The Questing Game Page 5

  "But I have to stay near Tarrin," Azakar protested.

  "Just this once, I think we can depend on Binter and Sisska to watch over him," Faalken said. "If you don't mind, Keritanima."

  "Not at all," she replied with a toothy grin. "Miranda has her own list of things."

  Miranda nodded, patting Sisska on the arm. "Would you mind escorting me, Sisska?"

  "As you command, Miranda," the massive Vendari female said in her deep, very un-female voice.

  After splitting up at the docks, Tarrin followed Dolanna through the streets of Den Gauche. The manner of dress for the people wasn't that much different than Sulasia; women wore dresses, often with a vest-like bodice over the dress, and men wore doublets and trousers, though some wore very tight-fitting pants-like garments called hose. But all one had to do was listen to know that they were no longer in Sulasia. The Shacèans had their own language, and though most of them knew the Common language, they didn't use it in Den Gauche. Tarrin didn't speak Shacèan, so he was forced to listen in curiosity as he heard it all around him. Shacèan was a very musical language, flowing and rhythmic, and it gave Tarrin the eerie feeling that he was walking in the middle of a vast opera.

  But things felt much better to him. He had solid ground under his feet, and the land stretched out before him in every direction. Every step past the confines of the deck made his mind feel more and more at ease, and rides of tension and uncertainty began to unwrap themselves from his mind. The smells of the city still curled his nose, but mingled in with the smell of humans and waste and the sea was the smell of trees, of farmland and nature, wafting in from over the hill. He was no longer trapped on the open sea, and it made him feel a great deal better. Allia too seemed to relax somewhat, but hers was the relief of getting off the ship, getting away from the sea.

  The Shacèans did stare a bit, but it had more to do with Allia than him. Tarrin, they dismissed as an exotic Wikuni, Binter was considered to be Wikuni, but Allia was unique, strange, new, and her beauty caused almost every head to turn. It brought more attention to them than Tarrin would have liked, but at least it was all focused on his sister and not on him. She even had several children tugging on her shirt, asking questions in their flowing language, which Allia couldn't understand.

  "It's the hair," Keritanima said after they passed a young girl who had been gently rebuffed by Allia, having dropped her illusion as soon as they lost sight of the sea. "They usually only see silver hair on old ladies. A couple of the more daring ones asked if it was natural."

  "I do not think I would appreciate proving that to them in a city street," Allia said bluntly, which made Keritanima laugh.

  "That could cause a riot," Dar noted.

  "That could be interesting," Keritanima said with a nudge on Allia's side. "Let's try it."

  "You go first," Allia challenged.

  "Children," Dolanna chided. "We are here on business. Let us not be teasing the natives."

  They reached the large plateau, and found that it held a huge central market. Merchants in stalls and tents crowded into a huge open area that was relatively flat, and the place was packed with both merchants and customers. All social classes could be found moving about, for the bazaar offered many things to customers, and all of it was packed very tightly together. One could travel to many shops through the city and assemble their goods, or make one trip to the bazaar. It was much like Suld, and Tarrin figured that they had the same thing here. The better goods were found in shops, but for the frugal or hurried shopper, everything could be found near to each other at better prices, but not at as good a quality. There was a wide avenue that went up the hill from the bazaar, and it created a wide open path that led directly to the castle at the hill's peak. That same avenue went down as well, all the way to the docks. Such a street seemed unwise to him. It provided attackers a convenient path directly to the city's main foritifed position.

  "Everyone mind your belongings," Dolanna warned as they reached the edge of the marketplace. "Such places are well known for pickpockets and thieves."

  "I don't have anything to steal," Dar said with a chuckle.

  "We will all meet right here in an hour's time," Dolanna told them, handing out small leather pouches. Tarrin looked into his, and found it to hold a few gold and silver coins. "Buy what you feel you need, but please, do not get exotic. We are on a budget. And do not leave the bazaar."

  "Alright," Dar said.

  Dolanna made them break up, and Tarrin thought he understood why. They had been forced into each other's company for two months, and the hour, no matter how short, was at least a chance to be alone for a little while. Tarrin didn't mind the company usually, but he had to admit that it did feel rather good to be alone for a little bit. He wandered the bazaar randomly, looking at tables and carts holding goods of every imaginable type, from foodstuffs to rope to pottery to knives to trinkets and even good old fashioned junk. Merchants and barkers shouted, cajoled, sometimes even pleaded for shoppers to visit their stalls, to partake of their most excellent merchandise and marvel at the deals they were willing to make. It was new, vibrant, to the Were-cat, who had lived his life either in the calm, proper village of Aldreth or sheltered on the Tower grounds. And they weren't afraid of him. Merchants beckoned to him just as often as they beckoned to the citizens, probably even more so, for they probably thought that such an exotic visitor was a man of advanced means.

  They weren't the only ones not afraid of him. After only minutes, Tarrin had a small group of children following him from stall to stall, as the Were-cat looked at what was being offered by the sellers. One of them was even brave enough to grab him by his tail. He looked over his shoulder and found a young boy, probably not even six, holding onto the end of his tail, staring at it with a totally mystified expression. With a slow smile, Tarrin lifted his tail, quickly enough to make the boy squeak, but not so fast that it pulled it out of his hands. He found himself hanging in the air by his grip on Tarrin's tail, his feet dangling a few fingers off the ground, and Tarrin began swinging him back and forth. The little boy laughed and enjoyed the game, until he accidentally kicked a well-dressed woman with dark hair. She whirled on the boy and gave him the rough side of her tongue, none of which Tarrin could understand, and the Were-cat mischieviously left the boy standing there abashed, to explain away his actions alone. But that didn't dissuade the others. He had no idea why they were so drawn to him, but he really didn't mind. Tarrin liked children, because they never judged, and they would accept him the way he was. Actually, the way he was was probably what drew them to him. The Cat too liked children, and though he was male, the instinct to protect the young was strong in him. The Cat saw all children as young, and needing to be defended and nurtured, taught the skills they would need to survive in the world. He couldn't speak their language, but that didn't seem to be much of a barrier to them.

  It evolved into a game of sorts. He would wander around the bazaar, and the children would try to sneak up and grab his tail. But the limb was flexible and fully prehensile, and it moved with the speed of a striking viper. And he didn't have to see the children to know that they were there. The tip of his tail eluded them again and again, pulling away from outstretched hands, dancing away from sweeping arms, then tapping them on the head or chest to taunt them for their slowness. His tail made the children giggle and laugh, and forget their cares and worries as they tried to sneak up and grab it. It only caused him one episode, when it began swishing again on its own, then happened to make contact with a woman's backside. She whirled with an indignant look, then saw who--or more precisely, what--had dared to pat her on her backside, then she laughed nervously. She was a rather pretty young lady with honey colored hair and a heart-shaped face, and her dress was made of brocade and silk, a soft rose color, covered over with a very light cloak of a darker red. This was a woman of property.

  "Sorry, it moves by itself," he apologized.

  "Apology, no is needed, no?" she replied in a heavily accented v
oice. "I see play you with children. I no am angry, yes."

  The short time in the bazaar had quite an effect on Tarrin. He had worried that he would be out of control, or would not be accepted. But neither had happened. He felt very good, even a little happy, and the Shacèans hadn't shown any fear of his appearance. Shacèans were known for being tolerant and inquisitive, great believers in hospitality and making all feel welcome, but he didn't know if that would extend to him. Or more to the point, if they knew what he really was instead of what they assumed him to be. But the hospitality of the Shacèans had worked its magic on him, and he truly did feel much better than he had the day before.

  But, he found, Den Gauche had everything that other cities also had. At the fringes of the bazaar were children and older men and women wearing tattered garments, many of them looking unhealthy. Beggars and the poor, the lost children of most societies. Such things still offended his sensibilities. In Aldreth, everyone helped everyone else. If someone suffered a poor harvest or an accident, the entire village rallied around that unfortunate, helping them with gifts or helping hands until they were back on their feet. For people to be so uncaring towards their own seemed to totally violate everything Tarrin had grown up to believe in. But in the cities, people forgot that everyone was their neighbor, and neighbors helped one another. He knew it had alot to do with size. Cities were large, and most of a city-dwellers neighbors were strangers to him. It was hard to care for a stranger. Even in Aldreth, a stranger was approached cautiously, though he still received hospitality. But then again, in Aldreth, one never know exactly who or what a stranger was. Many strangers came from the Frontier, and it was generally accepted in the village that they were disguised forest folk, like Were-kin, or solitary hermits, woodsmen, rangers, and even the occasional Druid. Yet even they were accepted warmly, and allowed to trade and visit the inn, so long as they behaved themselves. And they invariably did.

  Two such beggars seemed to stand out to him. It was a young woman, dirty and bedraggled, holding onto a scratched old wooden bowl despondantly. She looked to have been very pretty before she got so dirty, and her eyes were dominated by milky white spots that laid over her eyes. They wore clothes that at one time had probably been well made and fine, but were now filthy, with many tears and holes in them. She was attended by a young girl that couldn't have been more than six or seven, and both of them were shockingly thin. The girl's appearance made her the woman's daughter, and the look of her told him that the mother was starving herself so that her daughter would have enough food to eat to survive. When he approached them, the young girl gawked at him, then remembered to raise her little bowl and plead with him in their language. The sound of her voice was broken, hopeless, and it pulled at both sides of him with a power that he found was impossible to resist.

  Tarrin knelt down in front of them, wrapping his tail around his foot and knee to keep people from stepping on it. Without saying a word, Tarrin reached out and put his paw on the woman's face, his fingers covering over her eyes. He touched the Weave without thinking, and sent probes of Divine energy into her body. She was malnourished, and had grown very weak after months and months of improper diet. She had a few mended bones, no doubt broken by street thugs, and there was something inside her eyes preventing them from seeing anything. It wasn't a sickness, and because of that, Tarrin could do something about it.

  Tarrin learned two things from that touch. One, that being so far from the Conduit in Suld, it did indeed take longer for him to build magical energy to weave spells. The other was that distance also caused the power of High Sorcery to take longer to find him. It had to build the same way that regular Sorcery did, and that little bit of extra time was all he needed. He wove together a spell of Earth, Water, and Divine energy, and released it into the woman. It sought out her eyes, breaking up whatever it was that was keeping her eyes from working, then mending the damage done to the very intricate inner parts of her eyes. He isolated the cause of her blindness, a defect in her eyes that would make the blockages grow back, and eradicated it permanently. While he was there, he repaired some of the damage done by her long months of eating poorly, giving her body what it needed to recover on its own.

  Tarrin pulled away his paw, and the woman closed her eyes quickly and flinched away from the light. "Ama?" the little girl called, giving Tarrin a sudden wary look. The woman turned her head back in his direction, and then opened her eyes. Brilliant blue eyes stared up at him in absolute awe, and he could see them slowly focus in on him. He smiled at her gently, reaching down and patting her on the shoulder, as she raised her dirty hands and stared at them in wonder. Those hands began to tremble, and she stared up at him again with tears forming in her eyes. He took the little leather pouch and pressed it into her hands, smiling, and then he stood up and started walking away.

  He never said a word to them, and he moved out of their sight quickly, but he could hear the woman begin to cry for joy. It wasn't much, but in a way, it made him feel better. He had a long journey to atone for what he had done, but helping the woman seemed to lighten the burden around his soul, if only for a little while.

  He wasn't exactly sure when he wandered away from the marketplace, but the next time he stopped to take stock in his surroundings, he was on a street running parallel to the slop of the hill, a flat ridge on the hillside upon which a street with houses was built. The bazaar was nowhere in sight, but it had to be behind him, for he didn't rememeber going up or down the hill's slope. He had no idea where he was going. For that matter, he had no idea he had left. He just wanted to look around, and found himself quite a distance from where he was supposed to be. He turned around and started back for the bazaar, very aware of the looks and curious glances he was receiving from the other pedestrians. They weren't looks of hostility, just ones of curiosity, so they didn't really bother him that much.

  That was when the scent hit him. It was faint, and with the wind at his back, it meant that it--she--was somewhere behind him. It was a Were-cat scent, and it was close enough for him to catch on the wind. That meant that she couldn't be any more than two blocks away. Tarrin stopped stock still, then turned around and carefully sampled the air with his nose. It wasn't Jesmind's scent, but there were was an eerie similarity to it. It was also growing stronger; she was moving in his direction. The scent of her evoked a reaction in him that was part fear, part curiosity, and a big part anxiety. Jesmind said to treat any Were-cat he encountered as hostile, and he understood the need for it. But he really didn't want to fight. In his current frame of mind, getting into a fight was the last thing he needed.

  He couldn't risk a fight. Not here, not now. Turning so he was facing the sea, Tarrin darted in between two houses, jumped a fence, fled through a courtyard, and then vaulted out off the back wall, sailing high into the air as the ground fell away from him. He jumped high and far enough to land on the roof of one of the houses on the next street, further down the hill. He landed lightly on its red tile roof, then moved over it and lept over the street on the other side, landing on one of the roofs on the other side. He then jumped from that roof to the back wall of its courtyard, startling a small family sitting in the courtyard, and then lept out from it towards the sea. There was no roof anywhere near where he could land, so he landed rather hard in an empty yard behind a very large warehouse, hard enough to force him to roll with the impact. He knew where he was now; the lower parts of the hill were dominated by dock wards, dingy taverns and boarding houses, and large storage warehouses. He was still a ways from the ship, but he didn't have that far to go to get to the sea. Then he could run along the docks to get back to it.

  But then again, he had the extra time. First, that female had to catch his scent, then follow it. It had enough vertical elements to make that not very easy, so that should give him the time to get back to the ship without causing a scene. He didn't want the Shacèans pointing at him and whispering, it may hurt the reputation of everyone with him as well. They still had another day in p
ort.

  It also wouldn't hurt to get a look at her. Jesmind told him to treat all other Were-cats as enemies, but he'd never seen another one other than her. His curiosity was starting to get the best of him. Provided he took some precautions, he could probably get a good look at her without her seeing him.

  He took his trail past the ship, well down the docks, to the far end of it. That section of the docks seemed to be unused for the most part, with only a pair of ships tied up to the quays, and with very little activity. The area was dominated by huge warehouses, and it was there that he felt he could get a look at her without compromising his position. He found a pair of them built close to one another, and used a technique to climb up them by jumping high up onto the wall of one, then pushing off and getting onto the wall of the other, doing it over and over again and gaining some height each time. He didn't want to leave clawmarks on the sides of the buildings, so vaulting up between the two buildings, using them like alternating springboards, let him get on the roof without leaving any scent or visual clues as to where he went.

  After getting onto the flat roof, which had a stairwell going down into the building, he hunkered down behind the low stone wall keeping people on the roof from wandering off, then waited.

  He didn't have to wait long. She wandered into view about twenty minutes later, moving slowly and carefully, and the sight of her took him aback. She was tall, this Were-cat, even taller than him. She was the same height as Azakar. But just like Jesmind, her form was perfectly molded to her height, making her look perfectly natural. As if everyone else were deformed because they weren't as tall as she. She was tall, slender, lithe, but just like Jesmind, she had that perfect mixture of lines and curves that would turn any male head in her direction.

  She was just like Jesmind. Her face was a more mature version of his fiery bond-mother, high-boned, sharp, and graceful, dominated by a pair of crystalline green eyes. Her hair was a tawny color, and it perfectly matched the tawny color of her fur. She wore a simple cotton shirt, unlaced a bit so it hung on her loosely, and a pair of dark leather breeches. Like him, she wore no shoes, letting her tawny fur on her feet look something like boot leather from a distance.