He remembered when he thought she was dead, when he touched her and felt the spark of life inside. He had healed her, nearly killing himself in the process. He had touched her soul then, and though he had very vague memory of it, he could remember the blazing purity he had found within her. A power of tremendous magnitude, a power untapped. A power that seemed out of place in a Wikuni, a power of soul that transcended mortal constraints.
Tarrin's ears picked up, and he stood straight up. No! It couldn't be!
"Goddess!" he gasped. "Miranda's not a Wikuni!"
Miranda was an Avatar!
An Avatar, a direct mortal manifestation of the power of a god!
That's right, the Goddess' voice spoke to his mind, filling him with the sweet feeling of her presence and making his soul reach out to her. Miranda is more than she seems. I have told you that before, kitten. I'm a bit disappointed that it took you this long to figure it out.
Tarrin was stunned. He stood there for a moment. "Why didn't she tell me?" he demanded.
Because she doesn't know, the Goddess replied. Miranda is a Wikuni, my kitten. She has parents, and a childhood, and a life. But where her mother is the bearer of her body, Kikkali is the bearer, the mother, of her soul. Kikkali could see where the fates would take Keritanima, so she prepared a special companion for her, a woman of exceptional gifts to complement your sister and provide her with a stabilizing influence. Miranda doesn't have any supernatural powers. She's as frail and fragile as any mortal, and in time, she will grow old and die. Probably without ever knowing just what she is. But the breath of Kikkali is inside her, and it's something that you could sense. Kikkali is one of the gods that control the skies, my kitten. She's one of Shellar's servants. That's why Miranda sings to you, because within her is a fragment of the allure that the moons hold for Were-kin. That Miranda soothed and benefitted you as well as Keritanima was simply a fortunate happenstance.
He was a bit overwhelmed. All that time, he was begging for attention from a goddess!
Miranda is not a goddess, kitten, the Goddess chided. She is mortal, just as mortal as you. Even if Kikkali had not touched her soul, she would have been born. The only thing that makes her different is that she has the mark of the gods on her, a mark that helped her develop just a bit more than those around her. It's why she's so intelligent for someone so young. Had Miranda not been blessed by Kikkali, she would have developed much differently than she did. Don't define her as an Avatar, kitten, because you don't understand its true meaning. Think of her as touched by the gods instead.
"Then what is its true meaning?" he asked.
I don't give answers to questions when you already know the answer, came the cryptic reply.
He swallowed. "Am, am I an Avatar?"
No, she replied. People like you are not Avatars. We are not allowed to interfere with the development of the world, and it would be interference if we placed agents in the world in a position like yours. Everything you have done has been of your own free will, unfettered by a touch from beyond that could have influenced your actions. You, Allia, Keritanima, you are as you are, and you are as you would have been no matter what. Your actions are what defines the world, and we may not interfere with them. We may only try to influence them through wisdom, deception, intimidation, or chicanery.
Tarrin had to laugh. "Chicanery?"
Some gods use that, she admitted. I've had to trick you into doing some things, kitten. You're very stubborn.
"Like what?" he asked curiously.
Oh, no, she laughed in a silvery cascade. I'm not tipping my hand. I may need to use it again if you start drifting off the path.
He'd allow her that. Sometimes he was too stubborn for his own good. Her definition of Miranda eased him a little. If Miranda didn't know what she was, then it seemed to meld a little better to him. He looked at her as someone who wasn't different, only blessed. Miranda was Miranda. That she'd been blessed by one of the Wikuni gods shouldn't matter. Everyone had to have been blessed at some point in their lives, Miranda was different only because she was blessed before she was born. He realized that it wouldn't change things. He wouldn't tell her what he knew, because he wouldn't confuse her. She would always be his friend. He loved her. But at least now he understood why she was so interesting to him.
Feel better now? the Goddess asked sweetly.
"I guess," he replied. "It's a little much to take to find out that one of your best friends is so special."
We are all special in one way or another, kitten. It is what makes us all individuals. Have you made your peace with yourself over Camara Tal?
"She really made me mad, Goddess, but I don't think she did it on purpose." He leaned on the rail again, looking out over the sea. "I still don't understand what made her do that."
Well, kitten, she has talked to the others about you, and she understands you. You have been injured many times in the past, and if you stop to think about it, every single time that happened, you lost your temper. She was trying to teach you that losing your temper is more dangerous to you than it is to your opponent. Even more so now than it was before, because of your penchant to use Sorcery when enraged.
"I know that. I'm more interested in that Allia snapped me out of it. That's never happened before."
It has, but you don't remember it. Allia was the one who brought you back in the Cathedral of Karas. She holds a special place in your heart, kitten, and that gives her the power to control your rage.
"I realized that." He sighed. "Well?"
Well what?
"Isn't this when you say something that makes me think for three days and then leave?"
Tarrin was surprised when he heard her long cascading laughter emanate through him, shivering his soul in the strangest way. It's time like these that make me treasure you so much, my sweet kitten, she said jubilantly. But I do need to go. And if you don't want to suffer through learning, then stop calling me, she added winsomely.
"I never did."
You did so. You said, and I quote, "Goddess, Miranda's not a Wikuni!"
"You answered to that?"
Of course I did, silly, she chuckled in reply. I always keep an ear out for you, my kitten. If you call me, I will hear. I may not respond, but I will hear it. I am never more than a call away from you.
"You make it sound like I have you on a leash."
She laughed again. In a strange way, you do, she replied. But I don't do tricks.
"We'll see."
That made her laugh again. Be well, my sweet one. We'll speak again later.
And then she was gone, taking a little piece of his soul with her, making him feel peculiarly empty inside.
Tarrin looked up at the sky, at the moons. He could hear the song, feel it in his soul, but now he associated it with Miranda, and that made him think about his friends in Wikuna. It conjured up images and memories of Keritanima and Miranda, of Azakar and Kerri's indomitable protectors, Binter and Sisska. Good friends, dear friends, far far away. He missed them. He missed Keritanima's sharp wit and quick smiles. He missed Miranda's calm, unruffled ways and her soothing presence. He missed Azakar's quiet curiosity, how the big man would silently watch and learn. He missed the powerful security of Binter and Sisska, ever present and always making them all feel safer. He yearned for the time before, when it was him and Allia and Keritanima, siblings by bonds of soul and brand, sealed to one another. Those were good times, and he had squandered so much of it with his quiet brooding. So much time lost, because he was so afraid of himself that he wouldn't open up to his sisters. But there would be more good times. Keritanima wouldn't be in Wikuna forever, and she could find them easily when she was ready to return. He just had to hang on until she arrived, keep from killing himself and keeping enemies like Kravon and Jegojah off his back until she could find her way back to him.
He held his amulet gingerly, wanting to call out to Keritanima, wanting to hear her voice, but worried that others would hear. Worried that she would be asl
eep, worried that him bothering her would interrupt whatever dishonest deeds she was perpetrating there. No, it would be best if she contacted him, because he wasn't in quite such a position of danger, should a voice suddenly issue forth from his amulet. He could wait. Tarrin was a very patient person when it came to some things.
He looked up at the moons, his soul surrendering to the song it sang to him, staring up at its white perfection. But now an image of Miranda seemed to lay over the surface of the White Moon, an image of a dear friend, smiling down on him with her cheeky grin and making him feel wonderfully secure.
And giving him hope for the future.
They spotted the first strip of desert two days later, off the port bow. It was what Renoit said was the Sand Fingers, extensions of sand-covered rock that extended from the shoreline like the fingers of a titanic hand. That geographical landmark was vital to most ships, because it meant that Saranam, the capital city of the small kingdom of the same name, was only half a day out. Saranam was the kingdom created to put a buffer between Arak and the Selani, a narrow strip of kingdom that separated the two distrustful groups. It had evolved into a miniature Wikuna, a small nation of sharp traders that had made a name for itself in the few hundred years it had been in existence.
The two days had been uneventful. He was still too angry to deal with Camara Tal, so Dolanna made sure that the Amazon was nowhere near him at all times. She stayed on the sterncastle or off the deck when he was above, and stayed out of his room when he was below. It was a cooling-off time for him, something with which Dolanna was all too familiar, and she knew exactly how to arrange it so he wasn't tempted. He spent nearly all that time either with Allia or Dar, finding solace in the presence of his sister or passing time with the only other person close to his own age. Dar was younger than him, and only came up to his ribcage, but he was a good solid friend that always made the time go by quickly with conversation or games. Tarrin usually had alot on his mind, but just as he did with Allia, he didn't let Dar forget that they were friends. Just as he set aside special time each evening to devote to his sister, he started putting aside the time between Dar's lesson and his practice for the circus to spend with him.
Tarrin and Dar stood at the rail, watching the longest-reaching finger go by as the performers went about their daily routines of practice and sailing. He had learned to tune them out some time ago, making him feel that he was alone on deck. And that helped his mood, because he didn't like people staring at him or flinching from him when he approached. The young Arkisian had just come from another long discussion with Phandebrass, and he had one of the drakes with him. Tarrin could finally tell them apart, if only by scent, so he knew that it was Chopstick that stood on the back of the young man's neck, forepaws on the top of his head, looking out with them. Tarrin and the drakes had reached a mutual understanding. He wouldn't attack them so long as they didn't bother him. They didn't pester him for attention as they did Allia, but they wouldn't flee from him anymore. Turnkey, the one he saved, would even land on his shoulder and let him pet it from time to time.
"So what did that mage have to say this time?" Tarrin asked. Dar had been going to Phandebrass after his instruction with Dolanna for a while now, learning things about science that they didn't teach in the Tower. Phandebrass was a mage, but he was also a scholar, and his scope of knowledge was impressive.
"We talked about light," he replied. "I didn't know it could be so complicated."
"With Phandebrass, everything is complicated," Tarrin replied. "I think he goes out of his way to murk things up, so they can fit into his idea of the way things should be."
"Who knows?" Dar chuckled. "He showed me a piece of glass called a prism. When you hold it at the right angle to the sun, it refracts the sunlight and breaks it up into its components. Did you know that light is made up of seven different colors? And that they're the same colors as what's on the shaeram?"
"No, I didn't. And they probably just used the colors of light when they created the order."
"That doesn't explain why the Spheres show up as the same colors," he challenged. "Maybe Sorcery and light are related somehow, for them to break down in the exact same manner."
"Now you sound like Phandebrass," Tarrin noted dryly. "If light is seven colors, why can't we see them?"
"Because they mix together, and that makes it look white," he replied.
"Then why is the sky blue instead of white?"
"I asked the same thing. He said that the sunlight hits the air at an angle that makes the air absorb or reflect away most of the other colors, making the sky appear to be blue. And when it's sunrise or sunset, the sun strikes the air at a different angle, which makes it look a different color."
"Strange. That sounds like it almost makes sense. But if the sky absorbs everything but blue, why doesn't everything look blue?"
"He said that the sky's color is just the light that got affected. We can't see all the other light, because it never reaches our eyes. Who knows what color the sky would be if we could see all the light at once?"
"He knows how to cover all the angles," Tarrin chuckled.
"It does make sense," Dar said defensively.
"Sorta, but I don't see why you'd be so curious about light. After all, it's just here. What good does it do to know how it works?"
"Because I like to know how things work," he stated. "I don't just accept everything the way you do."
"Call it a cat thing," he replied blandly.
"You still mad at Camara Tal?" he asked curiously.
"A little, but I'll get over it," he replied.
"I think she tries too hard," he noted. "She wants to be your friend, but she keeps trying to make it happen. Maybe she should just step back and let it happen."
"That would be good advice," Tarrin said with a nod. He looked at Dar closely. "I think it's about time for you to start shaving, Dar. You're getting fuzzy."
"I know," he replied, rubbing his cheek. "Phandebrass promised he'd show me how to do it. I can't ask you. I don't think you can grow a beard. Did you shave before it happened?"
"No, I can't," he replied. "I guess it's not in a Were-cat. And I did for about six months, but I was never very good at it. I guess it's a good thing I don't have a beard, because it would probably grow as fast as my hair. I'd have a braid on both sides."
Dar laughed. "That would look strange."
"No doubt there. Why not ask Faalken to show you instead of Phandebrass? The mage'll probably make it a four hour lecture."
"Trust Faalken with something like that? Are you crazy? He'd put ink in my washwater!"
Tarrin laughed. "He probably would," he agreed. "Maybe you should ask him, then make him use your washwater first."
Dar grinned. "He's too cagey for that, Tarrin. I'd never get him."
"Never hurts to try."
"It would when he'd get impatient and just dump it over my head. Faalken cheats."
"True." He looked at the sand of the finger, knowing that they'd be in Saranam by sunset. Saranam. Dry land, and if Phandebrass had been good for one thing, it was that Tarrin now had a better understanding of the Doomwalker. He had the nagging feeling that Jegojah would be in Saranam waiting for him. It seemed to be able to track him down, knowing where he was or where he was going, so it wasn't much of a stretch to assume that the Doomwalker would be there to greet him when he arrived. Triana hadn't destroyed it, only defeated it. So it was still out there.
But thanks to Phandebrass, now Tarrin knew what had to be done to make it go away for a long time. It had to be destroyed, utterly destroyed, just as he had done to it in Suld so long ago. But using Sorcery was out of the question now, and Dolanna or the others didn't have the power. But he'd seen exactly what he needed to see to come up with a plan to get rid of Jegojah for a while, and that was what Sarraya did to that man during the fight. If she could decay him to dust, he thought that she could attack the Doomwalker in exactly the same manner. Since it was already dead, it may go even fas
ter than that man did. He hadn't asked her yet, but that was something he was going to do. Tarrin didn't trust Sarraya, so the idea of asking her for help seemed wrong. The idea of turning his back on the sprite while she was using magic made his fur shimmy, but this was one situation where his misgivings had to step back. His survival was on the line, for Jegojah was one opponent that Tarrin afforded tremendous respect. The Doomwalker was more than capable of killing him, because it was stronger than him, faster than him, more experienced than him, and it could use powerful magic where Tarrin could not. Against Jegojah, no advantage would be thrown aside, no matter how it made him feel.
"What's got you all quiet?" Dar asked.
"Thinking of Saranam," he replied. "Odds are, that Doomwalker is going to be there waiting for us."
"You don't know that, Tarrin. Triana killed it."
"She killed it, but she didn't destroy it. Phandebrass said that it has to be completely destroyed to make it stop."
"We should talk to Dolanna then."
"I already intend to, Dar. I have a plan."
"Why don't we go do that now?"
"Because Dolanna is up on the steering deck with Renoit and the Amazon," he replied with a grunt. "I don't think I'm quite ready to get that close to her yet."
The buzzing of Sarraya's wings heralded her approach. She landed lightly on Tarrin's shoulder and sat down sedately. "I heard the tail end of that, Tarrin. Why don't you go ask Dolanna to come here, Dar?"
"I think that would be a good idea," Dar agreed. "Be right back."
"Afternoon," the sprite said , patting him on the shoulder. "Feeling better?"
"A little," he replied. "I need to ask a favor of you, Sarraya."
Tarrin Kael Firestaff Collection Book 2 - The Questing Game by Fel © Page 86
