"Shame on you, cub," Sarraya turned on him and winked. "Making Shayle go without."
"She didn't ask nicely," Tarrin drawled.
"I'm starting to think that it takes a large club to get Tarrin's attention," Shayle complained. "He won't tell me how Mist managed--"
"Mist? You were jumped by Mist?" Sarraya asked in surpise.
"There's a story behind it, but the short answer is yes," Tarrin replied.
"Have a seat, boy. You have some talking to do," she said, pointing at a chair by the table where she stood.
"I thought Triana would tell you about that."
"She just told me you healed Mist's scars. She never said anything about that."
Tarrin sat down, as did the others, and Tarrin calmly repeated the circumstances around his relationship with Mist. He didn't feel very embarassed to talk about it in front of four females, at least until he got around to the conceiving part. He glossed over that, focusing more on the fact that she was pregnant than how it happened.
"Well," Sarraya said after he finished, "I'm certainly glad I decided you fit. If I'd have known about this, I'd have accepted you no matter what."
"Why?" Allia asked.
"That was plain old compassion, Selani," Sarraya replied. "That's a trait we like to see in Were-cats, because it doesn't show up very often."
"We're not heartless, Sarraya!" Shayle objected.
"You're not friendly either," Sarraya said, unperturbed. "If you weren't so contrary, we wouldn't be so suspicious of you."
"If you weren't so suspicious, we wouldn't be so contrary!" Shayle shot back, standing up and looming over the tiny Faerie. "If you didn't notice, we don't react well to people that don't like us."
Triana returned with a tray of sweet rolls, covered with a sweet honey icing. "Children," she said calmly, setting it down beside Sarraya, "let's not be nasty. Sarraya is our guest."
"Yes, mother," Shayle growled, sitting back down grumpily.
Tarrin mused staring at the Faerie. The roll was nearly as large as she was. What would it be like to go through life when one was so small? She was the size of a doll. Well, he reasoned, he did have something of an idea of that. He lived for nearly three months as a cat, and his cat form was only a little taller than she was. Larger than her, but at about the same eye level. She sat down on the table, cross-legged, and hauled one of the rolls over next to her, then she began to eat. He watched her eat, and he was astounded. She nearly ate the entire roll! It was almost as big as she was, yet she managed to eat more than half of it! Where did the food go? It didn't show on her. Her belly wasn't distended or swollen. It was almost like it vanished.
"Keep staring at me, and I'm going to throw this at you," the Faerie warned.
"I'm sorry, I'm just trying to get used to you," he said quickly. "I've never seen anyone quite like you before."
"Give him some slack, Sarraya," Triana said mildly. "He's never seen a Faerie before. You are rather interesting."
"I think my brother marvels at your ability to eat, Faerie," Allia said boldly. "You ate nearly half your own body weight, yet it does not show."
Sarraya winked. "Don't apply human or Selani norms to me," she chided. "You should know better. If you really have to know, we Faerie have very fast metabolisms. Flying is alot of work, so we have to eat alot and often to keep in flying trim."
"I guess that makes sense," Tarrin said after a moment.
"I'm so glad you approve," she teased.
"She reminds me of Faalken," Allia remarked.
"I was about to say the same thing," Tarrin agreed.
"Faalken?" Sarraya asked.
"A Knight," Allia answered. "Well known for his pranks and sense of humor."
"I don't see anything wrong with that," Sarraya grinned. "Life requires us to laugh at it."
Tarrin wandered away from the others after enjoying the sweet pastry, going back into the room with the portrait of the Eastern man. Accepted. It felt a little strange to know that he no longer had to fear the Were-cats, or worry about Fae-da'Nar. A good portion of his recent past was tied up with them, from his bizarre love/hate relationship with Jesmind to the touch-and-go encounters with Triana. And the time between them was filled with a worry, a foreboding, of when they would come for him. He had been Rogue, hunted, despised, but now a simple test had transformed him into an accepted member of their society. That seemed illogical to him, but he discovered long ago that applying logic to Fae-da'Nar was a foolish undertaking. Their rules were their own, and many of their customs seemed to be strange to him. He stared at the portrait, his eyes riveted to the face of the exotic man. He looked so serious, so august, as if he knew that his face would be seen by men and woman a world away, and wanting to make a very good impression on them. He certainly impressed Tarrin. The man had to be a ruler, a noble, because his carriage, expression, and the condition of his robe cried out that he was a man of importance and wealth. Such men were often rulers, be it a ruler of a kingdom or a ruler of a large business.
But to be accepted. It was such a strange feeling, because he really didn't know any of the others. Only Triana and Jesmind were familiar faces, Were-cats he knew and understood. He really liked Triana, respected and admired her, even loved her. Jesmind--well, Jesmind. Jesmind was Jesmind, and there was so much emotion wrapped up with his fiery bond-mother that it was hard to sort out. He had loved her and hated her, adored her and despised her, needed her and feared her. Often at the same time. Thinking of her never failed to send his mind spinning into the past, of the many images, sound, and scents he'd locked away in his memory of her. He missed her, but on the other hand, a part of him was glad she had walked out of his life. It had given him the strength to face up to life, to move on, and it had had a large part in the strength he had now when facing his daunting tasks. He was now part of a larger whole, a whole that he didn't know, and didn't really trust. He would take them one at a time, one day at a time, and just hope for the best.
The far door opened, and through it strode a figure right out of most men's fantasies. She was very tall, this woman, with the most exotic skin he'd ever seen. It was coppery in shade, not dark like Azakar, not chocolate like Allia, but a strange reddish, bronzed copper hue that was totally unique. Her hair was as black as a raven's wing, thick and long and straight, tied into a single thick tail behind her head that dangled well down her back, but with her bangs hanging raggedly over her forehead. Her features were as exotic as her skin, with a boxy face that still managed to be quite lovely, and large green eyes that seemed to attract anyone's eyes to them because of their dark setting. She had a wicked scar on the right side of her face, going from just under her ear and along her jawline to her chin. She wore a leather haltar not too much unlike the haltar Sarraya had worn, a simple band of leather that went over her breasts, but it didn't start high enough to cover up her impressive cleavage. The fact that it was laced in the front with a wide gap between the sides, exposing the majority of the inside slopes of her breasts, would drag a man's eyes down to view her buxom splendor. That majestic slope nestled a plain silver amulet hanging by a leather thong around her neck, an amulet with an arrowhead device in front of a woman's profile etched into it. Her body was built like Jesmind's, all alluring curves and lines that were filled in with powerful muscle. She wore a plain skirt of red cloth, a skirt that ended at her mid thigh, and was slit all the way up to her wide belt on the right side, a belt with a bronze buckle shaped like a falcon or some other raptor. But if her shape, form, and appearance was female, blatantly female, the battered broadsword that hung off that leather belt declared to the world that this was a warrior. Her gaze was like a hawk, taking him in with only one glance, sizing him up. Her scent was a strangely appealing smell of musk, brass, and spice, a scent mingled with the leather of her belt, haltar and scabbard, the steel of her sword, the animal-hair smell of the skirt around her waist, and the bronze of her belt buckle. There was also a hint of some kind of berries on her, but it emanat
ed from her straight black hair.
Then she smiled. That was a strange thing. "It took me long enough," she announced in a powerful, husky voice.
"Long enough for what?" he asked, curiosity overriding his wariness over this stranger.
"To find you," she replied bluntly.
That made him nervous. Was this another assassin, like the dangerous Jegojah? If so, why did they send a human to do what a Doomwalker had failed twice to accomplish? She had to be the best there was, if that was the case. But that seemed impossible. Her coppery skin, that face, those features, Tarrin had never seen them, but he had heard all about them more than once, and he had seen someone who shared her exotic appearance.
Koran Dar, the Divine seat. And Koran Dar was an Amazon.
Was this woman a fabled Amazon, the race of warrior-women from the isles off the southern continent of Sharadar?
If so, how did such strange females keep finding ways to come into his life?
Don't say it, the voice of the Goddess echoed in his mind. It was stern, and maybe just a little indignant. Just don't say it. And welcome your new travelling companion.
"Her?" he said in astonishment, making her give him a sidelong look.
I have her on loan from the Goddess of the Amazons, the voice of the Goddess answered. Because of your, predisposition, against humans, it was decided that one more like your own mother would have a better chance of being accepted by you. Camara Tal certainly fits that description.
Why her? he asked silently.
Because you lost Azakar, she replied immediately. You needed Azakar, kitten, but now he's stuck with Keritanima. Camara Tal will replace him for the time being.
I don't understand, Tarrin thought helplessly.
You can't understand, my kitten, she replied gently. Just take it on faith. You'll like Camara Tal, kitten. She's alot like what you expect from a female. Blunt, fiesty, and powerful. Just like all the other women in your life, she added with a light cascade of laughter. So it's not how they keep coming into your life, it's how I can find so many women who fit that very narrow image you have of compatible females. It's all your fault, she teased.
And then her presence was gone, leaving him feeling slightly hollow, like she had taken a little piece of him with her.
"You're not filling me with confidence, boy," Camara Tal said dangerously. "What are you about?"
"Nothing, nothing," he sighed, looking at her boldly. "That's certainly...interesting clothing."
"Bah," she snorted. "What is it about you northerners that makes you so uppity?"
"From your look, you're an Amazon. Why are you so far away from home?"
"You are," she replied flatly. "I was sent here by my Goddess. She tasked me to find you, and when I did, to protect you."
"Me? Why me?"
"Because my Goddess is friends with yours," she answered. "I know who you are and what you're doing. I was sent her to help you."
"Then who am I?"
"Tarrin Kael," she replied immediately and without wavering. "Unless things have changed, you're holed up here with your bond-mother and a pack of other Were-cats. You also have a Selani, a Knight, a Sorceress, and an Initiate here with you. I was told that all I had to do to earn your confidence was tell you the name Janette. Am I far off the mark?"
Tarrin gaped at her. Nobody except his sisters, his birth parents, Dolanna, and the Goddess knew about Janette. It was a secret he kept very secret, because his attachment to her could give his enemies a way to strike at him without him being able to do anything about it. "Uh, no, not anymore," he replied uncertainly.
"I don't have time for these games, stripling," she said cooly. "I was sent here to keep your head on your body, and I take my job seriously. I was also sent here to help you in your mission, any way I can, and I intend to do that too. Where do we start?"
Tarrin was a bit taken aback by this abrupt stranger. "Start? We're not doing much of anything right now," he replied. "Just waiting."
"For what? I don't have much time, and it looks like I have alot to catch up on."
"I think we'd better talk to Dolanna first," he said.
"Dolanna? The Sorceress?"
Tarrin nodded. Whoever told her about him had given her some thorough information.
Triana appeared in the other doorway, and suddenly Tarrin felt like he was caught between two mastiffs. The two women immediately stared at each other, and he wasn't sure if they were going to start fighting right then and there. But then Triana did the strangest thing.
She smiled.
"It's been a long time, Camara Tal," she said easily. Tarrin stared at his bond-mother in total shock. How did she know an Amazon? How did the Amazon that Triana knew end up here?
This had the Goddess' hands all over it. He was positive.
"It certainly has, Triana," the Amazon replied. "I didn't know he was yours."
"You know about him?"
"My Mistress sent me here to protect him," she told the Were-cat elder.
"How do you know her?" Tarrin blurted.
"I met Camara about ten years ago," Triana replied calmly. "In Dayisè. It was a chance meeting, but we managed to get along well enough."
"I didn't know she was Were until the day before I left," Camara Tal finished. "I thought she was human."
"Why did you come all the way up here over him?" Triana inquired.
"He's got the attention of alot of people on him, Triana," she replied. "He's not just a Mi'Shara, he's the Mi'Shara. Anyone who hasn't figured that out yet is so far behind that they don't matter anymore."
"Tarrin is the Mi'Shara?" Triana asked in surprise.
Camara Tal simply nodded.
He had heard that term only a few times before, but he couldn't remember exactly when and where, or what it meant. "What does that mean?" he asked in concern.
"It means, cub, that your life is in serious danger," Triana said gruffly. "Mi'Shara is a term in the langauge of the Ancients that's used to describe non-human Sorcerers. Its literal meaning is he who once was or she who once was, depending on how it's used by the speaker. There's an old legend that says that a Mi'Shara has the best chance of passing the Guardian that protect the Firestaff. In other words, of all the people that may try, you have the best chance of succeeding. Half the world wants you dead because of that, and the other half probably wants to follow you, so they can take the Firestaff from you once you do get your paws on it."
That wasn't new information. The Goddess had told him that as well, back when she had originally pressed him into this crazy mission. He still remembered her exact words: But of all those who seek the Firestaff, you, Tarrin Kael, Mi'Shara, you have the best chance to succeed. But to hear it from them, to realize that they understood alot more than he did, it was frightening.
"You knew about that?" he asked Triana.
She nodded. "It's an old myth," she replied. "I never held much water to it. I guess I was wrong."
"He is the Mi'Shara, Triana," Camara Tal said. "My Mistress told me what the Goddess of the Sorcerers told him to do with it, and she supports it. So she sent me to aid in his quest."
"What did she tell you to do with it?" she asked him intently.
"To keep it away from everyone else," he replied honestly. "To make sure it isn't used."
"I can agree to that," Triana grunted. "And I think I'd better make some arrangements."
"Why?" Tarrin asked.
"I knew about what you were doing, but I honestly thought that you wouldn't pull it off. I figured to see you drag your tail home in about a year with empty paws. I didn't realize that you were one of the big players, that you really have a good chance to pull this off. I think Fae-da'Nar probably wants to have a say in who gets their paws on that old relic."
Tarrin's head was spinning. He sat down heavily on a chair near the table in the private dining room, sitting on his own tail. The pressure caused his mind to focus. Camara Tal, he could deal with. It was obvious that the Goddess had arrang
ed her appearance to help him, so he felt he could give her the benefit of the doubt. She'd still have to prove she was worthy of his trust, however. But to find out that Camara Tal knew his bond-mother! That Triana knew as much as she did about the Firestaff. He had never told her much about it, and she had never asked. She was more interested in teaching him than learning more about what he was doing. She knew what he was doing, but as she said, she didn't realize that he was as serious about it as he was.
"I think you'd better have Allia go get Dolanna and the others, cub," Triana said after a moment. "I have some people to talk to. Do not leave the inn unless I directly tell you that you can. I think we all need to sit down and have a long talk."
"Don't worry about him, Triana," Camara Tal said confidently. "Tarrin's safety is my responsibility now. I won't let him do anything stupid."
"Good," Triana said with a nod, then she turned and left without another word.
Tarrin glared a bit at Camara Tal. He wasn't a fool, nor was he an idiot. That she felt he needed a babysitter was insulting. "I don't need someone watching me at all times," he warned her.
"That's not your decision, Tarrin," she said directly. "It's my responsibility to keep you alive and whole. How I do that is not up for debate. You will do what I tell you to do, because I told you to do it. Not because I like bossing you around, not because you're capable of taking care of yourself, but because it's my duty to protect you. I take my duties seriously. You don't want to find out how seriously I take them," she warned.
Tarrin developed both a seething resentment of this demanding Amazon, and a strange respect. Her manner and her words were very similar to the stoic duty he'd seen from Binter and Sisska, the quiet, ever-present bodyguards for Keritanima and Miranda. They had taken their duties just as seriously as Camara Tal seemed to be over him. He'd respected them for their quiet devotion, and he found he could respect Camara Tal in the same manner. Camara Tal was putting her life on hold to come and do her goddess' bidding, to protect a complete stranger from harm who would probably be a pain in her butt. At least in that way, he found respect and a little admiration for the intimidating Amazon warrior.
Tarrin Kael Firestaff Collection Book 2 - The Questing Game by Fel © Page 50
