There was a bit of anxiety wound up in what they were doing, but on the other hand, there was also an undeniable excitement about it.
Tarrin sat sedately on his haunches in the sand near one of the posts, his eyes scanning the dim, misty night, a night that promised frost. His small cat body blended with the shadows of the post, making his sleek black fur blend into the night and turn him into nothing but a pair of intense green eyes. Heavy clouds dimmed the usual light from the moons and Skybands, clouds that helped keep the warmth of the land trapped against it. Clouds that would only work in their favor. Humans had long adapted to the light of the Skybands at night, and when clouds covered the land and threw them into total darkness, they had a great deal of trouble seeing. Even with torches and artificial light. But to Tarrin's night-sighted eyes, the landscape was illuminated by light that the human eye couldn't see, or was too dim for it to use. The field and grass were painted in black, white and gray to his eyes, for it was too dim to see in color, but that black and white view of the world was every bit as sharp as it would have been if the sun was shining down on him. He could see Keritanima's stealthy approach, her feet not even disturbing the grass.
As could Allia. His sister was behind the post, keeping watch. She wore a pair of black trousers and shirt that Miranda brought to her at sunset, and her bright silver hair was bound into a black cloth and tied into a wrapped tail behind her. Her dusky skin helped her fade into the murky shadows. Allia's eyesight was her most dangerous weapon, for she could read an open book from one hundred paces away, and her night sight was just as acute as Tarrin's was. She was shepa, Scout, for her clan, for her unusual eyesight wasn't normal for her people, but did occur with enough frequency for the Selani to have a special word for her type.
Keritanima was an entirely different person. Gone was the meticulous dress and carefully groomed appearance. She wore black trousers, shirt, and boots just like the ones she had sent to Allia, and large leather bracers were tied around her forearms. A black cloth was over her head, with holes cut in it for her fox ears, and her russet hair was tied at the tip of its tail to keep it behind her. Where Keritanima looked soft and pretty before, she looked sleek and deadly in her skulking garb, for it clung to her slim form and accented her in ways her dress never could. Also gone was the vapid expression of the Brat, or the calculating expression of the Keritanima he knew. In its place was a woman with dancing eyes, fully enjoying the danger to come, who moved with the grace of a cat even while those amber eyes took in everything around her.
Tarrin shapeshifted absently as she reached them, and her gloved hands started moving in the Selani Code, the hand-language her people had developed. That put Allia back on her heels. The Selani didn't teach that to outsiders. -Alright, are we all ready?- her hands asked.
– How did you learn that!- Allia's hands asked with a snapping motion that betrayed her disbelief.
– Sister, there's very little that the Wikuni don't know,- Keritanima replied with a smirk. -I was taught the Code at the same time I was taught the spoken tongue. It was so I'd have an advantage when dealing with Selani.-
– That's quite an advantage,- Tarrin noted.
– This is the first time I've ever used it. I was afraid I was getting rusty.-
– You are,- Tarrin noted.
She glared at him. -Let's move. We're on a tight schedule.-
One thing Tarrin had to admit. She may be a Princess, she may be smart, but she moved like Allia. Keritanima's flowing movements made absolutely no sound, and her flowing style produced no sharp movements that tended to attract the eyes, even when the eyes couldn't see. That she could alter the very way she moved, seemingly at will, was yet another example of just how remarkable she was. Keritanima was always graceful, but the perfect ease in which she moved without making a whisper of sound made her grace in a dress look like a cow trying to two-step by comparison.
They reached the fence without incident, having to wait for a few moments for them to move between the roving patrols, and they moved with quiet, efficient stealth. Tarrin first heaved Allia up and over, then tried to be gentle as he pushed Keritanima's foot as she lept off of his boost. But he realized that there was no reason to be gentle with her. She landed on her feet on the far side of the fence, then expertly tucked in and rolled through her momentum to prevent injury. She knew what she was doing.
After squirming through the fence, they were off. The city of Suld never truly slept, but the night streets were not nearly as crowded as they were during the day, and that allowed Keritanima to lead them unerringly towards the Hammer Cathedral. She had memorized a map of the city streets, and it allowed her to guide them on empty streets and through dark alleys, staying out of sight from anyone who may want to watch or follow.
They stopped to wait for a trio of drunken Wikuni to stagger down the street, hiding in the shadows of an alley. The lamps on poles that illuminated the street kept them back a bit in the alley, out of the direct light, and the rough voices of the sailors echoed on the walls lining the street. From behind the wall, faint sounds of giggling could be heard.
"Someone's having a good time," Keritanima whispered in a chuckle.
"Let's hope they stay focused on what they're doing," Tarrin whispered back. "There's a window right over us."
"Well, I guess that'll depend on him," the Wikuni said with a wink.
"You never had to fight off Jesmind," Tarrin replied absently.
"I certainly am glad of that," Keritanima said with a grin.
Tarrin gave her a look, then snorted.
"They are gone," Allia whispered from behind. "Let us move."
The Hammer Cathedral was surrounded by a large iron fence, much in the same way as the grounds of the Tower were. But this fence only came up to Tarrin's waist, a decorative boundary, and its simple gatehouse and gate, which were more normal sized, were neither ornate nor functional. Tarrin didn't understand why full sized gates were placed on a fence an eldery woman could climb over. They went over that fence directly across from the servant's entrance, but had to hide behind a row of small trees while armed men wearing the livery of the church marched by. The huge sculpture of the Scales of Justice were visible to his night-sighted eyes not far away, and he took a moment to be impressed by them. The pans hung from chains as thick as his leg, and the stand from which they were suspended towered of the large hammer-shaped building which rested beside it. Each pan had to be twenty spans across, and they hung perfectly level with each other. It was said that a single raindrop could make the scales dip to a side, so perfectly balanced they were, but they never did. His father had told him the legend of the scales, that only living things placed upon them made them move. They were used to try criminals against the church, where the power of Karas pronounced judgement on the accused by placing them in the scales. If the accused was guilty, the scale dipped. If he was innocent, the scale rose.
And now they were about to commit a crime against the church. Tarrin mused on that as they darted across the gravelled pathways of the grounds around the cathedral, reaching the small door used by servants and acolytes when performing their daily chores. That door was locked from the inside, but Keritanima knelt by the door and reached into the leather bracers on her arms, and withdrew narrow steel prods. Lockpicks.
It only took her a brief moment to give the lock, set directly into the door, a few expert nudges and pokes, and then she turned the lock. The door creaked open slightly, and she gave her friends the slightest of smiles before they slipped inside.
The interior was much different than the grim stone people saw outside. Banners hung at regular intervals along the walls, both symbols of Karas and tapestries, breaking up the dark monotony of the gray stone. Karas was a god of justice and law, but Karas didn't feel that the pursuit of law and justice had to be sober and taciturn things. The interior of the cathedral, even the servants' passages, were well lit and decorated, seeking to raise the spirits of all who tread the shaped, polished slate stones beneath their feet. There was a long red rug that ran along the center of the passage, starting just in front of a straw mat set by the door so that entrants could clean their shoes, and then trailing off towards the juncture between the three wings of the building.
According to Keritanima's plans, Tarrin remembered that the two flanges of the building were used as storerooms, quarters for the inhabitants, and places of spirtual enlightenment and entertainment. In other words, it was just like the barracks, or the Initiate's Quarters. Behind the doors lining the walls were storerooms, quarters, chambers of peace for prayer, and places where they taught the tenets of their faith. The main section of the cathedral, which formed the handle of the hammer, was the nave and main cathedral area where the services for the public were conducted. Because they were in the residential areas of the building, that meant they ran a better risk of being discovered. But they didn't have far to go.
His every sense alert, Tarrin scanned the torchlit passage with his eyes, sifted through the air with his sensitive nose, listened for even the tiniest sound, seeking to learn of the approach of a resident or guard well before they saw his group. But they encountered nothing as Keritanima led them twenty paces up the wall and then pointed quickly to a large, nondescript section of stone wall. That was the location of the door to the secret passage. Their main task now was to find how it was opened before someone wandered along the passageway and discovered them.
Allia pointed along the door's very faint outline, for it was built so well that only Allia's sharp eyesight could make out its borders. That gave Tarrin and Keritanima a place to look. Tarrin and Keritanima leaned in near the wall and sampled its scent with their noses, sorting through the smell of stone and cloth, the lingering traces of man-smell that permeated the passage, until Tarrin found an area of the wall that had human smell on it. He reared back and looked, and saw the slightest impression of some kind of round button or mechanical device in the narrow crack between two shaped building stones. Reaching between the seams of a stone with the tip of a claw, he pressed that little button.
The secret door opened inward with utter silence, swinging on oiled steel rods that pierced it from the top and the bottom. Keritanima nodded to him with a wink, and they quickly slipped into the dark passageway as the door began to close on its own.
Tarrin felt Keritanima touch the Weave, and a very faint ball of white light appeared over a single finger. "Alright, that was the hard part," she whispered to them. "The first of the rooms we're going to check out is at the end of this passage."
"Lead on, sister," Allia said calmly.
The passage was narrow, cramped, and its stone walls and floor were not as smooth and attractive as the passages outside. Built within the wall, it often cramped down or expanded to follow the contours of rooms that were on the other sides of the walls. There was a smell of mildew and stagnation in the passage, but there was enough man-smell to tell Tarrin that it was travelled with regularity. The stones beneath his pads were slick and clammy, and they were cold enough for him to feel it through the thick pads that protected his feet. There were no cobwebs to be seen, and Tarrin could make out soot stains on the arched ceiling of the passage. No doubt the torch fires burned any cobwebs away.
The passage joined with another that ran off to their right, and it led to a series of stone doors on either side of the widened passage. From that side, it was impossible to tell if the doors were secret on the far side, but Keritanima ignored all of them as she led them along the hallway. She shooed a rat out from underfoot, the animal having no fear of the non-human smells of the invaders. She led them around a corner, and into a hallway that ended in a bronze-gilded door of stone. It had a huge lock on it, running through a pair of eyes that held a thick bronze bolt in place to keep the door from opening, and the door's tarnished appearance hinted that it was not often used.
"This is it," she said, drawing out her lockpicks. She set the little ball of light in midair just over her shoulder and went to work on the lock. It succumbed to her superior skill quickly, and she set it carefully on the floor. Tarrin and Allia turned that bolt eye so it could be drawn, and it made a high-pitched screeching sound as metal grated on stone. Tarrin winced, and Keritanima's ears laid back slightly, then she gave them a glaring look and nodded. Slowly, Tarrin pulled the bolt from its socket in the stone, trying to minimize the squealing and squeaking of the bronze as it ground over stone. But it came loose of the hole in the wall, and he pulled on that bolt like a handle, pulling the door open.
It creaked on unused hinges, and slowly opened into a large room that was kept in utter blackness. Keritanima pointed, and her little ball of light ghosted into the chamber to illuminate it before they entered.
It was a treasure vault. Rows of chests lined the floor, and a shelf on the far side of the room held several large gems and works of art. One of those chests was open, showing a large number of gold and silver coins.
"Well," Keritanima said in a light voice. "Too bad I'm not here for money."
"Why would a church have such wealth?" Allia asked curiously. "Is not their duty to help the poor?"
"Churches are money-making institutions, sister," Keritanima snorted. "Most churches spend as little as possible on things they're supposed to do. Behind their words of god and piety, they're just as greedy as everyone else."
"It is sad," she said.
"That's why I don't follow any god," Keritanima said bluntly. "Their priests are even worse than the nobles, and their gods won't do anything to stop them."
Tarrin wondered what Karas would think of all this. Tarrin wondered if he even knew.
After closing and locking the door back, Keritnaima led them along a series of dark, empty passages towards the middle of the building, approaching the nave and gallery that marked the main cathedral chamber. She led them to a nondescript door of molded wood, protected only by a rusted out lock that disintigrated when Keritnaima put a lockpick in it. Shrugging, the fox Wikuni dropped the remains and opened the door, then sent her little ball of light in to illuminate it.
It was a crypt of some kind. A sarcophagus rested in the middle of the dark, bare chamber, plain stone with no markings, resting on a simple stone slab. That struck Tarrin as odd. According to Eron, the church had a catacomb complex under the cathedral, where their priests and the faithful were often buried in crypts. Why have a single crypt here, in the dank secret tunnels of the cathedral? And why put a lock on the door?
"I wondered where this was," Keritanima whispered.
"What is it?" Tarrin asked.
"That's the tomb of Arbok," she replied. "Arbok was a priest of an evil god that vanished long ago. The priests of Karas executed him for crimes against Karas, then buried him on ground sacred to Karas, so that Arbok's spirit could never have peace. That was their pronouncement of justice on him."
"It is wrong to punish one beyond death," Allia said shortly. "Death is the ultimate punishment."
"Tell that to the priests," Keritanima said. "The priests of Karas have a nasty reputation. They're almost as bad as the priests of Pygas the Avenger when it comes to revenge. But they call it justice," she shrugged. "This means the big room on the other end of the cathedral is probably what we're looking for." She threw her tied hair back over her shoulder, then slashed her tail in the air a few times behind her. "Now comes the hard part."
"What?"
"Crossing the Nave without being seen," she said with an eager grin.
"Miranda was right. You do enjoy this," Tarrin grunted.
She only gave him a wicked smile, then licked him on the cheek as she turned away from the doorway.
Getting across the Nave wasn't as hard as Tarrin thought it would be. The huge chamber, filled with stained glass windows and a huge mosaic on the floor of Karas' symbol, rows and rows of pews separated from the dais and altat by an ornate polished wooden rail, was populated by some ten young men. They were all very young, looking to be acolytes, and they were attended by a single portly man with small round scars pocking his face. The man was short and had greasy hair, and he was dozing in a chair not far from the dais as the young men scrubbed at the floor and pews with soapy water and brushes. All of them were wearing a simple black robe tied with a white belt. The door though which the three non-humans looked was in the far back corner of the massive worship chamber, behind the dais and the altar. The back wall of the Nave was lined with four ornate, gold-inlaid doors. Those were probably doors to private chambers of very high ranking churchmen. Fortunately for them, all the young men and their overseer were on the far side of the huge room.
"One at a time," Keritanima said in a whisper. "Tarrin, you first. That's where we want to go," she told him, pointing to a door on the far wall.
Tarrin nodded, hunkering down, and then shifting into his cat form. He crept out into the huge chamber, noticing the ornate paintings on the ceiling, and he wondered idly how they got the painter up there.
A bell suddenly tolled somewhere over his head, and it scared Tarrin half out of his wits. He fought the wild urge to scramble up and under something, to seek cover, but he realized that nobody could see him. He was behind the dais, and he was so small that he was out of the sight of the men on the other side of it. The bell tolled six more times, and then it fell silent, but Tarrin stayed frozen until he was sure that the loud noise had indeed come to an end.
Staying near the wall, he slunk across the large chamber, quickly and quietly reaching his goal. He shifted back and opened the door, then stepped through it before anyone noticed.
The passage beyond was a mirror of the one into which the secret passage had emptied. It was just like the passage they'd found when getting into the cathedral, wide and well lit, with a carpet running along the center and the walls decorated with many paintings, banners, buntings, and tapestries. He kept an eye on that empty passageway as Keritanima and Allia slipped across the Nave unseen.
"There are no guards," Tarrin noted to Keritanima as they waited for Allia.
"There never are," she whispered back. "The priests are trained to fight. They serve as their own guards."
"But they should have men stationed in the halls," he told her.
"You can tell them if you want," she said with a wink. "I'm rather glad that they don't. If they did, this would be alot harder."
It very nearly ended a moment later. Just as Allia rejoined them, one of the doors in the passageway creaked open. Keritanima had just started down the passageway, and she quickly opened the closest door to her and ducked inside, which had been the very first door leading from the Nave. Tarrin and Allia fled inside with her, and they found themselves in a small room filled with long racks holding black robes similar to what the young men and overseer in the Nave had been wearing.
"Idea," Keritanima said, looking at them.
"Bad idea," Tarrin said as his ears picked up footsteps stopping just in front of the door Allia had just closed. His heart jumped a bit in his chest when he realized that the man was about to open the door!
– Hide!- Keritanima signed quickly, and they scattered. Tarrin had the easiest of it, for he simply changed form and got behind the door as it opened. He didn't see where Keritanima and Allia went, but when the light flooded in from the hallway, blocked by the shadow of a man, there was no sign of them. The man, a middle aged man of tall stature and a balding ring of gray hair on his head, stepped in wearing a simple black robe of a rougher weave than the ones hanging in the room. Tarrin hid in the shadows at the corner of the room, his black fur melding with the darkness, ready to shift back and attack the man, should he catch sight of his hidden sisters. But that proved to be unnecessary. He removed his robe calmly and pulled one of the others off the wall, showing no sign that he had seen any activity in the room. Hanging his robe in its place, he then tied the new robe around his waist and filed out as calmly as he had come in.
"That was nervous," Keritanima whispered as she came out from behind a robe rack.
"That was too close," Allia agreed with an explosive sigh, coming out from behind another.
Tarrin shifted back and looked at his sisters. "How far do we have to go, Kerri?" he asked in a hushed voice.
"About fifty paces, then we turn into a side passage," she replied. "I think we could make it, wearing these robes."
"We may as well," Tarrin shrugged.
They stepped out wearing the robes. Tarrin and Keritanima looked a little strange, for their tails did create a bit of a bump in the seat of the robes, and Tarrin almost stepped on his twice as it tried to find a place to hang without being scrunched up against something. Keritanima's lushly furred, luxuriantly bushy tail was causing her even more problems. Tarrin finally wound his tail around his waist to get it out of the way.
It was a very nervous fifty paces. That side of the cathedral was alot busier than the other side had been, and the trio had passed by no more than three groggy, sleepy priests as the men moved towards the Nave. Luckily for them, the three men had not given them a very close look. They heard more activity behind them, and Tarrin dared to look back. Men were coming out of the doors they were passing, priests being called to the Nave by that bell that had nearly scared his tail off. They didn't look at the three of them that closely, but more than one gave them a second glance. Maybe because they were going the wrong way.
They reached a four way intersection in the passageway, and the three of them turned up into one that no men were coming out of. Keritanima was staring at the wall, counting her steps under her breath, and Tarrin and Allia were just following her blindly. She stopped, looked towards the men filing past the intersection, then motioned at the wall beside her with a gloved hand.
It took them only a moment to find the button that opened the secret door, but this one had no man-smell to make it obvious. It was Allia's keen eyes that spotted it, a very dust-choked little spot on the wall between two stones that held the button that opened the door. And unlike the first one, this door squeaked loudly in protest as it opened. The noise made the hair on Tarrin's tail frizz, and he desperately looked back towards the intersection to see if anyone else had heard it. Keritanima dove in almost as soon as it began to open, and Tarrin and Allia piled in after her.
As the door squealed closed, Tarrin looked down the dank passage. It was pitch black, and unlike the first one, this one was filled with cobwebs and smelled heavily of mold and stagnation. Keritanima touched the Weave and created her little ball of light again, and it illuminated a rubble-strewn passage with an uneven floor, the skeletal remains of rats and other creatures, and thickly covered in cobwebs.
"This is a good sign," Keritanima said. "Maybe the priests don't know about the hidden chamber."
"How could they forget?" Tarrin asked. "They're right on those plans you got."
"It took me a while to find those, Tarrin, and how often do these men look at the plans?" Keritanima asked calmly. "As long as the place isn't crumbling around them, they probably never think of looking at things like engineering plans. Maybe they just stopped using this section, and it was forgotten over the years. Remember, brother, the cathedral is almost five hundred years old."
"I didn't know it was that old," he said.
She nodded. "Let's move. Time's wasting."
It was slow going, because they had to tear down cobwebs and avoid stepping on things that crunched. The passage was in disrepair, and the slick floor, littered with debris, made footing treacherous. They turned into a side passage, and went down a flight of dilapidated stairs that took them underneath the cathedral's main level. The passage ended in a slimy stone door with a pull ring. Keritanima pulled on it, and it opened into a similarly eroded passageway. It lacked the cobwebs and the dead rats, but it did have the crumbling mortar in the walls. Tarrin felt a strange twinge as they entered the new passageway.
"The door is secret from this side," Keritanima noted curiously. "I wonder why."
"Who knows?" Tarrin asked.
"This passage shows signs of recent travel," Allia said, pointing to a bootprint in the dank lichen decorating a stone on the floor.
"Let's hope we don't find whoever made that," Keritanima said. "This way," she pointed, and they started in the same direction as they bootprint had gone.
The passageway turned twice, and ultimately led to a large door bound with a bolt and two chains, and it was locked three times. They also found the owner of that boot. It was a lone priest, by the tattered remains of a black robe decorating the skeletal body, looking to be long dead. Long enough for mold to grow on the bones. There was no sign as to what killed the man. It was as if he simply died when he reached this place.
The twinging Tarrin felt was stronger, and he realized that it was coming from the door. He reached out with his senses, and could almost feel the magic tied up into the door. Keritanima had just knelt by the door, and was reaching out for the first lock with a pick in her hands.
Tarrin pulled her away from the door hurriedly, making her sit down hard on her own tail. She gasped and glared at him, but didn't shout. "What did you do that for?" she demanded in a harsh whisper.
"The door is magical," he warned her. "It may be trapped."
Keritanima gave him a speculative look, then he felt both her and Allia touch the Weave and assense the door. "There is a very, very old spell on it," she agreed. "Hundreds of years, by the way it settled into the stone."
"Perhaps the spell is a trap, and it killed that man," Allia surmised.
"Lula never taught me how to unravel the spells made by priests," Keritanima said, a bit helplessly. "How do we go about it?"
"I think I have an idea," Tarrin said. He had to do this fast. Reaching out, he touched the Weave and almost immediately struck. Others had tried to cut him off from the Weave enough for him to have an understanding of how it was done, so he wove together a spell consisting almost entirely of Divine Power, Fire, and Mind, and then he unleashed it on the door. The weave surrounded the door, and then it hardened into a barrier that choked the enchantment off from the Weave. The spell didn't get its power from the Weave, but it received it from its source through the Weave, and that gave him a way to disrupt it. The same way a Sorcerer could block the powers of a priest, Tarrin attacked the permanent spell placed on the door in the exact same manner.
The door shimmered and then went dark at the same time that Tarrin's paws suddenly exploded into radiance, the white wispy aura that denoted the use of High Sorcery, and he found himself struggling against an onslaught of power. It was even more this time, more and faster and harder, and it was only him fully expecting what was coming that allowed him to tear himself away, cutting himself off from the Weave. He still suffered a backlash, a backlash severe enough to disturb the air around him and send a short gust of wind to pull at the clothes of his sisters. A backlash that put him on his knees, panting heavily as he tried to find some coherent thought.
"What was that?" Allia asked.
"That was High Sorcery!" Keritanima gasped. "Tarrin, how did you do that?"
"I can't help but do that, Kerri," he panted. "It's the problem I'm having."
"No wonder the Council is in such a twist," she said in awe. "I thought you were just having a problem with control, but you just did something Lula said was impossible for one person!"
"Let's save this for later," he said, managing to get back to his feet. "The weave I put on the door isn't going to hold forever. When it weakens, the spell on the door will come back, so let's get it open before that can happen."
"You didn't destroy it?"
Tarrin shook his head. "I don't know how," he said helplessly. "But I do know how to cut people off from the Weave. That's what I did to the door. The barrier I wove around it will sustain itself, but only for a few minutes, so move, sister! You don't have all day!"
She nodded, and was working on the first lock immediately. She got it open, then opened the second in a matter of seconds, but the third turned out to be challenging. She hastily prodded and picked at it, then one of her tools snapped audibly. She cursed and pulled another from her bracer, her hands moving with steady precision even as the seconds ticked away. When Tarrin felt the weave blocking the door began to unravel, he took a step towards the kneeling Wikuni. "Kerri, hurry!" he said in a strangled tone. "It's almost broken!"
"Got it!" she said, pulling the lock off and backing away just as the barrier collapsed, and the door shimmered with magical light.
Keritanima blew out her breath, then she laughed ruefully. "Well, that was interesting," she said in a playful tone. Touching the Weave, she wove together a spell of air that allowed her to move things with Sorcery. The bolt of the door turned and pulled free of the wall, then she used weaves of solid air to push the door open without touching it.
"Why didn't you pick the locks using that?" Allia asked.
"Pick locks with air weaves?" Keritanima asked. "Do you have any idea how precise and delicate you have to be to pick a lock without jamming it?"
"Then I guess you can't," Allia shrugged.
"Now it's a challenge, sister," Keritanima grinned. "I'll find a way to do it."
Tarrin helped Keritanima back to her feet, and the fox Wikuni pulled off the robe and swished her tail a few times. "Now let's see what's worth protecting with a magical trap," she said with a twinkle in her amber eyes.
The interior was dark and surprisingly dry, and Tarrin sensed that magic kept the room thusly. The room held only one thing, a large bookshelf that stood alone in the center of the room, and was loaded with books and scrolltubes. About fifty books, all bound in black leather, and some twenty or so scrolltubes on a small stand on the top shelf. Each tube looked to be made of ivory. Thick dust was covering the books, tubes, and the shelf, and prints formed in the dust on the floor as the trio moved into the rom. There was nothing else in the room.
"Jackpot," Keritanima whispered in a reverent tone. Tarrin and Allia followed her as she approached the large stone shelf, then pulled a book at random from it. The cover had imprinted on it a shaeram, a clear indication of what the book was about.
"And this is what we came for, my deshar," she said, using the Selani term for siblings, holding her hands out to the bookshelf. "If we're lucky, this is everything the priests knew about the Sorcerers. If we can't find something useful in this, then there won't be anything useful to know."
"Strange," Allia mused. "I expected there to be more."
"I'm glad there's not," Keritnima replied. "There are alot of books here, deshaida. You'd be surprised how much information you can put in this many books, if you're methodical about it." She reached behind her, for the canvas bags she had stuffed under her shirt and into her belt. "Alright, pack them in tightly, Tarrin. Scrolls in their own bag."
Tarrin ended up with three large bags packed so tightly with books and scrolltubes that there was no danger of them opening and becoming damaged. They weren't too heavy for him to easily carry, but they were very bulky and unwieldy, ensuring that he would have to move carefully. He had them at his feet, getting ready to pick them up, but Keritanima sighed and stared at him. "What are you doing?" she asked.
"Getting ready to pick these up," he said.
"Why carry them?"
"What are you talking about?" he asked.
"I've seen you shapeshift with things in your hands," she told him. "They just disappear. These things are going to bang around and make noise, and risk damaging them. Why don't you just make them disappear, and let Allia carry you out of here?"
"I've never tried that before," he said honestly. "I know things go elsewhere when I shapeshift with things in my paws, but I don't know if something this big will do that."
"Try," she said dismissively.
"What if they disappear, but never come back?" he asked pointedly.
"Good point," she said after a brief consideration. She pursed her lips, then pulled out an empty sack and handed it to him. "Now try," she said.
Nodding, Tarrin stepped back, then shifted into his cat form. The sack vanished, as he knew it would. He then returned to his humanoid form.
And the sack was in his paw.
"Good. Now try it with one bag," she told him.
After a bit of experimentation, Tarrin found that all three sacks would vanish when he changed form, locked in that elsewhere created by the amulet when he changed his shape. And more importantly, they would be back in his paws when he shifted back, as would everything inside the bags.
No wonder the Goddess didn't want him to lose the amulet. It had just proven how incredibly useful it could be.
Stuck in his cat form, Tarrin found himself riding in the cowl of the black robe Allia was wearing. Paws on her shoulder, he peeked up over her shoulder, watching as they moved. He wondered at the amulet for a moment, then rememebered that the Goddess had given Keritanima an amulet. One that was for her, like the one Allia wore was for Allia. He had the suspicion that he knew one of the things that it would do.
"Keritanima," he called in the unspoken manner of the Cat.
"What?" she asked, turning around. Then she gave him a curious look. "How did I understand that?"
"The amulet!" Allia said in understanding, snapping her fingers.
"That amulet you wear lets you understand me like this," he told her. "It was a gift from the Goddess of the Sorcerers. I guess she wants us to be able to communicate."
Keritanima touched her chest, where the amulet was resting under her shirt. "Clever," she said after a moment. "Can we speak that way?"
"No," Allia replied. "But it does let us understand Tarrin when he does it."
"Why didn't you tell me about this?" Keritanima asked curiously.
"It honestly never occured to me," Tarrin replied.
"Let's worry about it later,"she said. "We got what we came for. Let's get out of here with it."
Using Sorcery to erase the prints that betrayed their entry into the room, then close the door and replace the locks, Keritanima led Allia back along the secret passageways, until they were again by the squeaking door leading to the main passages. "We don't have far to go, and hopefully the robes will let us just walk out of here," she said. "It's not that much past midnight. We should get back to the Tower with enough time to stash the books and still get some sleep before class in the morning."
Tarrin was pulled out of the cowl and set in the crook of Allia's arm as she pulled the hood over her face. "If anyone challenges us, let me do the talking," Keritanima told her.
"Alright," Allia agreed, and Keritanima opened the secret door.
It turned out that it wasn't necessary. Keritanima led Allia into empty hallways; obviously the ceremony that the priests woke to perform had been completed, and the hallways were again empty. Keritanima led Allia down the passage, all the way to the end, where a single simple wooden door marked the passage out of the cathedral. It was locked, but that was easy enough, considering it was nothing but a bolt keeping the door closed. Keritanima pulled the bolt and opened the door, letting the cold air into the passage, and then she stepped out. Tarrin felt the cold air against his fur, making Keritanima's and Allia's breath mist before their faces, as the fox Wikuni shut the door behind them.
They were out. Tarrin let out his breath explosively, which wasn't very much for his small cat body. From there on, it should be quick, and hopefully easy.
"And there we are," Keritanima said in a bright whisper. "Let's get back. I'm sleepy."
Keritanima and Allia ghosted into the darkness carrying Tarrin, who was carrying their booty, leaving a sleeping cathedral behind. A cathedral that had not noticed the presence of the intruders.
Tarrin discovered that it was rather nice to be carried.
After burning the robes in a narrow alleyway, Keritanima and Allia quickly and effortlessly made their way back to the Tower grounds. There wasn't as much danger of being spotted now, because a Wikuni wasn't that much of an oddity on the streets. And though Allia was Selani, her tell-tale silver hair was bound in a black cloth, and she only looked like a rather slender Mahuut woman. Selani and Mahuut shared the creamy brown colored skin, and the Mahuut were a very tall people, so Allia's unnatural height didn't make her look out of the ordinary. Tarrin was the one that would make them so noticable, and with him in his cat form, he was no longer so noticable. Tarrin rode in the crook of Allia's arm, being held gently yet firmly as they made their way back towards the safety of the Tower's grounds.
Looking back, Tarrin was very pleased. It had went very well, except for being scared out of his fur by that bell, and a couple of moments of adrenalin. Keritanima's much touted plan had worked and worked well, and despite Miranda's warning, the Wikuni stuck with it. The location of the books had been curious, but what was even more curious was their total disregard for it. The room had been abandoned, almost seemed to be forgotten, and the information had been guarded only by an enchanted doorway. Was it the real information, or just a decoy? Keritanima thought it was what they were looking for, but he wasn't so sure. He'd have to see it before he decided.
Tarrin wasn't even sure what the information was supposed to be. Keritanima had high hopes that there would be some forgotten lore in there that they could use to protect them from the katzh-dashi when it came time for them to run, but Tarrin had the feeling that there was more to it for the Wikuni. He had the feeling that she wanted to know just for the sake of knowing, an almost obsessive need to understand more and more about Sorcery.
Tarrin realized that he was curious about Sorcery, even interested in it, but it wasn't the focus of his life. Then again, with all the chaos in his life, there wasn't a real way he could get interested in something. He was too busy trying to keep his sanity and keep himself alive. Thoughts of survival dominated most of his pondering, thoughts of discovering what was going on, who was trying to kill him, and why he was so bloody important. If they were to treat him like anyone else, Tarrin had the feeling that, were he not in such a situation, he would leave at the end of the Initiate rather than staying to become katzh-dashi. As long as they taught him how to keep from killing himself, he was content. His interest in Sorcery of late was simple self-preservation, to find a way to get around his control problem so that his power would be useful to the others when it came time for them to flee.
The sight of the ornate iron fence ended his musings, as Allia raced over the cobblestones and gently set him down. He already understood what needed to be done, as Binter approached from the shadows of an empty guardpost. He shapeshifted back into his humanoid form, the three sacks appearing in his paws, set two down, and then lobbed the third over the fence to Binter. He did it twice more, throwing the sack of scrolltubes very gently, then helped Allia and Keritanima over the fence. After they were safely over, they all dashed for cover with the sacks, because torchlight began to brighten further down the line. A patrol was coming. Tarrin went back into his cat form and darted into a shadowy corner across the cobblestone street from the fence. Tarrin watched the squad of eight men file by at a leisurely pace, then he came back out as they disappeared around the corner of a storehouse some hundred paces away. Once it was safe, Tarrin pulled off his leather shirt and used it to get across the Ward, then picked it up and put it back on as he hurried to rejoin his companions. Keritanima was grinning like the cat that got into the cream, and Allia wore that same expresionless, cool expression that she always wore. Very little got her excited. That was one thing he really liked about her. Keritanima was mercurial, but Allia was methodical and dependable, as solid as the mountain stone.
Tarrin took over the task of carrying the books when he reached them, and Binter was sent back to the Wikuni's room with a few curt gestures. Where Binter was, the Princess was, and that was a ploy that kept people's eyes away from her more than once. The trio of conspirators flitted across the grounds like ghosts, moving without attracting the attention of the guards, and easily entered the magically warmed air of the gardens and disappeared into the hedgerow maze.
Keritanima breathed an explosive sigh of relief as soon as the living walls of the maze surrounded them. "I was so worried we were going to get busted right before we made the maze," she said in a surprisingly loud voice.
"We may yet still, if you keep shouting," Allia hissed at her.
"We're safe now, Allia," she said assuringly as they turned a corner. "They may catch us coming out, but they won't catch us with what we've got."
"And how would you explain how you are dressed?"
"The same way I've done it the last three times," she said, looking over her shoulder and winking. "The Brat is famous for doing weird things. Even she likes to put on dark clothing and skulk around with no protection every once in a while. It satisfies her need to be adventurous."
"Sometimes I do not understand you, sister," Allia grunted.
"Then I'm doing it right," she replied in a frippant tone.
Everything was in readiness for them, and it told him two things. One, that Miranda was very thorough, and two, that Miranda could find the center of the maze. A single tent had been erected not far from the fountain, in a large open area. Inside that small tent were four modest wooden chests and four neatly folded lengths of waterproof canvas. She had even thought to have a trio of simple chairs with throw pillows placed in the seats and a small table set up in the tent, so that anyone visiting it would have somewhere comfortable to read.
Tarrin had felt a sense of peace and assurance flow over him when he stepped into the courtyard, and for the first time, he understood what it was and where it was coming from. He knew it was somehow connected to the Goddess, but he realized that the courtyard was holy to the Goddess, and that gave the sacred ground a very different feel for anyone who followed her. The courtyard was holy ground, and her presence there was powerful.
"I told her not to do that," Keritanima snorted as they entered the tent and looked around. Keritanima had the place illuminated with one of her little conjured balls of light.
"Do what?" Tarrin asked.
"Bring someone else," she replied. "I really don't think that Miranda dragged those chests in here by herself. They may look small, but those chests are very heavy."
"Even if it was Binter or Sisska?"
"Even them," she said adamantly. "I seriously debated letting Miranda in here."
"Why?"
"I don't know," she said after a brief pause. "Maybe because this place feels very private to me. I really had to bring myself to telling Miranda to come in here."
Tarrin didn't say anything. Keritanima was feeling that same closeness to the Goddess he did, a feeling that was always intensified there, in her courtyard. Keritanima was being affected by holy ground. That told him something about how she felt towards the Goddess.
"Anyway, let's take advantage of it," she said. "Time to pack away the booty."
They placed the books and scrolltubes into the chests, packing them carefully so that they wouldn't be damaged and looked orderly. Tarrin looked at the books as he did so, noticing that very few of them had any sort of marking on their black leather covers. The book with the shaeram on it was an exception rather than a rule. He opened one randomly and looked at it, and found it to be written in a very exacting hand, the precision of a writer who had been penning books for years. The short passage he read seemed to be talking about political affiliations among different magical and nonmagical orders in the west. He opened another book, and found a list of names, complete with dates and comments. The dates were from over two thousand years ago, and the comments seemed to be abbreviated words marking something the reader would understand. The key for those abbreviations was probably in the book.
Two thousand years? The book was that old? It looked like it was bound only last ride! He remembered the feeling of magic he felt in that room, and then he remembered that the place was a bit too clean, too dry. Perhaps that magic also preserved the books in their good condition.
"What is it, Tarrin?" Keritanima asked.
"This book has dates in it from before the Breaking," he replied. "I was musing that it doesn't look that old. That magic in the room must have preserved the books."
"It would be a wise thing to do," she agreed. "And the priests of Karas are anything if not methodical."
"They made a spell that lasted for over two thousand years," Tarrin said, mainly to himself. "That's some serious magic."
"Well, don't give them too much credit," Keritanima warned. "No doubt it took them some effort to do that."
"I guess," he shrugged.
"At least we know that the books are from before the Breaking now," Keritanima said as she placed scrolltubes in a chest. "That means that we might find something very useful in them."
"If not, then we wasted a whole night."
"Of course we didn't," Keritanima said. "We had fun, and we got to play together."
"You are weird," Tarrin told her flatly, which made Allia laugh.
"Of course I am, dear brother," she winked. "I'm a Wikuni. We're all weird."
"To your toenails," he agreed.
"Well, I'm done," Keritanima said, folding up the sack. Tarrin too was finished, but Allia was still placing the last few books into a chest. She too had paged through one or two of them while putting them away. Keritanima took one from her with a smile, the one with the shaeram on it, then opened it. "In common," she said. "I think I'll get started. I'm too wound up to sleep right now, and we have to start reading them sometime."
"We should all take one book," Allia said, reaching in and picking one up.
"No," Keritanima replied. "I'm not taking them out of the courtyard. If someone picked up one of our books and tried to take it back to the library, we'd have alot of explaining to do. If you want to read them, it will have to be done here."
"I guess that is only wise," Allia agreed after thinking about it for a moment. "How will you arrange that much time?"
"By not getting much sleep," she grunted. She sat down at the table and put the book in front of her, then opened it to the first page. "Tarrin, would you be the greatest brother in the world, and go get me something to eat? I'm starving."
"And how do I explain carrying a tray of food into the maze?" he asked.
"Not if they don't see you carrying it," she winked.
"Do you think you want to trust food I carry around that way?" he asked pointedly.
"We won't know until we try, now will we?" she asked with a grin.
"I'm hungry as well," Allia said, patting her flat belly. "I would be very honored if you would do this for us, Tarrin," she smiled at him, just a little bit too sweetly. "Clan members always help one another."
"I never had to put up with this from Jenna," he grunted sourly. "And since when did you start teasing me, sister?"
"I guess Keritanima is a bad influence on me," Allia said with a sly smile.
"Tarrin, swing by my room and tell Miranda to give you my scribing kit," she added.
"Goddess help me," he said in a plaintive voice, turning and changing form, then loping out of the tent.
When dawn came that morning, it found the three of them still in the courtyard. Tarrin was in cat form, curled up on the table and regarding Keritanima while she continued to read. Allia was laying on a canvas cot brought by Tarrin, asleep to at least look presentable for the next day. Miranda was there as well, sitting in the chair across from Keritanima, writing something down in an empty book studiously.
Keritanima had all the books on the table. She had skimmed through each one to get an idea of what information it held, and Miranda had written it all down on a small book she had brought when Tarrin came to fetch items for Keritanima. Miranda had returned with Tarrin instead, and she had taken the role of secretary and scribe, helping Keritanima catalog and document the suspected information held within each book. Tarrin was shocked that it had taken the entire night, but there was supposedly alot of information in the books. Most of it was history and observations, as the priests watched the katzh-dashi, watched them and wrote everything down. They had compiled lists of members, Council members and their histories, and even a list of the Novices and Initiates coming and going. The church had people deep into the structure of the katzh-dashi for them to get some of that information.
She had just begun to unroll the scrolls. Tarrin was lounging somewhere between sleep and wake, letting the harmony of holy ground lull him with sensations of security and peace, when Keritanima's ragged gasp startled him out of his reverie.
"What is it?" he asked in the unspoken manner of the Cat.
She gave him a strangled look. "Do you know what this is?" she demanded in an almost hysterical voice, a voice that had Allia awake and instantly alert. Miranda gave Keritanima a calm, assessive look.
"No, tell me," he replied calmly.
"This is a primer!" she said almost exuberantly. "It's a key for learning the language of the Sha'Kar!"
Tarrin gave her a stunned look, then jumped off the table and changed form. "You mean-"
"It'll take some work because this scroll doesn't have a guide for their written alphabet, but this is what the Lorefinders have been looking for for a thousand years!" she declared. "With this, and alot of work, we can read what's in the books in the library!"
"What's on the other scrolls?" Allia asked immediately.
Keritanima unrolled another one. "It's the same," she said, and then she was silent until she went through them all, leaving her friends in a state of quiet, nervous anticipation. "This is a comprehensive guide to learning the language of the Sha'Kar!" she finally said. "The priests have been sitting on the one thing the Tower has been hunting for for a thousand years!" She gave Tarrin a triumphant look. "And you thought we may not find anything useful!" she declared with a laugh.
The Sha'Kar. Books written in that ancient, mysterious language were all that were left now, and nobody could read them. The language had resisted every attempt to decipher it, even magical attempts. And now they had found the one thing that could break that ancient language, a series of instructional writings on learning it.
But why was it so easy? That information should have been ferociously defended, and the church should have used it! Did the church truly not know that they had it? That passage and area were run-down and unkempt…could they have forgotten that it was there over the years? That seemed unlikely, but there was a simple truth staring at him in that they had it. Maybe they did forget it. Maybe a high priest had ordered the room sealed, and over the years, the memory of it and what it had once held had been forgotten, lost in the musty old tomes of history kept by the church historians. There to be found, but lost among the sea of old lore accumulated by the church over the years.
Keritanima was actually jumping up and down, twirling in circles with a scroll to her breast. "This is it! This is it!" she squealed, acting like a little girl who had just been given a pony. "I couldn't have asked to find anything better than this!"
"Highness, you're about to tear the scroll," Miranda said soothingly.
Keritanima's face became horrified, and she instantly calmed down, though her tail was absolutely writhing behind her. "We have to get started, tonight!" she said excitedly. "Miranda, I want you to do something very important for me," she said. "Something that you may not like."
"What is that, Highness?" she asked.
"I want you to transcribe the scrolls into a book," she said. "I know how fast you can write."
"That's going to occupy a great deal of my time, Highness," she said after a moment. "I do have other duties."
"You'll have to make time, Miranda," Keritanima said happily. "I'll help, but I'll be spending most of my time studying these. And I'd like to have a backup copy. Just in case."
"I won't say no, Highness," Miranda sighed. "I will get to work on it today. May I take the scrolls from the courtyard?"
"No," Keritanima told her. "They stay here, where they're safe."
"It isn't going to be easy to explain why I spend hours at a time in the maze, Highness," she said calmly. "The scrolls must be removed."
Keritanima took on an agonized look. "You're right," she sighed. "Alright, you can remove the scrolls, but no more than two at a time. And they're to be heavily guarded at all times. Either Binter or Sisska have to carry them when you don't actively have them in front of you." She gave Miranda a blunt look. "I'll impress them with how absolutely vital the scrolls are. They are to defend them to the death, if necessary."
"Yes," Miranda agreed calmly. "You have class in about an hour, Highess," she reminded.
"Already?" she said plaintively. "I guess so. We'd better sneak back to our rooms. Please get started on this as soon as you can, Miranda. It's important."
"I will be grouchy today," Allia said as she sat up. "I can do without sleep, but it always puts me on edge."
"Then stay away from me," Tarrin said absently. Allia glared at him, then laughed. "I should get going too," he added. "I have no idea what they'll want me to do today. I'm in limbo until they decide how to go about training me."
"You should go, Highness," Miranda said calmly. "I'll pack up the books and organize the scrolls. You go and get ready for class."
"I-yes, yes," she agreed. "We have to keep up appearances. I have no doubt that my veneer as the Brat is already starting to show thin. If I'm not careful, my secret will be out. Is it safe to leave?"
Miranda nodded. "I have people keeping the other people away."
"Good. Come on, Allia. I think we could use a bath before class."
"Yes, a night's work does tend to linger," Allia said. "Coming, brother?"
"In a minute," he said. "I'll help Miranda pack things. No reason leaving her with all the work, and I don't have to be somewhere."
"Alright. I'll see you tonight?" Keritanima asked.
"Of course," he smiled.
Keritanima and Allia filed out, chatting warmly with each other. Those two had really came together.
Miranda knew precisely how to arrange the books so that they had a very logical order, and she directed Tarrin as they put them all back in the chests. Tarrin had a strange feeling that Miranda had something to say. That was why he remained behind. The cheeky, almost criminally cute mink Wikuni was an enigma to Tarrin, and something about her struck at him on a level that he couldn't understand. It was almost like a kin-closeness, though it was not the same feeling he had had with Allia, or Dar, or even Keritanima. Miranda was different. Very different. But he had no idea why, or how he knew. It was as if he was instinctually drawn to her.
"You're staring at me," Miranda said with that cheeky smile.
"I am?" he asked. "Sorry. I'm just trying to figure something out."
"What?"
"You," he replied. "Keritanima absolutely adores you, but she doesn't seem to treat you that well. Why do you stay?"
"She treats me much better than you'll ever understand, Tarrin," she replied calmly. "If you're wondering why I ended up with these tasks, remember that I am her maid, after all. It's my job to do things for her. Did she control herself in the cathedral?"
"She stayed to her plan," he replied calmly, setting a stack of books into a chest and closing it. "It went very smoothly. I was surprised."
"I think you two are a good influence on her," Miranda said smoothly. "She's usually much more erratic. Brilliant, but erratic."
"How long have you been her maid?"
"For six years," she said. "I was only a girl when I was put in her service. They felt that if she had a maid her own age, it would help her. She was a very…lonely girl. It had to do with her situation."
"She never talks about that," Tarrin said, taking another book from her. "Would you?"
"It's very simple, Tarrin," she replied, stacking a few books and handing them to him. "Everyone that she liked was killed."
"What?"
"You don't understand Royal politics," she said calmly. "When Keritanima was young, she was second in line for the throne. She had one ahead of her and two behind. Keritanima showed the most promise at that age. She was much smarter than Jenawalani and Veranika, and Sabakimara was smarter than them, but still wasn't quite as smart as Keritanima. Sabakimara feared Keritanima. A great deal. She felt that her younger sister may either kill her, or the noble houses would have Sabakimara killed so that a more effective queen could take the throne. At the tender age of nine, she tried to have Keritanima killed."
Tarrin gaped at her.
"Does that help you understand what growing up in the palace was like?" she asked calmly. "As soon as Keritanima could understand things, she was started in the training to be a prospective queen. She learned from her father, and few are as nasty and underhanded as Damon Eram. Damon hates everyone, even his own children. If not for the need to continue the line, he would have had them all killed at birth. The infighting between the daughters is almost legendary in Wikuna," she sighed. "Each of the four of them were trying very hard to kill off the other three. After all, a lone heir is a guaranteed heir. Keritanima wasn't as savage as her sisters. She never tried to kill them, she just evaded their assassins, because she had this twisted idea that they could be a family. Anyway, after a couple of years, it became apparent that Sabakimara wasn't going to kill her sister, so she started a terror campaign instead. Every single one of Keritanima's friends died. All of them. Anyone who showed even the most remote affection for her was killed."
"Goddess," Tarrin breathed.
Miranda nodded. "It almost worked. Keritanima was driven almost to the edge of madness, but then they gave me to her. I rather liked her, and I was someone that she could talk to."
"Why didn't Damon Eram stop it?" Tarrin asked.
"Because he doesn't care," she replied sadly. "Damon Eram's only rule to his daughters is not to try anything to him. As far as he's concerned, they can kill each other off. At least until there are only two. If only one were left, then she would start eying the throne, and he wouldn't tolerate that. I honestly believe that if there was only one daughter left, Damon Eram would try to kill her."
"That's horrible!" Tarrin gasped. A family at war with itself? Tarrin's close family was the only reason he was still alive! Without them, he had no idea what he would do. How could a family hate each other so much? It struck him on many levels, for the Cat's need to protect the young also felt shocked and violated by such brutal behavior.
"Yes, but that's politics in Wikuna," she said calmly. "We pretend to be more civilized than the humans, but in many ways, we're more barbaric than the Plainrunners of Valkar. It wasn't long after that that Keritanima started sneaking out of the palace, and fell in with Ulfan and the thieves of Wikuna. They taught her how to protect herself, and she taught alot of it to me. That's when the Brat Princess was born. Everyone in Wikuna remembers when Keritanima was a bright, intelligent, serious young girl who showed tremendous promise as a potential queen, but they think that what was done to her left her the way she is now. Sometimes, I almost believe it myself. She doesn't let on, but what happened to her has left her very scarred."
"I had an idea that her childhood was harsh, but that's brutal," Tarrin said, pitying his sister. "She won't talk about it. And now I know why."
Miranda nodded, handing him another stack of books. "She's good. Too good. Now everyone in Wikuna honestly believes that she's been left slow by her ordeal, and that she's not fit to rule. Just about everyone in a position of power in Wikuna has tried to kill her, because she's the heir apparent, and they don't want a damaged monarch on the throne. Even her own father has tried to kill her. But she's still alive, and that drives them wild."
"Her own father?"
"He thinks she's weak," Miranda said bluntly. "He thinks that a real Eram wouldn't have been affected by something as silly as love and friendship. Damon Eram goes through the motions of trying to mold her for the throne, but he really wants to get rid of her. That's half of what sending her here was about. It was an attempt to root her out of the very secure power base they think I've built around her, to leave her open and exposed and easier to get at. I've already eliminated about ten assassins sent to kill her. Jervis, poor soul, he has the task of rooting out assassins that the man who sent him to do the job is sending in the first place."
"I can't believe this," Tarrin said in shock. "What kind of man is he to try to kill his own daughter?"
"A power-mad maniac," Miranda said calmly. "Damon Eram only cares about three things. His throne, the continuation of the Eram line on the throne, and the power of Wikuna as a whole. In that order. He is absolutely ruthless. He killed his own brothers and sisters to be the heir, killed his father to get the throne, and has killed and destroyed to keep other noble houses from gaining enough power to challenge his rule. Damon Eram could stand eye level to a Giant if the skulls of everyone he's either killed or ordered killed were stacked underneath him."
"That is awful," Tarrin said voicelessly, in total disbelief.
"Unfortunately, it's set a bad trend," Miranda said sadly. "In order to beat the Eram line, the other houses have had to sink to their level. It's made politics in Wikuna very bloody."
"I'm just shocked," he said sincerely. "I can't believe that people would be that cruel."
"It's the real world, Tarrin," she sighed. "I don't like what I do, but I do it. Keritanima depends on me. She'll make a good queen, if she ever comes to accept her role, and can convince the nobles of Wikuna that she's fit to hold the throne."
"Do you want her to be queen?"
"I want her to be happy," she replied. "But sometimes, what one person wants or needs is overshadowed by what others need of them. Wikuna is desperate for a good, compassionate, fit monarch. The savagery of the Eram line has weakened the entire kingdom, and if it's not stopped, then Wikuna will be like Yar Arak. Keritanima is the only possible choice. She's the only Eram left with decency, and few in Wikuna could be a better ruler than her. The fight over the throne would destroy the kingdom, if there ever was a succession."
"But if she orders you to run with her, you will."
"Of course," she said calmly. "She's my Princess, and she's also my friend. I'll always be here for her, even if I don't agree with the decisions she makes."
Tarrin put a paw on her shoulder, and she gave him that cheeky grin that magnified her almost unbearable cuteness. "I think Keritanima is in good hands," he told her sincerely.
"I'm so glad you appreciate me," she smiled. "You know, if we're not careful, we could end up being friends."
"I think that's already happened," he told her with a smile.
"Ah well. Water under the bridge, and all that," she said with a roguish smile.
"Guess you're stuck with me."
"I can think of worse people to be stuck with, believe me," she told him. She closed another chest lid. "Looks like we're down to scrolls."
"Let's finish up, and I'll escort you back to Binter and Sisska. That way your cargo is protected."
Miranda picked up the first two, then modestly slipped them into the bodice of her maid's dress. "I think it's protected now,"she winked.
"What a hiding place," Tarrin mused. "But you've got a bulge in your stomach."
"Most people don't look at my stomach, Tarrin," she said, using her hands to emphasize her white-furred cleavage.
"I know. I'm more of a tail man myself, though."
Miranda laughed. "Well, I think I can give you something to look at, then," she said, sweeping her very, very thickly furred blond tail around and brushing it up against his side.
"I do love that tail," Tarrin mused as they closed the chest holding the scrolls, threw canvas over the chests and table, then left the tent.
It was a cold blustery day everywhere but in the garden. There, though it was still overcast and blustery, it was pleasantly warm, and the flowers and green plants continued to thrive and bloom. On cold days, the garden became a very popular place, as katzh-dashi, servants, guards, and Knights visited it to feel warmth on their skin not made by the dry heat of a fire, and to recapture a bit of spring green when surrounded by leafless trees and winter-browned grass. The blustery day brought many into the garden, and its white gravel pathways were crowded with many people as they walked along the flower-lined pathways and marvelled at the Tower's one true vanity. One of those pedestrians was Miranda, wearing a lovely little gray maid's dress that offset her white fur and blond hair and tail perfectly, and her passing caused more than a few heads to turn. Unlike Allia's ethereal beauty, Miranda's cuteness seemed to awe and sweep away everyone who crossed her path. Where Allia's intense beauty inspired jealousy in women, Miranda's cuteness only made them treat her like an old friend. Miranda always left a trail of whispered "how cute!" remarks wherever she went, but she was careful to always dress in clothing that showed a bit of fur-clad cleavage, or hugged her curves, so that the onlooker firmly understood that he or she was dealing with a woman, and not a little girl. She could easily change her clothing to look like a younger teen-she was only nineteen, just a year older than Keritanima-because her type of cuteness was always associated with youth. And like Jervis, Miranda had learned how to use her appearance as a weapon. Nobody-nobody-ever associated such a cute, precious little thing with activities like spying, extortion, blackmail, even such grisly things as interrogation, and even murder. People tended to say things in her presence that they normally wouldn't say, for they were disarmed by her cuteness, and the trend in both human and Wikuni alike to treat someone like her with inordinate friendship than they would with others. Miranda had learned from her employer in how to raise vapidness to an art, for few associated people as cute as her with intelligence either. A few little eyelash flutters, a couple of breathless, brainless remarks, and a whole world of priviliged information was opened before her. Sometimes it took a bit more, and more than once she'd had to trade kisses and even more in darker alcoves in the palace…but such activities in themselves were occasionally quite enjoyable. Provided she was trying to get information from a handsome young nobleman.
It was a meeting of deceptive importance, on more levels than people who witnessed it could possibly understand. The foppish rabbit Wikuni, Jervis, happened to cross paths with the mink at a meeting of pathways, and they travelled on in the same direction at the same pace. At first, nothing was said. They were merely travelling in the same direction. But then the rabbit Wikuni took out his most treasured pocketwatch and began to wind it, hanging his hooked cane on his forearm as he went about his task.
"You're looking well, Miranda," he said in his lilting, slightly squeaky voice. "Could you kindly ask the fellow with the crossbow to stand down?"
"Only when you order your man with the flintlock to do the same," she replied in a calm, almost friendly voice. "Really, Jervis, why bring a man with a musket on the grounds? They're much too noisy."
"Not when a priest casts a spell of silence," Jervis replied.
"Clever."
"Thank you," he replied modestly. "Was there anything specific you wanted to talk about?"
"Yes," she replied. "How many men have you lost?"
"Nine," he said with a grunt. "You?"
"Fifteen," she replied calmly. "We have to put a stop to this. Good men are hard to find."
"Indeed. So, you wish to call a truce?"
"We were never really opposing one another, Jervis," she said calmly. "We just work in different ways to the same goal."
"True. But if we weren't opposing, you could have been more open in your activities. And you didn't have to buy one of my men."
"Jervis, that's like asking a canary not to sing," she told him with that cheeky smile. "How else do you expect me to find out what you know?"
Jervis chuckled. "It's just not polite," he told her.
"I'm not one much for pleasantries, Jervis," she told him.
"True, true. So, you wish to combine our actions?"
"Just along this task, old friend. I do have other operations going. No need to bog you down in those."
"Yes, yes. I do too, to be honest. So, what plan do you have in mind to put Ahiriya in her place?"
"I have a very simple one," she replied with a cheeky smile and a wink. "It's time for us to play a game of Beri Bally Bell."
Jervis laughed. Beri Bally Bell was a children's game where one person was blindfolded, and everyone else wore a small bell. The blindfolded person had to catch someone else, using the sounds of the bells to guide them. But many times, the number of bells and the sounds they made made it difficult for the blindfolded person to single any one out. A coordinated group of bell wearers could utterly confuse the blindfolded person.
"And what will lure Ahiriya into taking the blindfold?" Jervis asked with a smile, a smile that showed his bucked front teeth.
"Nothing short of a little misdirection," Miranda replied with a smile. "Our bells will be information. We pretend that we find something very damaging to the Tower, make sure she hears about it, then set out agents to give her a bit of confusion. The activity should draw out her people, and then we can deal with them."
"Simple, yet very thorough. Now I understand why you're such a worthy opponent, my dear."
"Thank you. It's always nice to be respected by one's peers."
"I think we can work together, my dear. When do you want to start?"
"Tomorrow seems a very uneventful day," she replied with a smile.
"It does indeed. I have a very empty calendar. I think I can pencil in some time."
"I'd appreciate it."
"When are you going to take up my offer and come work for me, Miranda?" Jervis asked. "You're wasting your talents protecting Keritanima. You need to be working for the Crown."
"I'm just not interested, Jervis," she said politely. "I'm happy where I am. Let's leave it at that."
"Well, the offer is always open," he told her.
"I appreciate that."
"I go that way. Have a good day, my dear."
"You too, Jervis," she said mildly, and they parted ways.
A few moments. That was all they were together. To the casual observer, it seemed nothing but a chance meeting, a moment of polite conversation, then a parting of convenience. But the casual observer would never comprehend the titanic magnitude of the simple arrangement that had been formed between the pair of spymasters. A formidable arrangement indeed.
Tarrin had no idea what they wanted him to do that day. He thought that he'd probably be in limbo while they talked things out, but that turned out to be a daydream. They were waiting for him when he returned, and it took a few minutes of fast talking to explain why he wasn't in his room, why he wasn't in his Initiate uniform, and why they'd never seen him leave. But it was fortunate that it was Koran Dar that had been the one to come fetch him, and the man's mild nature and respect for Tarrin's privacy kept him from pressing too hard. That the Council members always came for him themselves was a fair indication to Tarrin of how important they thought he was.
After convincing the Amazon man that he needed food and a bath before starting, Tarrin got everything attended to as quickly as he could. He didn't want to leave the Council waiting too long. He arrived at their chamber not long after leaving Koran Dar, and found the room populated with the Council, the Keeper, and six men and women wearing white robes. Surprisingly, Brel was among them, and the old man's sour face and hard eyes hinted that it wasn't entirely by choice. The other five were pattern Sorcerers, they looked young or in their early middle age, yet their eyes made them appear older-
Tarrin blinked, and looked at Brel. He was old. In fact, he was the only Sorcerer he'd ever seen that looked old. Every other Sorcerer he'd ever seen looked much like Dolanna, or Jula, or Sevren. They appeared mature, but never old. The seven members of the Council, the most powerful and supposedly wisest of the katzh-dashi, all looked like they were Elke's age.
What made Brel different? Why was Brel the only Sorcerer Tarrin had seen that actually looked old? It was a puzzle. Could something stop the Sorcerers from aging? Maybe they'd discovered weaves that retarded aging, or perhaps only made them appear much younger than they actually were. Perhaps it was a weave that Brel couldn't accomplish, because of lack of contact or access to a certain Sphere.
Tarrin stopped, staring at Brel so hard that the man began to look uncomfortable. Why did Brel look old? What made him different from the other katzh-dashi? He was Master of Initiates, a very important position, so it couldn't be because he lacked access to certain Spheres, or even lacked training or experience. They wouldn't put someone like that in that position, because he may be called upon to deal with an Initiate who had a weave get away from him. No, Brel's experience or ability wasn't what made him different. It had to be something else.
Maybe the puzzle wasn't why Brel was old, but why everyone else was not. He found himself staring at a room full of young faces, or mature faces, and he had no doubt that not a single one of them was really as old as he or she looked. Why had he never noticed this before? Tarrin was usually a very observant young man, because he was raised in the forest and had a hunter's eye.
A fleeting memory of a conversation the day before seemed to answer that puzzle. A talk with the Goddess. Isn't it a rule that no mortal can access more than one order of magic? he had asked, and she had told him yes. But she had also told him that the katzh-dashi were granted certain limited priest powers in order for them to be capable of functioning as the priestly order of the Goddess, since she was forbidden to have priests when she sponsored the Sorcerers.
Isn't it curious that katzh-dashi are allowed to defy the rules? she had asked him. Kind of makes you wonder why.
It was a riddle for him to think about, but in all the confusion the day before, he'd honestly forgotten about it. But he thought he had the answer now.
The stricture stated that no mortal could access more than one order of magic. If the katzh-dashi didn't age and die like mortals, that made them something other than mortals.
And that allowed them to circumvent the stricture in a limited manner, reflecting their limited access to priest magic.
To give her children access to their limited priest magic, the Goddess altered the way they aged, or simply stopped it altogether, to raise them out of the category of mortal. It also had the added boon of keeping her small numbers of Sorcerer children alive.
Brel looked relieved when Tarrin stopped staring at him, and he turned his gaze on the others. Just how old were they? They weren't as young as they looked. They couldn't be. Their scents matched their appearance, so that was no indicator. Perhaps they were that old, but only physically. Scents couldn't lie.
"And what is the matter now, Tarrin?" the Keeper asked in a huffy voice.
"I was just wondering how old all of you really are," Tarrin said calmly, looking around the room. "I've never seen so many of you in one place before, and Master Brel there looks keenly out of place."
That caused a bit of light chuckling and some knowing looks passed between them. "It's not polite to ask a lady's age, Tarrin," the Keeper smiled.
"I'm not polite," Tarrin said bluntly.
That wiped the smile off of her face. "Why we look how we do is something that you'll learn at the last stage of your Inititate," she told him in a dismissing tone. "It's much too hard to explain, and we don't have time to waste on it."
"Make time," Tarrin said. "Because I don't think I'll get to the last stage of the Initiate."
That made the Council stare at him, then glance at each other nervously. "And what nonsense is this?" the Keeper asked.
"I don't have to stay," he told her bluntly. "The latter stages of the Initiate are for those who go on to become katzh-dashi. I have no intention of becoming katzh-dashi. After I'm taught how to control my power without hurting anyone, I'll be leaving. So I'll never reach that stage of the training."
It was technically true, anyway.
"Well, if you must know, when a katzh-dashi serves for a period of ten years, they take the Vows of the Goddess. When we do that, we simply stop aging," she said calmly. "It's one of the gifts given to us by the Goddess. Master Brel there came to us as a middle aged man when he began his Initiate. How he appears now is how he appeared when he took his Vows."
And that answered that. The Goddess stopped their aging, and when they were no longer technically mortal, she could bestow her blessings upon them. Making a katzh-dashi stop aging wasn't a gift, it was more like a change so they could receive their true gifts. It was just a change with beneficial side-effects. It explained why most of them looked mature, in their thirties or early fourties. Some took years to pass the Initiate, and that would make them middle-aged after their ten years of service.
"Now, enough silliness," the Keeper said. "Come sit on the table, Tarrin. We're going to try a few experiments to see what limit your power has. I promise you that you won't have to touch the Weave without being restricted in some way. And if you feel anything unusual while trying, you're free to stop and let us know. We don't want this to be painful for you."
"Alright," he said suspiciously.
That began a very curious morning, where the Council would cut him off from the Weave at varying strengths before he tried to make contact with it. And unlike the previous attempts, this time the Council could manage his power, if but for a few moments. By reducing his ability to touch the Weave, it lengthened the amount of time he had before the power that tried to flood him could wear away at the barrier they placed in front of it. They had tried stopping that flood while it was in progress the time before. This time they put obstructions in front of it before it could really get moving.
But it was still no solution. It took the combined might of the Council to slow the flood by a moment or two, but it did give Tarrin long enough to perform a few simple weaves, and it gave him time to let go of the Weave before that flood hit him and neutralized his ability to separate himself from his magic. He was very careful not to let it catch him; the pain of tearing himself away was enough to make it something to avoid if at all possible. And the Council, fully understanding that their circle was in very real danger should Tarrin get overwhelmed, were also very careful to be ready to break the instant Tarrin did get overwhelmed.
After a morning of such careful, delicate probing and experimentation, they had found that Tarrin's raw power could be briefly contained by a barrier. They had studied how his power worked, and the Keeper had promised him that the six Lorefinders in attendance, of whom Brel was part, would study that and try to come up with a new, more effective barrier that they could use for him to help him control that power.
The Keeper leaned back in her chair, rubbing her eyes. The lunch bell had just sounded on the grounds, and the Council looked a bit harried. It was real work for them to use their power to control Tarrin's, so he could do what the Lorefinders asked. "I think this is a good stopping point," she said. "We've made real progress today."
"Yes," a dark-haired Sorceress, Lilenne, said. She was the Mistress Loremaster, the lead of that organization of knowledge-seeking katzh-dashi. She was a Shacean, with a thin, graceful neck and a swallow's eyes. She was pretty, but there was a sharpness to her features that Tarrin found a bit unnerving. She looked like a bird of prey. "We have made good progress, yes? I think we can find a control solution for you, Tarrin. Maybe something that you can even use for yourself to give you more time, yes."
"I'd appreciate it," Tarrin said sincerely. "I can't learn if I can't use the Weave, and I can't get out of here if I can't learn."
"Yes, well, a solution, we will work on that for you, yes. Have no worry. I notice you use our library."
"It's a good way to study what I can, Mistress."
"A good attitude, yes," she said with a hawkish smile. "Come to the library tonight. A book, I will give to you, on High Sorcery. Maybe it will help."
"Is that wise, Lilenne?" the Keeper asked.
"High Sorcery, it is his domain, Keeper," she replied calmly. "If he can access it alone, then he should learn as much about it as possible, because nobody will be there to help him. Mistakes, it will help him avoid them. Best he be armed with everything he can, yes?"
"You're the Lorefinder, Lilenne," Amelyn told her. "We will accede to your judgement in the matter."
"Tomorrow," she told Tarrin, looking at him, "be here at sunrise. We will keep working."
"Yes, Mistress Lilenne," he said respectfully.
"You are excused, Initiate," the Keeper told him. "You have done well today."
"Thank you," he said, scooting off the table.
It wasn't as long as he thought it would be, but he definitely felt it. He was tired, both from effort and from fear. He was afraid of Sorcery, because he knew what was waiting for him if he was flooded. That pain was something nobody could ever get used to, and it was pain that he would avoid at all costs. Only if threatened with more pain than he would feel tearing himself away from the Weave would he subject himself to that kind of punishment. The morning of feeling it right on the edge of him had exacted a toll, and he felt drained by the time he walked out the door.
He thought about the Goddess' riddle for him, and its solution. So she had worked a way around the restriction for her people, but why was it so important to him that she would send him off to find out why? It really didn't make much sense. After all, he never intended to become katzh-dashi, and it wasn't like that would do him any good anyway. Maybe she was just testing him, to see how observant or how smart he was. Maybe she wanted him to know for some other reason, something that he couldn't comprehend. The Goddess was obviously trying to carefully set him up for something, but unlike the katzh-dashi, he trusted the Goddess. If she wanted him to do something for her, he probably would.
Miranda's wise words about a person occassionally having to give up personal need to fulfill the needs of others rang in his mind for some reason. Maybe the Goddess needed something from him, and because he was one of her children, he would have to try to fulfill it for her.
Maybe everything she was doing, and everything around him, was preparing him for the choice that she said he would have to make. And that choice would involve whose needs he would strive to fulfill.
The thought occupied his mind as he went to the kitchens and fixed himself a plate for lunch, then sat down in the small Inititate's dining hall and pondered on it. Because he was so preoccupied, Dar managed to sit down at his table before he scented or noticed the young man, and that startled him. His claws were out and halfway across the table before the young man flinched, but they stopped well short of his nose.
"Don't do that!" Tarrin gasped as he pulled his paw back. "Never sneak up on me, Dar! It's dangerous!"
"I didn't realize you weren't paying attention!" Dar objected. "By the Scar, Tarrin, you're hard enough to sneak up on as it is, and I've seen what you do when you're surprised! Do you think I'd do it to you on purpose?"
Tarrin gave him a look, then laughed ruefully. "No, I guess you wouldn't," he agreed. "How is class?"
Dar gave a sour sound. "It's like trying to grab smoke," he complained. "I can feel it out there, but I just can't seem to find it."
"It was the same for me," he said. "Just stick with it. It'll come to you."
"I hope so. It's aggravating. And Keritanima doesn't help. She makes it look easy."
"Huh?"
"She was standing in the hall practicing her weaves as we came down the hall to our practice rooms," he complained. "She's only just begun the Red, but she throws weaves around like a full katzh-dashi. It's really annoying."
"Kerri is, special," Tarrin chuckled. "I think she's a natural."
"That's what my teacher calls her," Dar agreed. "But she uses the term daughter for some reason. She always calls Keritanima 'that lucky daughter'. I'm not sure what it means."
"Me either," Tarrin told him. "The katzh-dashi use alot of strange terms that only they understand."
"No doubt," Dar grunted. "I talked to Allia this morning."
"Oh? And where is the wound?"
Dar laughed. "She's not like that anymore," he grinned. "She looked haggard. Did you keep her up last night?"
"We were doing something," he said calmly, but the direct look in Tarrin's eyes made Dar nod knowingly.
"Speaking of something, I also talked to Tiella this morning too," he said. "I think there's something wrong with her."
"Why do you say that?"
"She's beet-red," he said. "Does she have a chill?"
Tarrin laughed. "No, she has a little problem with modesty," he replied. "She likes you, and it mortifies her that friends see her without any clothes on."
"Is that all?" he asked. "We have communal baths in Arkis. I'm not used to that kind of a reaction."
"She's from a little, very straight-laced and highly moral village, Dar," he said. "Just seeing a woman's bare knee is a scandal retold for years there."
"How barbaric. Were you like that?"
Tarrin shook his head. "My mother is Ungardt, and my father is from Suld. They're a bit more cosmopolitan, so even before this happened," he said, holding up his paw, "I had a little more open viewpoint about that kind of thing."
"Strange," he mused.
"Truly," Tarrin agreed.
"She likes me, you say? We barely know each other."
"She's a good judge of people, Dar," he said mildly.
"I must say, she's very cute. I wonder if I could convince her to go for a walk in the garden with me."
Tarrin didn't say anything, and Dar missed his grin. "What did she have to say?"
"Not much," he replied. "She hasn't found anything out about what you asked her to find. Not yet. She said that they've been too busy to really say anything to her."
That, Tarrin could understand. "Well, at least she's keeping me posted," he said.
"She went on and on about the Initiate," he said. "She's being moved over here in a few days. She's really anxious to get over here."
"I seem to recall you doing the same thing, Dar," Tarrin chuckled.
"Yes, well, it is alot more interesting," he admitted.
"You just wanted out of the kitchen."
Dar laughed. "I will never touch another pot or pan for as long as I live," he said emphatically.
They enjoyed the rest of their meal with idle chatter, and Dar had to scurry back to class. Tarrin had a need to talk to someone, and all of his friends were busy, so he found himself in the company of Sisska and Miranda. The delicate, cute little mink was scribing from a scroll and into a book, and Tarrin was shocked at the raw speed at which she could write. She had already completely transcribed the first scroll, and was halfway through the second by the time Tarrin was let in by Sisska and took a seat across from the small table which she used as a desk. Miranda's writing was crisp, clear, and exacting, and she could write with such speed that it seemed almost inhuman. He noticed that the pen wasn't a quill pen, it was a curious wooden pen with a strange metal tip. Ink seemed to come out of nowhere, appearing on the paper, though there was a pot of ink sitting on the table by the scroll.
"Tarrin," she said in greeting as he sat down. "Excuse me if I don't give you much attention, I'm rather busy at the moment."
"It's alright," he told her. "Where is the ink coming from?" he asked curiously.
"This is one of the inventions from Telluria," she told him. "It's called a fountain pen. You fill the pen with ink, and the special tip makes it come out only when you're writing. You can write very fast with one, because you only have to refill the ink every few pages rather than ever few lines."
"Interesting."
"Expensive," she said, leaning back and blowing on the page to accelerate the drying of the ink. "This pen cost me almost five hundred gold lions."
Tarrin gaped at her. "Five hundred gold coins?"
She nodded. "They're dreadfully hard to make, so they're very expensive. But in my position, it was worth the cost." She turned the page, then looked up at the scroll, and began transcribing again. "I hope to be done with this by the end of the week."
"I didn't realize you'd be so busy," he said in apology. "I'll just come back later."
"We don't have to talk, Tarrin," she said, looking up at him and smiling. "If all you want is company, feel free to stay. Sisska plays a very good game of chess. Don't you, Sisska?"
"I will teach you, Master Tarrin, if you wish," the massive Vendari female offered.
"Why not?" he shrugged. "Where is Binter?"
"Watching her Highness," the Vendari said, coming over after firmly barring the door. "The Tower forbids him from accompanying her, so he always follows her to be near, in case of attack."
"I can't blame him," Tarrin said. "You two take your job seriously, and it would probably drive him nuts to let her run around out there by herself."
"Binter protects her Highness when she is away from Miranda. Miranda is my child."
"Child?"
"A Vendari term for the one they protect," Miranda said from the table.
"At least it's not a trial of Honor and Blood," Tarrin said to Sisska with a smile.
"It can be at times," Sisska said with a faint glimmer of humor. "Miranda is more reckless than her Highness. She gives me fits sometimes."
"I can't help it if you can't keep up," Miranda grunted from her chair. "Now stop distracting me. I almost made a mistake."
"Yes, Miranda," Sisska said in a calm, bass voice. "The chessboard is in the closet, Tarrin. Please fetch it for me."
"Sure," he said.
Chess was complicated, but Tarrin's grasp of strategy and tactics, taught to him by his parents, and a quick memory allowed him to grasp the more obvious ideas behind the game. Sisska showed that she was indeed good, explaining some of the more subtle concepts of the game, and effective ways to use the advantages of the different pieces. After Tarrin got a good basic idea behind the game, he began to play against Sisska. Sisska showed no mercy, however, defeating him soundly time after time. But Tarrin wasn't one to get frustrated, and Sisska always explained the mistakes he made after each game. That allowed him to learn quickly how to avoid obvious errors that kept costing him the game. Keritanima's cat, Bandit, curled up in Tarrin's lap to sleep, and Tarrin accepted his little cousin calmly, absently petting it and scratching it behind the ears as he furiously thought ways to make the game less humiliating for him.
By the time Keritanima and Allia entered the room, actually giggling like little girls after Sisska rose to unbar the door and let them in, Tarrin had reached the point where Sisska had to use strategy to beat him. He still had no chance against her, but he did make her work a little to secure victory. "What are you doing in my room?" Keritanima demanded of him when she saw him.
"Losing," he said sourly as Sisska took another piece after sitting back down.
Binter entered just behind the nonhuman females, and closed and barred the door quietly. "Well, maybe it's just as good that you're here. I was going to send Bandit to find you."
"What's on your mind?" he asked, making another move.
"We're going to have class," she smiled. "All three of us have to learn what Miranda's working on. How is it going, Miranda?"
"I'm done with the first two. I was about to go get the next two."
"I told you she's good," Keritanima told Allia.
"That little pen of hers helps," Tarrin said. "I've never seen anything like it."
"Telluria is famous for inventions," Keritanima shrugged. "The wood stoves we sell were originally a Tellurian deisign. Lately, they've been working on a machine that uses steam to drive gears. They call it a steam engine."
"What good is that?" Tarrin asked.
"They intend to use them in ships, so ships don't have to depend on the wind anymore," Keritanima said. "The Ministry of Science in Wikuna has picked up the idea, and they're also trying to fit the steam engines to power ships. It has some promise."
"How would steam make a ship move?" Tarrin asked.
"The steam drives a paddlewheel," she explained. "Like the waterwheel on a mill. The paddlewheel pushes the ship along, no matter what direction the wind is blowing. They're faster than anything but a clipper with the wind full astern."
"I still don't see how it would work," Tarrin said dubiously.
"I'll draw it out for you sometime, Tarrin," she said, sitting down on the bed beside him. "Right now, the engines blow up more often than they work. They need refinement." She had the book Miranda was using in her lap. "Alright, put aside the game. Miranda, be a dear and clear a path for us to the sanctuary. We have alot to learn, and we don't have much time."
"Yes, Highness," Miranda said calmly, standing up and unthreading her tail from the hole in the back of the wooden chair. "Sisska?"
The massive Vendari female stood as well, then picked up her huge, wicked axe from the corner where it was standing.
"Give us about half an hour, Highness," she said in a calm, business-like voice.
"Half an hour," Keritanima mirrored, and the pair filed through the opened door. Binter quietly rebarred the door after they left. She opened the book with slightly quivering hands, looking at the neat, exact, almost mechanical writing that issued from Miranda's steady hand, staring at the writing almost reverently. "Here is the future, my deshar," she said in a low voice. "Your future and mine. Right here in this little book."
"But it is not yet complete, deshaida," Allia noted.
"That's because we haven't finished it yet, sister," Keritanima said, staring at it. "When it's done, this will be the most important book in the world. It's our passage out of here."
"You put too much hope on that, sister," Tarrin told her. "I can't deny that it'll be useful, but it's just that. Useful."
"Useful, yes. Important, undoubted," she replied. "But it's something more than that, Tarrin. It's a testament."
"To what?"
"To us," she replied, her eyes a mystery. "It's the defining statement that said that we were good enough. Better than the rest, and that we have won."
"Deshaida," Allia said, "give over on this need to prove yourself. You are my sister. For whatever you are, it is enough for me, and I will always love you."
Keritanima gave Allia a totally vulnerable look, full of powerful emotion, then she began to cry. Allia embraced her, stroking her hair, and Tarrin fully understood. Keritanima had never wanted anything more than acceptance from her family. Instead, they all tried to murder her. She had a new family now, a family that accepted her, loved her, and supported her. A family that loved her more than her own family ever did. Tarrin stood and accepted Keritanima into his arms, holding her close, with Allia keeping a gentle hand on her shoulder.
"I want the brands," she sniffled from Tarrin's chest. "I want to be one of you. I want to belong."
"You always did, Kerri," Tarrin told her gently. "You always did."
"The Holy Mother will accept you, my sister," Allia told her assuringly. "And you will always be part of my family."
That word at first made her flinch in his arms, but then she looked up at him with teary eyes that betrayed the deep pain that pierced her soul, the pain of having those you love try to destroy you. Tarrin couldn't imagine what horror had been buried behind those eyes, both done to her, and the evil she had committed simply to keep herself alive.
"You are deshaida," Allia told her, patting her on the shoulder. "You are my sister. I would be honored to accept you into my clan."
"My father is going to adore you, Kerri," Tarrin told her, pushing her out to arm's length and looking down at her emotional eyes. He gave her a gentle smile. "You're inheriting two families, sister. Allia's and mine. My father will take to you like fish to water, and my mother and the Whiteaxe Clan of Ungardt will also be your family."
"The Selani on one side, the Ungardt on the other," Keritanima said with a cheeky grin, though she was sniffling. "I feel very safe."
"You should," Allia smiled. "We take care of our own."
"We do indeed," Tarrin agreed. "You've given us so much, Kerri. Wisdom, intelligence, and a sense of security. It's time you got back what you give out."
Keritanima stared up at him, her eyes losing everything that had always clouded them before. The Brat, pain, defensiveness, fear, worry, loneliness. He stared into the core of her, and he found beauty. She put her cheek on his shoulder and just held him for a long moment. Tarrin and Allia kept her close, and he happened to glance up to the massive Vendari warrior, who stood ever near her. His black eyes were a mystery, but the single eloquent nod told Tarrin everything the silent warrior felt inside.
To: Title EoF