by Fel
Tarrin was more or less adopted into the house of Tomas the merchant, his wife Janine, and their daughter Janette, because Tomas the merchant couldn't find the missing owner. There was also Nanna the maid, Dernan the butler, and Deris the cook, and the uncountable ladies that made up Janine's social circle.
It was a large house, with three stories and a basement, filled with expensive furniture, silk buntings, and intricate tapestries, and where Arakite rugs laid thickly on the floor. It was the domain of Janine the wife, and she ran it like a little general. Everything had a place, and it was kept in strict order. Even the dust was strictly arranged by size and consistency before Nanna had a chance to come by and sweep it up. At first, Janine the wife had no idea where Tarrin would fit into that order. He was a cat, after all, and she had real fear for her expensive tapestries and curtains. But Tarrin solved that problem by remaining as inobtrusive to the suspicious woman as possible. He stayed almost exclusively with Janette, and any time he and Janine the wife shared company, he was careful to remain sedate and quiet. He did not claw the furniture or rip up the tapestries. He did not soil the carpets, and he was the picture of gentility when Janine the wife was entertaining her silk-clad lady friends, playing Tarok or stones. Dernan the cook, Nanna the maid, and most of the ladies absolutely adored Tarrin, and that seemed to grind Janine the wife's gears somewhat. The one thing he absolutely would not do was so much as scratch Janette. Even in his semi-aware state, he understood the calamity that would befall the little girl, should he bite her. So in their long, endless games, he was very, very careful not to even scratch her by accident. If she got too close in the game, he would stop. He would not lick her, nor would he let her anywhere near him either during or after his grooming of himself. He took no chance whatsoever that even the most fleeting contact with his spittle would transform her. He wouldn't put anyone else through the torment he'd suffered, the torment that put him in the house in the first place.
The majority of his time was spent with Janette, his little mother. Janette doted on him almost too much, and he was the central aspect of her life since the moment she found him under the bush. He adored his little mother with a passion, and was quite content to follow her around, always being near her. When she was bathing, or eating, or doing her studies with her mother, he was always close to her, usually laying by her feet sleeping. Any time her lilac-scent faded from his awareness, he went to find her. And once he knew where she was, he was content to let her be. Janette's parents had taken notice of Tarrin's unusual behavior, but had passed it off as a strange attachment stemming from her finding him and nursing him back to health. But it was more than that. Janette helped keep the pain away, and in her company he found love and acceptance.
There was very little concept of time in the Cat's eternal now, but Tarrin seemed to sense somehow that a considerable number of days had passed since she found him. He had that sensation because, over time, his human awareness became more and more dominant, as if it was too strong for the Cat to totally subjugate. The catlike instincts were slowly taking on a human reasoning, and he started to become aware of things that had no meaning for him earlier. Things changed around the house to help him respark the human awareness, such as Janine's change of attitude towards him. At first, she barely tolerated him. But as time went on, and he proved that he was no threat to her decorations or her daughter, the woman fell into a gruff acceptance of him. She paid him no attention, but neither did she pay him any mind.
It was after Janette's bedtime when Tarrin was laying sedately by the fireplace. When he was not with his little mother, the fireplace was his domain. He would go to bed with her and wait for her to go to sleep, then he would lay by the fireplace until it fell to embers, when he would go back up and sleep at the foot of her bed. There was almost always a fire burning, even in the middle of summer, for light if nothing else, and its dry heat was very pleasing to him. Janette had had to practice the flute before bed, just one of many lessons she went through each day, as her mother turned her into a "proper lady". In that respect, the little girl drove her mother wild. Janette would have been much happier on a farm, because she loved to be outside, loved to crawl through the grass and climb trees and catch frogs. That was rather hard on the pretty silk and brocade dresses Janine the wife had her wear, and it was always a point of contention between them. Ladies did not do such things. What Janine the wife seemed to fail to understand was that Janette was not a Lady. She was a child. And crawling in the grass, climbing trees, and catching frogs were things that children did.
Janine the wife was there, in her favorite chair, reading from a thick book, as Tomas the merchant sat in his favorite chair next to her. Janine the wife was a tall woman, thin and shapely, with a pretty face and her brown hair done up on a bun most of the time, except when she was entertaining, when it was let down in cascading waves. Tomas the merchant wasn't at home very much during the day, off caring for his business. He was a thin, tall man with lanky arms and a gentle face, his brown hair thick and long, and done up in a single tail at the back of his neck. When he was home, he was either working on his papers or spending time with his family. Tarrin rather liked him, because he was a calm, unruffled sort of fellow with a very practical mind.
"You look worried, my love," Janine the wife said to him. The two of them seemed to be deeply in love. They certainly carried on as if they were.
"The Star of Jerod still hasn't come in," he said, biting his lip slightly. "It's three days overdue."
"That's only three days," she said.
"I know, but Bascone usually isn't late."
"I thought Bascone was captain of the Wave Sprite."
"He was," he said. "He took over the Star two months ago."
"I'm sure he's alright. There's been some rough weather south. He may have been delayed."
"I hope so," he said. "He was carrying Arakite silk, and if I lose that cargo, we're going to take a serious loss."
Tarrin looked into the fire, transfixed by the dancing of the flames. Just as he looked away, the fire popped suddenly. The sound startled him badly. Despite his time in the peace of the house, he still reacted with the reflexes of a warrior. He jumped up and faced the fire, hissing defensively, until he realized that it wasn't an attack. Then, feeling a bit foolish, he laid back down. Tomas the merchant's chuckle didn't help his pride much.
"He's a jittery thing," he remarked to his wife.
"I think her last owner wasn't very nice to her," Janine said grudgingly. "She follows Janette around like a puppy. It's like she thinks she's the only good person in the world."
"He," he corrected.
"I thought it was a girl."
"No, it's a boy."
"Janette thinks it's a girl."
"I know. I don't have the heart to tell her any differently." He shuffled a few more papers. "I hope Bascone puts in tomorrow," he sighed. "My buyers for that silk are getting impatient."
"Bascone's a dependable man," she assured him. "If he's late, then he ran into trouble."
"I know, and that's what worries me," he grunted.
"He's a good captain, dear," she said calmly. "It'd take nothing short of the Gods themselves to sink Bascone's ship."
"I can take the loss on the ship. It's that silk I can't afford to lose." There was a shuffle of more papers. "Oh well, I'll worry about it tomorrow," he sighed. "Shadow," he called.
Tarrin turned his head and looked at him. "He's a smart cat," he chuckled as he motioned to him. Tarrin got up and yawned, then padded over to Tomas's chair, and jumped up into his lap. He settled down as Tomas the merchant rubbed the back of his neck pleasingly.
"Not you too," Janine huffed. "Everyone in this house is in love with that creature."
"I think you keep saying that just to be contrary, dear," he accused. "You're just annoyed that our little girl browbeat you into keeping him."
There was a long silence, then Janine the wife laughed ruefully. "Maybe," she said. "Janette can be a ter
ror when she has her mind set on something."
"She's her mother's daughter," he said fondly.
"Any word of who owns it?"
"None," he said. "I've asked all around the neighborhood, but nobody owned him. Not around here, anyway. Looks like we're stuck with him."
"I think that was a bit obvious," she said dryly.
Tomas the merchant chuckled. Tarrin started purring as Tomas's fingers found all the itches. "I don't mind him," Tomas the merchant said.
"He doesn't like me," Janine the wife said gruffly.
"Try being nice to him," Tomas the merchant replied.
"I am," she said indignantly.
"You don't kick him, or beat him, or dunk him in boiling water. Yes, you're so very nice to him," Tomas the merchant said. Janine the wife laughed helplessly.
"What are you going to do tomorrow?" she asked.
"I think I may send the Sprite out to look for Bascone," he said soberly. "He's using the standard route, so if he's in trouble, Pichet will be able to find him and help him."
"Is Pichet on the schedule?"
"Not right now," he said. "I can't buy that wool shipment until the silk comes in, so Pichet's in port until Bascone gets here. At least this way, Pichet and his sailors have something to do."
Janine the wife chuckled. "They do get rowdy after a few rides in port."
Tarrin tuned them out, putting his head down. Being a cat gave him a great deal of time to think, and lately, his thoughts were becoming more and more sober. He thought alot about what had happened, and his current situation. More and more, he was starting to realize that being a cat was all well and good, but his human awareness made going through the motions day after day to get a bit old. And he'd been thinking of his family.
He missed them. Even with what happened, he loved his family very much, and knowing that they were only across town made it even worse. He knew they were worried about him, despite what happened, and that added to his concern. Allia was probably a wreck by now. Without him, she had nobody, and despite her strength, in this foreign land, a friend to talk to was absolutely vital to her. He just hoped that she met his parents, and that his parents and sister would somehow take his place in her life. Give her someone to talk with. Dar was probably in the Initiate by now; he wasn't sure, because time had a surreal quality to him, caught between his human awareness and the Cat's eternal now as he was. Tarrin hoped that Sorcery was everything the young man dreamed it would be. He had several real reasons to leave, to return to his life and take up his responsibilities.
But the knowledge of what he had done, and his fear of himself, kept him firmly in place. It was better for him to stay here, stay in a place where there was no temptation, no danger. His little mother was the sole reason he hadn't gone totally mad, and wasn't dead at that moment. If not for her, he would be gone. And in her arms, he felt absolutely safe and secure, and knew that nothing bad would befall him. He knew that that little girl was the only thing standing between him and insanity, and he just didn't feel he was ready to go on without her there to soothe his fears and make all the pain melt away. He just wasn't ready to leave.
He wondered what happened to Jesmind. Without him there, she had no reason to stay. And after so much time, if she hadn't found him yet, she wasn't going to find him. He wondered if she was combing the forests and plains around Suld in an attempt to track him down.
The next day taught him that someone was looking for him. Nanna the maid answered the door, where a sober looking young man wearing a coat and breeches of soft gray velvet stood. He was wearing a shaeram. Tarrin hunkered down in the shadow of the hallstand as the man took off his three-corner cap and greeted Nanna the maid politely. "Good morning to you, madam," he said. "I was wondering if you could help me."
"What do you need, good sir?" she asked.
"The Tower is looking for something, madam," he said. "It's a black cat, just a bit larger than an average cat. He's wearing a black collar. Have you seen such a cat?"
It hung there for several seconds. "Whatever is the Tower doing looking for a cat?" Nanna the maid asked curiously.
"It belongs to the Wikuni Princess," he said ruefully. "If it's not found, there's going to be some very strained words passing over the Sea of Storms."
"Well, I'm sorry, good sir, but I've not seen this cat you seek."
"Ah, well," he sighed. "Should you spot him, there's quite a substantial reward for the one who brings him back. You can bring him to the Tower gate, and the guard there will direct you."
"I'll keep that in mind, good sir," she said. "I'm sorry, but I have work to do. Good day to you."
"A good day to you, madam," the man said, dipping his cap to her again. Then Nanna the maid shut the door. She shook her head, and then noticed Tarrin hunkered down under the hallstand. Nanna the maid didn't miss much of anything. "The Royal cat, eh?" she chuckled, beckoning to him. Tarrin approached her warily, an irrational thought that she meant to carry him after the Sorcerer crossing his mind. But she just cradled him in an arm, scratching him behind the ear. "Well, get that out of your system, Shadow," she smiled. "I saw how you acted when you got here. That royal brat was very mean to you, and I'll not give you back to be tortured. Besides, Janette would be devastated."
And that was that. Nanna the maid never made mention of the visit to the others, not even to Tomas the merchant, and it was simply dropped.
But it was important to Tarrin, and he brooded over it for several days after the visit. It was obvious that though he was done with the Tower, the Tower was nowhere near done with him. It also told him that they did want something from him, else they wouldn't be looking for him. And it told him that they knew he was still inside the city, else they wouldn't waste people's time by sending Sorcerers door to door looking for him. But, on another note, he realized that they couldn't find him with Sorcery, else they'd have been here the day after he fled. That was a very important bit of information, something that he filed neatly away in his memory. But he was a bit more careful after that, not going out into the areas of the garden that were visible from the street, and not laying in the windowsills looking out as he used to do.
But life inside did not change. He was still with his little mother most of the time, content to just be near her when she was busy with something else. And yet, as days passed, he found that his desire to be with his little mother faded from fanatical, to important, to merely being his wish. He was healing, he knew, coming to terms with the trauma that had put him in Janette's arms in the first place, and he was relying less and less on the little girl's calming love and affection.
It was probably then that he knew that, while he loved this house dearly and everyone in it, that it would not make him content to live out his life here. Eventually, he would leave, would have to leave, and find a life for himself elsewhere. Janette would grow up, and her life would become full with husband and children. And while he knew that, should he stay, he would be a part of that life, it seemed wrong to him to take away something from her just for his own selfish desires.
He knew it would be soon, but "soon" was a very vague concept to one that had trouble marking the passage of time.
He laid and thought about his eventual departure often, while Janette was busy with something else, but he had no idea how many days it had been since he had made that decision. The eternal now of the cat prevented him from simply counting the days, since the memories of the past days seemed to blur into one another in a jumble that made it impossible to discern one day from another. Janette's world was one of strictly regimented activity, for she performed the same lessons almost every day, did the same things every day, and there was nothing different from which Tarrin could refer to try to calculate the amount of time that had passed. All he had to go on was the seasons, and it was still hot outside during the day and warm in the night. It was still summer.
It had been a day, like any other. Janette had spent time with him between her lessons, playing with him,
or taking a nap with him, or just petting him, as she always did. After dinner, she was sent to bed, and Tarrin stayed at the foot of her bed, as was his custom, until she was asleep. Once she was asleep, he would go down to the fireplace and lay on the hearthstones, soaking up the fire's warmth and listening to Tomas the merchant and Janine the wife talk. He was on his way there when a sound from the kitchen disturbed him. Thinking it was Deris the cook, Tarrin thought to beg a treat from the portly, jovial man before moving into the living room. Deris was a friendly man, and like the rest of the household, he rather liked Tarrin. He gave Tarrin scraps and treats whenever he was cooking, so Tarrin made a special point to be the man's friend.
But it was not Deris in the kitchen. It was empty, and the sound he heard was someone using a thin probe to unset the latch on the door. Tarrin's ears laid back as he realized it was an intruder, not Deris. The door opened, and a thin man dressed in dark clothes, and carrying a knife in his hand, stepped into the sacred confines of his little mother's house. Tarrin came around the corner ears laid back, back up, and growled at the man threateningly. He wouldn't get in without a fight.
"'Ere now," the man chuckled in an evil voice. "The mouse thinks 'e's a lion, 'e does."
The man took a step towards him, but he did not move. It occurred to Tarrin that if they made a racket, Tomas the merchant would investigate, and he would walk in unarmed against a man with a knife. His life would be in very real danger. And since he had been in the form of the cat for so long, simply changing form to deal with the bandit didn't occur to him; changing form was something he didn't even think of anymore without working himself up to it. Tarrin knew he was no match for a human, not as a cat, but he absolutely could not let the man get by him. The life of his little mother depended on it.
In desperation, Tarrin suddenly felt something drawing in, filling him with a seething life that almost set his blood on fire. A fuzzy image of fire came to him, fire roaring from the hands of a pretty brown-haired girl, even as the world around him seemed to be overlaid with impressions of glowing strings crisscrossing the room. The sensation of drawing in moved those strings, causing them to draw towards him, until little pieces of them flew out and entered him.
