Chapter 4

        Much to his own surprise, this was the closest that Tarrin had ever come to seeing the Selani live.

        Certainly, he had been around Selani a great deal in the last few years, mainly Allia, and had ever come through the desert once before, but he realized that he had never seen the Selani set camp before.  The two times he had seen Selani clans, they had already been camped.  The first was Denai's clan, when he briefly--very briefly--met with their chief, Denai's father.  The second time was at Gathering, when he had travelled through their many, many camps on his way to the Cloud Spire.  He had experienced much of the Selani at play when he'd travelled through Gathering, but hadn't seen the Selani labor as he saw them labor while they set up camp.  He'd seen a tribe up in arms the first time he'd seen a Selani group, and then seen them at play at Gathering.  Both were extraordinary times, but now he had the chance to see Selani that weren't watching him like a hawk, or weren't celebrating their annual festival of coming together.

        Tarrin moved among them as they tried to ignore him, tried to take no notice of him, watching them as they set up tents or drew water from the well, as they started setting out chores they could do during the hottest part of the day.  Chores such as sewing, caring for weapons, tending the flocks of sukk as they disbersed around the campsite to graze on the small, tough leaves of the scrub bushes that were flourishing on the plain.  Chores such as preparing the lunch commonly eated during the hottest part of the day, a lunch consisting customarily of grain cakes, dried meat or vegetables, or whatever could be easily hunted down and eaten raw.  Selani didn't waste precious firewood unless it was dark, meaning that anything eaten during daylight was not cooked.  Tarrin had found out that the firewood came from the southeastern corner of the desert, where stands of trees called atha grew, trees which were carefully harvested by the Selani to provide firewood without destroying the groves that grew in foothills along the coast, where mist from the sea would provide the trees with the water they needed to thrive.  They traded for the rest of the firewood they used, part of what they traded with the Wikuni or the merchants of Saranam.  The Selani didn't trade at the moment with Arkis, for the clans abutting Arkis were angry with the Arkisians over their lax attitude concerning restraining the gold hunters that crossed the Sandshield and invaded their lands, and the Arkisians were furious with the Selani over the deaths of quite a few merchants.  Merchants were permitted into the desert, but they rarely came in far, since few merchants could get more than a day into the desert without being spotted by a Scout.  But the problem was, the newest wave of gold hunters were posing as merchants, coming in as far as they dared, buying and selling with the Selani, then trying to pick up as much gold as they could when they thought the Selani weren't watching.  There had been a good number of what the Arkisians called atrocities of Selani killing merchants, but those were merchants that broke the rules.  The true merchants that came into the desert knew better than to so much as look hard at any gold they may find.  They took what payment the Selani gave them and wouldn't dare take a fleck of gold.  The merchants who'd been killed were ones that broke the rules.

        Tarrin watched them as they set up, talking with one another, casting furtive glances his way.  Some of those glances were speculative, some were hostile, and some were unconcerned.  That was more or less what he was expecting.  He didn't expect that all the Selani would reject him, nor did he think all would accept him.  Selani were a curious people sometimes, for though they all seemed similar on the surface, in reality they were as different from one another as humans were.  What made them seem to act similar were the codes of honor that they obeyed, customs and practices that all Selani performed, as well as universal attitudes concerning those who were outlanders.  But Tarrin had a much different viewpoint from which to observe them, for he understood the Selani culture very well, and wasn't quite an outsider.  He was by no means an accepted part of the clan yet, but he was also not an outsider.  He occupied a rather unusual niche at the moment, and it was his uncertain standing among them that caused most of the looks that came his way.  The individual Selani were trying to make up their minds about him concerning their first impressions, and no impression was taken until they looked at his brands.  Some were inclined towards him because he took good brands, but some were inclined against him even more that an outsider would be allowed to be branded.  Some were willing to give him the benefit of the doubt because he was Allia's brother, and he had no doubt that they knew that he had been educated in Selani custom and culture, but some were hardened against him that an outsider would be permitted to learn of their intimate, private ways.  Every Selani had a different view of him, a different impression, as varied as they were themselves.

        He knew that all of them, even those inclined towards him, would not be satisfied with him unless he proved himself.  That wasn't outrageous given Selani mentality, people who were intensely competitive and also intensely interdependent, striving to be the best they could be as well as depending very much on every other member of the clan.  That "we" mentality that was pervasive through the Selani made them highly suspicious of new people or strange things.  They were alot like Tarrin that way, suspicious and mistrustful of those who had not proven themselves, because unproven people were a danger to everyone in the clan as well as themselves.  That was where some of the hostility he would encounter would come from, he understood, the fact that brands or no brands, he was still an outsider.  He would have to prove himself to them before he would be accepted.

        That was the trouble that Allyn was having.  Tarrin looked at him, struggling in the blistering heat to raise a tent pole with a few other Selani as they raised the largest tent in camp, the tent of the Priestess who was the voice of the Goddess.  Kallan's tent wasn't the central aspect of the camp or the Selani, it was the Priestess, what they called shaman, she who spoke with the voice of the Holy Mother.  Kallan was the tribal chief and also the clan's leader, the kirza, clan-king, but that one Priestess had more social weight than a whole tent full of kirza.  The Selani had such tremendous respect and honor for their goddess that they put all things, and all things associated with her, above all other things.  That was why the Selani would not touch the gold that absolutely littered their desert, because it was considered holy to Fara'Nae.  Had they found gold nuggets on the plain where they set camp, they would have set their tents around the gold, would not touch it, not even to clear space.  Gold found while digging firepits was left alone, and the firepit was filled back in and a new one dug elsewhere.  They were just as respectful for the tribe's shaman, and she spoke with more weight than Kallan.  Custom forbade the Priestess from interfering in Kallan's duties, but the Selani would obey her before they would obey him.  Perhaps that was why Allyn was having so much trouble in the tribe.  He said that the tribe's Priestess really didn't like him...if that was common knowledge, it would polarize most of the other Selani in the camp against him.  But then again, she wasn't playing fair, he understood.  She was so set on seeing him fail, he felt that she was taking unfair steps to make sure it came about.  Not teaching Allyn what he needed to know to fit in with the Selani was just one example of that.  If she actively spoke against him to other Selani, that would harden them against him even more.  She wasn't being fair, and in a way, he felt that she was being dishonorable.  It wasn't her place to decide whether Allyn was fit to be accepted into the clan or not.  That decision was Fara'Nae's, not hers.  Despite her warning for him to stay out of it, Tarrin had quite a compulsion to put in his paw in the matter.

        Of course, the simplest way to do that would be to even the playing field.  Yes, that would be quite satisfactory.  The Selani wouldn't dare talk about what the Priestess would teach Allyn, for it was taboo to even presume--to even pretend--to know the mind of the Holy Mother.  That honor was left to the shaman alone.  All Selani prayed to the Holy Mother, and many were answered, but they felt that it was only for the one who spoke with the Holy Mother's voice to teach the young about the Holy Mother's customs and ceremonies.  Well, Tarrin knew all those things, and he wasn't Selani.  He could teach them to Allyn.  And if he was lucky, Allyn would show him an Illusion of his memory of the look on that Priestess' face when Allyn didn't embarass himself among the tribe with his lack of knowledge.

        Tarrin's unusual indoctrination had all sorts of advantages.  Allia, in wanting him to be accepted into the clan, had broken all sorts of rules and customs to teach him, even teaching him that which only shaman was supposed to teach.  But then again, given the circumstances, she had no choice.  She was the only one who could teach him, so perhaps she felt that it made it acceptable.

        She could have saved herself all sorts of trouble by just teaching Allyn as she had taught him, rather than bring him home and let him learn like the other Selani.  But then again, hindsight was always perfect.

        Yes, that would work very well.  If the shaman wouldn't teach Allyn, then Tarrin would.  And if that made her angry, so much the better.  Tarrin was not like the Selani in that he had absolutely no fear of the Selani Priestess, didn't particularly respect her any more than any other Selani, and he wasn't afraid of Fara'Nae.  If she had a problem with what he was doing, she could bloody well tell him herself.

        Maybe it was a little crazy to think that way about gods, but then again, Tarrin wasn't quite a normal, run-of-the-mill mortal.  His many talks with the Goddess gave him an insight and understanding of gods that went quite beyond most mortals.  And in honesty, he wasn't exactly a mortal anymore.  They called him a demigod, a mortal with the faintest traces of something that could be called divine, something even the gods didn't quite understand.  But even without that, he'd have the same attitude towards the gods.  To him, they weren't awe-inspiring divinities.  To him, they were exceptionally powerful beings who had emotions and weaknesses just like mortals, "mortal" weaknesses that actually endeared them to him more for their shortcomings than it did their divine qualities.  There was something quite comforting in knowing that his Goddess and Fara'Nae and all the Elder and Younger Gods had at least one thing that allowed them to identify with the mortals over whom they watched.

        They were almost done now.  The tent of the shaman was the last one to be erected, as she stood near to it with two robed acolytes, her apprentices, who used large fan-like fronds to shade her.  The shaman didn't wear desert garb as other Selani did, they wore white robes with hoods and wide sleeves, and they were the only Selani that could be seen wearing gold.  They wore beaten gold belts and wore an amulet made of gold that bore the holy symbol of the Holy Mother Fara'Nae, the amulets worn over their robes proudly to display them to the clan.  Tarrin stared at the shaman a moment before moving on, an unusually tall woman with dirty blond hair, pattern blue eyes, and a narrow, sharp face that seemed more stern than beautiful, as if she would not let down her guard at any time.  He saw how deferential the other Selani were around her and with her, how they would all bow to her whenever they addressed her.  She looked right at him, her blue eyes dark and stormy and her expression very tight, but Tarrin didn't pay her very much attention.  No matter who she thought she was, she was just the same as everyone else in his mind.

        Weaker.

        It wasn't easy to suppress that in him, to think of those around him as anything other than weaker.  Tarrin's Were-cat mentality classified every Selani around him as a potential threat--they were Selani, after all--but not enough to challenge his superiority.  After all, he was thoroughly familiar with Selani, where they had no idea what he was capable of doing.  That gave him a decided advantage, and that made them below him.  He would treat Kallan and Kaila with honor because they were Allia's parents, but the rest of the Selani wouldn't receive the same preferential treatment.  That wouldn't be too much of a problem, however, because Selani custom wouldn't let them do anything that Tarrin could take as challenging.  If they wanted to fight with him, they'd ask him, quite politely.  In other things, he'd be just some other person.  He wouldn't be bossing them around, and they wouldn't be bossing him around.  Bossing around was the honor of the kirza and the shaman.  No other Selani would try, and because of that, Tarrin wouldn't have any trouble with them challenging his authority.  All he had to do was remember not to try to boss them around, and everyone would be perfectly content with the situation.

        The chores that the children had to accomplish were varied depending on age.  The youngest of them were kept close to parents, but those that looked about six or so had the chore of collecting water.  At first he saw elders drawing water from the deep well that he and Allia had dug, but now it was a line of children in loose-fitting shirts and trousers, the color of Selani garb but not quite the same fit.  They were standing patiently in a line, waiting as those before collected up the seepage from the ground at the bottom of the hole in wide, relatively flat buckets.  An exercise in patience, keeping the children out of trouble and out from underfoot while the adults finished setting up camp.  The older children, looking about nine or ten, were helping to tend the flocks of sukk.  This wasn't much of a chore, as the large birds generally tended to themselves, and knew better than to wander.  They were there as much to watch for threats to the flocks more than they were there to prevent the flocks from wandering too far from the camp.  That required a little responsibility, but since there were also adult eyes watching the land around the camp, it wasn't something that the children were solely responsible for handling.  The adolescents were performing the same tasks as the adults, some with help and some without, being trained in the tasks required to set up a camp.  Being trained for when they were adults themselves, and would be responsible for the things they were being taught.

        Tarrin noticed more than one stern look at both him and his children.  Eron was careening around in his typical overly energetic fashion, stopping Selani and asking them breathless questions before racing off to look at something that caught his interest.  Eron was a hyper child, and this kind of behavior wasn't unusual for him.  Jasana remained steadfastly at her father's side, seeming to want to hide behind him as she held onto his tail, which for her was a normal reaction to the situation.  Jasana was always shy around strangers.  What seemed to irritate the Selani, he figured, was the fact that his cubs weren't doing what the Selani children were doing.  For their size, that would mean that they would be waiting to gather water.  Tarrin understood that, but since he had no use for the water, he saw no reason to send them off to get some.  Besides, they weren't here to learn how to be Selani children.  Jasana was here to learn a lesson, and Eron was here if only to give his mother a few days of peace and quiet.

        "They don't seem to like us, Papa," Jasana noted to him in a hushed tone.  Despite her youth, Jasana was a very observant and smart child.  That was part of the problem, for she used those gifts in her quests to get her own way.

        "They're not quite sure about us yet, cub," he answered.  "I expected it."

        "Why were you so nice to Allia's papa?"

        "How do you mean?"

        "Well, first he got mean with you when you gave him the gloves.   I thought you'd just smack him down when you fight him because of that."

        Tarrin chuckled.  "You have to understand the Selani, cub.  He'll respect me because I want a fair fight, and that I understand his intentions clearly.  He just wants to test me, and he can't do that if he never stands a chance, can he?"

        "Wouldn't that mean that you passed the test?  If you just smack him down right off the mark, I mean."

        "It would mean that I relied on my advantages," he answered.  "He wants to see what Allia taught me, not whether or not I can knock him down in a fight.  There's a difference."

        "Oh.  I understand.  Did you notice that they're all mean to Allyn?"

        "I noticed, cub," he told her seriously.

        "I like Allyn.  I think it's wrong that they're doing it."

        "So do I, but Allyn doesn't want me to interfere.  He wants to prove to them all by himself that they're wrong about him.  I can respect that."

        "I don't see why he doesn't want help."

        "Because the Selani will respect him much more if he proves himself alone," he answered.  "Remember what I've told you about the Selani, cub?  Think about it."

        She was silent a moment, her strawberry blond brows knitting for a moment as she pondered it.  "I, I think I understand," she answered.  "They want to make sure he won't put anyone in danger.  I guess that's something he'd have to prove all by himself, because if anyone helped, the others would always have doubts."

        Tarrin nodded, impressed anew with his daughter's intellect, when she so chose to utilize it to its full potential.  Jasana was one smart little girl.

        "That's why I won't interfere, and why you shouldn't either," he warned.  "If either of us tries, we'll only make it worse for him."

        "I understand that, but I still think it's wrong."

        "So do I, but in this case, the best thing we can do is leave things alone.  I think we can trust Allyn to make all his nay-sayers eat their words.  I think he'll do fine.  He's a pretty determined fellow, cub."

        Jasana giggled.  "He's as lovestruck as you and Mama," she observed.

        "I don't think we're quite that bad, cub," Tarrin said with a slight smile.

        "You're not," Jasana said impishly.  "Mama is."

        "I guess I can't argue with that," Tarrin conceded.

        It didn't take too long for the camp to be fully erected, and Tarrin saw that they would be staying there until it was necessary for them to move again, because they were making themselves at home.  Families were digging individual firepits for cooking and light, and oil for lamps and charcoal for braziers was being set out for light and heat within the tents during the cold desert nights.  The Selani retreated into their tents as the noontime sun hammered down on them, to wait out the heat in the comparative coolness of their tents.  Only the guards and the shepards of the flocks remained out, as well as Tarrin and Jasana.  He'd knew that Kallan wouldn't challenge him until the midday heat waned later in the afternoon.  Tarrin had a decided advantage if they fought in the full heat of the day, for he was immune to the heat's detrimental effects.  He had also told Kallan to put on the gloves and get used to the way they affected him, so he wouldn't have to go through that during their match.  They had asked him to come to their tent and talk, but Tarrin begged off, being quite honest when he told them that he wanted to look around the camp without too many of the others staring at him.  Jasana enjoyed similar immunity to heat, and Eron had had five days to acclimate to the heat, so they were in no danger during the hottest part of the day.  He took his children out and wandered the camp, then let Eron go look at the sukk as he explained to Jasana what he was going to do with the sukk, the core reason that they had come to the desert in the first place.  Tarrin had to warn his son to go carefully with the birds, as they didn't know him and wouldn't be sure if he was an enemy, but it turned out that Eron at least had respect for the big flightless birds.  Not that he'd been showing any respect for the desert's poisonous creatures, but at least he showed it to them.  Maybe it was size, that Eron wouldn't be afraid of anything smaller than himself, no matter how lethally poisonous it was.  Were-cat regeneration was proof against many things, but it couldn't purge poison quite as easily as it did other things.  The most lethal poisons couldn't really kill a Were-cat, but they would make one as sick as a dog until the body's regeneration burned out the poison.

        There were few Selani out now, only those tending the flocks, and some sitting under flaps over the entrances to the tents, shaded porch-like places where they tended to sedate pursuits such as sewing, playing instruments, carving small pieces of ivory or bone, checking and adjusting weapons, or in one Selani male's case, making them.  The fellow had several wooden poles laying by his feet, and he was carefully and meticulously affixing spearpoints to them.  Selani used spears, javelins, and bows as missle weapons, and they were very good with them.  Allia had a personal distaste for using spears, but that made sense considering she could put a dagger between an umuni's eyeballs from fifty paces.  Allia's accuracy with thrown daggers was astounding, but among her people, it was merely considered somewhat above average.  The Selani were a very graceful, agile, supple race, and the physical control necessary for being a good dagger thrower would be child's play to them.

        Tarrin sat down by the edge of the sukk herd on a low, flat rock that was jutting out of the sany dirt, and Jasana sat down on his lap, fidgeting with the end of her tail as they watched Eron move carefully from sukk to sukk, as if to see if they were different from one another.  Tarrin and Jasana talked about sukk, as Tarrin explained to her the mechanics of speaking to animals, something that she could probably do and do safely, for it required very little real power in order to use.  It was more of a determination of the mind than it was an exercise of Druidic power.  He explained that she'd have to use a Druidic spell to hear what they said in reply, but if she just wanted to say something to them or give them an order, that that trick would work.  He was excruciatingly careful to explain the strict rules of morality that went along with doing it, which meant that any animal that was addressed in such a manner was receiving the Druid's trust.  That meant that she would never, never speak to any animal she intended to kill.  Along with that was the strict rule that when a Druid spoke to an animal, they also didn't give it orders that would be highly dangerous to its life.  She could ask a stag for help fighting a pack of Goblinoids, for example, but not to ask it to do battle with the entire pack of them by itself.  The rules concerning Druidic etiquette weren't that complicated, boiling down to the simple concept that once a Druid spoke to an animal, he was extending an offer of friendship, and that that trust must never be broken.  It wouldn't be that complicated for a human Druid, but since they were Were-cats, carnivores and hunters, it meant that they had to exercise care when using the ability.

        Jasana may have been self-centered and conniving, but she also understood the absolutes involved with Druidic magic.  She was fully aware that in the world of Druidic magic, one never, NEVER broke a rule.  Breaking a rule in Druidic magic was fatal, no matter how silly or ridiculous it seemed.  That made him confident that even though the rules about talking to animals weren't rules of life or death, Jasana would use the same meticulous care to obey them as other rules of Druidic magic.  When it came to Druidic magic, one never even so much as relaxed the strict discipline and regimented rules surrounding the skill.  It was total truth that a second's distraction could kill a Druid, so the practice of rigid self-discipline was an absolute necessity at all times.

        Eron got bored with the sukk and joined them, listening without much interest as he competed with Jasana for space in their father's lap, pushing at one another absently as Tarrin continued to educate Jasana about speaking to animals.  Tarrin honestly had no idea how much time passed until the Selani began emerging from their tents, the noontime rest coming to an end as the sun started to lower towards the horizon and the temperatures dropped back down to what would be comfortable levels for Selani.  It also didn't take Kallan very long to come seek Tarrin out.  Tarrin heard his voice and Allia's as they approached, as Allia spoke quickly to her father.  "Remember, father, you have to stop if I give you warning," she was saying to him.

        "I understand, daughter," Kallan's voice replied calmly.  "I'll heed your call if it comes, but I'm not sure I can get the full measure of him with such a restriction."

        "So long as you pull back if I call out a warning, I'll have no reservations, father, but it's only a precaution.  Tarrin knows that this is nothing but spar.  Even if you goad him, he shouldn't lose control of himself.  From what I know of you and him, I dare say that you'll get him quite angry before he finally puts you on your butt."

        "I'll take that wager, daughter," Kaila chuckled.

        "Name your stakes, mother.  I have every confidence in my brother."

        "Just as much as I have in your father," she replied lightly.

        "Then the stakes should be quite high," Allia said in a slightly challenging tone.

        "The confidence of youth," she teased.

        "No, it's the confidence of knowing the competitors," she shot back.  "I'll put any wager on Tarrin you wish to back."

        "Now you have my attention," Kaila said as Tarrin hurried the cubs off his lap and moved to stand.  He got his first look at them, and saw all of Kallan's family following him.  Kallan had his shirt off, bare to the waist, and was carrying a spear and two longswords in a harness in his hands, a harness that looked to usually be on his back.  Kallan was an impressive male, Tarrin saw.  He was thin, but his entire torso and both arms absolutely rippled every time he moved, and there couldn't be a smidge of fat anywhere on him.  He looked to be both very strong and extremely limber, the perfect combination for a Selani warrior.  "I've been eyeing that rug you have, daughter.  I'll take that as a wager."

        "And I want your silver lamp."

        "Done, then," Kaila said with a smile.

        "Are you going to beat up Aunt Allia's papa now?" Eron asked in anticipation, loud enough for most of the gathering Selani to clearly hear him.  Since he spoke in Selani, there was no doubt as to what he was saying.

        "I'm sure it'll take a while, but that's the general idea of it, cub," Tarrin answered him calmly, sizing up Kallan as the Selani clan-chief approached with his daughter, son-in-law, wife, sister, and nephew in tow.  "Allia's father looks plenty tough to me.  It won't be easy."

        "Aww, Papa, you give that skinny man too much credit," Jasana scoffed.  "He's way smaller than you, and not half as strong.  I think you could break him over your knee."

        "Size and strength aren't everything, Jasana," he answered cooly.  "Sometimes, they're a liability more than an advantage."

        "Your children don't seem to have much faith in my husband," Kaila noted to him with a dazzling smile as they reached him.

        "Nor do they seem to have much tact," Dulai noted sharply.

        "Were-cats are a blunt species, Dulai," Tarrin said in reply.  "If one speaks a truth, why hide it or dance around it?  After all, it's truth."

        "It's not established that you can beat me yet, Tarrin," Kallan said with a half-smile.

        "Yes it is," Jasana and Eron said in perfect unison.

        "Oh?  And just how did you come to know this?" Kallan asked the two in amusement.

        "Our Papa can beat anyone!" Eron said with bravado.  "He even beat up a god once!"

        "Papa can beat humans and Wikuni and he's beat Selani before, and he's beat Demons and even gods!  You don't stand a chance!" Jasana added with surprising ferocity.  "Once Papa gets ahold of you, he'll rip you into little pieces!"

        "My, they really don't know anything about tact," Kaila laughed, which broke a sudden sense of hostility among the Selani gathering around the combatants.

        "They're Were-cats, all right," Allia laughed in agreement.

        "Then I'll just have to make sure he doesn't get a hold of me," Kallan told them with a patronizing smile.

        "Never happen," they again said in unison, which made Kaila laugh even louder.

        "I think you've bragged about me enough, cubs," Tarrin told them in a distracted manner, as all his attention was focused on Kallan, his gaze hawkish and his tail slowing to a stop behind him.  "Go over and wait with Allia.  And be nice.  No rubbing it in, cubs."

        "Aww, you take all the fun out of it, Papa," Jasana complained as they passed Kallan and moved to stand with Allia and Allyn.

        Kallan handed his sword harness to his wife, then advanced with his spear.  Tarrin remembered that Var had first started the fight they'd had with a spear, but Tarrin had disarmed him of it within three seconds of the start of the battle, and Allia didn't use spears, so he wasn't sure about how good Selani were with them.  Well, now he was going to find out.  Kallan grounded the butt of his spear on the sandy ground and gave Tarrin a knowing half-smile, almost a smirk.  "Choose your weapon, and it will be provided to you," he announced.

        "I have my own," he said, reaching out with his paw and clasping it around empty air.  His Ironwood staff appeared in it, brought out of the elsewhere, and he then spread his feet, relaxed his knees, and brought the staff up into the end-grip guard stance.  Tarrin sized up Kallan, and noted that the gloves would give him strength close to Tarrin's own, and his agility and speed were comparable, if not superior, to his own.  But Kallan's weapons may not be up to the challenge.  When beings of Tarrin's strength fought with weapons, those weapons were subjected to tremendous physical forces.  That was why Tarrin was always careful to use weapons that were virtually unbreakable, so he could fully utilize all his strength.  But Kallan's spear and swords probably weren't nearly as sturdy as Tarrin's Ironwood staff or his other-worldly unbreakable sword, or even the Cat's Claws.  Tarrin could break Kallan's spear at his leisure, and could probably snap his swords as well.  But that would be him taking advantage of the situation, and he wouldn't do that.  Reaching within, Tarrin came into contact with the boundless energy of the All.  It read his intent, saw him image, and responded.  Its power flowed through him effortlessly and entered Kallan's spear, fusing its power into it and reinforcing the fiber of its wood, making it all but unbreakable.  Kallan would probably never know, but it only mattered that Tarrin knew.

        He also knew that this had to be a fair fight.  The Cat's Claws on his arms were more than weapons, they were powerful defensive items as well, surrounding him in a kind of phantom suit of armor.  Tarrin knew that that if Kallan found his blows turned aside by some invisible magic, he would lose respect for Tarrin.  So the defensive nature of the magical items had to be suspended for a time.  Jenna had never set a trigger that turned those off, so Tarrin dealt with it by temporarily cutting the bracers off from the Weave, then setting it so it would last some ten or so minutes after he stopped concentrating on it.  That wouldn't destroy their magical enchantment, but it would prevent them from affecting him.  It also would deter him from the temptation of suddenly extending the blades of the Cat's Claws and carving Kallan into dog food if the Selani made him angry.

        Kallan raised his spear in an end grip, something of a standard grip for a spear, but Kallan held it much closer to the center than a human-trained spear wielder would do so, and his hands were rather far apart.  Tarrin realized that it would let him lever the weapon, to use the shaft as much as the point to block, strike, or parry.  It was like a modified center grip, just held closer to one end.  Interesting grip, and Tarrin could make out the advantages it would give him.

        When Tarrin's tail suddenly stopped, and his ears laid back so they would be protected from injury during the fight, Kallan's eyes narrowed.  He had little doubt that Allia had described him in detail to her, and those were the things Tarrin did before engaging in combat.  Kallan was waiting for Tarrin to make the first move.

        He didn't disappoint.  In an absolute explosion, so quickly that it raised a cloud of dust behind him, Tarrin surged forward with all the speed of a raging sandstorm, staff levered to the side as it seemed that he floated just above the ground in his forward momentum.  Kallan took a single step back and raised his spear as Tarrin hurtled towards him, then Tarrin's long, long staff split the air as the Were-cat brought it around his body, first high, then suddenly shifting its trajectory and going low, the tip of it seeking the Selani's ankles.  The staff moved with such speed that it whistled shrilly as it cut the air, a singular arc of color that painted the air to the Were-cat's side, but Selani eyes could track the weapon even at such speeds.  Kallan deftly jumped over the staff's end, the wind of the weapon's passage pulling at the laces on the Selani clan-chief's boots, as he thrust out with the butt end of his spear to slam it into the Were-cat's face as he raced past.  But as quickly as he erupted forward, Tarrin absolutely stopped, as if he were rooted to the spot, and contemptuously smacked the weapon's shaft aside before it could reach his head.  Kallan's feet were in the air, he had no base, no leverage, and as such all his magically endowed strength meant nothing without something for him to push against.  Kallan was knocked askew in the air, but he deftly twisted and got his feet down on the ground first, a startled look on his face but a gleam of excitement in his eye.

        Tarrin could see it in his eyes as the cloud of dust Tarrin kicked up from his charge billowed past both combatants.  Kallan understood that Tarrin was intimately familiar with the advantages that inhuman strength could provide, such as the ability to move with blinding speed, and to stop just as quickly as powerful muscles absorbed such a radical shift in momentum.  It was a lesson for the clan-chief that he was capable of much more than the limits of which he knew, an upper realm of capability opened to him, if he only had the imagination to see it.

        The opening lesson was done, and Kallan decided to open in earnest with a more traditional approach.  He sparred very lightly, very tentatively with the Were-cat, a customary feeling-out that experienced warriors wisely underwent when facing an unknown foe.  The light jabs and cuts with his spear were testing Tarrin's reflexes, his speed, his agility, and most importantly, his training.  He saw that Tarrin shifted his staff expertly, wasting not a drop of energy to parry and block the Selani's spear, moving not a finger more than necessary.  His movements were crisp, sharp, exacting, and perfect, time and time again, as Tarrin too learned much of Kallan.  He saw the precision in his movements, but they were just a bit jerky, as he adjusted to using the gloves, and his spear overextended by very slight degrees from time to time.  Tarrin saw several opportunities to strike at the Selani in those oversteps, but passed them by.  If he was anything like the other Selani had fought, Kallan had to be a wily opponent, and he very well may have been trying to bait Tarrin.  Against an opponent with Kallan's skill, if Allia's raving was any indication, it was probably a trick.

        The clack-clack of wood on wood echoed across the camp as Kallan continued to test Tarrin, pushed his skill as his spear's pointed head and shaft sought to bypass the Ironwood staff and strike soft flesh behind.  Feet and hands struck at the Were-cat as often as steel spearpoint or wooden shaft, as the Selani used the unarmed techniques for which his race was famous to try to come at the Were-cat with more weapons than he could block.  Tarrin read into his movements and saw the Selani fighting system deeply ingrained into them.  He recognized those forms intimately, and saw Allia's footprint in them.  But Kallan performed them much differently than his daughter, more flowingly, with less speed and more fluid grace.  Allia's primary asset was inhuman, unbelievable speed, and her form's style showed it.  But Kallan's movements didn't seem as fast, and what was more, the way he performed the forms seemed to have a slower style, more sweeping, more graceful.  Allia had grace, but her movements were often blurringly fast and very short, giving her a kind of staccato rhythym that never failed to bedazzle an opponent.  In fact, she used it as a means to confuse her enemies.  But Kallan's movements were wider, broader, flowing like water from one to the next, hinting at speed comparable to Var's but hiding something more, as if he were only moving as fast as he wanted Tarrin to see.  But the forms were there.  He saw them in his moves, the exact same movements and forms that Allia used, had taught to Tarrin.  And when he saw the beginning of a form, he could predict exactly what was coming next.  Allia often changed up her forms when fighting Tarrin, shifting in mid-move to surprise him because he was so familiar with her.  Had Kallan learned enough about Tarrin from his daughter to understand the danger of using movements that the Were-cat could easily predict?

        There was one way to find out.  Tarrin gave ground to the Selani male, swiping at his spear to keep it away from him, weaving and shifting his body to evade the occasional foot or hand that came at him, batting aside spear or evading feet and hands as he guessed out what the Selani was intending to do next.  When he saw him shift his weight in a specific manner, he knew what was coming.  Sliding his feet apart, Tarrin suddenly hunkered down, almost impossibly far, his chin but fingers from the ground as Kallan lifted a foot and tried to kick his shinbone into Tarrin's hip.  His foot whizzed harmlessly over Tarrin's body, and the Were-cat flowed up from that compact crouch with the open palm of his paw leading.  But where he expected to catch Kallan under his arm and carry him up into the air, the Selani twisted almost unnaturally just before his palm made contact, and it slipped by its target.  Flexing his legs, Tarrin suddenly vaulted into the air as Kallan's foot suddenly reversed direction and came sizzling back towards him, heel leading.  But it too found nothing but empty air.  Kallan looked up in time to see the nine span tall Were-cat drop from the air directly over him.  He was out of position from reversing his kick, and could not set his feet on the ground and evade in time.  Tarrin's feet landed perfectly on Kallan's shoulders, and as soon as he felt them make contact, Tarrin hunched over and put all his weight down on the Selani's unbalanced body.  He leaned over just enough to see Kallan look up at him, his expression shocked in that instant before Tarrin's weight unbalanced him and sent him toppling, but the Were-cat only smiled evilly before his face disappeared.  He pushed off the Selani, extending his body out in a layout position as he used all his weight and all of his strength to drive the Selani forward, pushing his heels against the Selani and forcing him out from underneath him with more force that even the gloves would permit the Selani to resist.

        Tarrin rotated lazily in the air and landed on all fours almost exactly where Kallan had been standing when he tried to kick Tarrin, but Kallan was staggering forward at high speed, trying mightily not to topple and fall flat on his face, windmilling his arms wildly for a second before somehow managing to ground the tip of his spear into the sandy ground.  The spear made him lever off the ground like a pole vault, and he used that sudden release from the ground that tried to trip him to right himself and land on his feet facing Tarrin.  He slid backwards almost two spans, putting a hand down to steady himself, and then came to a stop.

        Tarrin rose up again as Kallan picked up his spear, a curiously excited look on his face, then the Were-cat again lifted his staff into the end-grip and awaited the Selani's return to the match.  Tarrin had just had his question answered.  Kallan could and did shift forms to try to catch him off guard, but he had just proven that he was just as capable of unconventional tactics.

        Kallan rushed back into the fray confidently, and Tarrin could tell that the testing was over.  His spear's haft and point was seeking out Tarrin's shoulders with almost single-minded determination, and he was moving much faster and striking with much more strength than before, enough strength that Tarrin actually felt his arms recoil with every blow.  It had been a long time since he'd battled a foe of equal strength, and he'd forgotten how it felt to have his body punished in the act of defending against blows.  The Selani's attacks forced Tarrin to block high and keep his weapon up, and he understood the danger into which it put him.  Kallan was using Tarrin's height against him, making him open up his middle and legs to sudden attack from his smaller opponent, but Kallan didn't take Tarrin's staff into consideration.  It was just as long as Tarrin was tall, and it was capable of defending low in the end-grip with a deft flick of the wrists.  Tarrin tried to use his longer weapon to push the Selani out a bit, as he was trying to crowd and get inside the arc of his staff, but Kallan slid underneath it and roared forward in sudden attack, trying to get inside before Tarrin could withdraw his staff.  The Were-cat's arms flexed and the staff blurred as he snapped it around and down, turned and raised a foot in a pirouette of sorts that complemented the weapon's downward rotation, and it caught the haft of the spear just behind the head as that head was lancing in towards his unprotected middle, knocking it aside just enough to keep it from sticking him.  But the edge of the spear did make contact, slicing a hot line of pain across his stomach as the corner of the triangular spearpoint cut Tarrin's skin.  The cut healed over as quickly as it was made, but the pain of it surprised the Were-cat, as much as the realization that if he had not blocked that, Kallan would have stabbed him through the midsection.

        He wasn't playing!

        Had Allia described his regenerative advantages to her father?  Perhaps that was it.  He was willing to strike at Tarrin for true because he knew that he couldn't do him any true harm.  Allia did the same thing.  But even with that understanding, the attack still managed to irk the Were-cat.

        His eyes narrowing with sudden anger and newfound focus, Tarrin took a paw off the staff, put his foot down and bent his arm, then tried to slam the corner of his elbow down on his smaller foe as his momentum carried him within the Were-cat's reach.  But Kallan simply flowed around that attack as well, changing direction in mid-lunge and sliding back outside, then changing again to bring him to a halt, turning as if to bring his spear to bear.  Too late he identified that particular movement, as the sole of Kallan's boot came screaming around the side of his body in a rising arc.  Tarrin's head snapped to the side as the Selani's foot impacted the side of his head, actually staggering him back a step as little lights popped before his eyes.  Tarrin hadn't been hit that hard in a very long time.  Before he could right himself, the butt of the spear slammed into his jaw, knocking him even further to the side and lowering his head, then came hot blood in his mouth when Kallan's open palm struck him just under the chin in a sharp upward angle, causing him to bite off the tip of his own tongue as his head snapped back.

        Tarrin fought off the dizzying effect of three consecutive blows to his head by a foe with enough strength to make him feel it, shaking the cobwebs out just in time to see the point of Kallan's spear driving towards his left shoulder.  With sudden angry focus, Tarrin's paw snapped out and intercepted the spearpoint.  It plunged into his palm, the tip erupting from the back of his paw, but the Were-cat, eyes igniting from within with the unholy greenish aura that visibly marked his anger, pushed it out and away from him as his fingers closed over the metal spearpoint.  Kallan blanched when Tarrin, with a snarl of both pain and anger, twisted his wrist as he pushed the weapon out away from him, using the very fact that the spear's point was embedded in his palm to bend it.  The tip of the spear's head, still sticking out of the top of Tarrin's paw, remained vertical as the rest of the spear turned more and more sideways, as the metal tip bent at the point where it entered Tarrin's paw.  The Were-cat then ripped his paw free of the weapon, sending an arc of flying blood through the air as the Selani quickly withdrew his weapon.  Kallan looked at the tip of his spear and saw that it was bent heavily to the right, as well as seeing that it was covered in blood.

        Tarrin shook his paw a couple of times to get the sting out and shake off the excess blood, which would make his grip on his weapon slippery, but Kallan was looking at him with shock and surprise.  That shock became a frenzied defense as the Were-cat lashed out at him, coming at him with all his power and all his speed, trying to do nothing less than beat the Selani senseless for trying to stab him with his spear.  Tarrin's staff jabbed and slashed, came in from high and low, feinted, twisted and shivered in bizarre, almost impossible ways as the Were-cat, now righteously angry and fully devoted to beating down his foe, demonstrated a skill with a pole weapon that the Selani had never seen before.  He changed grips in mid-attack, from end grip to center grip, used both ends of the staff to strike at Kallan's hastily raised spear in rapid succession, tried to break Kallan's feet and ankles as often as he tried to smack his head right off his body.  Kallan gritted his teeth and gave ground to the incensed Were-cat, trying to ride out the frenzied assault, trying to keep up with the weaving, bobbing ends of Tarrin's staff as they tried to snake past his spear and punch deep into the Selani's body.  Kallan had no chance to do anything other than defend himself from the outraged Were-cat, whose long staff had seemingly become a pliable, bendable thing, for no other explanation could explain how both ends of the staff could seem to strike at him from different angles at the exact same time.  The Selani's speed was the only thing that kept him from getting swarmed under by the Were-cat's answering attack, a speed that was not quite Allia's, but also not far from it.  That speed let him duck under the staff, then slip to the side, then avoid the clenched paw that nearly broke his nose, then avoid the staff jabbed at him like a spear, then hop over the Were-cat's lashing tail, then give him the time to raise up his spear to catch the staff's center as the Were-cat pushed its entire length at him.  Spear caught staff and Kallan's feet dug into the ground as he pushed back with all the strength he could muster, and for a moment the two were locked together, pushing against one another with all their might.  Kallan could see the glowing, angered eyes of his taller foe, pushing down on him from his greater height, saw the formidable fangs usually hidden under pale lips.  The Were-cat had seemed a gentle and agreeable fellow before, if a little blustery in nature, but seeing him like that, Kallan had no doubt that he would strike terror into the heart of any but a Selani.

        Kallan realized his mistake almost as soon as he locked up with the Were-cat.  All of Kallan's limbs were engaged in resisting the Were-cat, but Tarrin had an extra limb available.  Tarrin's tail whipped up between his legs and struck the Selani right between his own, causing the Selani to double over in intense pain.  Tarrin shifted his weight and swept his smaller foe out from before him with a mighty twist of his body, sending him sprawling to the ground, tumbling over and over and losing his spear before coming to a halt on one knee, already starting to shrug off the pain of being struck in the one place that no male would want to be struck with any kind of force.

        The repreive lasted but seconds, testament to the legendary fighting ability of the Selani, which included the ability to ignore, block out, or endure pain.  Without a word, Kallan picked up his spear, set the bent tip on the ground, and then stomped on it to at least partially straighten it out.  Tarrin returned to the guard stance, staff in the end-grip, and he hissed threatening at the Selani as he slowly advanced back towards him.  But Kallan's approach was much more guarded now, more wary.  He had tasted Tarrin's ability when he was focused utterly on the fight, and it was an ability that demanded respect.  Tarrin's tail slashed behind him a few times before becoming still, his glowing eyes narrowed to two evil slits, and then he hissed once again, baring his formidable fangs, as he hunched down into a slouching posture, to shift his upper body closer to his foe and subsequently put more distance between Kallan's spear and his lower torso and legs.

        "You're gonna get it now!" Jasana shouted.  "You made Papa mad!"

        Despite his anger, Tarrin was clearly focused and aware that this was not an enemy to underestimate.  He was all of Allia in a fight, and though he wasn't as fast as her, he had much more experience.

        Staff met spear as the two danced around one another for long moments.  They had surprised one another and managed to score hits, but now both were cautious, content to pit skill against skill to determine who would make the first mistake.  This played right into Tarrin's paws, as he had been trained to frustrate an opponent and make him mess up, then punish him for it.  But Kallan proved to be a disciplined, patient adversary, content to meet the Were-cat on those terms, trying to goad him into making a rash mistake.  Again and again he teased Tarrin by leaving the slightest of openings, daring him to try to take advantage of it, to gamble on whether or not the Selani clan-chief had the speed to recover and defend in time.  Tarrin had seen Kallan react, so he could see them for the invitations for disaster that they were.  He knew this foe would make no unforced error.  If he wanted an opening, he was going to have to make one.

        The center grip was the key, he realized.  Kallan was familiar with the moves that were possible in an end grip, but the Selani's modified grip on his spear wasn't a true center grip.  It left one end of the weapon shorter than the other, forcing the Selani to continue to use the spear's point as the main part of the weapon's attack strategy.  Kallan had struggled when Tarrin shifted into the center grip before, for it was an unknown style to him that was mightily confusing.  After parrying aside a fast series of lightning-fast jabs of the spearpoint, the Were-cat took a step back and shifted the staff into the center grip.  He parried another jab with one end of the staff, then a second instants after the first with the other end of the staff.  He spun the weapon in his paws blurringly fast, smacking aside jab after jab as the two ends of the staff seemed to come out of nowhere to strike the spear's point and deflect it harmlessly aside.  Kallan suddenly reversed his grip on the spear and turned into it, then tried to jam Tarrin in the side with the spear's butt, a move a staff fighter would perform, but Tarrin slithered aside and lashed his tail out and down, striking Kallan across the back of both heels.  He hadn't had enough to sweep the Selani's feet, but the blow did cause him to teeter just a tiny moment before regaining himself.  Tarrin lunged in, then had to spin aside as the unbalanced teeter suddenly turned into a powerful straight kick.  Tarrin swept his staff in with him, but Kallan recovered and parried the blow with his spear, knocking the weapon back inside Tarrin's stance as the Were-cat put both feet under him.  He gave that ground back up as Kallan launched a flurry of jabs and attempts to strike with the butt of his spear, with kicks liberally peppered into them just to keep Tarrin honest.  Tarrin reverted to Allia's training then by instinct, becoming as a reed in the wind, swaying and bending, always within reach but unable to be touched, a shadow with form but no substance.  He gave back all the won ground and more as he studied Kallan's technique, which was admittedly exceptionally executed.  He watched closely, looking for any tiny hint or clue that would warn him of what was coming next, carefully studying Kallan's movements, the set of his feet, the shifting of his weight, analyzing it for any warning of what might be coming next.

        He found what he was looking for.  He continued to evade, to be smoke dancing in the breeze as Kallan continued his assault, until he saw that slight opening of the feet and shifting of weight just slightly towards the left, a move so subtle that few would even notice it.  Kallan's left foot set and his right came slightly off the ground as he lunged in with his spear point first, thrusting it out almost to arm's length, just shy of locking his elbows.  Tarrin parried the blow with an upward rotation of his staff, then instantly changed the weapon's momentum and turned away from Kallan as he retracted from his extending lunge.  Tarrin slid the staff through his paws as soon as his back was to the Selani, sliding it down into the end-grip and using his body as a shield to hide that face from his opponent.  He knew that Kallan would expect the staff to come at him as Tarrin completed his turn, possibly turn it into a sliding thrust, both of which Kallan had the agility to avoid despite recovering from a move.  Tarrin wanted to see him evade this.

        When the staff appeared as Tarrin came around, it was not where Kallan expected it to be.  He expected anything but the Were-cat holding it by its very end, with the entire length of the staff shrilly whistling through the air as it swept around the turning Were-cat.  Kallan backpedalled furiously to give him enough distance to either jump over or slip under the weapon as it swung towards him, but Tarrin twisted his torso and suddenly pulled in the staff, then thrust it out before him as the Selani was intent on backing up, his paws absolutely blurring as they walked down the length of the staff to put all of it between him and the Selani.  The staff turned a little and then rotated as Tarrin levered the end using his other paw as a fulcrum, making the tip turn a sudden wide, arcing circle that started at Kallan's middle and then suddenly dropped towards the ground in an expanding arc, dipping under the length of his partially presented spear.  The triple-feint succeeded in confusing the Selani, who didn't know whether to jump, dodge, duck, block, parry, or sidestep.  The staff's end cracked into his ankle with a highly satsifying thock, and the power behind the circular motion of the staff was more than enough to sweep the Selani's feet out from under him.  Kallan landed heavily on his side, grunting as the air was knocked out of him, but he instantly rolled away from Tarrin and all but bounced back up to his feet.  Tarrin saw immediately that Kallan was favoring the ankle that got whacked by his staff.  Though the gloves gave Kallan a strength close to Tarrin's, they didn't give him the same resistance to injury.  The increased strength did help him partially absorb the impact of blows by tensing up magically augmented muscles, but it still wasn't enough to escape injury when the blow was delivered by someone with Tarrin's strength.

        "Do you yield?" Tarrin asked, grounding his staff.

        "Over this?  You must be joking," Kallan said, flexing his ankle several times before putting his full weight back on it.  "You're much better with your staff than I am with my spear," he admitted.  "So I think it's time to level the field.  Kaila," he called, tossing the spear aside absently.  Kaila threw him his leather harness, and he caught it easily.  He pulled his two longswords free of it and tossed it aside as well, then squared off against Tarrin using new weapons.

        Tarrin knew from experience with Allia that using a single weapon against those longswords would be insane.  Kallan was probably even better with them than Allia was with her shortswords, and that meant that he could use each one independently of the other, attacking with them in ways that would make it impossible for him to deal with both weapons at the same time with just his staff.  He would not be put into a position where he would have to decide which sword to block, which would do him the lesser injury.  Tarrin knew that this was not a situation that favored his staff.  It wasn't a situation that favored any weapon at all.  If Kallan was going to fight using two weapons, Tarrin would need to counter them with two weapons of his own.

        Drawing himself up, Tarrin absently tossed his staff aside, then settled the Cat's Claws a little on his wrists so they were in proper position to block, drawing Kallan's attention to them.  Then he extended his claws and hunched down into his unarmed fighting stance, feet spread, paws wide, and back hunched, a slouch that looked deceptively vulnerable to most trained warriors.

        That stance caused Kallan to advance on him uncertainly, but the first experimental thrust with his left sword showed him immediately that he was correct in assuming that it gave Tarrin an advantage.  Tarrin smacked the sword aside using the bloodstained flat of his paw, striking the flat of the blade, and Kallan saw that the Were-cat favored the stance because it put his paws low, more at a level where an enemy would attack.  The Selani made a tentative thrust with his right sword, and it was again smacked aside contemptuously by the Were-cat's open paw.  Then, without expression, Kallan exploded into furious motion, his two longswords weaving, twisting, lancing in with dizzying speed.  Tarrin was not surprised by this sudden engagement, for the Selani already had a measure of him from fighting with his staff.  Tarin had also almost immediately recognized the system of attacks that Kallan was using, for Allia performed a similar routine of pre-arranged movements with her own swords.   He guarded against a changing of that routine, but still managed to turn aside every shallow stab and quick, light slash that the Selani had sent against him.  Chimes, like the ringing of bells, and the occasional flash of a spark emphasized the blinding speed of the attack, as well as the Were-cat's ability to catch those weapons on his bracers, the Cat's Claws, where their otherworldly metal turned aside the swords' edges.  Of all beings on Sennadar, Tarrin probably had the most experience in using forearms as shields to parry, having learned the technique when the heavy manacles had been locked around his wrists.  They had served as more than eternal reminders of the price of trust, they had also served as effective shields, giving the Were-cat a means to defend himself against weapons without having one of his own.  At first, Kallan seemed surprised that his complicated series of attacks were turned aside.  Those two metal bracers proved a powerful defense against Kallan's initial blitz.

        In the blink of an eye, Kallan's technique changed, shifting into a series of complex slashes that assaulted Tarrin's left side, working the two swords almost like knitter's needles, concentrating all his attacks on a very small area.  This was something that Tarrin had never seen before, and he was forced to rely on speed and reflexes to defend against it.  The small area allowed him to deflect the swords, but he was constantly on guard against a sudden shift in attack, never sure if the next sword slash or stab was in earnest or only a feint.  Tarrin's left bracer parried five stabs with both swords in the span of a heartbeat, and when it moved to intercept a sixth, the sword suddenly pulled wide and turned into a swipe aimed at Tarrin's face.  The Were-cat didn't even flinch when he simply pulled his head back just enough to let it whiz by, though the very tip of the sword did just barely manage to break the skin of his nose.  The other sword then knifed in at a low angle, moving upward, an attack meant to capitalize on a flinching foe and give the Selani a virtually uncontested strike, coming in on the side that would be blind when the victim of the tactic flinched away from the first weapon.  Both Tarrin's arms were out of position to deal with this threat, but as Kallan had already learned, Tarrin had more than just two arms and two legs to work with.  His tail slashed out from behind him and struck the Selani's wrist forcefully, jarring him just enough that the sword slice harmlessly before him.  The tail wrapped around the Selani's arm with the speed of a striking viper and pulled him in the direction of his momentum, trying to yank him off balance, carrying the sword's length along Tarrin's body until the sword's tip was almost touching his shoulder, the Selani's back to him.  He expected the other sword to come in and strike from the far side, maybe even above or below Kallan's body, but he never expected the Selani to jump, leave the ground and let Tarrin's tail suddenly pull him along.  Kallan twisted while in the air as Tarrin's tail released his wrist and the Were-cat tried to back away, sensing that a sword or foot could come flying at him from almost any angle if the Selani no longer held a vertical base, and his innate reaction was more than justified.  Kallan rotated his body, throwing his arms out, then his foot exploded from around his body, the instep of his boot screaming at Tarrin's head.  He only just managed to avoid it, feeling the wind it made as it flew by his head, smelling the leather and sand and dirt of it as it went by.  Tarrin retreated several steps, confused, shocked, and utterly amazed that that had happened.  He had no idea how Kallan had managed to twist around like that in the air.  It seemed an impossibility for someone not a Were-cat.  Kallan landed on one foot and one elbow, then quickly regained his feet as Tarrin tried to figure out just how Kallan had moved like that.  He had turned one way, but his legs seemed to have turned the other, and he had let Tarrin's own pull on him carry him up into the air, get his foot in position to where it could hit the much taller Were-cat in the head.

        Kallan did not let up.  He was on his feet and again attacking Tarrin with blinding speed in a heartbeat, but now his swords attacked the Were-cat anywhere and everywhere.  In a stunning display of swordsmanship, the Selani backed the Were-cat up with astoundingly complex routines, his swords almost seeming to tie themselves in a knot before the Selani as he unleashed them at the Were-cat.  Each sword feinted and attacked almost at the same time, using complicated cascading sequences that made it impossible for Tarrin to tell which was a feint and which was not.  Each blow in itself was a setup for the blow afterwards, attempting to quickly and systematically draw the Were-cat out of a defensive position by using a series of attacks that would batter him out of a defensive posture.  Every blow on the bracers of the Cat's Claws knocked his arms out wider and wider, setting him up for an inevitable stab at his middle.  Tarrin hadn't faced a foe of his strength in a very long time, and the magically augmented power behind Kallan's weapons was more than his arms could absorb without moving.  Tarrin knew it was coming, but could do very little about it as he dealt with the dizzying complexity of Kallan's assault, barely managing to discern the feints from the true attacks in time to parry them, and then getting knocked further and further out of position with every blow.

        The inevitable thrust came, just as Tarrin's right arm was knocked wide and his left was engaged in what he thought was another attack from that direction.  But it was a feint, as the weapon suddenly shifted and turned into an arcing thrust directed at Tarrin's midsection.  Tarrin twisted aside even as his left arm moved to knock the sword away from his direction of movement, but the sword suddenly changed direction again and slashed right across the direction of Tarrin's evading twist, causing the blade to bite very deeply into his upper left arm, deep enough to nearly mark the bone.  Kallan had used Tarrin's expectations against him, tricked him into trying to evade and then simply intercepted him in the middle of it.  A trick within a feint.  Very clever.

        It taught him much.  Kallan was good, but he was also smart.  He was using his familiarity with Allia against him, tricking him into making assumptions and then making him pay for them.  Kallan proved with that trick that he wasn't just a measure of Allia.  He was better.  Allia had the edge in raw speed, but Kallan would absolutely own his daughter if they ever fought.

        Kallan tried to press the advantage by shifting his attack to Tarrin's left side, but the Were-cat simply backed up to give his arm the second it needed to heal, and then he stepped up and fearlessly engaged the Selani once again.  But now it was Tarrin who was doing the pressing, using the momentary confusion Kallan suffered at Tarrin's arm not being slowed by the injury to put the Selani on the defensive.  Tarrin's claws sought him out, but the Selani weaved and dodged them with all the skill and ability as Allia had, making himself all but untouchable even when he was within reach of Tarrin's paws.  The Selani tried to counter-attack with his swords, trying to cut the paws reaching for him, which made Tarrin cautious about trying to reach in and get his claws into the Selani.  Attempts to rake him turned into quick defensive moves to block a sword with his bracers, but Tarrin did not back down, would not relenquish his advantage.  He feigned an outside rake of his claws, then quickly halted his motion and lunged forward.  Kallan's other sword cut him lightly across the upper thigh to deter the advance, and Tarrin buckled slightly under the injured leg.  But when Kallan moved to take advantage of that, he suddenly had the breath knocked out of him as Tarrin's first paw, which had shifted position with Tarrin's buckle, lashed out and between Kallan's two swords and hit him squarely in the chest, knocking him off his feet and flat on his back, his breath wheezing in his lungs.  The collapse around the injured leg had been nothing more than a trick, a feint, for Kallan's weapon would have to completely sever his quadriceps to cause it to collapse under his weight.  Tarrin pounced on his downed enemy, but Kallan quickly got his legs up, catching the Were-cat on his boots and sending him flying over the Selani with a strong double kick.  Tarrin twisted easily in the air, for he always knew exactly how he was oriented in the air and where he was in relation to the ground, landing lightly on his feet as Kallan rolled through his kick-off and gracefully flowed back up onto his feet.

        The Selani shivered his torso in a curious manner, as if to shake off the strike, then gave Tarrin a strangely excited look.  "You're holding back," he declared simply, sliding his right foot back slightly and bowing a little in his stance.

        He wasn't sure how Kallan knew that, but Tarrin was holding back a little.  Kallan was very fragile compared to him, and he didn't want to do the man any real damage.  "I don't want to hurt you," Tarrin replied.

        "Have no care for that," Kallan told him.  "Nothing you do to me can't be healed afterwards.  You should have understood that," he said, holding up his bloodstained sword.

        "I figured Allia told you about that," Tarrin shrugged.

        "About what?"

        "Your swords can't hurt me," he answered.  "They can cut me, but they won't do any actual damage.  Only magic and silver leaves a wound I can't immediately heal."

        "I do nothing with you I didn't do to Allia when I trained her," Kallan told him.  "This is all that makes you hold back?  You can't be injured?  Why would that make you hold back?"

        "You don't understand what it means."

        "Then show me."

        "Fine.  But let it be said that I warned you."

        With a burst of speed, Tarrin lanced in towards the Selani clan-chief with his claws out and leading, as Kallan raised his swords in defense.  Tarrin crashed right into him, completely ignoring the swords, his claws seeking out the Selani's face and throat, which caused Kallan to start in shock and quickly retreat, working his weapons to try to discourage the Were-cat from advancing.  The Selani had seen Tarrin literally catch his spear in his open paw, and he now knew that it did him no real harm.  But Kallan, like many creatures, found it very hard to rationalize just what being invulnerable to non-magical weapons really meant.  What he did not understand, what he had no experience with, was the fact that Tarrin had no fear of pain, no fear of being wounded.  The bites of Kallan's swords were only a minor inconvenience, a momentary sting that would abate the instant the weapon was removed from the wound.  Abandoning fencing and evasion, the Were-cat suddenly inexorably pressed the Selani with a savage roar, claws out as the Were-cat continued to press the smaller enemy.  Regathering himself, Kallan smoothly slipped a sword under the Were-cat's arm and stabbed him shallowly in the flank, ignoring the fact that he could have stabbed him through the heart or throat, inflicting a non-fatal wound--this was only spar, after all.  To his shock, the Were-cat didn't even register that as his claws swiped at the Selani in a massive arc, almost taking off his head.  Kallan ducked feverishly under that blow, but still came up with a pair of bloody lines running low from his cheek and rising up towards the middle of his face.  One went right over his nose, which had been cut more deeply and was bleeding profusely, and the other went up into his hair just over his right eye.  Kallan worked with tight-lipped concentration to keep the Were-cat a good distance away, cutting and stabbing the Were-cat multiple times to get him to back off, but Tarrin completely ignored the wounds, completely ignored the swords, concentrating on getting his paws on the Selani and, as Jasana had said, ripping him into little pieces.  Not even a slash right across the face, which took out his left eye, dissuaded the Were-cat, as Kallan resorted to more and more extreme measures, attempted to dish out progressively more serious wounds in order to convince the Were-cat to back off.  But for every wound Kallan inflicted on him, Tarrin returned it by striping Kallan with his claws.  Tarrin shredded the skin on Kallan's upper body with his claws, sending blood flying with every slash of his clawed paws, as the Selani continued to try to get him to back away, abandoning rules of spar and driving his weapons towards Tarrin's middle and chest.  His left sword plunged directly into Tarrin's midsection, the tip sliding out of his back, but the Were-cat didn't even register the impalement as he finally managed to get his claws into Kallan, digging them into the arm holding the sword that had just stabbed him, dragging him into the Were-cat's deadly embrace.  Kallan twisted the sword in Tarrin's belly out of desperation, real fear showing in his eyes at seeing the Were-cat absorb such punishment, but Tarrin was completely unmoved by the act.  He grabbed the blade of the other sword with his free paw, cutting off his smallest finger as he wrenched the sword out of Kallan's hand and flinging it aside, then he grabbed the Selani clan-chief with both paws--

        --and then put him out to arm's length and set him back on the ground lightly.  "You are dead," Tarrin told him, grabbing the sword sticking out of his gut and pulling it out.  It made a rasping, scraping sound as the blade scraped against his spine, which made a few Selani cringe a bit.  It stung quite a bit, but the pain subsided the instant the weapon was removed.  He handed it back to Kallan.  "Once I get my claws on someone, that's it.  There's nothing they can do to get away from me.  I could have ripped you apart or crushed you like a bug long before you would have figured a way to get free of me."

        "Quite an effective strategy there," Kallan said in shocked respect, looking at the blood all but covering the Were-cat's long body.

        "When I know my opponent can't really hurt me, I don't have to fight," he said bluntly.  "As long as I'm willing to take a few blows, I can overwhelm almost anyone.  All I have to do is get my claws on them.  Once I have a grip on them, they're dead.  I usually don't do that, though.  I treat every enemy like he can hurt me."

        Kallan chuckled.  "You are wise to understand your advantages, and even wiser not to rely on them," he stated, going over and picking up his other sword.  "You use a defense as a weapon.  A commendable tactic.  You could have done that any time," he realized.  "And you used my expectations against me!" he added with a laugh.  "When I cut your leg, you just feigned it affecting you!  You lured me in, baiting me with my own assumption!"

        Tarrin nodded.  "You wanted to test me.  Having me overwhelm you like that wouldn't have proved anything other than I'm alot harder to kill than you expected."  He flexed his paw a little as the buzzing tingle of the newly grown finger began to subside.

        Stabbing the points of his swords into the ground, Kallan released them and slowly started pulling off the Trollskin gloves.  "I think I'm ready to test myself against you without these helping me," he announced.

        "It'll be different," Tarrin stated simply.  "I fight alot differently against someone weaker than I am."

        "I can guess at how it will change your strategy," he replied with a calm look.

        "Let's give it a minute," Tarrin told him.  "It's going to take you a few moments to adjust to taking off the gloves, and give you a minute to try to stop the bleeding.  I don't want any of that affecting you while we fight.  It's unfair to you."

        "Considerate," Kallan smiled.

        "No, I just don't want you suffering any more of a disadvantage than you already have," Tarrin replied.

        Kaila laughed from the side.  "I think you're overconfident, Tarrin!" she called.

        "Posh," Allia said.  "Father doesn't stand a chance now."

        "You don't have my lamp yet, daughter," Kaila said with slyly narrow eyes.

        "You should give it up now," Jasana told her imperiously.  "Nobody can beat my Papa."  She glanced at Allia.  "Well, except maybe Aunt Allia."

        "And what gives you such confidence, kitling?" Kaila asked.

        "Papa only has to hit him once now," she stated bluntly.  "That's all it's gonna take.  Aunt Allia's papa is good at fighting, but he'll never beat my Papa without getting hit, and it's only gonna to take one hit."

        "Posh," Kaila returned.  "Kallan knows that.  He'll make sure he won't be hit."

        "Never happen," the two Were-cat children said in unison.

        Tarrin waited patiently as Kallan paced back and forth, swinging his swords rhythmically to get used to not wearing the gloves, as his bleeding began to subside.  He'd noticed that from Allia; she never bled for very long.  Perhaps living out in the desert had caused the Selani's bodies to stop bleeding quickly to avoid losing too much water.  That, or perhaps the exceptionally dry air evaporated the water out of the blood so quickly that it caused any injury to scab over much faster.  Or perhaps both.

        After a few moments, Kallan set his swords down on the ground and approached Tarrin, obviously meaning to fight unarmed.  In a way, Tarrin understood what he was doing; by giving up his weapons, he was hoping to make his attacks that much faster.  Besides, the swords meant absolutely nothing to Tarrin, so in a battle without the gloves the swords were more of a liability than an advantage.  Kallan was sacrificing the weapons to gain speed, speed in his attacks with his hands, for they wouldn't be encumbered by weapons.  Tarrin hopped up and down in place slightly to work out a bit of stiffness in his ankle, then spread his feet and assumed his wide-pawed, slouching guard stance.

        "Remember, no holding back," Kallan said with eagerness.  "I want to face you at your best."

        "As long as the tribe won't hold it against me if I accidentally kill you," Tarrin returned, "I have no problem with that."

        "They won't."

        "Fine," Tarrin shrugged.

        Tarrin knew that he was going to be facing the Dance at its evasive best when Kallan stepped up and engaged him, using a series of light jabbing punches with his hands to get things moving, coming inside Tarrin's reach.  He knew that if he tried to just swarm Kallan like he did before, the Selani would counter it, would see it coming, so he knew that he had to bide his time, wait for Kallan to make a mistake or for him to get tired, use his superior strength to knock the Selani off balance, or simply outfight him.  Tarrin doubted that he could outfight the Selani clan-chief.  Knocking Kallan off balance seemed the best approach to opening a hole in his defense.  The light jabbing punches came so fast that Tarrin had little time to block them, and every time he tried to grab one of those hands, it darted away before he could close his paw over it.  Kallan seemed to understand that he absolutely could not allow himself to get grabbed, which was only smart for him.  Tarrin didn't respond to those attacks quite yet, watching Kallan's blurring hands to get an idea of his hand speed without holding swords, and get a feel for his fighting technique.  All warriors fell into two very broad categories, depending on their personalities and how they were trained.  A warrior was either offensive, defensive, or a trickster by general nature.  An offensive fighter would attack more than defend, a defensive fighter would defend more than attack.  All warriors used both styles when they fought, but their basic mentality would always fall into one of those three categories.  Allia was an offensive fighter.  Tarrin was a defensive fighter.  Allia had been trained to be highly agressive, to bring down the opponent as fast as possible and avoid protracted combat, though she was brilliantly capable of evasion and defense.  Tarrin had been taught to outlast an opponent, to fluster him into making a mistake, though he was capable of stunningly aggressive offensive flurries when he was angry.  Kallan was also by nature an offensive fighter, as most Selani were, since the basic tenet of the Dance was to use superior speed to down a foe as quickly as possible.  But like Allia, Kallan knew when a defensive strategy would be more prudent.

        That worked in Tarrin's favor.  The easiest way he saw to win this contest was to simply outlast Kallan, irk him into being more aggressive, and then punish him for it.  By their very natures, defensive-minded warriors were much more patient than their offensive-minded counterparts.  He knew that Kallan would be very wary and careful, and would be able to evade Tarrin if he simply charged in and tried to swarm him under.

        Tarrin was sorely mistaken.  Kallan went to light jabs to a powerful straight kick in the blink of an eye, aiming it at Tarrin's chest.  The Were-cat twisted aside to avoid the blow and reached out for the Selani's leg, but Kallan pulled it back and then kicked the inside forearm of the arm reaching towards him.  His eyes registered surprise when the arm did not flinch in the slightest from the blow, for the Selani just didn't have the strength to jar the Were-cat's inhumanly powerful body without the gloves.  He pulled his leg back and sidestepped Tarrin's reaching paw, then spun in a fast, tight circle and dropped, whipping his foot at the Were-cat's ankles in a sweep maneuver.  Tarrin saw it coming and simply dug his claws into the ground and locked the muscles in his legs.  Kallan's foot hit Tarrin's ankle with enough force to make the Were-cat's foot go a little numb, but all the Selani managed to do was have his foot ricochet off the Were-cat's ankle, like it had struck a rooted tree instead of a leg.  The Selani quickly rolled out of reach, his eyes a little surprised, but then he grinned as he regained his feet and came right back at Tarrin as if that were nothing.

        Of course.  Selani were absolutely fearless, and the stronger the opponent, the more they enjoyed the fight.  Kallan was testing himself against a superior opponent, trying to better himself by finding a true challenge.

        Tarrin shifted from defensive blocking to attacking the Selani in order to keep him from getting his wits about him.  Kallan proved he was just as slippery as Allia in unarmed combat, being everywhere but where Tarrin's paws or feet happened to be at that moment.  Tarrin kept on him, kept him from organizing himself by making him literally scramble around for his very life, as lightning-fast sweeps of his clawed paws, feet, and strikes with his sinuous, deceptively long tail prevented the Selani from regaining an attack footing, kept him back on his heels and devoting all his concentration to keep from getting struck.  They both knew that if Tarrin hit him once, it would be over, so Kallan made absolutely certain that that did not happen, not even allowing the most glancing of blows.  Tarrin absolutely could not touch the wiry Selani clan-chief as they whirled about, Tarrin's clawed paws and feet and tail working with great concentration to score a hit on the Selani, while the Selani worked with equal concentration to avoid it.

        As Tarrin made another attempt to swipe Kallan with his paws, the Selani finally managed to figure out how to go about attacking Tarrin.  The clan-chief ducked down, and then rose up with both hands leading, striking Tarrin in the lower stomach and continuing onward.  Kallan had finally realized that Tarrin could only utilize his strength as a defensive tool so long as he had the leverage to do it, and that meant that by striking upwards, preventing the Were-cat from anchoring himself to the ground, it eliminated his strength advantage.  Kallan actually managed to pick the Were-cat up off his feet, a testament to his wiry strength, but Tarrin simply landed back on his feet a couple of spans distant.

        The momentum changed again.  Kallan rushed back in confidently, and it was his turn to press the Were-cat.  Tarrin knew better than to let Kallan hit him in the head, but luckily for him only Kallan's fists could reach that high.  Tarrin slithered around the suddenly offensive Selani just as effectively as Kallan had evaded him, trying to work himself into a position where he could grab one of those flicking arms or legs.  He made several attempts, and each time he tried, he nearly got himself smacked in the head from one of Kallan's other limbs.  Kallan was actively watching for it, and knew that every time Tarrin tried it, he was lowering his defenses by moving out of position in order to attempt to grab the limb that had just struck at him.  Each time he had to frantically evade a punch or kick levelled at his head.  Tarrin realized that Kallan was specifically going for the head, either by accident or design coming to understand that it was his only chance of achieving victory.

        Tarrin had first-hand experience as to just how hard a Selani could hit.  Allia was more than capable of stunning him momentarily with a foot or hand, if she struck him in the head.  His regenerative abilities did not protect him from the stunning effects of a blow to the head, whether the instrument delivering the impact could hurt him or not.  Kallan had adopted a similar strategy, which was probably the only thing he could have done in order to give himself a chance.

        As they continued to dance around each other, it was Tarrin who was getting irritated.  Kallan had proved to be a wily, untouchable opponent, somehow managing to attack Tarrin with feet and hands without allowing the Were-cat to grab the attacking limb before it could withdraw.  He was watchful and very fast to react, for each time Tarrin moved to block or parry a punch or kick with an open paw, so as to instantly close his fist on the wrist or ankle behind the foot or hand attacking him, the Selani instantly pulled back the attack, not allowing the Were-cat even the opportunity to try.  Kallan continued with light, lightning-fast jabs and flicks of his feet, blurringly fast attacks meant more to draw the Were-cat out of position or out of sorts than to inflict damage.  Kallan came on so quickly that Tarrin actually had to take a step back to give him some room, to try to figure out Kallan's technique and find that flaw that would grant him a swift victory.  Tarrin tried again and again to grab his smaller foe, but found himself grabbing nothing but empty air.  He became more and more aggressive about it, until Kallan slipped under his arm and delivered a rocking uppercut with his other hand, catching Tarrin under his jaw and snapping his head back.  The ringing in his ears was replaced by a wheeze when Kallan punched him for all he was worth in the chest, trying to knock the air out of his lungs and strike before the Were-cat had the presence of mind to tense his muscles and use his inhuman strength as a defensive barrier.  The blow had enough behind it to stagger the taller Were-cat back, and he recovered in time to duck under an impossibly high jumping kick the Selani delivered, his entire body spinning in the air, which caused his foot come come screaming around his body so fast that it was nothing but a blur.  Tarrin felt the wind ruffle his bangs and the fur on his ears, fully aware that a blow delivered to his head with that much force very well may have won Kallan the match.  His feet touched the ground and he instantly turned and started pressing the unbalanced Were-cat again, scoring a staccato series of heavy blows on Tarrin's face, almost breaking his nose and jarring a tooth loose.  The blows only succeeded in making Tarrin angry, who suddenly put his ears back when Kallan jumped in the air again to attempt to deliver another jumping spin kick.  This time, however, the Were-cat stood his ground, and swiped the foot aside contemptuously when it came flying towards him.  That knocked Kallan off kilter in the air, and he had to twist around like a knotweed in order to get his feet underneath him before he hit the ground.  Kallan didn't relinquish his advantage, coming right back after the angry Were-cat, who still had the presence of mind to defend his head against that blizzard of lightning-fast attacks.

        But Tarrin had forgotten Kallan's devious fighting nature.  Tarrin evaded or blocked several more blows to his head, and when he saw Kallan lift a foot in a hip-swinging manner that told him it was going to be a high blow, he raised his arm in preparation to block it.  But the Selani lashed out in a downward motion, catching Tarrin so off guard that he didn't have time to anchor himself to the ground.  Kallan's instep struck Tarrin squarely in the ankle, and there was enough force behind it to sweep Tarrin's foot out from under him.  He threw out his arm and tilted dangerously to the side, and to his shock, Kallan grabbed him by the wrist as he darted forward and got behind the Were-cat, then grabbed his wrist with both hands and whipped him over his shoulder.  He was just as shocked that the wiry, slender Selani had the strength to pick up Tarrin's very tall body, as he felt his back slide over Kallan's own.

        It was a clever move, to try to knock the air out of Tarrin's lungs when he hit the ground, and getting behind Tarrin so he couldn't grab hold of him with his free paw, but it was a critical miscalculation.  Tarrin's tail whipped down and around and managed to hook both of Kallan's feet as he threw the Were-cat over his shoulder, and as Tarrin was catapulted over, his tail ran out of slack and pulled taut against Kallan's feet.  Tarrin's own momentum added to the strength of his tail, and it whipped Kallan's feet out from under him and in an upwards arc so fast that his head literally was swept under his own body as he was somersaulted.  The shock of it caused the Selani to let go of Tarrin's paw, and they separated in the air.  Kallan landed on his shoulders and back on the ground, almost exactly where he had been standing, as Tarrin simply got control of himself and landed with both feet solidly on the ground a few spans away, using his free paw as a third limb to steady himself.  He lunged forward the instant his two feet and paw hit the ground, taking advantage of the hard landing Kallan suffered, and was on him before the Selani could roll away.  Tarrin straddled him and held him down with one huge paw over his chest as the other rose up with all five claws extended.  "Do you yield?" Tarrin asked quickly.

        Kallan laughed wheezingly, and put his head on the ground.  "I yield," he announced.

        There was a round of cheers and clapping from the observing Selani, but it was Allia's laughter that Tarrin heard the most.  "They always forget the tail," she chided lightly.  "Tarrin has won more fights with that tail of his than with anything else."

        "Maybe we should pray to the Holy Mother that we have tails," Kaila said with a chuckle.

        "I think it would look a bit silly on us, mother," Allia answered, then she looked at her slyly as she crossed her arms beneath her breasts.  "I seem to recall a certain wager."

        "I really wanted that rug," Kaira said sourly.

        "Ha!" Jasana said triumphantly.  "I told you Papa would win!"

        "Nobody can beat our Papa!" Eron agreed boisterously.

        Tarrin got up and offered his paw to Kallan, who took it with an amused expression.  "That was very clever."

        "You forgot about the tail," he said with a slight smile, waggling the tip of it to draw the Selani's attention.

        "So I did," he admitted, then he smiled slightly.  "By the sands, that was a good fight!  You honor me, Tarrin.  Maybe later, we can fight again.  I might even beat you next time."

        "Kirza, I think you might," he agreed honestly.  "You're good enough to beat me.  You're better than I am.  It's just that I have certain advantages that even the playing field between us, that's all."

        "Well now, I've had my measure of you, and I see that my daughter didn't dishonor the clan when she taught you the Dance.  You are a worthy opponent."

        "Thank you, kirza," he said mildly in reply.  "Allia's honor is important to me.  I'd never do anything to damage it."

        "Well then, let's get cleaned up, and tonight, we feast.  You and I will talk, and we'll see if my daughter taught you the lessons of the Selani as well as the Dance.  If you show me you know our culture, I'd be inclined to accept you into my family."

        "You honor me, kirza," Tarrin told him.

        "The honor will be mutual, if you prove your worth," he said.  "Come, let's go get cleaned up."

        After cleaning up all the blood, Tarrin spent a little time in the tent of Kallan and Kaira.  It was a spartan affair, with but a few packs and satchels scattered through the low-ceilinged tent, the largest items being weapons and the rugs and pillows strewn about the floor of the tent.  Tarrin had to almost crawl in to fit, and couldn't stand even in a stoop inside the tent.  Even the Selani had to duck when not in the center of the tent.  He saw with them with his children and talked to them, as Kallan and his wife lightly grilled him about what Allia had taught him, and for stories of their adventures together.  Tarrin enjoyed that time a great deal, for both of them were intelligent and engaging, and somewhat charismatic.  And like Allia, the sense they projected changed when they were in private surroundings.  Kallan was stern and unyielding when in the eye of his tribe, but in private, he was much more open and personable.  When out in public, the honor of the clan-chief rode on everything he said and did, but in the tent, with nothing but family, he was free to be much more informal.  And Tarrin found that he rather liked him.  Kaira was a very open and friendly person all the time, whether in public or not, and the Selani seemed to accept that as her nature.  She still acted in an honorable fashion at all times, it was just that she wasn't as formal as her husband and daughter.  Dulai, Kallan's sister, acted very stiff in public, and from what he'd seen of her, she acted just as stiffly in private.

        Kallan's light demeanor vanished, however, when Tarrin brought up Allyn.  Tarrin could sense that Kallan disapproved of the Sha'Kar, but he wasn't sure if that disapproval was because he was Sha'Kar, or because Allia loved him.  Fathers were strange that way, wanting only the absolute best for their daughters.  At least in humans.  Tarrin suspected that a Selani suitor would have received a certain amount of disapproval from Kallan, but not as much.  Tarrin figured that as soon as Allyn proved himself, than Kallan would relent somewhat.

        Somewhat being the operative word.  Allyn was a Sha'Kar, and that meant that he had been ingrained with certain cultural traits that no amount of grinding would ever take off of him.  He had the feeling that Allyn would learn the Dance, and perhaps be quite good at it, but he would never, ever use it against another.  Allyn rejected physical violence outright, being the cornerstone of the Sha'Kar society, and it was probably the one issue on which he would not budge.  They may someday be able to get him to hunt, but he'd never fight, even though he was more than capable.  That was a cultural paradox for a Selani, whose harsh environment had instilled in them a legenday fighting ability that was the cornerstone of their culture.  He realized that that was probably why the Selani Priestess of the tribe disapproved of him so strongly, because he'd never truly be one of them.  At least not in the eyes of the Selani.  They were all convinced that he would never earn the brands, and as such, they had every right to do whatever it took to get rid of him as quickly as possible.

        Of course, that would change the instant Allyn took a good brand.  If he could get the brands, it would change everything.  It would mean that Fara'Nae would accept him, and even if he wasn't like the Selani, they would have no choice in the matter.  No Selani would dare presume to think that they knew better than the Holy Mother.  The very idea of it was heresy of the highest order.  Even to think it would bring intense shame to the Selani, so intense that they very well may abandon the clan, feeling that they had lost all honor and therefore were no longer worthy to remain in the clan.

        Well, not all of them.  Tarrin didn't much mind presuming things, but then again, his position and relationship to Fara'Nae was much different than the Selani.

        It all showed him that the more different races were, the more similar they really were when one bothered to look a little deeper.

        Begging off any more conversation, actually just feeling a little claustrophobic in their small tent, Tarrin went outside with his cubs and decided to begin the task which was the reason he was brought to the desert.  It didn't take him long to organize things, for all he needed as Kedaira, the sukk, and a small pail of mud.  Jasan and Eron watched as Tarrin ordered the adolescents tending the sukk to bring them to him one at a time, bringing a new one when he sent the one before him away.  After that, he simply sat down on a big rock near the edge of the camp and began.  The sheperds brought the first sukk, herding it with long, thin sticks which they used to gently prod the beast whenever it went off course, and when it got close enough to hear him, Tarrin called it over after reassuring it that it was in no danger.  It would then advance, and Tarrin would explain to it that this particular inu was no danger to it, the flock, or its brood.  He was very careful to stress that, that other inu were a danger, but this particular one was part of the flock, and as such was not a danger.  That actually wasn't that hard to explain, for the flock mentality of the sukk allowed them to accept the idea of it, and they had very acute senses of sight and smell that would allow them to discern Kedaira from other inu.  After he explained it, he told the sukk to pass that on to their chicks whenever they had them, and then marked the bird with a bit of mud on the sides of its heavy hooked beak.  That was the way the herders could tell educated sukk from ones who had yet had it explained to them.  Once that was done, Tarrin told the bird to be on its way, and the young Selani would bring him another so he could repeat the process again.

        It went much faster than he thought.  He had thought sukk to be rather dim-witted birds, and as such he figured it would take quite a while to explain things to them.  But the sukk were smarter than he thought, and their instincts and natures allowed them to accept what Tarrin had to tell them more easily than he expected.  He found out that sukk considered the Selani to simply be a part of the flock.  It was not hard to convince them to extend that same consideration to the lone inu, especially since the binding word of a Druid backed his statements.

        In the few hours between starting and sunset, the time he intended to stop, he counted and realized that he had already talked to most of the flock.  He decided to simply finish up with the last few, and then gave the same speech to the chisa.  That was both easier and harder.  They had a harder time accepting the idea of an inu as a harmless animal, but on the other hand, chisa didn't fear inu as much as sukk did.  Chisa weren't much bigger than inu, but they were very powerful animals, able to kill with a single lash of their whip-like tails, and also had a highly venemous bite.  Inu only attacked chisa in packs, so the big quadrapedal reptiles had little fear of a solitary inu.  So instead of convincing them that Kedaira was a member of the flock, he instead assured the chisa that Kedaira wouldn't attack them.  That, they could accept, and as such would not show open hostility towards her.

        About an hour after sunset, he was done.  All the tribe's animals were educated about Kedaira, and he saw that it had taken immediate hold on them.  Kedaira padded through the flock effortlessly when Tarrin prompted her to do so, and the sukk did not react to her.  In fact, they were somewhat amicable towards her.  They didn't even get defensive when she got close to some of the youngest chicks, who were carried by their parents when the flock was on the move.

        "Does that mean they like her now?" Eron asked