"Societies?" Sarraya asked.
"Think of them as guilds, or groups," Tarrin interjected. "Members of a society can belong to different tribes or clans, but the bond of society makes them a group to themselves. There is a society for every job or skill, from potters to warriors. A Selani can belong to more than one society, if he has more than one skill. Just to keep Denai from spending hours describing them."
"You know much of our people, Tarrin," Denai said, her voice telling him that she was impressed. "The shaman serve as the arbiters between clans or tribes when they have blood issues. The Holy Mother does not permit us to fight among ourselves, so our societies allow us to reach across clan lines when the need is there."
"I've been to the desert before, but we never really talked to the Selani," Sarraya told Denai. "I was visiting another Druid--"
"Druid? You mean the Watchers?"
"That's what he said you called him," Sarraya replied.
"Watchers are men and women of honor," Denai said. "They have always been helpful to our people when we've needed it. The Holy Mother has decreed that Watchers are to be treated with courtesy and respect. If you are a Watcher, then you're worthy of honor."
"Well, it's nice to be appreciated," Sarraya said, giving Tarrin a teasing look. "At least someone around here does."
"Don't worry, Denai. Sarraya will give you plenty of reasons not to think so highly of her in just a few days."
Sarraya glared at him, but Denai laughed.
"Well at least I don't snore!" she flared.
"Says you," he replied mildly.
She stuck her tongue out at him, then turned back to a smiling Denai. "What is this Gathering I heard about?"
"We gather together every year," she replied. "We trade goods and stories. We compete among ourselves in contest of skill, and the societies have a chance to gather and share knowledge and renew kinships. It's also a time to find husbands or wives, because it's not good for the people as a whole if too many marriages are made within the same tribe. We gather at the Cloud Spire, so its shade makes the long days less taxing on us."
"Sounds like a huge fair," Sarraya mused.
"Fair?"
"A fair is a good comparison. A fair is much like a Gathering," he told Denai.
"I meant to ask you something, Tarrin."
"What?"
"Your brands. Are you truly of the clan chief's blood?"
Tarrin gave her a curious look, then he rememebered that the little line through the clan brand on his shoulder denoted "royal blood," and was something only the blood of a Clan Chief wore. "My deshaida is the daughter of a clan chief," he told her. "I've never met her clan. She was the one who gave me the brands."
"Strange for her to do it without her clan's permission."
"She made it rather clear that it was unusual," he agreed. "But the circumstances were unusual too."
"What circumstances?"
"None that concern you," he told her rather shortly, crushing the bone with his sharp teeth and drawing out the marrow.
"Ignore him, Denai. Until he gets to know you, he'll be about as warm as an angry hornet."
"I meant no offense," Denai said contritely.
"Don't worry about it," Sarraya told her. "Old badger-butt over there doesn't like anyone at first. Just give him time, and he'll grow on you."
Tarrin fixed Sarraya with a flat stare, his tail stopping in mid-swish.
"See? Only someone who loved him would put up with that day after day," she said flippantly.
Despite herself, Denai laughed. "Why are you crossing the desert? Why not use those water-carriages that the beast-people use?"
"Ship. They're called ships," Sarraya told her. "We're travelling overland because it's a bit unsafe on the ocean right now. Tarrin's brands give him safe passage through the desert, and none of our enemies will follow us here."
"Enemies? It sounds like you have quite a story to tell," she said, her eyes taking on a dreamy quality.
"We do, but it'll have to wait for later. Tell me about that singing I was hearing as we left your people."
"They were singing for me," she replied. "Singing a prayer of good passage, so that the Holy Mother may watch over and protect me on my journey."
"Interesting. Tarrin told me that the Selani love to sing."
"Singing is the way the Holy Mother wishes us to say our prayers aloud," she told the Faerie. "Because we sing our prayers, we've found singing to be soothing to us, or voice our contentment. If you hear a Selani singing, then the Selani must be either feeling very good, or is a little upset."
"What happens when you want to pray for something that you don't have a song for?"
"The song is the prayer," she said pointedly. "We build the melody as we go. The better the song, the better the chance that the Holy Mother will answer the prayer. From the time we can speak, we learn the concepts of music and melody and harmony, all so we can be heard above other Selani when we pray."
"It sounds like a competition."
"I guess it is," Denai admitted. "Singing is one of the most serious competitions during the Gathering. The greatest singer in the desert is afforded much honor."
"What other competitions are there?"
"There are alot of them. One of the most honorable is the contest of the Dance," she said. "There are all sorts of contests of skill with weapons and feats of strength or agility. There are races and contests to see who can climb the highest up the Cloud Spire. The societies compete among themselves to see who can make the greatest object, or perform their craft with the greatest skill. The items that win those competitions stay with the winning Selani's clan until the next Gathering. It's a matter of honor to own an object that won a society's contest at the Gathering."
"What happens to them at the next Gathering?"
"They are given to the most promising apprentices of the societies, so they can study them and learn the secrets of their crafts," she replied.
"So, let me guess. The apprentices compete to see who gets to keep last year's winners?"
Denai nodded, reaching to her waist and pulling out a slender dagger. "This was one of those objects, made for the competition between oribu'oni. It was given to my brother when he won the right to own it, and he gave it to me. It's the best dagger I've ever owned. Its balance is perfect for throwing."
"You call it a dagger, I'd call it a sword," Sarraya grinned.
"Are all your people your size, Sarraya?"
"Of course," she smiled. "I'm actually a bit tall among my people."
"I've never seen a race so small. No offense," she said quickly.
"None taken, Denai. We know we're short. We don't have complexes about it, you know."
Tarrin snorted in derision. "You stay out of it!" Sarraya barked at him, then turned back to Denai. "Sometimes being so small has advantages. You just have to look for the good in it, that's all."
"Are all Tarrin's kind so, so tall?"
"No," Sarraya replied. "He's out of the ordinary for his kind, but as a whole, his kind are much taller than humans, or Selani."
"It only goes to show that it's as the Holy Mother teaches. That the world is full of great differences, and that those differences make the world richer for their presence."
"That's very profound," Sarraya said with no hint of teasing or amusement in her voice.
Denai gave Sarraya that charming smile, then took a sip of water from a waterskin. "We'll continue this way for a day or two more," she said. "But then we'll have to turn due north to avoid the Great Canyon."
"How far away is this Cloud Spire?" Sarraya asked curiously.
"It's in almost the exact center of the desert," Denai replied. "Nearly a month of travel, north and west of here."
"Really? I didn't realize that the desert was so big."
"It's nearly as large as the West," Tarrin told her absently.
"It'll take longer for my people to get there because they'll have to avoid certain dangerous areas," Dena
i said. "They'll spend almost as much time travelling south and east as they do north and west."
"What kind of areas?"
"The Great Canyon," she said, looking up as she thought. "The Maze of Passages, the Great Salt Flat, and the Boiling Lake."
"Boiling Lake? What is that?"
"A large lake, but the water is so hot it boils," she replied. "My mother says it's because of heat that comes from underground. The water boils as it comes out of the ground, and it has a bad smell. The very air around the Boiling Lake is unhealthy, so we avoid it. The whole region is empty, because the fumes from the lake and the water itself kill off any plants or animals that try to live there."
"What is the Maze of Passages?"
"It's an area of badlands," she replied. "Raised rock crisscrossed with countless deep crevasses that serve as passages through the region. The passages are infested with inu and kajat, preying off the animals and Selani foolish enough to enter the maze. We'll pass by there in about ten days. It's just past the Great Canyon's northern edge."
"It's a good thing you're here, then," Sarraya said. "Tarrin would lead us right into it, and get us immediately lost."
"You can fly. Why do you care?" Tarrin shot back in reply.
"I don't, but then I'd have to save you again and again, and you know old and boring that gets after about the fiftieth time," she teased.
"Whatever." He yawned. "I'm getting tired. I'm going to bed. You two had better remember that we have a long way to go tomorrow."
With that, he hunkered down and shifted into cat form. Denai's startled gasp as she rose to her feet quickly made him realize that he hadn't warned her or said anything, but in reality, he really didn't care all that much. He curled up near the fire and closed his eyes, allowing the care-free nature of the Cat soothe him and prepare him to sleep. The dreams and the eyeless face had trouble finding him when he was in cat form, and so it had become his preferred way to sleep. In reality, he preferred sleeping in cat form over his humanoid form most of the time anyway.
"Magic!" Denai breathed.
"Not magic, nature," Sarraya told her. "He's a Were-cat."
"What is that?"
"Well, sit back down, and I'll explain everything. I'll even explain a few things to you so you don't make a mistake around him. He may look all cute and cuddly, but he can be as savage as an inu. Well, actually, alot worse than that," she added as an afterthought.
"He's that dangerous?"
"He can be, if you're not careful around him. But like many kinds of animals, he's only dangerous if you trigger a hostile response from him. If you're careful around him, he can be as sweet and gentle as a newborn babe. Just listen, and I'll tell you everything you need to know about Were-cats, and Tarrin, Denai. When I'm done, you'll be an expert."
Tarrin drifted off to sleep as Sarraya's voice droned on, explaining the nature of his kind to the young Selani. Tarrin didn't mind. Sarraya would teach Denai what she needed to know not to get herself accidentally killed around him. That was always a good thing.
Chapter 11
Power.
It was all around him. He could sense it in the Weave, he could even sense it through the All, surrounding him, enticing him, causing him to reach towards it the way green things reached for the sun. The Weave was strong in this region of the desert, with an unusual concentration of strands surrounding a minor Conduit and two medium ones. That power pooled around him, coalesced in the strands immediately surrounding him, attracted to his presence by some unfathomable means. It reached towards him the same way he reached towards it, but some unknown force or means prevented them from making contact with one another.
Sitting in the full force of the sun, eyes closed and attention focused inward, Tarrin sought to find his way to that energy. The heat of the sun was actually helping him, soothing him with its warmth, almost feeling like it was flowing through him the same way that the power of the Weave used to flow through him. He could feel every nuance within the Weave, feel it for longspans in every direction, even deep under the earth. He could feel the collection of energies around him, as the energy flowed through the strands to collect around him, to pool up as if to bask in his presence. That strange energy always followed him around, and he still had no real true understanding as to what it was. He knew that it was a residual energy that was created by the interaction of the flows within the strands. Almost like a by-product of the flowing of magical energy through the Weave. It was also created when Priest or Wizard magic entered and exited the Weave. Like a harmonic or echo of magical power, a harmonic spawned by the original, yet the harmonic remained inside the Weave long after the original was gone.
Voices disturbed him. Sarraya and Denai were chatting again, taking advantage of the break in their journey northwest to eat lunch and talk. The two of them seemed to have struck up a good friendship. Denai was even calling Sarraya shaida now. The Selani hadn't really annoyed him so far today, but it was just the day before when they met. She was bound to annoy him eventually. Tarrin had spent the morning teaching Sarraya more and more Sha'Kar as they moved, and the little Faerie had so far proved to be an exceptional student. She never forgot anything. He felt some fringes of Druidic magic around her while he was teaching, so he had some suspicions that she was using her magic to boost her learning. The same way that Dolanna had when she learned Sha'Kar in a matter of days. The idea of teaching Sarraya with Denai in earshot had concerned him at first, but then he realized that she was Selani. If he forced her to swear blood oath never to teach what she learned to someone else, then it would go no further than her. He didn't entirely trust her, but he knew the Selani. He trusted their culture more than their members.
Nowhere. He was getting nowhere again. No matter how he tried to reach out to the Weave, it simply wasn't there. Just a short time of trying had worked up his temper, and he knew that he had to stop before he got so aggravated that Denai's presence became dangerous.
Opening his eyes, he blew out his breath. He hadn't tried last night, and he wasn't about to let that go. They had stopped twice to rest or eat, and both times he had sat down in a meditative position and tried to find his power again. This was the third time, and it was no more successful than the other two. He rubbed his eyes gingerly with a finger and a thumb, then uncurled his tail from around his legs. The mental effort of reaching for the power was surprising, leaving him feeling a little tired every time he tried it. That fatigue would fade quickly, so it wasn't a real problem for him.
What was the answer? It almost drove him crazy. He knew that he could do it. He'd seen that Sha'Kar woman use her power, and he knew that he could do it too. But it was like trying to cage the wind. He had tried so many different ways to reach out to the Weave, but it was like it was a ghost. He could see it, but he couldn't touch it. What made it worse was that his sense of the Weave grew sharper and sharper in the days since the fight with the Sha'Kar woman. His sense of the Weave grew more and more clear, more precise, and he could sense it from greater and greater distances. He had gotten to the point where he could almost see the energy flowing through it, like pulses of light travelling along the ghostly tendrils that hid behind the reality before him. And it still pulsed in that sound that was like a heartbeat, expanding and contracting in time like blood flowing through vessels, like he was somehow inside the bodiless form of the Goddess herself, and could see the true workings of her wonders from the inside.
At least today there were no real distractions. The eyeless face was still there, lurking just underneath his conscious, but for some reason it had been unusually subdued today. The emotions it incited in him were also more subdued today, allowing him to think more than feel, and not feel as if his world was floating on the blood of the innocent, innocents destroyed by his own hand. He could still feel it there, but for a change, it did not attempt to torture him this day.
Denai approached him. She was about average height for a Selani female, which made her unnaturally tall to a human, but
she seemed almost laughably short to him. She only came up to his chest. With him seated, he nearly came up to her shoulders, putting his eyes on a direct level with her breasts. She stopped a few paces from him, making sure that he had seen her and acknowledged her presence, then came within arm's reach of him slowly. That close to her, her coppery scent washed over him like rain, making him miss Allia. Denai's scent was markedly similar to his sister's. The idea that she was standing but he was seated flitted through his mind, reminding him that he was at a disadvantage. At first, he wanted to stand, but the part of him that chanted over and over again that there was nothing to fear from Denai made him stay seated, to stay in a vulnerable position, to see what she would do. If she attacked, he was confident he could take her down with his tail, and then it was a simple matter of finishing her off. "I made oatcakes, Tarrin," she offered. "I even have some honey to flavor them."
"I'm not hungry, Denai."
"You haven't eaten all day," she protested. "You need to eat, or the sun will drain you of your strength."
"The sun doesn't bother me, Denai," he said calmly, looking up at her. "I'm not human. Heat doesn't bother my kind." Well, it was almost true. Were-cats were highly adaptable. Given about a month or so, the heat truly wouldn't bother one.
"Fine. Here," she said, holding out a waterskin. "I know you need this."
He looked at the skin with narrow eyes, his feral nature rising up. The thought of what she did to that water rushed through him first, then he quashed such irrational thoughts deliberately. The girl was a Selani. She'd never intentionally poison someone. That was inexcusably dishonorable. He reached out carefully to take the skin, and as soon as he had it in his paw, he snatched it away from her, pulling his paw away from any possible danger.
She levelled her amber eyes on him, eyes that reminded him of Keritanima, then she smiled that charming smile of hers. "Look. No blood," she said, holding up her hands palms out.
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