"Humans," Tarrin sighed. "You're so quirky. After you see someone naked once, does it matter how many more times you see it?"
"I don't like doing it either," Dar told him. "I think having to take a bath with the girls is the worst part of the day."
"I'll go with you," he said. "I feel like taking another bath. That bathing pool is just too handy."
"It'd be real nice if I didn't have to take my clothes off in front of girls," Dar grumbled.
Tarrin laughed, which made Dar blush. Which made him laugh even more. Now he understood why Jesmind was so amused at his own discomfort. And now that he seemed to be closer to Jesmind's way of thinking, it was just as amusing to him as it was to her. It was such a silly custom, almost ridiculous, for humans to be so ashamed of themselves.
Dar and Tarrin left their room and fell into step with the other Novices that lived on their floor. They all seemed as sulky as Dar. Tarrin also noted that many of them stared at him in wide-eyed amazement, and not a few of them wouldn't get that close to him. That made him sigh a bit. It wasn't like he was some unholy monster there to drink the living blood from their veins. He was a person, after all. He even had a name. He understood that to them, he was a very strange creature, but it was silly to be afraid of him. He was a Novice, just like them. It wasn't like he'd gotten himself into the Tower so he could eat the unwary young Novices.
He ignored them as best he could. He was more interested in a hot bath than anything else. That he attended to with a brisk businesslike manner of which Dar seemed to approve. They disrobed and jumped right into the water, and he waded out into the hot water quickly, before others could get over there and intrude on his space. He had plans for the day, several of them. The first was to take his staff outside and start working out the differences that there would be. He had larger hands now. He was stronger, faster, and he had natural weaponry. He needed to work with them more than the chaotic, half-instinctual way he'd been using them. He needed to know exactly what he could do, so he would know exactly what he was capable of doing. In a fight, that was dreadfully important. His life would hinge on it. Then he would go to the library and start reading about Sorcery. He'd discovered from talking with Dar last night that they didn't start really teaching Sorcery until the Initiate. Well, he wanted to know now. And he was pretty sure that he could talk Dolanna into giving him lessons, whether or not they were sanctioned by the Tower. Before he started doing that, he wanted to read about it. Besides, he was rather sure that they'd watch him very closely for a while. He'd just arrived, and they had no idea what he was about. They'd watch him carefully until they were certain that he wasn't going to do anything unusual. At least for him. After that, if he had time, he wanted to explore the rest of the grounds more thoroughly. That, he knew, was a purely Cat instinct, to know his territory, but he was more than willing to go along with the idea. He was curious to see what all there was out on the grounds, which were about three times the size of Aldreth. And after that, he would meet with Dolanna in the library at sunset.
He'd been right about his body repairing itself, though. He wasn't half as thin as he'd been this time the day before. His ribs were again sheathed in a layer of muscle, and the little aches and pains had faded quite some time ago. It had only taken a single day with a huge amount of food for his body to restore what had been consumed during his period of near-starvation. He looked healthy, and he felt healthy. He was strong again, strong enough to take his staff out in the field and work with it.
"Man, this is hot," Dar complained as he lathered his hair.
"I like it like this," Tarrin said.
"It's tolerable, but only just," he said.
"For you."
"Hey, I'm the only one that matters," he said with a grin.
"You might think so," Tarrin shot back.
"You mean the world doesn't revolve around me? I'm crushed."
"You look it."
Dar answered that by splashing water at him. Tarrin retaliated by snaking his long tail around the boy's ankle, and then yanking. Tarrin's tail was by no means as stong as the rest of his body, but it was strong enough. Dar disappeared under the water with shocking speed, and then came up spluttering. "Cheater," he accused after spitting out a mouthful of water.
"Oh, did my tail catch on your leg? I'm so sorry," Tarrin said with false sincerity. "Let me help you up."
"That thing is long," Dar remarked, looking behind Tarrin in the water.
"About half again as long as my leg," Tarrin told him calmly. "Long enough to be useful."
"I noticed," Dar said after he stuck his tongue out at the Were-cat.
"It doesn't look it because it moves all the time, and it's always bent," Tarrin said, washing the soap out of the fur on his arms.
Dar laughed. "Your tail reaches farther than your arms."
"I guess it does."
"And you can grab things with it?"
"Yes. It's not as delicate as my fingers, but it's got enough agility to grab things."
"That's the first time I ever heard of the butt grabbing the hand."
Tarrin gave him a face, then laughed. "Wait til it smacks you. Then you can say that it's the first time a butt ever smacked back."
Dar laughed with him as they climbed out of the bathing pool. But it also made Tarrin consider the possibilities. From a combat situation, his tail was a tactical advantage. It gave him a third arm, as it were, one that didn't have an elbow and was as supple as a snake. He made a mental note to ponder that. He was rather sure he'd thought of that once before, but he hadn't pursued it last time. Most likely it had been during his flight from Jesmind, and at that time he was too busy trying to survive.
They went back to their room and dressed, then they stood at the hallway leading to the Hall, waiting for the Mistress of Novices to appear and lead them in. Dar explained that the food was already laid out on the tables, but those unlucky Novices that had pulled kitchen duty, and only awaited them to come in and sit down. They had the same thing for breakfast every day. Cooked eggs, slices of bacon, ham, porridge, bread, milk, and fresh fruit, when it was in season.
Elsa appeared a short while later, and she stopped in front of Tarrin. "You look a whole world better, boy," she noted.
"I feel just fine, Mistress," he assured her.
"Good. You're entering the Noviate tomorrow. Oh, and don't forget to pick up your clothes from the Quartermaster after breakfast. He's waiting on you."
"I'll take care of it, Mistress Elsa," he promised.
"I saw that staff in your room, boy. You're not supposed to have that. Unless, of course, it's of sentimental value."
"I've owned it for five years, Mistress. I made it myself. It's got a great deal of sentimental value."
"Good," she said. "That's all I wanted to hear. And if anyone asks, you'll tell them that. Understood?"
"Understood, Mistress," he told her. Then she led them into the Hall.
"What was that all about?" he asked in a hushed voice. Elsa was only a bit ahead of them.
"We're not allowed to have weapons, except for a personal knife. I didn't think it was a weapon," he shrugged.
"It's very much one, if you know how to use it that way," he told him in an equally hushed voice. "I could teach you, if you want."
"I may take you up on that. It's always handy how to know how to fight with something so ordinary."
"That's the idea," he said. "My mother could whip your tail with nothing but her hands and feet. My father could do it with a leather belt."
"A belt?"
Tarrin nodded. "I've never seen one used quite that way, and I doubt I ever will. He could even block a sword blow with it. He said he learned it because even if you lose everything else, you'll always have your belt."
Dar chuckled. "That's a very smart idea." They entered the Hall and took the closest available seats, but they didn't touch any food. That came after the blessing. "Your mother knows the Ungaardt Ways?" he asked in a whisper.
Tarrin nodded. "She taught them to me, but I'm still not as good as she is."
"I heard that they don't often teach them to women," he said.
"You heard wrong," Tarrin told him. "Even a village grandmother has some training in the Ways. It's a custom."
Many more Novices poured in, many of them still damp from the baths. After the hall was more or less full, Elsa stood up and delivered the blessing in a booming voice. When she was done, the Novices started in on breakfast. Now that he was mended, he didnt' have a quarter of the appetite he'd had the day before, so his breakfast plate was much more reasonable. He did like scrambled eggs, so he put more on his plate than was good for him, then added some bacon and fried ham to it. He didn't touch the porridge, but did have an apple after cleaning his plate.
As he'd discovered the day before, he wasn't required to sit and wait for everyone else to finish. Once a Novice was done with the meal, they were permitted to leave and get about their affairs. Tarrin bid good day to Dar and left the Hall, going straight to the Quartermaster's. The wiry man greeted him warmly when he entered. "Ah, I see you got my clothes," he said.
"Thank you, sir. They were very handy. I don't like wearing robes."
"With that tail, I can understand why. I have your clothes ready for you. Come with me and we'll get them."
The wiry man led him to a shelf some ways back into the huge room. "Those are the same size as the ones you have on now," he said. "Hmm, maybe I should have made them looser. They're already snug on you."
"No, sir, this size is perfect," he assured him. "I'm as thick as I'm going to get."
"But you were thin as a stick yesterday."
"I got better," he said with a mischievous grin.
"I don't think I want to know, so spare me the details," he said dryly. "With all the magical things that go on around here, I should know better than to ask anymore."
"Oh, what do you want me to do with the old robe?" he asked.
"Keep it," he said. "It'll make good rags if anything else. That's what I was about to do with it."
"I'll find something to do with it, sir," he assured him.
"Well, I won't keep you. I know they keep you Novices busier than a frog on a griddle. Have a good day, young man."
"You too, sir," he mirrored.
Tarrin took his clothes back to his room and put them away neatly in the chest. He took off the ones he was wearing and put on a set of his old leathers out of his pack, then picked up his staff and went outside. He debated where to do his practicing for several moments. It had to be an open area out of the way. But a moment of thought told him that the perfect place was that sand-strewn area he'd crossed the night he arrived. It even had several large posts driven into the ground, and was obviously a training field for someone, most likely the Tower guards. If nobody was using it, it would be perfect for his needs.
But it was indeed being used. A squad of young men wearing leather pseudo-armor labored on the field, swinging lathe-bundled practice swords to the barking command of a burly man wearing the plate armor of a Knight. Farther down the line, young men swung their practice swords at the wooden posts, and in another place they sparred against each other. About seven or eight other Knights prowled the field, correcting stances and giving instruction as they moved, or they supervised the sparring matches with a keen eye. Tarrin also noticed three robed Sorcerers standing to one side. They were obviously there in case of an accidental injury.
As Tarrin approached, he recognized one of the prowling Knights. It was Faalken. Dolanna had said that he trained students when not out with her. Faalken noticed him and trotted out quickly to greet him, his plate armor jingling as he moved. "Tarrin!" he said joyfully, clapping the Were-cat's paw in his strong hand. "Dolanna told me you were back. You look very well."
"I do now," he said ruefully. "I wasn't in very good shape when I got here."
"Yes, she told me. She said it wasn't easy on you."
"Not by a measure," he grunted.
He took notice of his staff. "Here to practice a bit?"
"I remembered seeing the field, but I didn't know if it would be used," he said apologetically. "I'll go find someplace else."
"Nonsense," he said. "You're more than welcome here. It's not often that we get to see someone other than Elsa use the Ways, anyway."
"Is she any good?" he asked.
"Let's just say that I've never seen a Sorceress thump so many heads without magic," he said with a grin.
"I'm not surprised," he said back. "She's from the Emden clan, and they've always been very good at the Ways. It's a matter of pride with them."
"Yes, well, just find yourself an open spot," he invited. "I hope you won't mind if some of us watch."
"Not really," he said.
Tarrin picked a small corner of the soft sand practice field and turned the staff over in paws several times, getting a feel for the changes. The staff seemed a little smaller to him now, and he'd have to adjust his grip on it. He started going through forms, very slowly, sliding from one to the next with a fluid grace and feeling the changes in leverage, the shifts in the grip he'd have to make, the adjustments to take his new height into account. His wide feet gave him more stability than before, and his Were-cat sense of balance and equilibrium was a definite asset. He worked through the same forms again several times, going faster and faster each time, until he whirled through the routine at blazing full speed. He almost dropped the staff three times, but his inhuman agility and speed allowed him to snatch it back before it got out of control. His huge paws made walking the staff over the back of his paw harder than it had been before, which meant he'd have to be more careful with grip-shift moves.
Tarrin began to sweat as he started practicing with some of the more difficult forms, slowly working himself into the changes the bite had brought about and adapting to them. He knew it would take more than just one day, but he was pleased at the amount of progress he'd already made after a few short hours of work.
He then started with the mixed move forms, staff moves that were accented with punches or kicks, even headbutts and several throws. He began to experiment, changing a punch into a claw rake or a stab with the pointed ends of his claws, changing a foot sweep into a tail-sweep. All in all, making such minor changes wasn't much of a problem, just very subtle changes to his stances or sets to take a broader swipe into account and such.
"Not bad," Faalken complemented as Tarrin stopped for a moment to gather in his breath. "I forgot how good you are with that thing."
"It's coming along," Tarrin told him. "I need to practice the hand forms. I think it'll be harder for me to use them that the staff now."
"Why is that?"
"Because alot of what they are depends on your strengths and weaknesses," he said. "All those are different for me now. I'll almost have to re-teach myself the forms. Weapons don't change like that. Well, sure, there are some things that are different now, but it's adjusting to the weapon. In hand forms, I have nothing to adjust to, so that changes it all around." He made a face. "If that makes any sense."
"I understand what you're trying to say, even if you're doing a bad job of it," he said with a grin. "Weapon forms are weapon forms, but your hand forms are more or less suited just for you. You're a different you now, so you need to use new forms."
"Exactly," he said. "What I already know is all I need. I just need to learn the new way to use them. I have these claws now, and the tail. I need to learn how to use them in a fight."
"Wise idea," he said with an outrageous smile.
"You," Tarrin said, shaking a paw at him. "It's good to practice again," he sighed. "I forgot what it was like. And I still want to beat my mother in a fight."
"I think you could do that now," Faalken observed slyly.
"I wouldn't cheat," he said in an outraged tone.
"How is it cheating?"
"It just is," he said after a moment's blank look.
"When are you going to give up that o
vergrown toothpick and use a real weapon?" Faalken asked.
"Like what?"
"Like a sword."
"I've used swords before. I don't like them," he said. "They're too crude."
"Crude?" Faalken gasped in feigned shock.
"Crude," he said again. "They have no style. Any fool can pick up a sword and use one."
"I'm glad you think so," Faalken laughed.
"And they're crude in using them as well," he added. "It's too easy to kill when you don't want to kill. With my staff, I have to make a conscious choice to deliver a killing blow. It's not as uncertain as it is with a sword."
"You just never learned how to control one," Faalken told him. "If you think it's that crude, then you have alot to learn about them."
"I do know how to use one," he said. "My father uses one. But then again, my father won't draw it unless he intends to kill, so there's no open area about leaving people alive as far as he's concerned."
"So…you consider it crude because you don't like it?" Faalken surmised.
"Just about," Tarrin said with a grin. "Keep you toy, Faalken. I'll stay with a real weapon."
"What happens if you don't have it with you?" Faalken asked.
"Faalken, my friend, that's what these are for," he replied, showing the Knight his claws. "And I can't leave these behind. They're with me everywhere I go."
Faalken laughed. "Point taken," he acceded. "But all in all, I'd still like to see you practice the sword. And the axe, and any other weapons you know. Best get used to using them as you are, in case you ever come to a situation where you need to use them."
"I can agree to that," he said after a moment. "Better to be ready for what will never be."
"Because only a fool says never," Faalken finished the saying.
Tarrin looked up at the sun. It was nearly noon. The students were filing off the field in neat rows, and that reminded him that it was about time for lunch. "I have to go, Faalken," he said. "I'll see you later."
The Tower of Sorcery f-1 Page 30
