If anything could have changed the mood in the room, that was it.
Keritanima took her hand off the silver amulet around her neck, blowing out a sigh of the most profound relief. A smile graced her muzzle, the first smile since the day she took the throne, a smile that came from the heart. It was the one thing that she truly needed to do, with all the insanity that was going on in Wikuna, one of the few pleasures she could afford herself at the moment. Those with her in her inner sanctum, the ultimate privacy of her bedchamber, became visibly relaxed. Of course, Binter and Sisska, Miranda and Azakar knew her well, so they understood just how important it had been for her to contact her brother and sister. It was something that she needed to do to take her mind off the issues confronting her.
It was also something that she'd been meaning to do for a while. With the battle for the throne over twenty days ago, she should have been contacting them that night after putting down her father's hasty rebellion. But one thing led to another, problems piled up on her desk, and she'd been sidetracked by the astounding amount of work that had inundated her since presenting the nobility with the document that would hamstring their power.
And that had been her main headache. Wikuni nobles being what they were, they accepted the constitution with graceful smiles, read it, then immediately threw it out the window and began plotting ways to either get around it, invalidate it, or even get rid of Keritanima and put a monarch on the throne that wouldn't change the order of things. This, Keritanima had expected. She just didn't expect it from every noble house. Even the weakest of them were beginning to look for ways to put obstacles in Keritanima's path. The only houses that weren't causing problems were house Eram, since it only had two members and she totally controlled her sister, and house Mation. Praki Mation was absolutely terrified of Keritanima, and would do absolutely nothing to bring her wrath down on her. What seemed like a personal insult was that Sheba was doing it too! Over the twenty days, Sheba and Keritanima had more or less buried the hatchet. Had even nearly become friends. But now the former pirate was doing the same thing everyone else was doing, and that hurt the Queen more than a little bit.
Their roadblocks had been both subtle and blatant. Noble ships suddenly clogged all the harbors in northeastern Wikuna, strangling trade. The commoners that Keritanima had invited to help with the transition were harassed on the streets, misdirected, blockaded in their homes by agents of the nobles, and a few of them even assassinated. Nobles were continuously late to those meetings, forcing endless delays and changes in plans. And Keritanima had it on good authority from Jervis that many of the nobles had met among themselves, and were cooperating. And that they were attempting to hire every mercenary, sellsword, and two-bit footman they could find. If they couldn't convince Keritanima to give up on her idea of a Republic, they were more than willing to fight her over the throne.
This infuriated the new Queen of Wikuna, infuriated her in a way that few things could. Her entire goal right now was to return to Sennadar, return to her brother and sister and be a family again, to help them in their mission for the Goddess of the Sorcerers. The nobles were delaying her wishes, and they should have learned by now that getting in Keritanima's way was a very unhealthy thing to do. She may have given away a portion of her own power, but she was still Queen of Wikuna, and her power was nothing to be dismissed.
But it shocked her that the nobles would be willing to take it to the ultimate level, civil war. If they'd just read the damn thing! Read it and understand it, see the opportunities for prosperity that rested within the pages! By surrendering some of their power and paying taxes, they would get the opportunity to take their house fortunes and quadruple them within twenty years. But they were so stubborn! All they could see was that the radically aligned new Queen was taking away their status as true nobles, as someone above the common man. They were so arrogant!
Perhaps that was her error. She expected them to be receptive to change, and that simply wasn't going to happen. They wanted to keep their power, to keep their feeling of control, to keep their arrogance. They wanted things to stay the same. They didn't want to take a chance on something that they didn't understand, didn't want to understand. They wanted to stay in the closet.
Well, that was tough. She couldn't leave Wikuna without the Republic, because she couldn't trust the nobles not to mess things up in her absence. If she left before then, odds were there would be a new monarch on the throne before her ship reached Sennadar, and they'd be sending assassins by the score to eliminate her. Then they'd just tell the people that Keritanima's ship sank, and that would be that. She was the Queen now, and she took that responsibility seriously. She wouldn't leave Wikuna at the mercy of a new dynasty of bloodthirsty tyrants.
Keritanima leaned back in her chair at her desk, as Binter and Sisska played chess on the chest Keritanima kept at the foot of her bed, Jervis watched the battle in keen interest, and Azakar helped Miranda wind a ball of yarn, sitting in a new rocking chair in the corner. Binter and Sisska never changed, from their kilts to their leather harnesses, but Jervis' attire had improved since coming into the new Queen's inner circle. He wore a spotless gray waistcoat that matched his fur, and his everpresent pocketwatch now had a gold chain holding it to his vest. Miranda still wore daring dresses, but she still continued to wear simple dresses of her own making rather than jewelled or extravagant gowns favored by the nobility. Today's dress was a cream-colored dress with a white sash, with a neckline that quite nearly reached the sash. For Miranda, it was an "older" dress, a dress she wore when showing others that she wasn't as young as she looked. Few young girls could possess Miranda's impressive attributes. Miranda did not let others forget that she was a commoner, but she also didn't let them forget that she was a beautiful young woman either. Azakar wore a simple brown doublet and leather breeches, the doublet carrying an embroidered Royal crest over his heart, clothing that would easily go under his armor if he had to quickly don it. The crest marked him as a Royal servant, and it gave him protection and authority within the Palace. Miranda had been dabbling in knitting lately, so her everpresent shoulder bag was now filled with ivory knitting needles and balls of yarn of every color.
Yes, that certainly seemed to be the problem. The problem here was that she was the only one trying to abide by the new rules. She had been acting under the powers she afforded herself by the new system, when nobody else was. The Parliament was not yet formed, and in reality it was Keritanima making all the decisions. She had been doing it to get a feel for it, to get an understanding of what she had to do to make it work. The nobles weren't playing by the new rules, because they didn't want to have any part of the game.
If nobody else was going to play by the rules, then it would be silly for her to do it alone.
Yes. She could see that if she couldn't persuade the nobles with honey and sweetcakes, then she would stuff it down their throats with a ramrod. If they wanted to play one last game of political chicken, she would be more than willing to oblige them.
A plan already began to form. The nobility ruled because they had titles and money. All she had to do was take away what made them different from the common man, and give them a real reason to fear her. It was very simple, very effective, and it would probably solve all her problems inside twenty minutes once she began.
"Jervis," she said in a commanding tone.
"Yes, your Majesty?" he replied immediately, looking up from the game.
"Summon Mayor Trent. Also, ask sashka if he would be so kind as to talk with me."
Nobody commanded sashka. Keritanima was well aware of that. The Vendari weren't truly arrogant, but if Keritanima ordered the subject king of Vendaka, it would be an affront to his honor. Damon Eram had made that fatal error, had alienated the Vendari, by whose suffrance a Wikuni monarch actually ruled. Keritanima had no intentions of following in her father's footsteps.
"I'll arrange it. What time would you like to meet them?"
"As soon as is convenient for sashka," she replied. "Here."
Jervis raised a brow. If she was going to summon them to her private chambers, then what she had to discuss with them was something that she didn't want known.
"I know that look," Miranda grinned. "You're cooking up something, aren't you, Kerri?"
"I'm tired of the noble houses trying to sabotage things," she said with a fret. "I'm going to deal with them."
"That sounds final," Azakar noted.
"That'll be their decision, Zak," she told him casually. "How they want to play the game is their choice, but they have to live with their own rules."
Miranda giggled. "Uh oh, that is final," she said, winking in Keritanima's direction. "You want help?"
"No, I've already wrapped this plan up, Miranda. It's pretty simple. Thanks for the offer."
"With your Majesty's permission, I'll see to the summons," Jervis said.
"Go ahead, Jervis. Try to get them here by lunch, but don't press sashka."
"You misunderstand sashka, your Majesty. If I tell him you wish to speak with him, he will drop everything and come to you."
"Probably, but I'm not going to order him."
"Order him if you want, your Majesty. He bows to your crown, so he will follow your orders willingly. Don't let the fact that he literally put you on that throne cloud reality."
Keritanima made a face at the rabbit. She never forgot that it was sashka that put her on the throne, and that was probably why she always treated him with deferrence. Mainly because she was more than aware that sashka could take her right off of it. Unlike her father, Keritanima had a full grip on the true political situation in Wikuna.
"I don't like ordering friends, Jervis," she lied to cover the truth.
"Spoken like a true Queen," Jervis smiled, then he bowed and made his way out.
"Care to enlighten us, Kerri?" Miranda asked.
"It's simple, Miranda," he told her, turning in her seat to face them. "I'm going to give the nobles a taste of what they're doing to me."
"Clever," she applauded.
"Thank you. All I need to do is give a choice between a Republic and total head-crushing oppression."
"A good plan, Majesty," Sisska said. "But your own Constitution will not permit it."
"It hasn't been ratified yet, Sisska," Keritanima said smugly. "Until Parliament ratifies it as law, it's only law if I want it to be. I've only been following my own rules to show the nobles that I'm serious about it. But if they don't want to follow the rules, then I see no reason why I have to either."
Miranda gave Keritanima a strange look, then literally fell out of her chair laughing. "Beautiful!" she managed to wheeze. "She's going to make them ratify the Constitution, if only to save themselves from her!"
"Simple, isn't it?" Keritanima chuckled with a wicked glint in her eyes.
Miranda continued to laugh, kicking the floor with the heels of her feet in glee. "Beautiful! Beautiful! I can't wait to see the faces of the house leaders when they realize that they're causing their own suffering!"
"That's what you're going to do?" Azakar asked. "Scare them?"
"Zak, I'm going to fix it so they demand that the Constitution be ratified," she said, flexing her fingers in an ominous manner. "Part of the Constitution is designed to protect against tyranny. I'm going to give them a tyrant to motivate them."
Azakar looked at her, then he suddenly laughed. "That's evil, Kerri."
"Thank you. I try."
"Perhaps putting her on the throne was a bad decision, lifemate," Binter noted to Sisska.
"I think not. At least we can put her over our knee and spank her if she oversteps herself," Sisska replied seriously.
Keritanima gave her Vendari bodyguards a wild look. Humor! Humor from Vendari! Again! What was going on with those two?
"Wait a minute, Kerri. If you're going to be a tyrant, won't it affect the commoners?" Azakar asked.
"I'll make a politician of you yet, Zak," Keritanima winked. "It could, but it's not going to come to that. If I do things right, everything will be settled tomorrow. You forget that I don't have to carry through on my threats. All I have to do is make them. I'm sure that the nobles will understand that if they don't stop interfering, my threats will come true."
"What if they don't?"
"Well, then things will get messy. I'm going to plan for that, so the nobles don't take it out on the commoners. I won't let my people suffer over what's going to be a personal spat between the Queen and her nobles."
"They'd do that to their own people?"
"Zak, to a noble, a commoner is, at best, only a tool, or at worst an expendable asset. They don't see them as people, and that's what I intend to change. Unlike most nobles, I trust the commoners alot more than I do the nobility."
"That sounds like Yar Arak," he replied. "All that suffering and pain just so the rich could get richer. I never thought I'd see that here."
"It's not as obvious here, but it does happen," she replied seriously. "But I think you'll see things changing in Yar Arak."
"What, Tarrin wiped it off the map before he left?" Azakar asked in a cold tone. He had been a slave there, so his opinion of the empire was a very sour one.
"No, they have a new Empress," she replied. "Tarrin killed the Emperor."
"He didn't!" Miranda gasped.
"He did," she affirmed. "Jervis got those reports two weeks ago, but he wanted confirmation. Tarrin killed the Emperor, and it seems that he destroyed large swaths of the city to boot. I can only imagine what drove him to that," she said, closing her eyes and feeling a bit of pain for her brother. "He killed thousands, Miranda. Thousands." She opened her eyes and sighed. "Anyway, after all that, he took the Book of Ages from the Emperor's wife, who it turns out happens to be a Demoness."
Azakar gaped at Keritanima, but Miranda put a finger to her chin in thought. "That's why he was so destructive. If I remember my mythology right, no mortal can harm a Demon. To fight something like that, he'd have to let everything go and face it with everything he has."
"Most likely," Keritanima agreed with a somber expression. "Anyway, that Demoness decided to come out of hiding. She's ruling openly now."
"That's supposed to make things better?" Azakar asked acidly. "The largest empire in the world, ruled by a Demon?"
"Of course it will," Keritanima said. "Jervis' initial reports out of Arak are favorable. This Empress Shiika has started her rule by trying to fix the mess caused by all the old Emperors. I'll bet that the Demoness has been the wife of the last ten or twelve Emperors, and her domination of him made him listless and not fit to rule. And that caused the degeneration of the Empire. Now she's trying to fix that. She's rebuilding the destroyed areas, and she's trying to do something about the armies of homeless and poor."
"Killing them off?" Azakar asked with a rather nasty look.
"Putting them to work," she replied. "Anyone can work a day's labor and receive a hot meal, a good day's pay, and a bed for the night, at the Crown's expense. It's a good way to get started, I have to admit. Shiika is expanding the workforce to repair the damage and giving her poorest a chance to dig out of their holes. The Imperial family is rumored to have more money than any kingdom but Wikuna, so she can certainly afford it. She may be a Demon, but I see already that this one is smart. She's already identified her most pressing problems, and she's moving to correct them. I think Yar Arak is in capable hands."
"It just seems unnatural," Azakar complained.
"From what Jervis has told me so far, so is Shiika," Keritanima told him. "She's not your usual Demon. She seems to lack the viciousness and pure evil common in Demonkind, but I wouldn't doubt that she's not a very nice girl if you get her mad. I guess she just proves that anyone can be different from their kind, even a Demon."
"Who would have guessed that a Demon could be something other than evil?" Miranda mused.
"It just goes to show you, Miranda. Life is weird."
Both Miranda and Azakar laughed, and it got a mild look from Binter and Sisska.
Life certainly was weird, Keritanima mused inwardly. Here she was, the Queen of Wikuna, and she was about to start a revolution against herself. The Queen of Wikuna, most powerful Wikuni there was, willing to surrender some of her power and change the face of her kingdom just so she could go chasing off after her brother and sister. The Queen of Wikuna, paragon of all things Wikuni, icon of strength and intelligence, who suffered from a childish crush on a man.
That had not gone away. Keritanima's infatuation with Rallix had only intensified since taking the Crown, and many a night was spent in a girlish fantasy of wooing, luring, and capturing the badger's heart. She still had designs on Rallix, but they were starting to evolve into something more than a crush. Keritnaima had given over on girlish daydreams, and had begun to approach the Rallix problem like the seasoned political mistress that she was. She already had started to devise a plan to winning her unwitting employee. It was something that warmed her heart in all the madness surrounding her now, an oasis of gentle feelings in the desert of iron will that she had to present at all times. There had never been a man that had captured her interest like Rallix, and she had been a bit embaressed when she asked Jervis to look into the man's past for her. She had given the excuse of bringing the man in as an advisor, but she had the feeling that the foppish rabbit looked right through her thinly veiled excuse. It made her wonder how much Jervis really knew about Lizelle.
The reports told her very little more than she already knew. She did find out from Jervis that Rallix had come from an orphanage, that his parents had died in a shipwreck when he was just an infant. He had managed to work himself through the prestigious Ferring Cross academy, and that had to have been no easy task. The academy was expensive, and the young boy would have had to work absolutely every moment not in school. It certainly explained his exceptional skills for one so young. Ferring Cross was a school that many nobles attended. Keritanima hadn't hired him because of his background, she had hired him because she could see that he would make her business successful.
It helped her get a better understanding of him, though, and that was important when she decided to finally stop putting it off and take him for her own. But that would have to be later. Right now, Rallix would be in danger if she made it known that she was interested in him. Not right now, but soon, very soon, Rallix would find his heart under siege.
And Keritanima played to win.
As had become the norm within the Hall of the Sun, the throne hall of the Wikuni kingdom, the Queen was attended by a large complement of Vendari warriors as she took her throne before the quiet court. Court was packed that day, the day after Keritanima spoke with Tarrin, because the Queen had summoned all the noble heads of all the noble houses. She also summoned Mayor Trent, her legal council, her advisors, bodyguards, and the heads of the seven major academies and colleges in the city. Shashka, the subject king of Vendaka, stood immediately before the dais and to the right, his head above Keritanima's eyes despite the fact that the throne was on a raised platform on the raised dais. He stood beside the Captain of the Guard, who had his men arrayed by the dais to keep a cushion of protection between the Queen and her subjects. The court was bowing or curtsying, holding their positions of deferrence as the young Queen of Wikuna seated herself on the throne.
The mood in the throne hall was of apprehension. The nobility-and everyone else, for that matter-knew that when Keritanima called so many people to court, she was about to make a major announcement. Lately, those major announcements were nightmares for the nobles. The nobles knew that she was aware of their attempts to stop her from changing the government, and most of them understood that this was going to be Keritanima's counterstroke to their resistance. Many of them were only there to see how far the Queen intended to take this game of chicken.
With Miranda on her left and Azakar on her right, with her Vendari bodyguards flanking them to create a wall of complete protection, Keritanima got comfortable on the massive throne of Wikuna. She nodded vaguely for the assembled court to rise, and then fingered the sceptre of station which was one of her symbols of authority absently. Then she put it on the arm of her throne and swept her gaze over the assembled court. Mayor Trent looked a bit amused, for she had talked to him the night before, and he knew what was about to happen.
He was the only Wikuni in the Hall who was smiling.
"You disappoint me," Keritanima began in a cold voice, a voice that made the noble leaders flinch visibly. Keritanima jumped to her feet, her purple Royal Robes flaring out before settling around her again. "I don't think you understand your situation!" she told them in a hot voice. "I am your Queen. I won this throne from my father with no help from any of you! My plans to alter the government to make it more efficient aren't dandle-chaff daydreams, my backwards noble cousins, and you know fully well what you're doing to put a stop to it. I'm sure you know that I know what's going on, and I'm tired of it."
She crossed her arms and let that sink in. "I'm pretty sure that most of you know that this audience is my reply to your resistance, and I won't disappoint you. What I don't think any of you understand is just how far I'll go. You may not like the idea of the Republic, but right here, right now, at this moment, you are not dealing with the Queen of that Republic. You are dealing with the Queen of the Wikuni Kingdom. If you won't accept the Constitution, if you want to continue playing these stupid political games, I'll be more than happy to take it to you on that level."
That made almost all the nobles take a step back. The Queen's ability to play on that level were well known now.
"If you don't want a Republic, I'll give you Tyranny!" Keritanima thundered at them.
More than one's knees began to shiver.
"If brute force is all you understand, then I'll give it to you," Keritanima seethed. "You want a Queen? You have one!" She sat back down. "I immediately decree that all plaits of Noble Law are repealed," she said, glaring at them. "Only the plaits of Common Law and Royal law are now binding. Nobles will not be granted any legal protection for their station. I also decree that from this day forward, no Noble House may carry a standing army greater than one hundreth of the quartered men of the standing Royal Army. Since I have ten thousand men quartered at the moment, then no Noble House may have a total force greater than one hundred men. I also decree that from this day forth, only the ships of the Royal Navy may be armed with cannons. All private noble ships must disarm immediately. I decree a freedom tax upon the property of all noble houses. Anyone leaving your private property, my nobles, will cost you a thousand gold falcons for them to use my streets. That includes the servants and commoners who work for you!"
There was stunned silence from the court, but Keritanima didn't give them a chance. "Do you like the new system, my nobles?" Keritanima asked scathingly. "Would you like to hear what I have prepared to decree tomorrow?"
"This is an outrage!" someone called from the court. "We are nobles! We are not chattel!"
"You are Wikuni!" Keritanima thundered. "Do you not understand that the only Wikuni above the law is me? Since you've convinced yourself that you're a step above what you really are, allow this decree to convince you otherwise! Effective immediately, I decree that all titles and lands granted by the Crown except my own are hereby taken back by the Crown! All of it! Every grain of sand, every blade of grass, every nail and board and brick, everything!"
There was a stunned silence. Noble houses owned more than was granted to them by the Crown, but the ancestral homes of almost all of them were originally granted by the monarch.
"Now there are no nobles!" Keritanima snapped at them. "Now face the truth, that your money and your lands and your titles are yours because I allow you to have them!"
There was a sudden commotion, as everyone started screaming and yelling at once. But it all ended immediately when the Vendari in the Hall took a single step forward and raised their weapons. The raw power of the mighty Vendari cowed almost all of them into immediate silence.
One noble stepped forward. Vora Plantan, the methodical female bear-Wikuni whom often served as a steadying influence on the nobility as a whole. She curtsied to the Queen with practiced ease, then gave the young fox Wikuni a penetrating look. "You have made your point, your Majesty," she said with a calm demeanor. "Surely you understand that carrying through with that decree will lead to war. A war that everyone in this room knows you will win. I am a practical woman, your Majesty. I have tried my hand, and found it to be lacking. I know when I'm on the losing side. Now is the time to salvage as much as I can out of a bad situation. I will support your new Constitution, if you will permit me to retain my title and granted lands."
Keritanima leaned back in her throne, silently sighing in relief. Good old Vora. She always could see to the heart of the matter.
"I'll accept your word that all these games will stop, Vora, but if I find out you made this promise and continue to resist me in any way, I'll crush you. Do we understand one another?"
"Perfectly, your Majesty," Vora said evenly.
"Fine. Then I exempt you from the decree. House Plantan will retain its titles and granted lands. Oh, yes, house Eram and House Mation are also exempted. Neither of them have tried to resist me, so they shouldn't be made to pay for the mistakes the rest of you have made."
One by one, the leaders of the nobles houses approached her and made the same offer. Retaining titles and lands in exchange for the promise to stop resisting. Keritanima accepted them, one by one, making every noble leader say it publicly in court so that there would be no weaseling out of it. The most satisfying of them was when Sheba Zalan gave her stiff curtsy and pleaded to retain her house and titles. Keritanima made her sweat for a moment by pretending to consider the matter, but finally agreed.
When the last swore to her, she stood up again. "Don't even think that I believed a word of what you said," she said hotly to them. "Right now, a force of thirty thousand Vendari are on the way from Vendaka. Sashka has pledged his full support, and the Vendari will only obey the Crown. If you care to mouth your platitudes while buying muskets, go right again. I'll pit my forty thousand Vendari and the Royal Navy against everything you can hire. You will understand right here, right now, that you either embrace change, or be crushed under its heel. I'll continue with my plan, whether there are any nobles left to form a House of Lords or not." She looked over them coldly. "Understand one thing, my nobles. You are alone. The Vendari are behind me, and the commoners believe in the idea of a Republic. We can go on without you. You aren't needed anymore. You can either march with us into the future, or be destroyed. The choice is yours." She crossed her arms and swept a powerful gaze over them. "This audience is concluded. Get out!"
In total silence, the court withdrew. Keritanima went through the back entrance with her retinue and sashka, and only in the antechamber where the Queen donned her Royal robes did she blow out a sigh of relief. "That went as well as I expected," she told her friends. "I appreciate your aid, friend sashka."
"We are yours to command, your Majesty," he said mildly.
"Do you believe in what I'm doing?"
"This idea of a Republic is not our way, Majesty," sashka said calmly. "It is against our nature. So long as you do not impose it upon Vendaka, all will be well."
"But do you think it's a good idea for us?"
"I have read your papers. You have vision, Majesty. For the Wikuni, I believe it will be a good thing."
"Then that's all I needed to hear," she said to him with a gentle smile. "I trust your judgement, sashka."
"My judgement will ever be at your command, your Majesty."
"That comforts me in ways I don't think you can imagine, sashka," she said sincerely. "Now I can get things moving for real."
"Why the haste, your Majesty?" Sashka asked.
"I have a promise to keep, sashka," she replied seriously. "It's a matter of honor. I have to return to Sennadar as soon as possible."
"If it is a matter of honor, then your haste is understandable," he replied, his eyes approving. "But do not let the haste cloud your judgement. You cannot rush to Sennadar to save honor while losing it here."
"I'm aware of that, but I do need to hurry," she told him. "I want to be back in Suld inside four months. I think that's a realistic timetable."
"Workable," Miranda piped in. "Now that you've cowed the nobles, you just have to organize the government, and find someone to act in your stead while you're gone."
"I already know who that will be," she said. She turned to the massive Vendari ruler. "Would you do me the honor of serving in my place while I'm gone, sashka? If there's anyone in Wikuna I can trust, it's you. I have total confidence in your ability, and the nobles wet themselves at the sight of you."
"You honor me, your Majesty," the Vendari replied in a serious voice. "I am not worthy of the position, but if you wish it, I will do my best."
Miranda laughed brightly. "The nobles won't even think of trying to revolt while we're gone if sashka is serving as the Queen's regent," she told Azakar.
"That's only a small reason," Keritanima said. " Sashka knows Wikuna, and he knows what I'm trying to do. His ability to govern is more important than his ability to intimidate."
"But it doesn't hurt," Miranda added.
"No, it does not," Keritanima agreed with a smile.
She took off her crown and set it on a cushion with the sceptre, sighing in relief. That was the last obstacle. With the nobles under control, she would soon be on her way back to Sennadar, back to her brother and sister. She had three months to prepare Wikuna for her departure. Three months.
It wouldn't be short enough for her.
Heat.
Burning sun, burning sand, burning rocks. Tarrin had never known such heat. It hammered into his body, it beat the energy out of him, it boiled him in his own fur. His Were body was well suited to dealing with heat, but it began to tire him after only half a day of exposure to the powerful sun and baking ambient heat of the Desert of Swirling Sands.
Tarrin huddled inside his leather cloak, using it to shield him from the merciless sun, which hung like a ball of molten bronze in the sky, a disc of pure fire that burned at him. Its light was so bright that it reflected painfully off the sand and gravel, bright even under the protection of the tinted visor Sarraya had made, and every step burned the sand's intense heat into the pads on his feet. He was sweating profusely within the cloak, but he knew that it would be ten times worse if the sun was directly striking him. Sweat made his still-short hair wet to the touch, bleeding out the black dye that Sarraya had used to darken his hair. His skin had lost its dark color, but his face was nearly as dark now from exposure to the sun, darkening in response to exposure to the blasting sunlight of the desert. If anything, now he understood why the Selani had brown skin. It had been burned into them to the point where it had become an inherited trait.
Crossing the desert in the heat of the day hadn't been his first choice, but he was too close to the edge of the desert to suit him. The sandstorm that sent him scrambling for cover the night before ended as quickly as it began, and just as mysteriously, making him wonder if the Selani goddess really did create the storm to drive Anayi out of the desert. It had howled deafeningly for about five hours, and then it stopped. Tarrin had spent the rest of the night sleeping, and when he awoke in the morning, he realized that he was entirely too close to the escarpment to make him feel comfortable. So he had set out in the morning sunrise to put distance between him and the ki'zadun. The morning had been cold, at first, but he expected that. He'd heard many of Allia's tales about the desert, so he knew what to expect. He moved quickly in the morning, and slowed more and more as the sun rose and started baking the land. It wasn't even noon yet, and already it was nearly unbearable. He knew that he had to stop soon, to find shade and rest during the hottest part of the day, and then start again in the afternoon. That wasn't the Selani way, but then again, the Selani were born and raised in the desert, and were acclimated to the heat.
He would adjust. If his Were body was good for anything, it was adaption to new environments. His system would get used to the heat, his body would adapt to the environment, and his regeneration would protect him from things like sunburn or heat stroke. Dehydration was his primary concern, so he made sure to drink water often. He'd get used to the heat and not sweat as much, but he had to keep water inside him until that happened.
"Now… now I understand why the Selani are so fierce," Sarraya panted under his hood, hiding from the heat. Her voice was listless. "Anything that can live in this must be all but indestructible."
"I thought you'd been to the desert before," Tarrin noted.
"It was winter then, it's not as hot in the winter," she replied. "And I visited the northern marches of the desert. This is the southern marches."
"It makes a difference?"
"Entirely," she panted.
The sense of relief he felt from getting here didn't quite overcome his sense of trepidation. Now he was safe from those seeking the Book, but he just traded them in for beasts that were after him as a meal. He'd already seen some tracks. Tracks at least as large as his own feet, three-toed, and with divots at the ends of the toes that told him the toes sported some wicked claws. The way it looked, it was a pack of them, and judging by the size of the feet, they had to be at least Tarrin's size, if not larger. And if they weren't bad enough, he'd seen two Selani markers. The Selani owned the desert, and they killed invaders. He wouldn't be able to hide from them forever, but he hoped to get well into the desert before meeting up with any of them. Add to that the challenges of surviving in such a hostile land, and it made for a relatively unpleasant experience.
But he couldn't deny the stark beauty of the land. That morning, after leaving the little cave in the side of a rock spire, he had to stop and marvel at how the light struck the many stone spires dotting the wasteland, at the different colors that banded them as they rose towards the heavens, reds and browns and yellows and even greens and blues. The sun illuminated the scene in brillant reds as it rose, like fire sweeping across the desert, causing the stone to change colors as the sun rose from the horizon. It was breathtaking. He never knew unworked stone could look so beautiful. There was an elegance to it, a simple beauty, as if the wind had taken up a paintbrush and left its mark upon the spires. A little climbing told him that it was the stone itself that was colored, which was even more amazing. Never before had Tarrin seen green sandstone, but yet here it was.
Blowing out his breath, Tarrin stopped. He had to stop often to drink, but stopping made him feel like he was standing on a campfire. He dug his feet into the sand, sinking them down past the heat to the cooler sand beneath, and let his fur insulate him from the hot sand pressing up against his ankles. He knelt down and spread the cloak out around him, shielding the sand from the sun so it would cool and take some bite off the inferno hitting him in the face while he rested. He pulled the waterskin off his belt and shook it, then uncapped it carefully with his claws and emptied it of its contents. The water was hot, but it soothed a parched throat, and sent a minor surge of energy through him.
But not much.
Crossing this land would be a trial. He already knew that, but it took coming here, feeling the fire under his feet and the weight of the sun's heat on his head to fully appreciate how difficult it was going to be. But why did he have to do it? The Goddess had told him to go this way, told him to go into the desert. She had to have a good reason. After all, if Keritanima controlled the Wikuni fleets, that literally meant that she controlled the seas. On board a Wikuni clipper, he would be completely safe. He could go to the coast right now and call to Kerri, and she would send her ships to pick him up. Why did he have to endure a trek across the desert?
Because she told him to do it.
Sometimes acting on faith was a chore. Tarrin rose back up, staring out into the blasted lands of the Selani. It was all sand and rock, and rock and sand. Not to mention the sand and the rock. Allia said there were plants in the desert, in some areas, and even then only if one knew where to look. There were oases in the desert as well, but they were well hidden and well guarded by the Selani, for they represented life. Most of them served as the Selani's home camps. The Selani were a semi-nomadic people, traveling from oasis to oasis so as not to completely drain the water in an area and to find what forage they could for their animals. They lived in tents mostly, but each clan had a permanent village where the clan-king lived. They would be interruptions of the sand and rock, at least.
In a way, Tarrin almost wanted a sandstorm to come in. At least inside the howling winds there would be shade. He shaded his eyes with a paw and looked at a distant rock spire, one of the large ones. That was his goal, to reach that spire by sunset. There was a smaller one about three longspans ahead, and that was where he intended to find some shade and rest through the hottest part of the day.
There was some kind of dark disturbance on the horizon. Tarrin watched as it seemed to take form, to expand and grow, and he realized that it was another sandstorm. He focused on it, watched it as it grew larger and larger, and in growing horror he realized that it was getting larger because it was moving towards him, and moving faster than anything he'd ever seen move!
"Sarraya, there's a storm coming in, and it's moving fast!" he said, jumping up and sprinting. Three longspans. For him, that was only ten minutes, a distance he could cover quickly and without worry. But the sand grabbed at his feet, the heat drained his strength. Even as he started to run, he began to doubt whether they were going to make it.
"Good gods!" Sarraya said in a strangled tone as she came around and looked out of the front of the hood. "Tarrin, run! If that hits us, it'll pick us up, and you won't survive the landing!"
"I'm running!" he snapped in reply, charging ahead in complete desperation. Never had he seen anything move so fast! It had to be unnatural! In seconds, the edges of the storm were defined. It was small, but it moved with incredible speed, and its broiling center churned with blowing sand and dust. It was a dark cloud, a cloud of death, which would kill anything unfortunate enough to wander into its path.
Step by step, Tarrin closed on the storm, trying to beat it to the rock spire between them. Step by step, the storm loomed larger and larger, swallowing up the horizon, coming to dominate the region before him. He could see the bulging clouds of sand making it up, see the edge of the powerful wind as it picked up everything in its path. What ferocity! And what speed! It moved faster than the fastest horse, carried along by its own winds, racing across the desert like some dark phantom.
They weren't going to make it! He was barely halfway there, and the storm was directly before him, so close that the first stirrings of wind began to tug at his cloak. In immediate terror, he realized that he had moments-seconds-before it hit them. He had to think fast! He skidded to a stop on a flat rock buried in the sand, its surface worn smooth by the scouring winds.
"No!" Tarrin said in a growling tone. "I didn't come this far to get killed in a storm! NO!!!!!!!!!" he shouted at the storm, as his eyes flared with an incandescent light. The power of the Weave rushed into him before he even realized what he was doing, so quickly that Sarraya hastily tried to control it. But as quickly as he touched the Weave, the storm bore down on him like it was a thing alive, leaving him the shortest moment to brace for its impact. He wasn't ready! He didn't have enough magic built up to do anything strong enough to counter the power of the sandstorm! He couldn't draw enough to control safely that would counter the power of the wind!
In desperation, Tarrin wove a weave of Earth, and caused his feet to sink into the stone beneath them. Then he crossed his arms before his face and braced himself.
It was like being dragged through a briar patch by ten racing horses. The wind struck him with enough force to knock the air from his lungs, and carried on it was the merciless scouring sand. The sand and dust tore into him, tore his clothing, stripped the fur and skin from him, made a whining sound as it assaulted the nicked, pitted steel of his manacles. Hot, slashing sand ripped into his face, and the force of the wind stressed the bones in his legs, threatening to break them. Tarrin leaned into the wind, using his inhuman strength to resist its power, bent his knees to take the stress off his shins. Sand invaded his mouth, drove into his ears, even ripped the tip of his left ear off. The cloak around his neck shredded instantly from the immense power of the wind, nearly broke his neck as it was pulled by the wind.
He only barely heard Sarraya's frightened scream as the clasp of the cloak broke, the laces were ripped apart, and the cloak was ripped from his back.
"Sarraya!" he gasped. She had been inside the hood, and he could hear her cry fade into the howling of the wind as she was carried away from him. Sand filled his mouth, but the sudden fear for Sarraya, the instant horror that she might be dead caused him to lose his fear, lose his inhibitions. Tarrin released all constraints and opened himself completely to the Weave, and allowed it to flow into him, through him. The Weave was weak where he was, but he could still draw in enough to feel it racing through him, scouring the fatigue and aching within as the sand scoured away skin, hair, and fur without. Tarrin felt the Weave fill him, infuse him, quickly go past the point where sweetness became pain, and warmth became burning heat. The warning from the Goddess remained in the back of his mind, caused him to attempt to clamp down on the power rushing into him, but again he found that he could not. The only way to free himself from the Weave would be to use the power within, the cut himself off before it had a chance to recharge. The Weave was thin here, he'd have a very good chance of doing it without causing himself any permanent injury.
He had to use it now, before it built past his ability to control. It wasn't enough power to disrupt the storm, but that wasn't his intent. Weaving together a spell of Air and Divine power, Tarrin released it and caused a wedge of pure Air to form before him, deflecting the wind from him enough to where it did not threaten to tear him apart. Then he sent a tendril of Air behind, a spell of searching to look for Sarraya. She was a Faerie and a Druid. She could fly, and she had magic to protect herself from the wind. He had no doubt that she would survive, but she may be injured by flying debris, and he wouldn't allow that. He found her quickly, out of the hood, being carried along by the powerful wind as it ripped her dress from her body and stripped blue skin from her body. He reached out with his tendril of Air and grabbed her, surrounded her with a barrier of protection from the wind, and then started carrying her back to him. The wind pushed against him, tried to rip her from his magical grasp, but he would not yield. It was so strong that he stopped concentrating on the wedge of Air protecting him from the force of the storm, diverted that energy into keeping his grip on the Faerie and keeping the killing winds away from her. When he let the wedge dissolve, a furious blast of wind hit him in the face, tore off the rest of his left ear, blinded his left eye, but he ignored the damage, ignored the pain, concentrating solely and completely on his weaving. Sarraya meant more to him than his own safety. He inexorably pulled her back towards him, resisting the power of the wind, battling the power of the storm over the little Faerie.
With bloody paws, Tarrin clasped them around Sarraya's quivering, naked body. The wind had done its damage to her as well as him. He cradled her like a baby, cradled her to his chest and hunkered down, then wove a weave of Air, a Ward to keep out the sand and the wind. He laid it down around him, and when it took effect, the howling of the wind became a whisper, and the dusty air was unnaturally still.
"Tarrin!" Sarraya suddenly cried as he opened his paws. She began to cry, putting her bloody hands over her face and weeping into them. She was shivering with fear, as any normal person would be after looking death so closely in the face.
Tarrin was drained, weary. He found cutting himself off from the Weave to be relatively easy, but the pain of the backlash felt as if he'd been filled to the brim with magic, rather than nearly completely drained. The Ward itself shuddered from the magical effect of the backlash, a displacement of the air around him that caused what little remaining clothing on him to blow away from him. He didn't have much left. The pack was still intact, and its precious contents were safely on his back. But all of the shirt he had on that wasn't under the pack was now gone. His trousers had survived, but only just. The pant legs were all but gone, leaving nothing but the leather from the mid-thigh up. All of the fur on him that had been directly facing the wind was gone, and alot of his skin was stripped raw. Much of the hair on his head had been plucked from its roots, but the itching he felt up there, and all over him, told him that already his body was beginning to restore itself. Within an hour, he'd look as if he'd never been in the storm.
"Sarraya," he said weakly, "are you alright?"
"I'm alright," she said in a small voice, sniffling. "I'm scared half out of my mind, but I'm alright. Are you?"
"I'm a little grated, but I think I'm alright," he told her. It was hard to see her. Both of his eyes had been struck by the corrosive sand, and they had been damaged. She was nothing but a hazy blur, a smudge of blue in a brown hodgepodge of indistinct shapes. "I can't see."
"Hold on." He felt her reach into that place where the magic of the Druids resided, and then heard the buzzing of her wings. A tiny hand touched his face, and gentle warmth flowed through it. His eyesight became sharper and sharper, more distinct, until he could see her clearly. He held up his paw before him, and she landed lightly upon it as he managed to focus on her. "Is that better?"
She was a mess. The wind and sand had ripped the dress right off her back, and her blue skin was striped in angry reds from the stripping of the sand. Both of her wings had survived-actually, they were a bit brighter than before, having been polished by the power of the wind and sand-and alot of her auburn hair had literally been ripped from her head.
"You're naked," he remarked.
Sarraya blushed, then laughed. "You wear a dress and manage to keep it on after that," she teased. "The cloak didn't last long, did it?"
"Would you expect it to survive that?" Tarrin asked, pointing to the fury outside the Ward.
"Nope. And I think we'd better not make that mistake again. I'll make you a long-sleeved shirt and some rugged leather trousers when it blows over. At least the sword and the pack made it."
"They're up against me," he replied. "I felt the wind trying to break the straps of the pack, but they held. I guess I'd better grow out my hair again. If anything, it'll keep the sun off my neck."
"That would be a good idea," she said, sighing. "I see one more thing as well."
"What?"
"I'm going to have to teach you some Druidic magic," she said. "If I get separated from you or die, then you won't have anything at all to help you with your Sorcery, and you'll be stuck out here with no way to get water. You'll die if I don't teach you. Evaluation or not, I'm going to have to teach you."
"I guess that makes sense," he said after a moment of consideration. "But you don't have to worry, Sarraya. I'm not going to let anything take you away from me."
"I appreciate that, but let's be realistic," she said with a beaming smile. "Why didn't you get picked up by the storm?"
Tarrin pointed down with his other paw, and Sarraya followed his finger. Then she laughed brightly. "Tarrin, that was clever!"
"It was all I could think of," he said sheepishly. "If I'd really been thinking, I would have created a Ward like the one I have up now."
"Well, live and learn," she chuckled. "Let me get you out of there, and we'll see about making some new clothes. You know something?"
"What?"
"I'm not hot now," she said.
Tarrin gave her a curious look, then laughed. Something he didn't do much anymore. Only Sarraya would say something like that, and only Sarraya could make him laugh. "I guess this is your fault. You're the one who wanted a storm."
"I guess I don't know my own strength," she said with a wry smile.
"Be careful what you wish for," he said, quoting an ancient saying, "you may get it."
"No argument here," she said with a laugh, and bent about the task of healing and clothing them.
They reached the rock spire he tried to reach before the storm late in the afternoon, well after the sun began to sink towards the horizon. It was one of the thick ones, hundreds of spans wide, and it had a nearly vertical surface that had deep ruts etched into it. Some of them were thin, some wide, some shallow, some deep, and a little exploration showed one that had a bulging pocket near the ground, half-filled with sand, going deep enough into the rock spire to almost be called a cave. It was large enough to serve as a den for the night.
The savage sandstorm had kept them pinned in for most of the afternoon. His Ward dissolved long before the storm ended, but Sarraya had used her Druidic magic to change the shape of the stone ledge upon which they stood, raising it to form a barrier against the wind, even curling it over to form something of a half-cave. Sarraya wisely put the entrance so it faced the side of the wind rather than the back, to keep the sand from building up quickly. It was a good shelter, so long as they paid attention not to let the sand build up at the entrance and bury them. After it passed, Sarraya returned the rock to its original state, and they moved on.
Tarrin leaned against the wall of the shallow nook, sitting on soft sand, while Sarraya lay on her back on the sand by his foot. He was exhausted. The heat had worn him down, and using Sorcery had brought him nearly to the limit. As if that wasn't enough, the struggle against the storm had used up what energy he hadn't used in Sorcery, used up just about everything he had left. The Weave in this region was curiously thin, and that had probably made using Sorcery much less taxing, much less dangerous to him than normal. A thin Weave meant that it took considerably longer to build enough energy to weave. That had kept him from attacking the storm directly, but it had also made it much easier to cut himself off. He leaned against the rock, feeling its strange warmth, feeling the warmth of the sand beneath him in the cool shade of the pocket, let it seep into him and soothe tired muscles.
The sandstorm had caused him to do one thing before setting out again, and that was to protect the Book of Ages. He had placed it in the elsewhere, shifting into human form and tightening the straps of the pack holding it to the point where it would disappear when he changed back. It was something that he was intending to do anyway, but the storm convinced him that getting it into the ultimate of safe places immediately was the wisest thing to do. The sword, resting beside him at the moment, had jiggled around more than was comfortable for him after the pack was removed, but he'd get used to it.
Sarraya's wings began to flutter, and then she sat up and yawned. The Faerie showed no signs that she had been flailed by the driving sand earlier that day. Her cobweb clothing was new, but this time she wore a costume much like Allia's desert garb, a loose shirt adjusted for her wings and baggy pants. She had even created diaphonous shoes for herself, to protect her feet from the sun. The ethereal material was brown, which covered most of her blue skin and made her less conspicuous to people when she wasn't invisible. She had made Tarrin a new set of clothes as well, a loose long-sleeve shirt, the color of sand, made of some very light material he had never seen before. It was so light he almost felt like he wasn't wearing anything, but he already found out that it was very strong and rugged. The trousers were good old leather, undyed buckskins, and he'd already managed to put some tears in the cuffs when he was putting them on. With feet as large as his, it was hard to get them into trousers fitted for his waist and legs without catching the claws on them. She even made him a new visor to replace the one he lost in the storm. He decided that letting his hair grow was the best move, to protect his neck, so he once again had a braid as thick as a child's arm hanging from his head, hanging down all the way to his backside.
Sarraya had been right. The length of his hair was something he could control by conscious choice. As soon as he decided to let his hair grow again, it quickly grew out to its former length.
"Well, are you ready?" Sarray asked.
"Ready for what?"
"For your first lesson."
"Now?"
"I wasn't kidding, Tarrin," she told him sharply. "The sooner you can use Druidic magic, the better. that means we start now."
"I'm tired, Sarraya."
"So am I," she snapped in reply. "Now sit up and pay attention."
He blew out his breath and sat up, pulling in his legs and crossing them, then looking down at the Faerie with a weary expression.
"Druidic magic is nothing like Sorcery," she began calmly, taking a curiously serious, sober tone. "So let's get that out right up front. In Sorcery, you take in the magic to use, then make it what you want it to be. Sorcery lets you hold the power and not do anything with it. That's not how it's done in Druidic magic. With Druidic magic, you have to know what you want to do before you do anything. Then you come into contact with the All and will it to be so. If you're strong enough, it happens. If you're not, it kills you. It's that simple.
"Since you've used Druidic magic before, I'm not really going to go into the mechanics of how it works. You don't need to know that, because you've already done it. Druidic magic is like Sorcery that way. Once you use it once, you'll always know how to use it again when you need it. That's one of the main reasons I'm teaching you. What you do need to know is that it works the same way, no matter what you're trying to do. There are no spells, no formulas, in Druidic magic. All you do is come into communion with the All and tell it what you want done, and it does all the work. You're nothing more than a tool for it, an outlet for its power."
"For everything?"
"For everything," she affirmed. "Conjuring a gnat or attempting to change the orbit of the Greatest Moon would be no different. The only difference comes when the energy to do what you ask comes through you. If your body can't take it, poof. No more Tarrin." She eyed him speculatively. "You're a Were-cat, and you're also a Sorcerer. I'll lay odds that that means that you're going to be a respectably strong Druid. Your body is acclimated to dealing with alien energy, and your Were affinity for magic increases your tolerance to it. But since I can't evaluate your power, we'll be depending a little on luck."
"You don't exactly fill me with confidence, Sarraya."
"I'm sorry, but that's the way it is," she sighed. "Believe me, I wouldn't even be doing this if I didn't feel that your life depends on it. I'm only going to teach you the basics, Conjuring, Summoning, some minor spells of healing and Creation."
"If the All can do anything, why do you have to teach me anything? Couldn't I just ask for it myself?"
"And you wouldn't be here long," she replied. "The All is very fickle when it comes to things like that, Tarrin. It always seeks to grant the maximum amount of power required to do something. Because it does that, you have to be very careful in how you envision what you want to do. If you reach into the All and ask it to conjure apples without telling it how many, it'll try to conjure a few square longspans of them. That would kill you. And if you envision your request vaguely, or you're distracted when you make the request, the All takes liberties with your intent. Those liberties usually end up killing you, because they get to be exotic. Exotic is bad in Druidic magic. That's why a Druid is trained exhaustively by his tutor before even trying to use his magic. So he knows exactly what he needs to do to make it work, without killing him."
"Oh," he said in a slightly worried voice. "So, it can do anything, but you have to be careful to make sure it does exactly what you want."
"Exactly. I can't stress that enough," she said with a steely expression. "That kills more Druids than anything, Tarrin. They forget that fundamental rule, they get sloppy using their Druidic magic just once, and they're dead. It requires discipline, Tarrin, more discipline that Sorcery requires. Familiarity breeds sloppiness, and that's what gets them. If you can survive the period after you get comfortable with Druidic magic, but before using it becomes second nature to you, you should be alright. That's the most dangerous time for any Druid."
"I guess that makes sense," he said.
"Since I don't know exactly how strong you are, we'll stick to the simple things. Conjuring should be easy for you, as long as we don't get greedy."
"So, there are Druidic spells," he reasoned.
"What do you mean?"
"If you teach me exact ways to imagine what I want, then there really are Druidic spells. A spell is a standard method of reaching a consistent result. That sounds like what you're about to teach me."
"Alright, if you want to get technical, then yes, there are Druidic spells," she said, a bit tersely. "I don't like to think of Druidic magic in such confined terms, however. It's degrading."
Tarrin actually laughed. "Such a big ego for such a little body," he teased.
She glared at him, then laughed ruefully. "Alright, listen. Conjuring is easy. It's probably the easiest thing we do in Druidic magic, that's why you see it used so often. You've used Druidic magic before, but I think that it was a reflex action, so let's walk through how it works again."
"Alright."
"There are two steps to using Druidic magic," she told him. "The first is forming intent, and the second is carrying it out. The first step is the important one, Tarrin. Always know exactly what you want to do when you use Druidic magic. Form an exact image of what you want done in your mind, and don't let any stray thoughts interfere with it. The All will catch any stray thoughts and try to use them to subvert your intent, and that can kill you. So it requires absolute concentration. Form your intent, and make sure that there is nothing else there to change its meaning. Before moving to the second step, always make sure that your image and your intent are pure. If they are, then you carry through with it. You come into communion with the All. It reads the image and intent in your mind, and then acts on what it finds there. It requires no will on your part, no work, no effort. The All looks into you and performs the task it finds there. After it finds your intent, you'll feel the power come through you. That's that feeling of greater you felt, Tarrin. When you're in communion with the All, you become a part of its greater whole. The experience never gets old," she said with a slightly dreamy voice.
He remembered that. It was a feeling of expansion, as if his mind and soul had gone beyond the constraints of his mortal form, and for the fleetest of moments he felt as if he were touching the soul of the earth itself. It had been a very pleasant feeling, a feeling of security and belonging. Feelings that were sorely lacking in his own chaotic life.
"And that's Druidic magic," she said with a smile. "It's the simplest form of magic, but it's also the most demanding and the most dangerous."
"Mother always said that the simpler it is, the more dangerous it can be," he mused. "But she was talking about plans then."
"It's a wise saying," Sarraya agreed. "Now then, since you're a brand new master of Earthmagic, let's showcase your towering abilities."
"What?"
"Let's Conjure dinner," she grinned. "We'll start with apples."
"Why?"
"Why not?"
Tarrin gave her a sideways look. He couldn't answer that one. He laughed ruefully. "Alright, alright. What do I do?"
"Conjuring is the bringing to you of something not here, so the imagining of it isn't as important as the intent," she told him. "Remember, the All reads both, and it's not always necessary to have both a mental image and the intent of effect. Sometimes intent alone is all you need, for simple things like Conjuring or Summoning. Will three apples to appear, imagine what kind of apples you want, and then commune with the All. If you do it right, they appear."
"What would happen if I didn't imagine what kind of apples I want?"
"Then the All would decide for you," she replied. "It would Conjure the three closest apples to your location, and they may not be good. They could be too small, or rotten, or worm-eaten, or not ripe. So you have to tell it what kind of apples you want, and it will find them for you and bring them to you."
"Oh. What happens when you Conjure something that doesn't exist?"
"Then it becomes Creation," she replied. "I call what I do with clothes Conjuring because that's a catch-all term for making things appear, but it's not the same thing. I'm actually having them created from nothingness. That's another trick you learn in Druidic magic, but it's a bit more advanced. I'll teach you that one when you get comfortable with Conjuring.
"Do I have to imagine where I want them to appear?"
"Yes. If you don't, they could appear anywhere around you. Remember, anything you don't decide will be decided for you by the All, and it tends to get exotic. And exotic is bad. Now then, do it, Tarrin. Imagine three good apples, will them to appear, and commune with the All. Let's see it."
Tarrin nodded and closed his eyes. He formed an image of three large red apples, perfectly ripe, plump, sweet, and juicy, and then simultaneously willed their appearance in front of him and reached inside himself the same way he did so when he Summoned the sword. He remembered how he did it, and found it to be effective. The Cat within seemed to be connected to the All, so reaching within, through the Cat, brought him into connection with that power. He felt the expansion of himself, the basking of his soul in the gentle warmth and power of the All, the wellspring of life from which all things took energy and granted energy. He could feel the All infuse him, coarse through him with its power, actually feel it touch his intent, sample his image, and respond to them. he actually felt the power come into him, come through him, using him as a bridge between the All and reality, but it was a brief sensation that disappeared quickly.
The All drained away by itself, and three large red apples, glistening with dew, appeared on the sand between him and Sarraya. It also left Tarrin feeling a bit tired. Druidic magic did take some effort after all.
Sarraya laughed and clapped her hands. "Very good!" she commended.
"The All disappeared by itself," he said in confusion.
"This isn't Sorcery," she reminded him. "Once the All finds your will, it does what you ask, and then it breaks the connection. If you want to use Druidic magic again, you have to start over at the beginning. Actually, that's a very good thing. If we stayed connected to the All after the spell takes effect, we'd be vulnerable to it. It's much better that it breaks the connection rather than us. Sometimes we get caught up in the feeling of communion, and that means we lose our discipline. That can be fatal."
"I see your point," he said seriously, remembering the pleasant sensation that came with using Druidic magic. "That was easy."
"And that's the danger," Sarraya said seriously. "Druidic magic is never easy, because of the consequences if you mess up. Never approach even the easiest spell with anything other than tremendous respect. Treat every spell as if it were the hardest thing you have ever done. That respect for the power will keep you alive, Tarrin."
Tarrin nodded soberly. "That's very good advice," he agreed. "I see the truth of it."
"A Druid that uses his magic impulsively dies quickly. Don't forget that."
"I won't. I guess that's why you always seem to take a second to prepare yourself before doing anything with it."
"My, you do pay attention," she grinned. "That's right. I won't even Conjure a grain of rice without stopping to prepare myself for it. Because I give the power the respect it deserves. It's one of the reasons I'm still alive."
"If Druids train a long time before using magic, why are you going so fast?" Tarrin asked curiously.
"Because this is an emergency," she replied. "Your survival depends on learning at least Conjuring as quickly as you can, and that's about all I intend to teach you. After you learn to Conjure, I'll start training you in some of the other applications, but we won't be using them."
"Well, I guess I've learned to Conjure," he said, pointing at the apples.
"Yup," she grinned. "Let's eat the fruits of your labor and get some rest. No more until after dinner and a short break. The All does all the work, but it does take some effort on your part. You should have felt it."
"I did," he affirmed. "As tired as I am now, I don't know if I should do that again."
"I know. I wanted you to feel it when you were tired, to fully understand and appreciate that Druidic magic takes work. The more it takes for the All to do it, the more it tires you out as well. You won't feel it as much when you're rested, but now you know not to tax yourself. It's a better lesson."
"You're a harsh instructor. You remind me of my mother."
Sarraya laughed. "A drop of blood makes the lesson stick longer," she smiled.
"That sounds like my mother, alright," he chuckled.
To: Title EoF