloway. All Rights Reserved.