Chapter 7

      Tarrin awoke slowly, and for a moment, he forgot where he was.  He was warm and content, and the early summer sun washed through a partially curtained window.  As he awoke he wondered why mother hadn't woken him up before now.  But the tingling sensation in his tail from where he'd been laying on it brought him back to the present, as did the gnawing hollowness in his belly.  He was still filthy and half starved, but at least he was warm and safe.  That almost made up for it.

      It was an effort to get out of the soft feather bed.  Tarrin saw that he was in a very lushly appointed bedchamber, very much like the one that he'd came in through the night before.  It had the soft bed, two nightstands to either side of it, a chest for clothes at the foot, a stand for a washbasin, a writing desk in the corner, and an armoire to hang clothes that were too delicate to be folded.  There was a small tea table in the corner by the glass-pane door that led to another balcony.  The walls were adorned with tapestries, one a simple geometric design that was pleasing to the eye and the other a scene depicting a solitary knight riding his charger across a grassy meadow.  He stood by the bed for a moment, feeling a bit dizzy from having to exert himself.  Now that he'd made it, he was allowing himself to feel every little ache and feel the weakness of several days with almost no food.

      Now to the business of getting himself captured.  It was going to be an easy affair, he was certain.  All he had to do was go out into the hall and just wander around until he crossed paths with someone.  That someone could almost certainly tell him where to go, or maybe that person could direct him to Dolanna.  Either way, he would be more than satisfied.  He had no idea if Dolanna even knew he was still alive, and he wondered if she was worrying about him.  He'd been too busy with Jesmind, and then with getting away from Jesmind, to even consider what had happened to his friends after he'd left them on the other side of the river.  He hoped that they'd not had the same trouble he'd had with Goblinoids, and that their trip to Suld was a quiet one.

      Taking a deep breath, Tarrin went up to the door and opened it.  Not even approaching the farmers had been quite so difficult.  Mainly because he was starving when he approached the farmers, and hunger dulled much of the fear of encountering people.  Despite his newfound comfort with what he had become, he was still very much insecure about how others would react to him, and he found himself to be desperately afraid that people would want to have nothing to do with him now that he was no longer human.  Tarrin was used to being alone much of the time, but before he always had his family.  Now he had nobody, and that frightened him more than a little.  Being alone in a crowd was the worst way to be alone, because one had a whole group of people around to remind one of just how alone one was.

      The hall was quiet and deserted.  Tarrin could smell traces of human scent, which were rather fresh.  Though the hall was empty now, people did come down it with fair regularity. He had a choice of left or right.  Since it really didn't matter to him which way to go, Tarrin went in the direction that seemed to have the stronger human smell, which was to the left.  The hallway curved ever-so-gently to the right, so he couldn't see very far down it to look for people.

      Tarrin's first encounter in the Tower was almost by surprise.  It was with a rather small woman wearing a simple gray dress with a white apron over it.  She was obviously a maid or servant.  She came up the hall in the direction that he was walking, and stopped dead when she saw him.  He was about to greet her, but she gave out a shrill scream that hurt Tarrin's ears, turned the other way, and ran for all she was worth.

      Tarrin sighed audibly, and then he couldn't help but laugh.  All the trouble he'd gone through to get here, and now nobody wanted to talk to him.  He couldn't get himself caught.

      He didn't smell the two humans until they were nearly up the stairs that descended to his right.  They were both young, not even twenty, and it seemed obvious to Tarrin that they had come in response to the woman's scream.  There was a young man and a young woman.  The young man was wearing a pair of simple brown wool trousers and a blue shirt, and the young woman was wearing a plain red dress, devoid of any adornment.  They were both attractive young humans, the man with brown hair and dark eyes, and the woman with black hair and grayish eyes that stood out.  They both gaped at him in shock, then they too turned to run back down the stairs.

      "Stop!" Tarrin barked in a voice that cracked like a whip.  They did so, instantly.  They didn't even turn around to look at him.  "Go find a Sorcerer, any Sorcerer, and bring them back here.  Tell them that there's a Were-cat in the Tower, and to come see what it wants right away.  I'm going to wait right where I'm standing."  They hesitated.  "Well?  Move!"

      They bolted down the stairs.

      Tarrin leaned he back against the wall, idly checking the claws on his fingers for splits or other damage.  He was starting to get surly about the whole affair.  Getting himself caught wasn't supposed to be this much work.

      Another man rushed up from the direction the maid had run, and the sound of metal jingling told Tarrin it was a guard long before he rounded the curve.  He was a young man, burly, with a blue surcoat over a chain jack.  He was carrying a drawn sword.  He had dark hair and dark eyes, which were a bit wild at the sight of the emaciated Were-cat.  "Oh, put the sword away," Tarrin snapped at him churlishly.

      The man came to a stop and stared at him, obviously at a loss as to what to do.  Tarrin marvelled at the base intelligence of the occupants of this tower.  "Put the sword away," he said in a slow tone, as if addressing a child.  "Turn around and go find someone in charge.  Tell that someone that there is a Were-cat in the tower that wants to talk to someone with a mind.  Bring them right back to this spot."

      He too just stood there.

      "Go!" Tarrin snapped.

      He hastily turned and trotted away, still carrying his sword.

      Tarrin leaned his head back against the wall.  For their defense, he realized that his appearance here was probably a bit shocking.  As formidable as the defenses and security were around the compound, it was probably quite unusual to see someone that looked like him prowling the halls.  But that was three people off to bring back someone that he could talk to.  He was sure that it wouldn't be very long.

      The young man and woman indeed returned, not a moment later, with someone with them.  He was a mature man, probably around forty, with specks of gray disturbing the continuity of his dark hair.  He was thin and studious looking, with a long face and smallish ears, and his eyes were decorated by a pair of wire-rimmed spectacles sitting on the end of his nose.  His brown eyes seemed to take in the entirety of Tarrin with only a single glance.  He was wearing a severely plain brown robe, with a leather belt around his waist from which two leather pouches and a small dagger hung.

      "Are you a Sorcerer?" Tarrin asked abruptly.

      "Yes," he replied.  "My name is Sevren Dallinson.  Who might you be, stranger, and what business do you have with us?"

      "My name is Tarrin Kael," he replied.  "I was supposed to be coming with a Sorceress named Dolanna Casbane, but we were separated on the way here.  If you could send someone to go get her, she can explain everything."

      "I'm afraid I don't know all my sisters by name," he said dubiously.  "Initiate, what is your name?" he asked the young woman.

      "Tryla, Master," she replied obediently.

      "Tryla, go to the Council of Seven and tell them of this development," he ordered.  "Report that this visitor is looking for Dolanna Casbane.  When you are done there, come back to, that room," he said, pointing to a door a bit down the hall.  "We will be waiting there."

      She curtsied to him, then turned and hurried down the stairs.

      "Wendall, go to the kitchens and fix a very large tray of food.  And bring some wine.  Bring it back to us.  Make sure it has plenty of meat," he ordered.

      "Yes, Master Sevren," he said with a bow, then he too rushed off.

      "You look about half starved," the Sorcerer noted with an appraising eye at Tarrin.  "We can eat while we wait."

      "If you can stand the way I smell, I'd be happy to have you at the table," Tarrin said with a rueful look.

      "You must have had a rough time," he said.  "Come, let's go sit.  You can tell me more while we eat and wait.  It looks to me like you're having enough trouble standing."

      "To be honest, Master Sevren, this wall is about the only thing holding me up," he admitted with a chuckle.

      Sevren offered out his arm to the Were-cat, who took it after only a moment's hesitation.  He led Tarrin into the room, which was an almost exact copy of the bedchamber in which Tarrin had slept.  These had to be guest quarters of some kind.  They sat down at the table, and Tarrin yawned and stretched in his seat.  "So, what was bringing you to our Tower?" Sevren asked curiously.  "We don't get many of the Woodland folk here."

      "You know what I am?" he asked in some surprise.

      "I'm familiar with your kind, but I've never met a Were-kin before," he admitted.

      "Well, it's not that I was coming here for any serious reason," he said, then he recanted some of the story of their trip from Aldreth.  He didn't really talk about Jesmind.  What he felt for her, and what had happened still seemed too private to discuss with a total stranger.  But despite being a stranger, Tarrin rather liked Sevren.  He was a calm, thoughtful man that had quickly eased most of Tarrin's fears with a few simple words and one act of kindness.  Offering to help Tarrin into the room had told him much of what made up the sober looking man, and Tarrin could honor and respect that about him.  That was why Tarrin told him anything at all.

      He absorbed what Tarrin had to say.  "If you don't mind, I may study some of the outward effects of your transformation," he said.  "I know it sounds like I want to study you like a bug, but you have to admit that this is a good chance to learn.  And what we discover may help someone else that has this happen."

      "No, I really don't mind all that much," Tarrin told him.  "I know what it was like for me, and I'd rather not have anyone have to go through it," he said with a shudder.  Being used to it still didn't mean that he liked it.  One could get used to a missing arm, but that was no reason to lop one off.  "If I can help make it easier on them, then I don't mind at all."

      "That's a good lad," he said with a smile.

      The door opened, and three women entered, flanked by two armed guards, with the Initiate behind them.  Two of them were unknown to him, but the third, dressed in a dark blue silk dress, was Dolanna.  Tarrin smiled broadly and stood, ignoring the other two women to accept Dolanna's hand as she reached him.  He stared into her eyes for a moment, then pulled her close and embraced her.  She coughed and wheezed, then said "Tarrin, I need my ribs in one piece" in a gasping voice.

      "I'm sorry, I'm just glad to see that you're alright," he said.  "Are Faalken and--"

      "They are all well," she assured him.  "Tiella and Walten have already entered the Novitiate.  Faalken has returned to the Academy, where he instructs pupils when not accompanying me."  She pushed him away slightly.  "Tarrin, may I present the Keeper," she said, motioning.

      The woman to which she motioned was a very small woman, even smaller than Dolanna herself.  She had dark hair, nearly black, that was streaked in a few places with silver, and was as petite as she was short.  She was more handsome than she was pretty, just coming into her middle years, but in her dark eyes Tarrin saw a hardness that came with being a ruler.  He could almost smell the aura of power around the small woman, an aura that made her seem to be much larger than she actually was.  She wore no badge of her rank, only a simple silk dress in a modest brown, but it was obvious just looking at her that she was a woman of great power and importance.  Those hard eyes took Tarrin in in a single glance, and he felt distinctly uncomfortable standing there in his filthy clothes.

      "You're as thin as a stick," she noted in a clear, strong voice.

      "Running for your life can do that, ma'am," he replied calmly.  Tarrin didn't like this woman.  He wasn't sure why, but he did not.  It was a gut feeling, an instinctive reaction, but he did not like her.

      "So I've been told.  Well, you've made it, young one, and we can all be happy of that."  She sat down at the table, and the other woman followed her.  She was a rather tall woman with black hair and very pale skin, wearing a yellow silk dress that was cut rather low in the front.  Silk seemed to be the fabric of choice in the Tower among the ladies.  The woman had a very pretty face, and was obviously very young, but her dark eyes were expressionless.  It gave Tarrin the chills to look into them.  It was like looking into the eyes of a corpse.  "Because you look about ready to fall over, we'll put off formally admitting you into the Novitiate for two days, so you can rest a bit and get back some of your strength," she told him.  "Until then, feel free to look around, but you're not to leave the Tower grounds.  Although you're not officially a Novice yet, you should start abiding by the rules that all Novices follow.  I've sent for Elsa Gaarnhold, the Mistress of Novices.  Where you sleep and what you'll need will be her responsibility.  She'll also provide you with some new clothes and show you where things are."

      The young man Sevren had sent for food returned with a tray heavily laden with roasted chicken and goose.  Tarrin's mouth started watering the instant the smell of it touched his nose.  "A good idea," she remarked, standing up.  "I'll leave you to your meal, young one.  I'm sure you'd like to stay, Dolanna, so please do so."

      "Thank you, Keeper," Dolanna said quietly.

      "Elsa should be along in a while.  Just wait here for her."  They all stood, and then the Keeper and the dead-eyed woman with the yellow dress left without so much as a word.

      "Strange," Sevren said calmly.

      Tarrin didn't waste any time.  He sat down at the table where the young man had set the tray and attacked the food with a vengence.  The young man left, and Sevren and Dolanna sat down at the table with Tarrin.  Sevren and Dolanna exchanged polite introductions, and Tarrin offered each of them something off the tray.

      "Thank you," Dolanna said, pouring glasses of wine for each of them.  Tarrin wondered how the man knew to bring more than two glasses.  "Tarrin, what happened after we separated?  I have been worrying for you."

      "It's a very long story, Dolanna," he said between bites.  "To make it short, I ran into Jesmind."

      "Jesmind?"

      "Her," he said calmly.

      "Ah.  She came to find you?"

      "She'd been following us the whole time," he replied.  He gave Sevren a cautionary glance.  "Sevren, I just met you, but I think I can trust you.  Promise me that what you're about to heat goes no farther than this room."

      "You have my word, my boy," he said immediately.

      "She didn't know who collared her," he told Dolanna.  "She can't remember anything that happened while it was on her neck.  The only reason she knew about me was because you took off the collar with her in sight of me."

      "I hope that it was not a bad occurrance," she sighed.

      "It is now," he grimaced.  "She was taking me back into the Frontier.  I kept trying to convince her to come to Suld with me, but she wouldn't hear of it.  So I ran away from her.  And she was not happy about it."

      "I feared as much," she said in a heavy voice.

      "She's going to try to kill me, Dolanna.  There's no doubt in my mind.  She's decided I'm a Rogue because I refused to learn what she has to teach me, and that means that I'm marked.  The people here should know that Jesmind will come here, and when she does, she'll try to kill me."

      "I will let the Keeper know.  She will be the one that will have to take steps."

      "That's why I'm in such sorry condition," he said.  "I wasn't sure if she was right behind me, but I wasn't about to take the chance.  I've been running almost constantly for the last fifteen days or so.  Dinner was whetever I could find during a ten minute stop to rest."

      "Well, you have made it, my dear one," she said with a gentle smile, putting her hand over his paw.

      "Only just," he sighed.  "The entire forest north and west of Suld is literally crawling with Goblinoids.  Maybe someone should be told about that.  There may be enough out there to come down and attack a fair sized town."

      "That should be passed along," Sevren noted.

      "There were also humans around trying to kill me," he told her.  "I was almost done in by a little rat of man with a sling.  I found out that someone was paying a reward for dead bodies of anyone even remotely resembling a Wikuni travelling on the High Road.  I just hope no innocent Wikuni were killed."

      "Dear one, Wikuni almost never leave sight of the sea," she told him.  "They are almost married to the ocean.  That is why Wikuni are so rare outside of harbor towns."

      "What else did the man tell you?" Sevren asked.

      "Not much.  I killed him pretty soon after I shook off getting hit in the head with the rock," Tarrin shrugged.  "I wasn't exactly thinking straight, else I would have grilled him for more before I killed him."

      Tarrin missed the slightly worried look Sevren passed to Dolanna, and her very slight gesture to leave it be.

      "Have you been having the dreams?" she asked.

      "No," he replied.  "Jesmind did teach me a little bit before we split.  She taught me how to make them stop.  That's at least one good thing that came of it."  He put down a stripped goose leg bone.  "She also taught me how to shapeshift.  It's actually pretty easy."

      "Did she teach you anything else?"

      "Not really," he replied.  "We were only together a few days, and we spent alot of that trying to sneak around the Goblinoids that were all over the place."  He decided not to tell her about the night they'd spent together.  That was too private, even to discuss it with Dolanna.  "What happened after the Wyvern sunk the ship?" he asked.

      "There were several casualties among the crew," she replied.  "We helped them as best we could, and then we took another ship south.  It was a very uneventful trip after you left us.  That leads me to believe that you were the reason for it."

      "I was," he said.  "Whoever it was that's after me certainly didn't stop after the Wyvern.  I spent most of my time running from Jesmind and dodging Goblinoids at the same time."

      "Are you sure that they were after you?" Sevren asked.  "I'm assuming here that by Goblinoid  you mean more than one race.  They don't usually cooperate."

      "These were," he replied.  "I saw a Dargu tribe meet with a Waern tribe, and the chieftans spoke without drawing weapons.  That's not right, because Waern consider Dargu a delicacy.  They're working together.  And that means that there's someone that's telling them what to do that they fear more than they hate the others."

      "A very grim suggestion," he said, stroking his chin in thought.  "I think that the King should know about this.  A coordinated horde of goblinoids could storm any city in Sulasia, except for Suld."  He picked up a slice of beef.  "They may decide to pick a few cities in their leisure time."

      The door opened, and a huge woman entered.  She was wearing a pair ofblack trousers and a brown shirt, and her long, thick blond hair was done up in a simple braid that was as thich around as Tarrin's wrist, and reached almost to her backside.  Her face was strong but very handsome, and she had a sword belted at her waist.  There was no doubt that she was Ungaardt.  Tarrin stood and eyed her calmly as she closed the door and approached them.  "Vasra guhn," Tarrin greeted.  Tarrin had been taught the language of the Ungaardt by his mother.  They used it often, especially since Eron had never gotten around to learning it.

      "Vasra dughus," she noted with surprise.  "What clan?" she asked in the Ungaardt tongue.

      "Vashtalla," he replied.  "You?"

      "Emden," she replied.

      "We are cousins," Tarrin noted, holding out his paw to her.  "Greeting, cousin.  Honor to Dallstad."

      "Honor and glory," she replied, clasping his wrist in a strong grip.  "It's nice to meet someone with manners," she said in the common tongue, grinning.  "You're Ungaardt under that fur, and dirt."

      "Half," he admitted.  "My mother is of the blood."  "Of the blood" was the way the Ungaardt referred to themselves.

      "You look Ungaardt," she noted clinically.  "You take after your mother.  You are also of the blood, no matter who your father was.  A good thing for you."

      "I'm happy with it," he said.  Ungaardt were a very arrogant people, and just agreeing with her was the easiest way to keep the peace.

      "But you're also a Novice, and I'm the Mistress of Novices.  Don't expect any preferential treatment just because we're cousins," she said in a steely voice.

      "I don't expect any," he replied.

      "Good.  I'm going to take you to the Novice quarters," she told him.  "We'll get you some clean clothes, give you a room, and I'll show you where you can bathe."

      "Yes!" he said fervently.

      "You are a bit fragrant," Dolanna noted.

      "Dolanna, if I smell that bad to you, just imagine how I smell to me," he told her.

      She laughed.  "Yes, that nose is very much a liability, is it not?" she asked with a smile.

      "At the moment, yes," he said with a grunt.

      "As of this moment, she's Mistress Dolanna," Elsa said bluntly.  "And you're a Novice, just like any other Novice.  Come along, Tarrin, and we'll get you washed and dressed."

      "Yes, Mistress Elsa," he said calmly.  He'd kiss a Dragon for the chance to take a bath.

      "Dolanna, you can see him later," Elsa instructed her.

      "I'll talk to you about arranging time with Tarrin," Sevren told her.  "He's agreed to let me do some studies."

      "As long as it doesn't cut into his class time, we'll talk about it," she told him.  "Let's get moving, Tarrin."

      The halls of the Tower were wide, and they were all lit by those softly glowing globes.  From as far as he could tell, they simply hovered in midair near the ceiling.  Another thing that he noticed was that the floors were carpeted out in the halls.  That was unusual, and it had to be frightfully expensive if every hall was like this, considering the awesome size of the building.  They went down stairs quite a ways, all the way to the ground floor, and he saw that the carpeting did indeed stop.  The hallways in the sector of the Tower to which she took him were just as wide, but there were many, many more doors set into the walls.  The floors and walls were absolutely spotless, and not a cobweb could be found anywhere.  There were also many people. They were universally young, in their mid teens, from pale, tall Ungaardt to stocky Dals to swarthy Arkisians.   Even one or two olive-skinned people from the Free Duchies between Shacè and Arkis.  They were wearing either plain white wool dresses or white wool shirts and brown wool trousers.  They all wore exactly the same kind of leather shoes.  They all stared at Tarrin in shock, and more than one shrank away from him as Elsa led him deep into the domain of the Novices.

      "These are the halls of the Novices," she told him as they walked along.  "There are three levels above this one also.  My office door is at the end of this hall.  Pray that you're not called in there."  She pointed down a side hall.  "At the end of that hall is the Novice Hall," she said.  "It is where you will eat, and it is also where you will gather for any assemblies called for the Novices.  The classrooms where you will receive your instruction are on the third and fourth levels.  I'll have someone else show you all the little things.  For right now, we're going to worry about the main things."

      They stopped in front of a door.  "This will be your room," she said.  He noticed that it was within sight of the plain wooden door with her name on a wooden plaque which was nailed to the door.  She was keeping him well within her sight.  "You will have a roommate, Tarrin.  We are not treating you any differently than any other Novice.  Right now, he's probably in class."  She opened the door.  Inside the surprisingly large room were two narrow beds, both neatly made, with a strong, sturdy chest at the foot of each bed.  Each bed also had a stand to the side of it, and there was a small writing table, with one chair, between them against the far wall.  There were two pegs on the wall on each side of the room, and on the right side, one peg was occupied with a plain wool robe, and the other had a brown cloak hanging from it.  Tarrin saw that hanging on the wall on the right side were pieces of paper with very elaborate sketches.  Many of them were the towers and buildings of the compound, but there were also several sketches of people.  One of them, he saw, was Elsa.  And it was remarkably well done.  Whoever had done them had a natural talent for art.  "See how clean this room is?" she asked.  "It had best stay this way.  Now then, let's go see the Quartermaster and get you clothing."

      The Quartermaster was on the second level, in a large room that was filled with shelves, those shelves holding assorted items and articles.  The Quartermaster himself was a small wiry man, approaching his golden years, with a bald pate fringed with gray hair.  His face was drawn, as thin as he was, but Tarrin saw that he moved with a spry step that belied his advanced years.  he wore a simple brown coat over a white shirt, with brown trousers, and he had several stick pins stuck to the sleeves of his coat.  He had several Novices and similarly young people with colored shirts or dresses rather than white.  Those, he'd managed to deduce, were Initiates, in the step above the Novices.  "Madam Elsa," he greeted in a scratchy voice, eyeing Tarrin warily.  "What can I do for you?"

      "This boy needs Novice's clothing," she said, jerking her thumb at Tarrin.

      "Ah, this could be a challenge," he said, studying Tarrin.  "Is he always so thin?"

      "He should fill out a bit," Elsa said.

      "Turn around," the man told Tarrin, and he did so.  "That tail is going to cause a problem," he said.  "I'll have to put a button in the back for it.  I'll just have to cut holes in the underclothing."

      "Do you have anything just for now?" she asked.

      "We could put him in a robe until I get his pants sewn," he offered.

      "That's a good idea," she agreed.

      "Do you commonly wear shoes, Novice?" he asked.

      "No sir," he said, holding up a leg and letting him see the rough pads on the bottom of his feet.  "My feet do well enough for me."

      "Good, I don't have any shoes big enough for those feet," he said, "and those claws would cut them up pretty quickly anyway.

      "Let me measure you, and then I'll get to work on some pants," he said, taking a knotted cord out of his pocket, the knots tied at regular intervals along its length.  "Go behind that screen and take off the shirt and pants."  The affair took about ten minutes, for the wiry Quartermaster was quite adept at what he was doing.  He would wrap that knotted cord around some part of Tarrin's body, and then write down the resulting measurement on a slate board he'd taken off a table.  Tarrin was a bit antsy when the man casually wrapped that cord around the base of his tail to measure its width.  He was unaware of how sensitive that particular place was, but Tarrin didn't do anything.  He just stayed still and let him get it overwith.  In a very short time, he had Tarrin thoroughly measured, and had taken reference measurements from Tarrin's current pants.  The man gave him an old, worn out robe to wear, for he adamantly refused to give back the filthy, ripped clothing Tarrin had been wearing.  "I'll be sure to leave room for him to fill them out," he told Elsa.  "From his current clothes, I have a good idea of how much that's going to be.  He can wear that old frayed robe to the bathing pool, and he can wear this one until he gets these clothes."  He pointed at a folded garment that had been placed on a table by a Novice.

      "When will they be ready?" Elsa asked.

      "I can have them for you tomorrow morning," he replied.

      "Very good.  Come along, Tarrin, we'll get you clean."

      They went down into a basement, and he was quite surprised.  In the basement was a huge pool of water, one end of it steaming, and it was occupied by a surprising number of people who were bathing.  Both men and women.  There were many chairs set around the bathing pool which were filled with clothing and towels, and there were several Novices scurrying about tending the baths.  The water smelled heavy to his nose, and he realized that it was minerals in the water, the minerals of a natural hot spring.  A most ingenious way to build a communal bath and keep the water hot.

      "Surprised?" she asked.

      "A bit, ma'am," he responded.

      "There's just the one pool, and since we all don't have the same hours, it would be impossible to divide the time.  Don't worry, you'll get used to it.  It takes some people longer than others, but you will.  Everyone uses this pool.  You, me, the Novices, Initiates, Sorcerers, guards, servants, and visitors.  Even the Keeper herself bathes here."

      Tarrin felt absolutely no reservations about undressing, he realized.  The time with Jesmind had indeed changed him, in more ways than one.  Or maybe the time with her had allowed him to come more into contact with the Cat within him.  Either way, he realized soberly in that instant that he was changing, he was adapting to his Cat instincts.  And, in some ways, they were starting to have a serious influence on his views and mannerisms.

      He unbelted the robe immediately, and pulled it off his shoulders, then draped it over the back of a chair.  She laughed richly.  "That didn't take very long," she said as he stood beside her nude.

      "I'm not human, Mistress Elsa," he reminded her gently.  "My idea of modesty isn't the same as yours."

      "Point taken," she acceded.  "Is there anything else I should know?  Anything special you'll need?"

      "No," he replied.  "I don't need anything special, ma'am.  My blood is dangerous to humans, but let me be the one to worry about that problem."

      "Yes, you would be the best to deal with it," she agreed.  "And telling everyone that you're contagious may not endear them to you."

      "I can do without that added stress, ma'am," he told her, giving the hot water a longing look.

      "I'll leave you to your bath now," she told him.  "I'll send someone to take you back to your room."

      "I can make it back on my own, ma'am," he replied.

      "Are you sure?"

      "Positive, ma'am," he said.  "I can find it.  I'd like to walk around and see things after the bath, anyway."

      "Alright then," she said.  "Just don't get lost."

      "No chance of that, ma'am," he told her.  "I can follow my own scent trail back if I don't know where I am."

      "Your nose is that sensitive?"

      He nodded.

      "Interesting.  Have a good bath.  Don't get waterlogged."

      She left him as he lowered himself immediately into the water.  It was tepid, and he discovered that it got hotter as one moved towards the far end of the pool.  He waded in the waist deep water until he reached a delightfully hot temperature, then picked up a cake of soap that was sitting on a tray between the outer and the inner lip of the pool.  He saw that there were two edges to the pool, the upper one and a lower one near the water level, that was just below the surface of the water.  The water poured over that edge in a very thin stream, then was channeled away to a drain that removed the excess.  He noted that that skimmed the soap foam and dirt out of the water and carried it away, keeping the water clean for other bathers.  A very clever design.

      He scrubbed at himself for a very long time, washing over twenty days of dirt and sweat and leaves and bark and all other manner of things off his skin and out of his fur.  It was a bit hard to get at his tail, but he managed to scrub the formidable dirt out of it and comb out the mats with his claws.  He unbound his hair and washed it thoroughly, watching as dirt and bits of bark and leaves, and a couple of dead flies and mosquitos, washed out of his hair and were carried away by the gentle flow towards the edge.  He climbed up onto the edge of the pool to thorougly soap down and lather the dirt out of the fur on his legs, then he combed the mats out after dropping back into the water to rinse.

      During the bath, he'd come to realize how thin he'd gotten.  His ribs stuck out like bare branches, and every muscle he had was visible to the eye as he moved.  The heavy meal had done wonders for him, though, and he could literally feel how much weight he'd gained since then.  He suspected that it was the semi-magical power of regeneration that Jesmind said they possessed at work there, using the food he'd eaten to quickly put meat back on his bones.  He was already hungry again.  He was going to have to find out if he could get more to eat.  He had the idea that if he ate heavily for a day or so, his regenerative ability would flesh him back out in almost no time.

      He felt like an entirely new person when he climbed out of the water and shook much of the water out of his fur.  He was clean, warm, safe, secure, and he would soon be full.  The trials of the journey to Suld were quickly fading into his memories.  He felt the eyes on him, but unlike the sensation he'd felt when he was on the run, he didn't mind these eyes.  Some of them were in fear, but the look on one blond woman who was in the bathing pool was one of appreciation, not fear.  Jesmind's prediction that he would come to not mind being nude in the presence of others had come to pass, he knew.  The Cat had taken that much of a hold on his mind.  And he found that he welcomed it.

      He took a towel from an edgy Novice girl and dried himself off, then sat down on a chair, nude, and tried futilely to try to braid his hair back up.  His huge paws made the task extremely difficult, and he came close to using his claws to shear it off more than once.  He knew how futile that would be.  It would grow back in a matter of hours, and may end up growing back longer than it was now.  He didn't want to risk that.  Having it three quarters of the way down his back was more than long enough.

      "You look like you could use some help," a voice called.

      He looked up.  It was the blond woman who'd been in the pool, with a towel wrapped around herself.  Her face was young and very pretty, with deep blue eyes that sparkled in the light and the classic high-cheekboned, delicate face that made Draconian women famous for their beauty.  Her common mode of speech marked her as a Tykini, from the breakaway kingdom of Tykarthia.  "I do have trouble with it," he admitted.

      "Here, let me," she said.  She went around behind the chair, and he felt her take up his damp hair in her hands.  "Why do you grow it so long?" she asked.

      "Because it just grows back," he replied.

      "Hair this long must have taken you years," she noted, starting to pull his hair into sections for braiding.

      "No, hours," he told her.

      "Really?"

      "It's racial," he said delicately.

      "Ah," she sounded.  He could feel her hands swiftly begin to intertwine his hair into a single thick braid.

      "You're good at this," he noted.

      "I have five sisters, and braids are a very common hairstyle in Tykarthia," she said.  "Not as popular as they are in Tor, but popular enough.  Have you ever seen a Torian woman?"

      "No."

      "They put their hair into as many tiny little braids as they can," she told him.  "Sometimes they weave beads into the ends.  I shudder to think of how long that takes."

      "They must have alot of time on their hands," he noted.

      "Truly," she agreed.  "My name is Jula," she introduced.

      "I'm Tarrin," he responded.

      "You're visiting?"

      "Actually, I'm supposed to enter the Novitiate," he told her.

      She laughed.  "Then I'd best not let too many people see this," she told him.  "I'm katzh-dashi.  If they see me braiding the hair of Novices, I'll never hear the end of it."

      "I'm sorry," he said.  "I didn't know who you were."

      "I didn't know who you were either," she said.  "Down here in the baths, it's not easy to tell.  It's not like I have the shaeram tattooed on my bosom."

      "I think that would be a bit ostentatious," he said sagely.

      "Not to mention painful," she agreed.  "Do you have a bit of twine or thong?" she asked.  "I need to tie this in, or it'll unravel itself."

      "I think I have the old one somewhere," he said.  "No, wait, I undid it in the pool.  I forgot about it."

      "Not a problem," she said.  "I'll cinch it so it'll hold itself for a while, but you need to--"  She stopped as Tarrin, who had his old, frayed robe in hand, ripped a bit of cloth off the hem, then handed it to her.  "I hope you're not quite that hard on your clothes," she said with a bit of a laugh, taking it from him and tying it to the end of his braid.  "Want me to make a pretty little bow in it?"

      "No thank you," he said dryly.

      "We don't have too many non-humans in the Tower," she told him as she knotted the torn fabric and then came back around him.  "I think there are a couple of Wikuni that act as emissaries of a sort, but that's about all.  If I may ask, what race are you?"

      "I'm not Wikuni," he told her.  "I'm a Were-cat."

      "Really?" she asked, her eyes brightening.  "We'll definitely have to talk.  I have an interest in the non-human races, and most Were-kin are very tight-lipped.  Well, it will have to wait, I guess," she sighed.  "I need to get dressed and get to the class I'm teaching before they think I'm not showing up."  She went over to the next chair and dropped her towel without so much as batting an eyelash.  Tarrin noted that she had an exquisitely shaped body.  She was very lovely.  Her figure almost compared to Jesmind's.

      Tarrin pulled the new robe on and belted it at his waist, then gathered up the old one.  He realized that they didn't tell him what to do with it.  He decided to take it back to his room and drop it off.  He'd ask about it later.

      "What do I do with the towel?" he asked Jula as she pulled her shift over her head and settled it into place.

      "Just leave it," she told him.  "A Novice will pick it up in a while."

      "Thank you, Mistress Jula, for the braid," he said.

      "Any time, Tarrin," she told him, shrugging herself into a robe.  Obviously, she would wear that back to her chambers, where she would dress.  And the sight and thought of that told him that this robe he was wearing was his.  He was supposed to hang it on that peg on the wall.

      He couldn't follow his scent-trail all the way back, since they'd come from the Quartermaster's so he went up to the first level and wandered until he saw something that looked famliar.  From there, he quickly found the central hall, and followed it down to the door to his room.  He noticed that there were no locks on the doors.  Opening it, he saw the room much as it was before, except for a neatly folded pair of trousers and a shirt resting on the bed.  He also saw, to his own surprise, a single leather pack sitting in front of it, and his staff was sitting in the corner.  Dolanna had had his things all this time?  He was impressed, and a little relieved when he realized that the Box had been in that pack.  Going to it quickly, he noticed a note resting on top of the pack, and another note sitting atop the clothes.  The note on the clothes was from the Quartermaster.

                Master Tarrin:

                I finished this set, and decided to bring it so you had more to wear than a robe.  You

      can pick up your other four sets of clothes in the morning.  They will be ready for you.

      The second note was from Dolanna.

                Tarrin:

                We managed to recover this pack from the wreck of the ship.  Thank Faalken for this,

      It was his quick thinking that saved our belongings.  I dried them out as best I could with

      magic, and I do believe that nothing was damaged.  It took some doing to recover your staff,

      but I knew how much it meant to you, so I decided that it was worth the effort.

                By the way, what is in this pack will be held in the strictest confidence.  It was obvious

      to me that what is within are things that you hold dear for sentimental reasons.  It will remain

      a private matter.

                This evening at sunset, I think you should visit the library.  It is easy to find.  I am certain

      that you will find it to be an interesting place.

      Tarrin folded the note carefully, and then opened his pack.  It was obvious from the letter that Dolanna wanted to talk to him, and without the Keeper or a stranger around.  It would be no problem.  Since he wasn't really a Novice yet, even if his excursion broke a rule, it wasn't a rule that applied to him.  Then he unpacked his pack to check things.

      The Box was alright.  The four items inside, the tooth, the piece of quartz, the gold nugget, and his treasured wing, were just fine.  They showed not a sign of being dunked in the water.  Neither did the box.  His small daggers were in the pack, and so was his larger one, which surprised him.  He thought he'd lost the item he'd won at staffs in the fair.  His shaving razor was there, but not the soap.  But then again, he didn't need the razor.  With a start, he realized that he'd not shaved once since being bitten.  And his face was hairless.  That he didn't mind, for he didn't like beards and he hated shaving even more.  His sleeping mat, tent, and cooking pot were absent, probably lost, but this pack, with his clothes and his personal items, it was what was important.

      He placed the pack in the chest at the foot of his bed.  The clothes in the pack were his sturdy leather clothes, and he wanted to keep them.  A bit of cutting with a knife or claw would free up a place for his tail in his pants, and that was all that really mattered.  He took off the robe and dressed in the Novice's clothes that had been left for him, and hung his robe on the wall on the peg.  Then he went to his staff.

      The sturdy Ironwood showed not a sign of any duress, but that was usual for it.  It took something like a blazing inferno to mark Ironwood.  It seemed almost feather-light to him now, but he could feel every indentation on the wood intimately, and it felt just the same as he remembered.  He was just stronger, and that made the very heavy wood feel lighter.  His hands were now paws, and were much larger.  He knew he'd have to practice with the staff to get used to the different grips he'd need to use it, now that his hands were so different.  And learn how to use his natural weaponry in harmony with it.

      The door opened.  Tarrin stood by the bed calmly, staff in paw, and regarded the young man that entered.  He was a bit tall for his age, which looked to be around fifteen, and he had the dark, swarthy skin that marked him as an Arksian.  His hair was black as pitch, long and done up in an attractive side-parted style, and his eyes were a rich almond brown, almost like amber.  He too wore the white shirt and brown pants of a Novice, and he had a book in his hand.  "They told me that you may be here," he said calmly.  "I'm Dar, Dar  Ulthan," he introduced.  "I'm your roommate."

      "I'm Tarrin," he replied calmly.

      "They asked me to show you around," he said.  "We can do that after lunch, if you want."

      "Lunch sounds very good at the moment," Tarrin said with a smile.

      "Well, if we're going to eat, we'd best get moving," he said.  "They don't let stragglers eat."

      Tarrin put the staff back in the corner and followed the tall, lanky young man out.

      "Where are you from?" he asked.

      "Aldreth."

      "Where?"

      "A village about as far from Suld as you can get without leaving Sulasia," he replied.

      "I'm from Arkhold, in Arkis," he returned.

      "What brought you all the way here?"

      "My parents are in the spice trade," he explained.  "Merchants who are educated in the Tower tend to do better, and my parents want me to keep up what they've built."

      "Educated?  I thought that the school they have here would have been in some other building."

      "The Initiates stay in other towers," he said, "but we Novices are here."

      "Why do they all wear different colors?" he asked curiously.

      "The Initiates?  It's their rank," he replied.  "Except the ones that wear brown.  Initiates who wear brown aren't Sorcerers, they're just the advanced people in the school.  They're here in the Tower too, in the levels above the library."

      "Which way will you go?"

      "I don't know yet," he said.  "All I've learned so far is history and geography, and they've taught me about fifty different ways to add two and two together," he said ruefully.  "But they haven't given me the Test yet."  He led Tarrin down another passageway.  "I'm not entirely sure which way I want to go.  Seeing the Sorcerers here, it's made me interested in what they do.  But if I do end up learning Sorcery, it's bound to make my parents very mad.  They're paying alot of money to send me here.  But, on the other hand, if I do have talent, they don't have to pay anymore," he said with a smile.

      "Hmm," he mused.  "My parents weren't quite so lucky.  They made me come here."

      "The Test?" he asked.

      Tarrin nodded.

      "I didn't know they tested Wikuni."

      "I'm not Wikuni, and I wasn't like this when they tested me," he told him.

      "I wasn't sure," he admitted with a short laugh.  "I know alot of Wikuni from when my parents bargain with them, and you don't look like any Wikuni I've ever seen.  But you look almost like one.  I thought maybe you were a deformed Wikuni."

      "No," he assured him.  "I'm a Were-cat."

      "Truly?" he said in wonder.  "Then none of the stories I've heard of the Were-people are true, are they?"

      "Probably not," he said.  "Well, the part about biting is true," he added somberly.

      "That's how it happened?"

      He nodded.  "It was just one of those dumb things," he said.  "I was in the wrong place at the wrong time."  That much was true, to a certain degree.  If he'd chosen another bedchamber, it would have been Walten, or Tiella.  Or maybe even Faalken or Dolanna.  Or maybe nobody.

      "You took it better than I would have," he said.  "I'd still be screaming."

      "I'm over that now," he said.  "It's actually not that bad, once you get used to it."

      "I'd rather not find out," he said.

      "Smart man," Tarrin agreed.  "The getting used to it is not pleasant."

      "I didn't think it would be."  They went through a door, and entered a huge room, much like a grand hall.  There were tables and benches aligned in orderly rows in the center, with a single table on a raised dais on the far end of the room.  There were already a great many people in the room, and almost all of them were sitting quietly at the tables, where a myriad of different foods sat and waited.  The smells of them made his stomach growl.  Sitting at the table on the dais were several men and women wearing assorted dresses, shirts, doublets, and robes, but Elsa was seated firmly in the center of the table facing the assembled Novices.  Dar led them to the closest empty seats, and he had them sit down fast.  "Anyone standing once the Mistress starts the meal prayer is sent away hungry," he explained in a very low whisper.

      Tarrin nodded calmly, taking in the nervous reactions of the other Novices seated near and around Tarrin.  They all couldn't help stare at him, but they tried to make it inconspicuous.  He decided that ignoring them would be the best thing to do.  Not an arm's reach away, a large platter of roasted ham sat, almost taunting him.  It was a tremendous act of will not to reach out and take it.

      "Everyone stand!" Elsa's booming voice called across the hall.  All the Novices stood respectfully and bowed their heads.  Tarrin endured a short little speech from Elsa, where she invoked the blessing of some Goddess on the meal, but Tarrin didn't listen to her.  He was more interested in hearing her voice stop than he was listening to her speak.  When the Novices began to take their seats, he realized that Elsa had stopped talking.  He sat down with Dar, and when he saw several people reach for platters of beef, or pork, or a bowl of potatos, he knew that it was time to eat.

      He graciously let everyone else take what they wanted off the platter he was eyeing, then he reached out and took the entire platter.  "Anyone else want any of this?" he asked pointedly, holding it out.  When nobody answered, he pushed his own plate away and set the platter in its place.  He looked at the small-handled fork by the plate with a bit of annoyance, and instead used the large serving fork that was on the platter.  It had a handle large enough for him to use.  The knife too was too small, but the claw on the index finger of his free hand was more than capable of being a substitute for a knife.  The razor-sharp tip of his claw neatly sliced up the meat to his liking, then he used the serving fork to get it to his mouth.  Someone poured fresh, chilled milk into a pewter mug that was beside him, and then that person moved down to do the same with Dar's mug.  He was more interested in the food, however, and he managed to finish off the entire platter of roasted ham, which had enough ham on it to feed five.  Dar gave him a rather wild look as he pushed the platter away and took a drink of milk.  "Do you always eat that much?" he asked.

      "Not always, but I'd been moving without eating much before I got here," he replied.  "I'm just catching up on missed meals."

      "I can understand that," he said, going back to his own meal.

      Tarrin could almost feel the energy of the meal surge into him as he sat there drinking his milk and waiting for Dar to finish.  Now that his body had more raw material to work with, he was very certain that he'd not look even half so thin by dinnertime.  He was looking forward to the studies with Sevren; he was curious just what his body was capable of doing.  This ability to restore lost body tissue was most interesting.  But then again, he felt that he should have known it would do that.  Something in the back of his mind, he thought it was the Cat, told him that he could grow back missing limbs, except for his head, and even regrow lost teeth and claws.  It was part of the regenerative capabilities inherent with his kind.

      And, he realized, it was the reason they didn't age.  The regeneration healed them of the effects of time, repairing any damage brought on by the marching of the seasons.  That was only logical, he realized calmly as he sat there.  The effects of time were not natural; well, they were natural, but they were not the natural state of his body, and that was how his regenerative ability maintained him.  An older him did not fit into his body's imprint of itself, and so it was corrected by regenerative healing.

      Tarrin was only seventeen.  He hadn't lived long enough to be able to appreciate the profound concept of living until someone killed him, maybe for thousands of years, but he was wise enough to know that he wasn't old enough.  It was something that he would have to think about in the time to come, something to ponder.

      After the meal, Dar took Tarrin around the Tower.  They went to the Library, the scribing chamber, out on the grounds, to the huge garden behind the Tower, then they walked along the highly polished black tiles of what was known as the Heart of the Goddess, a massive open space in the exact center of the Tower that ran from the base right up to the top.  While they walked, they talked.  Dar was an earnest young man with high goals and ideals, but they didn't include what his family wanted from him.  He was an accomplished artist, and he wanted to pursue that, while his family thought it was frivilous.  He also wanted to learn.  He was wildly curious about the world, and he almost didn't want to leave the Tower, to leave the vast Library, which was one of the largest and most complete in the world.  They strolled along the black tiles around the edge, near the wall, as Dar confided certain things to Tarrin that he knew the young man had not told other people.  Dar and Tarrin seemed to just connect, and he realized that he already considered the young Arkisian a close friend.  The Cat in him liked Dar just as much as the human did.  In the base of the floor, in a huge design, was the shaeram, the geometric star-in a star-in a circle design that was the symbol of the order.  It was done much differently than the medallions he'd seen, and that pointed some things out to him.  The medallions were a four-pointed star with concave sides inside a six-pointed star.  This symbol resembled that six pointed star, but instead of a star it was six individual triangles laid out corner to corner, third point out, all contained within the circle.  Each triangle was a different color.  They were red, blue, a shade of purple like violets, orange, yellow, and a lighter shade of purple that was obviously a different color.  The circle encircling them was green, and the concave four-pointed star within was white.  The design had to be about fifty paces across, taking up about three quarters of the floor.

      Tarrin felt...strange.  There was something in this vast chamber, but he couldn't quite put his claw on it.  It hovered right on the edge of his consciousness, almost like something that rested just at the edge of his vision, a sound that was so faint that he couldn't tell if it was real, the phantom of a scent in his nose.  "Do you feel that?" he asked Dar quietly, almost reverently.

      "Sometimes I do," he replied.  "There's something in this place, but the Sorcerers won't tell me what it is.  I think it has something to do with magic.  Not many people come in here, so I like to come in here alot and think."

      Tarrin advanced into the huge open area, still trying to understand the extremely vague sensation he was feeling.  His pads made no noise on the black tiles as they crossed the boundary and set foot on the green of the surrounding circle of the symbol.  Tarrin felt that unusual sensation more strongly as he advanced into the middle of the huge room.  He looked up into the soaring void that rose up over them, an enclosed area that went up so high that he could just barely make out the ceiling so far above.  Tarrin put a paw out in front of him, because he could almost see a something coalescing in front of him.  As he moved closer, it seemed to be more distinct.

      When his paw crossed the invisible barrier above where the green circle ended and the red triangle began, something strange happened.  A faint, ghostly radiance appeared