The Tower of Sorcery f-1

by James Galloway

  "I will, I promise," he replied sincerely.

  "Now scoot, Initiate," she said with a teasing voice, patting him on the hip. "That's an order."

  "Yes ma'am," he chuckled, standing up from the wall and then padding down the passageway. Something about what happened frightened him, frightened him considerably. Something was different, inside. He could feel it. He only had an active awareness of his own power for half of a day, but the natural way that it felt allowed him to understand how things had felt before. Though the Weave still felt natural, the fact that he could sense it, almost see it, told him that things were not as they were before.

  Too many things.

  Tarrin sat in the courtyard at the center of the maze, cross-legged on the ground in front of the stone bench, picking at the fur on his ankle and thinking quite deeply. It was midafternoon, and though nobody had tried to come and get him and talk to him, nobody quite knew where he was. He figured that Jula ran to the Council the instant Tarrin was out of her sight, and he didn't feel like being examined like a lab rat. So instead of going back to his room, he shapeshifted and slinked off into the garden. He had learned quite a while ago that he attracted alot of attention when he moved around-most Novices and Initiates hugged the walls when he passed by-but a black cat was almost completely ignored. There were veritable legions of cats on the grounds, some were pets, and the rest were strays that were fed and used as a deterrent against mice. And Tarrin fit in with them quite easily, giving him the ability to move around without everyone staring and pointing at him. Sometimes it got on his nerves, sometimes it reminded him of how out of place he was among the younger, more normal Initiates, but mostly it made sure that everyone knew where he was almost at all times.

  Too many things were happening, and they were coming too fast. He laid back and stretched out on the grass, looking up at the cloudy sky. The wind was raw and cool, a signal that summer was over, though the gardens were still green and lovely. The clouds obscured the sky, heavy, laden gray clouds that cast a murky pall over the land. The type that always threatened rain, but never carried out on the promise. They fit his mood at the moment, for he had no idea what to do now.

  The first was what had happened to him in that Conduit. It had changed him, somehow. He'd only had half a day to be happy that he finally figured out how to make contact with the Weave, and now the Weave was hostile to him. He'd tried many, many times to touch with Weave without it backlashing on him, but it happened every single time. It was as if the Weave were trying to trap him within it, and it was filling him with more power than he could safely contain. And every time he did it, trying to cut himself off from it became more and more difficult. He knew that doing it along was crazy, almost suicidal, but he had to know, and he didn't want the katzh-dashi to interfere. The last time he tried, the time that made him stop, the Weave nearly fried him from the inside out before he finally managed to sever himself from it. He wasn't going to try that again. He had just discovered his power, and then it was put out of his reach. And what made it deadly was it was right there, the sword he could pick up at any time and use to chop off his own head. Maybe Jula was right, maybe the accident had somehow damaged or injured his capability to use Sorcery. Perhaps it would come back, perhaps it wouldn't but it didn't change things right now. And the short term was starting to look like it was going to be absolutely critical to his very survival.

  The second was the Doomwalker. He had been expecting another attack, but he hadn't considered that it would also go after his sister. She was a strong Sorcerer, but he had absolutely no idea of why it would go after her. Other than simply to punish him, to taunt him with that information should it start to lose the fight. But that hadn't been an issue. He was warrior enough to know when he had his kiester kicked. Jegojah, it called itself, had cleaned up the floor with him. Tarrin got in some licks, but the Doomwalker had never been put in a very bad position. It had used Tarrin's momentary rage against him, and had displayed an outstanding fighting ability. If that weren't bad enough, it could also use magic, and knew how to use it. If he hadn't have been knocked into the Conduit, Tarrin would have lost. He could admit it without feeling bad, because no matter how good one was, there was always someone better.

  It still didn't make much sense. Jegojah had brought more than enough to the table to deal with him, and Tarrin had the feeling that it knew it. So why attack Jenna? Why risk destruction by attacking a little girl, who happened to be protected by two of the nastiest fighters in Aldreth, maybe even all of Sulasia, and no less than two Sorcerers? It didn't make much sense. But then again, nothing made sense to him because he didn't know what was going on.

  And that was the third problem. The fight, and what had happened to him, may interfere with Keritanima's plan. He hoped not, because it was getting to the point where absolutely had to find out what was going on. Everyone around him was acting on information that was being kept from him. He was certain that the string of seemingly illogical events were all connected by a common thread. For him to know what to do, he had to find out as much as he could about what was going on around him. Why he was so important, what made him so important, and what part his sister, Allia, and Keritanima played in it.

  The fight with the Doomwalker had disrupted everything, and he realized that there had been several of those. They were trying to kill him, but they were succeeding in disrupting his plans with the attempts. Jesmind, who could not have changed his life any more without killing him. The attack by the Wyvern that separated him from Dolanna and the others. The Wraith, who very nearly killed him, and caused them to raise the Ward that trapped him in the Tower. And now the Doomwalker, who had caused him to somehow injure his ability to use Sorcery. He wasn't sure if that was a good observation, but that was the way it seemed to be working out.

  He had no idea what to do now. He was becoming afraid of trying to touch the Weave, and if he couldn't use his power, he had the strange feeling that he may become expendable to the Council. He had no idea what they wanted him for in the first place. He was starting to expect a washtable to attack him. They'd thrown just about everything else at him, and mostly through sheer luck, he'd managed to survive. They had to be running out of ideas.

  He missed Jesmind. She had such a simple way of looking at things. For her, everything was black or white, and she didn't lie, and she also took everything everyone told her for the truth. Until she realized it was a lie, anyway, and then she got violent. If only the world could be like that for him. Everything good or bad, right or wrong, friend or foe. Not enemies that turned out to be friends, and potential enemies pretending to be friends, and everything in between. He felt quite overwhelmed at the scope of the machinations going on around him, and he suspected that there were many more beyond his ability to see. He was a simple village boy, raised for a life in the regimented order of the army. Not this. Adjusting to being Were had been almost more than he could handle, and what was going on around him just seemed out of his reach. He didn't feel in control, like he was a pawn on a lanceboard, waiting for the next player to pick him up and move him.

  He rolled over and started picking at the grass, experiencing the power of its scent, feeling it between his pads. Such a small thing, yet it could live almost anywhere, and it was very tough. If you cut it, it grew back. If you killed it, more grass just took its place. It softened the ground, kept it from washing away in the rain, and it made things beautiful. And all it wanted in return was a little sunshine, a little water, and some fresh air. He could definitely relate to the grass. He wanted out of the Tower. He wanted a little sunshine, a little water, and some fresh air himself. Preferably in some dark, untouched forest, well away from the human lands, where he could live free and unfettered by how others saw him.

  But was he willing to let people cut him, try to kill him, to get it?

  Grass had it easy, he decided. But then again, what choice did it have?

  Nothing for nothing, his mother always said. If you put in not
hing, you got nothing in return. There would be a dark forest and simple living, but he would have to work for it. And that meant enduring what was happening to him now, getting it overwith so he could find his little den somewhere nice. Closing his eyes, he put his chin on the back of his paw, listening to the sound of the wind rustling the hedges, rose bushes, and the grass, feeling it in his fur, on his skin, smelling the scents of the Tower, of people, and of the city beyond that was carried upon it. Grounded in his senses, Dolanna had said. He had to agree. What the Cat couldn't sense, couldn't see, it wasn't important to it. There was no now but now, no place but here, no time but that in which it lived. A serenity of selective amnesia, where the past was forgotten, the future didn't exist, and the whole world existed only in its own territory.

  Sometimes cats had it easy too.

  There would be no losing himself in the Cat again. Not now. Things were too important, and they were happening way too fast.

  He needed to find Allia. Not for anything serious though, he just felt the sudden need for company. He felt very small and very alone, surrounded by things so much larger than himself that he no longer had any meaning, and it was a humbling and frightening sensation. Allia was his sister, in every sense of the word except blood, and she could always make him feel like he mattered, if only to her.

  Allia was laying on her side on her bed, a worried look on her face, a book laying before her. He had no doubt that she was worried about him, and that made him feel just a little guilty. Tarrin had disappeared after leaving his sickbed, and had told no one where he was going. He was burdening everyone he cared about, and giving nothing but grief back in return.

  She looked up at him, and her greeting died on her lips when she saw his expression. She simply moved her book and patted the bed in front of her.

  Tarrin flowed into his cat form and jumped up on the bed, then laid down against his sister. She put her hand over him, stroking his fur, soothing his fear and worries. And he clung to that sensation, using it to try to calm his fears, letting it melt away everything that was disturbing him. The ever-threatening clouds finally carried out their threat of rain, and the sound of the drops striking the glass pane of the window melded with Allia's sweet voice, as she sang an old ballad in her native tongue, and the pleasant merging of the song of the Selani with the music of nature caused Tarrin to give way to his primal instincts. He slipped into a more Cat-like mindset, allowing the instincts to join with his conscious mind, finding solace in the forgetfulness of his animal soul.

  He lost himself in the Cat, if only for a little while. There would be plenty of time for worrying tomorrow.

  Keritanima's new cat was a long-haired gray, a large, nasty brute with quite an attitude. But Tarrin had learned some time before that normal cats would treat him with respect, so its greeting was full of bluster, yet strangely honorable. Tarrin had only talked to two normal cats before, preferring to generally let the others be and not tip his hand that he had that ability. Though nobody could hear it, cats did tend to act out of their instincts when engaged in rational conversation with a Were-cat, as if the magical creature could exert influence on their normal cousins and make them more capable of conversation. That would make it somewhat obvious that he was doing something to the animal.

  The cat's scratching at his door had awakened him, quite a feat considering that he was still in Allia's room. She was asleep, and Tarrin had been curled up by her pillow. But he jumped down and padded back into his room, then scented the cat on the other side of the door. He changed form and opened the door, curious as to why a cat would be trying to get his attention, and the big gray strutted into his room casually. He was a very big cat, young and strong, wearing an elaborate leather collar studded with jewels. "The she who feeds me put me down here," the cat told him in its unspoken manner. "Your scent made me curious."

  It did have Keritanima's scent on it. Tarrin squatted down and crooked his finger at the cat, and it approached and sat down in front of him. "How did you know to scratch at the door?" he asked as his large fingers started to probe the collar. "Did the she put something in your collar?"

  "I scratch at her door," the cat replied calmly. "Humans, and the she, are so easy to tell what to do."

  There was a note in the collar, cleverly inserted into a flap between the outer layer of leather that supported the gems and an inner layer that protected the cat's neck from the studs and settings holding the gems in place. "From time to time, the she is going to put something in your collar, and tell you to find me. I would be very honored if you would do as she asks. What she is doing is very important, and I need you to bring me what she gives you quickly."

  "For a brother, I will do this thing," the cat replied.

  "It would make me very happy."

  "How do I know the she wants me to find you?"

  "She will put little things in your collar and then speak my name to you. It sounds like this in the voice of the humans." He spoke his name, then repeated it three more times, so the cat could fully memorize the sound of it.

  "I can do that," the cat told him. "When she puts things in my collar or speaks the sound of that to me, I will come to you."

  "I will appreciate it. I will let you back out, so you can find your she."

  "She is a strange creature. She smells of predator, but acts like humans."

  "She is cousin to the predator you smell, but is not predator herself," he told the cat. "Cats are not food to her."

  "This is good to know."

  Tarrin stood up and opened the door. "I thank you for bringing me this. Go find your she, and expect rewards."

  "I will," it said, then it sauntered out the door.

  When he closed the door, he worked to unfold the very tiny note. Keritanima had folded it down to the point where even his clawtips had trouble finding the seams and parting them. Tarrin had to endure the pain of human hands in order to get the note unfolded. His paws were sometimes too large to perform tasks on very small objects.

  The note was very short and to the point. Tarrin, I think you and Allia need to bathe.

  That was easy enough. The baths were deserted before dawn, and that was when Tarrin and Allia preferred to use them. Both of them had trouble in attracting attention when in the baths. Tarrin, for obvious reasons, but Allia found bathing uncomfortable when surrounded by Novices, because the hot stares of the adolescent boys made her feel aggressive. Allia wasn't ashamed of her body in the slightest, but she took offense to men and boys who were total strangers staring at her in that manner. Even Tarrin had to admit that it was hard not to look, and he had absolutely no romantic feelings for his sister whatsoever. Allia wasn't human, but that only enhanced the fact that she had a body any human woman would kill to have for herself. If she were human, she wouldn't be half as lovely or perfectly formed.

  Allia was very easy to wake up. All he had to do was walk into her room. Her Selani senses were sharp; where Tarrin's nose and ears were inhumanly sensitive, for Allia it was her ears and eyes. She could hear a fly walking on the wall, and read an open book from halfway across the Knights' training field. Her luminous eyes opened when he came into the room, and she sat up. "Keritanima wants to talk to us," he told her. "Down in the bathing room."

  "Then let's see what she wants," Allia said immediately, sliding out of bed.

  Keritanima's lizard Wikuni guards were standing at the top of the stairs that led to the baths, and it was obvious that they were keeping everyone else out. But when Tarrin and Allia appeared, the two nine-span tall monsters simply stepped aside, motioning with their huge clawed hands. The expansive chamber below was empty, except for Keritanima. She was unclothed, a towel on her lap, and she was brushing out her fur with a silver horsehair brush. Keritanima was fully furred, and with her dress off, her fox-fur markings were quite distinctive. The white swath that started under her chin widened to dominate her front, giving way to the rusty red that colored her arms, legs, and back. Her feet and hands were brown, as w
ere the tips of her ears and tail. Though he had seen that before, it gave her an entirely different sense with the humanizing dress removed. She looked much more an animal when not wearing her dress. He knew she was lithe, but she cut quite a figure out of her clothes, sleek and slender.

  "It's about time," she said in a calm, if slightly testy, voice. She spoke Selani, and that incited her companions to reciprocate.

  "Your cat must have waited a while before trying to get my attention," Tarrin replied.

  "So it did figure out to come find you," she said. "Good. I just got it today, and I wasn't sure what it would do. I was about to send Binter to get you."

  "Binter?"

  "One of my guards," she replied.

  "What did you want to see us for, shaida?" Allia asked bluntly.

  "Have a seat. Or, for appearance's sake, have a bath," she said. "I just got my fur dry. In this humid air, it takes forever."

  "You seem very comfortable sharing your bath with a male," Tarrin observed.

  "We're different races, Tarrin," she said primly. "Besides, what I have, you can't see. This fur coat is very good for that."

  "Point taken," he said, shrugging out of his shirt. Allia and him quickly undressed, and they slid into the bathing pool just at Keritanima's feet. Keeping up appearances, just in case someone did manage to spy on them. "I assume that you wanted more than just our company, or am I here to marvel at the perfection of the Royal form?"

  She laughed. "Much as I enjoy letting my guard down around you two, no, I'm afraid this is business," she told him. "After what happened to you, the Tower is absolutely abuzz with rumor and hearsay. I've already picked up quite a few little tidbits. Miranda didn't know where to begin trying to repeat it."