The Questing Game

by James Galloway

  The door opened, and Faalken peeked in. "Dolanna wants us in the hold," he announced.

  "Alright," Tarrin told him. "Shall we?" he asked Keritanima.

  "Do we have a choice?" she asked.

  "I guess not, but we can pretend," he told her, which made her chuckle.

  The hold was more like a huge closet than a large empty space. It was what was left of the original hold, and it was packed with boxes and crates, as well as a large canvas pile that had to be the tents they used. Assembled inside was the entire carnival's staff, about thirty men and women of various sizes and shapes. There were five Wikuni among them, a big cat like a cougar or puma, a wolf or dog, a bear, a bobcat, and a ferret or weasel. The wolf-like one and the bear were huge, but the other three were sleek and looked very supple. The humans followed the same templates. Most were thin and looked athletic, but some were heavily developed and looked physically powerful. They were almost equally split among gender, looking to be half and half, except for the Wikuni. All five Wikuni were male, and they were already starting to give Keritanima and Miranda speculative looks. The rest of his group was there as well, gathered together on one side.

  "I see the rest of you are here," Renoit said as Tarrin, Keritanima, and Faalken entered. "Very good. My friends, we have been hired by Lady Dolanna here for a special task. That task is rather simple. We will be performing in Tor and Shoran's Fork, then we will move on to Dala Yar Arak for the Festival of the Sun."

  "What about our other bookings, Renoit?" one of the performers asked.

  "Cancelled this year, or at least postponed. Lady Dolanna has graciously compensated us for the lost revenue. In exchange for that, we're taking her and her group to Dala Yar Arak. While with us, they will perform in the carnival just like any other member. We'll probably try to make up our missed appointments on the way back from Dala Yar Arak, but that's going to depend on how things turn out. Sometimes Emperor Kartaka holds us over." He pointed to the others. "We have picked up two new strongmen, two dancers, two acrobats, and an Illusionist. Lady Dolanna will act as a secretary and treasurer, and the two large people behind the Wikuni will be acting strictly as guards and defenders."

  Dolanna stepped forward. "Certain truths must be made clear now, so there will be no misunderstandings later. There are several things about us that you must understand, so that we have no friction. The first is Tarrin. Would you please, young one?"

  He knew exactly what she wanted him to do. With a mere thought, he released himself from the human form, and returned to his natural humanoid form. The aching throb vanished immediately, replaced by a sensation of rightness that marked the return of his paws, ears, and tail. His shoes vanished into the elsewhere, and the manacles returned from it, trading places in a way. He regarded the assembled performers with steady, emotionless eyes, daring them to stare.

  "As you can see, Tarrin is not human. And you will find him to be no more or less amiable than any other person," Dolanna told them. "Necessity requires him to hide himself in public, but when the ship gets under way, he will appear either like this, or as a large housecat. It is in his power to assume that form." She pointed to Binter and Sisska. "They are the second issue. Dar," she prompted. Tarrin felt both of them touch the Weave, and then the illusions hiding them were gone, showing the performers a pair of monstrous Vendari warriors. "They are Vendari, travelling with us for reasons best left undiscussed. The third is Allia," she said, pointing. "Allia is Selani, and her customs are not like those to which you are familiar. Treat her with respect, and you will find her to be a good person. I do not think I have to say what will happen if you do not."

  "So," Renoit said, stepping forward again, "we have some very special guests with us. I would like to remind all of you that this is the best time to display the hospitality for which we are well known. And remember, they will be performing alongside you soon, so welcome them into our family."

  Tarrin snorted, then turned his back to them all and started walking away. More strangers was the last thing he needed. Surrounded by strangers on another moving prison, and this moving prison looked like a floating perfume shop. Embarassment added onto insult. There were a few gasps from behind when he shifted into his cat form, gasps of surprise that he ignored as he padded through the open door.

  "You will have to excuse him, Renoit," he heard Dolanna say after he turned the corner. "Tarrin is not a, friendly, person. He is very hard to know. Your people should approach him with care."

  Hard to know. He wasn't hard to know, he just didn't want to be pestered by strangers.

  Tarrin spent the entire day in his room. He didn't want to go out on deck and mingle with the performers. He didn't want to deal with strange people. What he wanted was to go back on land, go back into the city, but he had a good understanding why. The cabin and the ship were already starting to seem too small. The city was large, expansive, and though there wasn't anything natural left on the islands, it was unexplored territory that didn't feel like a floating cage. Compared to the ship, it was almost a paradise. He would even risk crossing paths with Triana just for one more night in a place which he couldn't cover in a matter of hours.

  It all seemed so ridiculously unfair. This trip, this quest, everything, it just kept having less and less meaning for him. He understood why he was doing it and the importance of it all, but more and more it was becoming a major chore. He had no idea what he had done to deserve to be treated in such ways. He wasn't sure why his mind and heart were changing, but he could feel it happening. Perhaps it was the Cat, perhaps it was just his reaction to months of enforced limits. He'd felt those limits keenly on the Star of Jerod, after spending so much time on the ship that he knew every nick and ding in the companionways and on the masts. He'd developed cabin fever after about a month with Kern. He already had cabin fever now, and the ship hadn't even slipped its hawsers yet. He felt that the feeling of being trapped had started eating away at what civility he had left, and it was also making headway into undermining the underlying need of his journey. If only they could get to Dala Yar Arak by land.

  The upcoming trip was looking to be extremely unpleasant, and there was no doubt that it would be hard on him and everyone around him. He understood that he'd changed a great deal in just a couple of months. He remembered a time when he would talk to strangers, to try to get to know them. But that seemed a lifetime ago. Now everyone that he didn't know was a threat, a challenge, an opponent. Anyone he didn't already know was a potential enemy, and that wouldn't let him try to befriend anyone else. But in his situation, he guessed that that was a good thing. He remember what Miranda said about men looking for him. There was no telling who was hired by the ki'zadun to track him down and try to kill him, so it was best to treat everyone like he was sent by Kravon to do him in.

  There wasn't going to be another Jula.

  He wasn't going to let an untrustworthy person that close to him again, and because he wouldn't let anyone get close enough to prove or disprove his trust, then that made everything all nice and neat. There wasn't going to be another misplaced trust. There wouldn't be another episode of believing someone was good just because they belonged to an order he thought was good. No more turning his back on someone he thought was his friend.

  That still stung, and deeply. He hadn't spent alot of time with Jula, but the time he had spent with her or around her had totally disarmed him. She had with a few short meetings totally subverted his suspicions. He was amazed that he had done what he did, now that he thought back on it. He wouldn't have put down his guard around someone else he'd known as well as her. Maybe he was just weak over a pretty young lady. Perhaps that helped disarm him, then allowed her to strike the first time he let his guard down.

  Just for a fluttering instant, there was chagrin over what he did to her. He had left her to die, knowing full well that he had delivered a mortal wound. He had just walked away, leaving her to suffer in a pool of her own blood. That seemed, callous. But then he remembered what sh
e did to him, and it suddenly didn't seem good enough. He should have clawed out her eyes, tore out her tongue, broke all four of her limbs, then driven a spike through her back and let her try to find her way out of the room. Instead, he had been merciful. Well there wouldn't be any more of that. Mercy was for the weak, and he wasn't going to be weak.

  That was the old Tarrin. That was when he had the luxury to be friendly or trusting, before harsh reality had taught him some very hard lessons. Out here, in the cruel world, he had to meet its cruelty head on. He had to fight tooth and claw for what he wanted, or else he would never get what he wanted out of life.

  He was getting worked up. He settled down and closed his eyes, conjuring images and memories of Janette. That was always easier in cat form. His memories of her all took place while he was a cat, and they were flavored by the cat's mind and instincts. They always made more sense when he remembered them in cat form. It never ceased to calm him down, to make him content. Just the memory of her scent, a scent that had the power to make him feel completely secure, was usually enough to bring over him a kind of temporary feeling of safety, of home, though it was a mere shadow compared to being held in her arms. When he was there, it seemed that the world was being held away, and she would be there to banish everything that made him worried or afraid. That kind of security seemed so distant to him now, the selfless, almost blind trust that only a child or an animal could have for another being. He had that kind of trust in his little mother, and to a much lesser extent, Dolanna. She too could soothe him in ways that nobody else could, not even Allia. Perhaps it was an extension of trust, a trust that she could make things right again, no matter how wrong they seemed.

  Had he been in humanoid form, he would have chuckled wryly. The mighty Were-cat, so wrapped up in his self-reliance, was almost childishly dependent on others for his own sense of security. Without Dolanna, Allia, Keritanima, and Miranda around him, he would feel totally lost. Each of them had that strange unspoken power over him, the power to make him feel secure, something that he couldn't really bring to himself anymore. They were family, and Tarrin's human part was powerfully grounded in family. That was something that was strong enough to carry over, to make him want to form a new family group, so strong that it overrode the Cat's independent nature.

  It was just the situation. He'd only been Were for about six months or so, and that was just a drop in the bucket compared to all the other craziness that went on after he got to the Tower. It was all still so new to him after seventeen years as a human, no matter how normal it felt. He was just what Jesmind called him, a cub, a mere child, and he had no guidance from his elders. He was adrift on a sea of chaos, with a leaking boat. That he'd gotten this far was amazing to him. It gave him just a bit of hope he'd live to get the leaking boat back to land. If someone else didn't come along and capsize him first.

  The door opened, and Allia entered the room. She was wearing a loose fitting black vest that left her arms and midriff bare, showing off her brands and her tight stomach, not to mention her ample bosom, and a pair of sleek cotton trousers that hugged her full hips enticingly. Her ivory amulet was displayed proudly, standing out in stark contrast to her chocolate skin. He tended to forget how perfect, how beautiful, she really was, because he saw her every day. To him, she was just Allia, not a stunning woman of exquisite beauty and formidible strength and skill.

  "Brother, Dolanna wanted you to know that we'll be casting off soon," she told him, then she seemed to notice that he was staring. "What?"

  "I'm just remembering how pretty you are, sister," he told her in the manner of the Cat, a method of communication that her amulet would allow her to understand.

  "You've seen alot more than this, deshida," she said with a slight smile.

  "Sometimes it's not the product, it's the packaging," he told her, an old Wikuni adage Keritanima had used a time or two. He wasn't quite sure what it was supposed to mean, but it certainly made sense in the context he was using. "Where did you get those?"

  "Renoit's acrobats gave them to me," she replied. "I was just glad to get rid of those Arakite robes. They were stifling. At least these fit well enough."

  "The vest is a bit loose. Don't be bending over in front of any men."

  "Tarrin, brother, if they want to look, I'll open the vest for them," she said bluntly. "I'm not a squeamish human girl. They can look all they want, but touching is another matter."

  "They'll never ask, but they'll all want you to do that," he told her with a cat smile.

  "Whatever," she said, sitting down on the bed and looking down at him. "Are you going to be alright?"

  "What do you mean?"

  "I'm not dead, brother. I can see that you're upset."

  "I'm not upset, it's just more like I'm annoyed," he replied. "I don't know if I can take being cooped up on this ship, surrounded by strange people, for very long."

  "Dolanna said it would take us about fifteen days to reach Tor," she told him. "I know that Tor is surrounded by forest. Maybe she could be persuaded to give you a day or two to yourself."

  "Goddess, that sounds like paradise," he said with a large sigh. "To be surrounded by trees and green and smells again. I'd drag a Giant by the ear for a longspan for that."

  "Patience, deshida," she said in a loving voice, reaching down and scratching him behind the ear. "Sometimes you have to travel the saltflats to reach the oasis."

  "Patience isn't something I have alot of, sister," he grunted.

  "You should get some, then," she told him. "The things I've taught you should show you the wisdom of patience."

  "Maybe, but I am what I am," he told her.

  "And I wouldn't have you any other way," she said with a warm smile. Allia always did know exactly what to say. Sometimes he seriously underestimated his quiet sister.

  "Come up on deck with me," she asked. "I'll carry you. You don't let me do that often."

  "You never ask."

  "You're always in Miranda's lap," she retorted. "What is it about her that you find so interesting?"

  "I have no idea," he replied honestly as Allia picked him up. "Something about her just sings to me. I really think it's the Cat more than me."

  "Maybe it can see something that you can't," she proposed.

  "Probably," he agreed.

  The air was warm, promising the arrival of spring, and the sky carrying only a few clouds. It was afternoon, nearly sunset, and the tide was falling so quickly that one could watch its retreat from the land. The four moons, which goverened the intricate and complicated tide action, had to be at a concerted point for the tide to drop so rapidly. It did happen from time to time that the four moons all pulled the tide at the same time and in the same direction, creating what many sailors and historians called the Great Tide. Be it low or high, it was always the most severe tidal movement of the seas to be seen, moving the sea in or out by as much as fifty spans of water at the northern lattitudes. Tarrin watched the tide drag the ship away from the dock, being held comfortably in Allia's arms as she and Dar shared space at the rail to watch the ship leave. The others were nowhere to be found, and the performers were all busy with getting the sails ready to be unfurled.

  But the tide didn't hold his attention for long. She appeared between two warehouses and rushed out onto the dock, moving towards the ship. But she seemed to realize that she wasn't going to be able to catch the ship, so she slowed to a standing halt and stared out at them with those penetrating green eyes. She was everything he remembered her to be, and the very sight of her made his blood run cold.

  Triana.

  Tarrin looked at her, and he just knew that she could see him. She was staring right at him, through him, her eyes hot and her expression obviously aggravated. She frightened him. He wasn't too proud to deny that simple fact.

  "I see her, brother," Allia said with a slight hiss as his claws dug into her skin. "You can stop punching holes in me."

  "See who--oh," Dar said, shading his eyes and looking at th
e dock. "Is that Triana, Tarrin? She looks mad."

  "That is her, Dar," Allia answered for him, as they all stared at the imposing, intimidating Were-cat matron.

  And then her voice rang out, as if she was just in front of them. "Count yourself lucky, cub," she said in a voice filled to near bursting with power and determination. "If not for all these witnesses, I'd be over there right now to beat some manners into you."

  "She sounds mad," Dar breathed.

  "She is mad, Dar," Allia said in a testy tone. "We have slipped through her fingers again. Someone like her does not take well to failure."

  "Tell her to just leave me alone, Allia," he told her.

  "Don't bother, cub," Triana's voice rang out again. "I can hear you just fine like that. Don't be making your friend do your taunting for you."

  "It has to be magic," Dar said. "A Druidic spell."

  "Obviously," Triana's voice snorted, which made Dar pale. "Don't think you're getting far, cub. It's not just me anymore. After what you did in Den Gauche, now all of Fae-da'Nar is hunting for you. Make it easy on yourself and surrender to me, and I'll do what I can to keep you alive."

  "I've seen what your forest kin have to offer, and I'm not afraid of it," Tarrin shot back pugnaciously. "You better warn them off, Triana. You may be able to handle me, but I doubt that they can. I don't want to do it, but I'll kill anyone who gets in my way."

  "If that's the way you want it, then so be it," she said emotionlessly. "I'm through with you. The next time we meet, one of us won't live to the end of it."

  Then she turned and walked away, leaving the dock workers and pedestrians to gawk and gape at her passing. Triana, being such an old Were-cat, was tall, much taller than most Wikuni. That height made her stand out.

  "Strong words, brother," Allia cautioned.

  "I can back them up, sister," he assured her.

  "I certainly hope so," she said, turning around and carrying him from the rail. "I certainly hope so."