Jenna had been right. She said that they'd start coming into the Tower to get at him. These three had snuck in pretending to be Tower guards, and Tarrin had had the misfortune of being caught alone and away from any help. He knew that he'd better not let that happen again. No matter how much it annoyed him, he knew that he'd have to have a companion or bodyguard with him from now on. If only to have another set of eyes watching his back if nothing else.
Jesmind and the Were-cats were going to have a conniption over this. It was going to make them even harder to deal with, he was sure of it. They'd insist he move in with them, that they be with him all the time, and all that rot. He didn't want it before, and he didn't want it now. He'd keep someone with him all the time, but it wasn't going to be one of them all the time.
He realized that standing here was not a good idea. There may be others, and he couldn't risk getting caught alone. He'd gotten lucky this time, but he wasn't stupid enough to think that that luck was going to last. Stepping over the bodies, his staff held confidently in his right hand, Tarrin hurried towards the stairs, fully intent to go down, back into the populated areas of the Tower, and then find someone that could get Jenna. She had to know about this.
It had gone generally as he had expected. After getting downstairs, he found a Sorcerer and had her call ahead to Jenna, then demanded she accompany him to her office personally. The short, rather plump woman looked a bit offended, but she could tell that Tarrin was very agitated, and the bloodstain on his staff probably told her that something very bad had just happened. She took him to Jenna's office, and once he was there, he told Jenna what happened quickly and concisely. Jenna was both worried for him and relieved he was alright, and then she got really mad. She shouted for Duncan, then she gave an order to sweep the Tower using the Knights in a blistering tone, even ordering the Sorcerers to check every servant, visitor and Guard using Mind weaves for knowledge of the attack.
Word of the attack raced through the Tower faster than he thought it would. Within two minutes of him reaching Jenna's office, Sapphire came in through the door, glaring down an indignant Duncan and sweeping into the room. She was wearing a very pretty blue dress with white lace around the neckline, but it was her dark expression that got Tarrin's attention. Everyone handled Sapphire very, very carefully. She was a dragon, and absolutely nobody that knew her wanted to upset in her in any way. They were all afraid she'd knock down one of the Towers or something. Tarrin hadn't seen her for a couple of days, and he figured she had to be busy. She always made it a point to come visit him every day, if only to talk for a few minutes, but she'd been absent yesterday.
"I heard what happened," she said. "Are you alright, little friend?"
"I'm alright," he assured her. "Lucky for me that mother taught me how to handle an armed opponent. I managed to get away without a scratch."
"You said you could protect him, Keeper," Sapphire said in an accusing manner.
"The men were wearing Tower guard uniforms," she said defensively. "I have no idea how they managed to get them, but those would have let them onto the grounds."
"They killed the former owners, of course," she sniffed. "You should not go around alone, little one. Not after this."
"I realized that," he told her with a nod. "I think I have enough friends to manage to keep company."
"You have me," she said simply. "I have little enough to do as it is, and I finally made contact with the last of my brood last night, so my attention isn't divided anymore. I will stay with you."
He was a little surprised by her declaration, and he was a little leery of having Sapphire accompany around everywhere he went. He did like her, but it just bothered him for some reason. Almost like it wasn't right for a dragon to be playing nursemaid for him.
"I won't invade the privacy of your room, but any time you set foot from it, I will be with you. And I'm sure that the Keeper will arrange to have your door guarded."
"Guards, certainly, but only Knights. Their loyalty is an absolute, especially since they see Tarrin as one of their own. And I'm going to set a Ward," she answered. "I'll set it so no one can pass through his door or window except him and his friends, and I'll set it to permit the Knights and the Were-cats to pass. That way Tarrin and our circle can pass through his door without hindrance, and the Knights and Were-cats can enter his room in case they need to defend him."
"A sensible precaution," she agreed. "Just make the list of approved people very short."
"It's only going to be about ten people," she said. "Tarrin, Allia, Keritanima, Camara Tal, Miranda, Binter and Sisska, Dolanna and Dar, and Phandebrass. Nobody else has any business coming into his room without an invitation."
"What if I want someone not approved to come into my room?" he asked.
"That kind of Ward will let someone pass through it if someone who is approved is touching them," she said. "If you want to invite a guest into your room, you'll have to hold her hand while crossing the threshold." Jenna looked at him with a very slight smile, and he realized that Ianelle must have told her about their talk. Auli told Ianelle what they'd talked about, and Ianelle told Jenna.
"Add me to your list," Sapphire said bluntly.
"I didn't mention you because you're standing right here, Sapphire," Jenna said mildly. "That you would have access to Tarrin's room was a given."
"Very good then," she said in a soothed tone.
"I'm very happy that you would want to be with Tarrin when he goes out, Sapphire," Jenna said. "I'll feel completely at ease knowing that you're watching out for him."
"He is clan to me," she said simply. "Among us blues, clan is all."
"He couldn't have a better guardian," she said in appreciation.
"Naturally," she sniffed in reply. She stepped back slightly, and to his surprise, her form seemed to shimmer like a heat mirage. When it was over, a tiny replica of the huge dragon he'd seen was sitting on the floor where she'd been standing. He recognized her immediately, realizing that this was the drake form in which she'd been trapped before the Weave had been restored. A flap of her leathery wings put her up on his shoulder, and she settled sedately. Her weight was very slight, and it was a very odd sensation to feel her tail slide back and forth across his back. "If you and I are going to be together, I much prefer it this way," she said from his shoulder. "I have very fond memories of my time in this form, and I'll be more able to watch out for you. I lose my senses in human form. In this form, I have them again."
Tarrin reached up tentatively, and it conjured flashes of memory of her sitting on his shoulder just like that. She nuzzled his fingers affectionately, and that suddenly made him feel completely at ease with the idea of her being with him. She may be a formidable, mysterious dragon, but this reminded her that no matter who she was or how powerful she was, she was his friend first. And all those other things didn't matter in the face of that.
With Sapphire watching his back, he felt very, very safe.
Chapter 6
It was very strange.
He couldn't help but think about it as he returned to his room, with Sapphire riding comfortably on his shoulder, his fearsome little guardian that would ensure that absolutely nothing or no one threatened him again. He had been involved in a fight for his very life, and there had been very little fear. He'd never had to fight like that before, not when it mattered so much, or at least not that he could remember. And yet there had been very little fear. There had been worry over the poisoned weapons, a little desperation when he accidentally summoned the Firestaff by accident, and definite concern and awareness of the finality of losing the fight...but no real fear.
In a way, it had felt...familiar. They said he'd been quite a dangerous fighter, and he'd been in so many fights that it was probably second nature to him to fight like that. But that Tarrin was lost for the moment, buried in the deepest tunnels of his mind, ensnared in the submerged alternate consciousness that had once been merged with his own. Had that other him somehow emerged duri
ng the fight? Or was it such an automatic response for him to fight by now that even with amnesia, he could respond to such a dangerous situation without fear paralyzing him? He certainly felt some of that fear now. The understanding that one scratch may have killed him certainly seemed more frightening to him now than it had during the heat of the moment. The fighting had been nothing like what he had expected.
And then there was the knowledge of the finality of it. Three men had died in the course of the fight, and Tarrin had been directly responsible for two of them. The third had died at the hands of one of his own companions, victim of the spell that the Firestaff had placed over them. Tarrin's pinning move had killed one from the very poison meant for him, and the second was his direct responsibility. He had killed the man ruthlessly, knowing that his poisoned weapon was a threat to him no matter how injured he was. Tarrin had made a conscious choice to kill him.
And there was no guilt. Of course, all his friends would tell him he was crazy for thinking that he should feel guilty. Those men had tried to kill him, and they had tried it with a tool so underhanded and cowardly that it would offend a man with honor. Poisoning was considered the lowest form of cowardly backbiting among the Ungardt. Any man not strong or brave enough to face an enemy like an Ungardt didn't deserve to own an axe. But still, some part of him told him that he should feel something for what he had done.
In reality he did, but it wasn't what he expected to feel. He felt relieved. He was relieved he had gotten away from them, relieved that he'd killed them. If any of them had gotten away, they would try again. And again, and again, and again, until they either died or got to him. What he was carrying, men were going to willingly risk death to try to gain it. If anything, now he perfectly and completely understood that one simple concept. There were some things that some men were willing to die over, and the chance to become a god would certainly reach that level of devotion. He doubted those men had acted on their own. He was certain that someone sent them...but on the other hand, how could an organization trust men enough to send them to acquire an item that could give those very men the power to rule the world? Either they didn't tell them just what it really was they were after, or they had to trust those men absolutely to bring the prize back. One of them had called the Firestaff by its name, so he had the feeling that those three knew what it was. They must have been very devoted to their organization to be willing to give away the power to be a god.
If it had come to that. The Firestaff had them in its spell, and he had the feeling that if they would have taken it from him, they wouldn't have been handing it over to anyone. They would have killed each other over possession of it, and the winner, if there indeed was one given that all of them had poisoned weapons, would have run away with the prize. The Firestaff's corrupting power over men would make it very difficult for one man to send another to retrieve it for him and expect him to return with it. It made him see the deadly, destructive power of the artifact. As long as it was present, no man could be trusted, and the one who possessed it couldn't even trust his own friends. The Firestaff did not choose its owner, it called to all, seeking one who would take it up and use it in the way it had been created to be used.
Should he feel guilty over killing two men and being responsible for the death of a third? Should he have felt fear? Serious questions, and he had the feeling that the answers to them were locked up with the missing memories in his mind. He felt that fragments of his lost personality were starting to reassert themselves. He had remembered in the carriage, remembered things forgotten. Was it a stretch to think that in the heat of a fight, with such emotion surging through him with the adrenalin and the knowledge that it was a fight for his very life, that the part of him best suited for dealing with the situation would resurge within him? It wouldn't have been the first time fragments of his old self made their presence known. The Cat had literally attacked Koran Dar when his magic got too close to it. Maybe the old Tarrin had been released from his prison inside him for a few brief moments and gave him the courage and experience and proper mindset he needed to get out of a very bad situation.
Whether he liked that Tarrin or not, if that was the case, then he was very glad that he was still around.
But maybe it wasn't all the forgotten Tarrin. He'd been rather calm even after the fight. He knew exactly what he had to do, and he did it. Even after that, going to see Jenna, he didn't have a breakdown or go into histrionics. Someone had just tried to kill him, and it was like it was just something that occupied the time between bathtime and breakfast.
Well, maybe he wasn't quite that nanchalant. There had been a little heart-pounding, that was for sure, but it came more or less after he was safe. Almost like that was when he realized he had the time to let it out.
The whole thing had disrupted his plans for the day, that was for sure. He was back in his room, where they were waiting for Jenna to come and set the Ward. There were already two Knights at his door, and what was more, pairs of Knights were stationed at every passage intersection and stairway landing on his room's floor and two floors up and two floors down. If anyone even wanted to get within two floors of him, they'd have to get past a virtual gauntlet of fiercely protective Knights. And they were fiercely protective. They were standing outside his door in full armor and with their swords drawn, as if wasting the time to draw them would be too long a time to wait. A servant needing to do work on Tarrin's floor had to explain himself and subject himself to search about ten times. Nothing that even might be used as a weapon was being allowed to pass the Knights. No brooms, no buckets, not even long-handled feather dusters. Sapphire was in his room, sitting on his desk and looking at one of the porcelain figurines that had been given to him as a gift curiously. It was a figurine of a small child kneeling with her little hands pressed together in prayer.
"Not a single dragon," Sapphire sniffed in disapproval. "If I knew you fancied trivial decorations, I would have sent you one."
"Well, it's not that I fancy them," he said. "But they were gifts. Custom among my people is that if something is given to you as a gift, you have to use it or display it. I'm really not that fond of some of these things, but they were given to me. It's an insult to the good wishes of the giver for me to just put them in a box and stick them under the bed."
"You take much stock in custom even now," she said. "Before you lost your memory, you were much the same. I see that some elements of your personality were yours before you were turned."
He pointed to the little crystal bell she'd sent him. "There's yours. Right by the bed, where I could get my hands on it in a hurry if I needed to."
"It pleases me that you took my gift seriously," she said with approving eyes.
"I'm just now starting to appreciate how serious all this is."
"I dare say you would," she said with an eerie reptillian grin.
"I do really like that one, though," he said, pointing at the cat with the emerald eyes.
"Who sent it?"
"I forgot. One of those people I can't really remember," he answered.
"It is an excellent piece," she said, studying it. "Refined and elegant, yet with an understated simplicity that makes it very bold."
"I don't know about all that, I just like it," he told her in a simple manner.
"You have no soul for art, Tarrin."
"I guess not," he shrugged in agreement.
There was a sudden commotion outside the door, as one of the Knights raised his voice for some reason. There was a pause, and then the door was thrown open, and much to both his irritation and concern, Jesmind was standing in the doorway. He could tell almost immediately that she was either upset or angry. She wasn't alone; Triana was just behind her, and Mist was with her.
"Are you alright?" she asked immediately, sweeping into the room so quickly that it surprised him, coming over and putting those large padded hands on him, checking him.
"I'm alright," he said neutrally. He couldn't be mad at her for being concerned, but
what happened earlier hadn't changed his intention to lay down the law. He reached up and put his hands on her forearms, and then gently pushed them away.
That one move seemed to convey the entirety of his emotion to her. She looked at him with surprise and just a little chagrin, and she stiffened. "Listen, Tarrin," she said quickly. "I'm sorry. I know I--"
"Sorry isn't going to fix it this time," he said in a steely tone. "Look around you, Jesmind. Looks a little different than the last time you were in here, doesn't it?" he accused. "You had no right to destroy my room!" he shouted at her suddenly, and it made her take a step back.
"Someone nearly kills you, and you want to fight about that?" Jesmind said in surprise.
"People try to kill me all the time!" he said pugnaciously. "I don't remember it, but I know it because you told me so! Why shouldn't I be used to it by now?"
He knew that sounded a little ludicrious, and Sapphire couldn't suppress a hissing giggle. Jesmind wasn't laughing, though. "I've had about enough of it, Jesmind," he told her bluntly. "This is what's going to happen. You're going to stop following me around. You're going to make sure the other Were-cats don't follow me around in your stead, and you're going to give me the space I want. You're going to leave me alone, because if you don't, I can guarantee you that you won't see me anymore. I'll have you thrown out of the Tower."
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