Tower of Sorcery

by Fel

  That image of fire seemed to weave itself from his imagination and into reality. A red-hot tongue of flame lashed from him, simply materializing in front of the defensive cat, and it roared at the man. It washed over him, singing his hair and setting small licks of fire to his clothes before flashing out of existence nearly as quickly as it appeared. The man cried out and dropped the knife, staggering back towards the door. Angry red welts were already forming on his face, and the skin on his hand had an almost liquid consistency from its immersion in Tarrin's fire. "It's a devil-cat!" he cried, then he turned and fled out the door.

  Tarrin suddenly felt too weak to move. It was as if all his strength was sucked out of him with that fire. He wilted to the floor as a suddenly concerned Tomas charged around the corner, holding a rapier in his hand. Tarrin was surprised that Tomas held it with a cool familiarity that told him that the man knew how to use it.

  "Shadow!" he called in sudden concern, kneeling by the exhausted Tarrin and putting a gentle hand on his back. "Are you hurt, boy?" he asked, his eyes staying on the door.

  "What's the matter, Tomas?" Janine the wife called, coming up behind him.

  "The kitchen door is open," he said. "I think someone tried to sneak in, but it looks like Shadow here startled them."

  Strong hands picked him up, and Janine cradled Tarrin to her breast, her free hand checking him for injuries. Despite his exhaustion, he meowed plaintively to her, and put his head against her shoulder. "There's a knife on the floor," Janine said.

  "I think Shadow attacked the man," Tomas the merchant chuckled. "He must have been up on a counter, and leaped at him when he came in. That's a good cat," he said with a laugh, petting him gently.

  "He knows who feeds him," Janine said with a laugh.

  Tomas looked out the door, then closed it, reset the latch, and then locked it. Then he picked up the knife. "It's still warm," he noticed. "I think I'll have a talk with Deris about leaving the kitchen door unlocked when he's not in the room," Tomas the merchant said.

  "Be easy on him, Tomas," Janine the wife said. "I'm certain that it was an accident. He's usually very careful."

  They took him back to the living room, where Tarrin spent most of his night on Janine's lap. He was very frightened, frightened of what had just happened, so he clung to the woman like a child clinging to its mother. Janine, a bit startled that Tarrin would show her so much affection, stroked and soothed him the way only a mother could, easing him from the death-grip his claws had on her and coaxing him into simply laying on her lap.

  He had used Sorcery. And just like his sister, it had been raw, uncontrolled, an attack made in desperation. That changed everything. It was the reason he had fled from Jesmind in the first place, and he realized that, until he learned how to control it, that he would not be safe, nor would others be safe around him. He could have easily set fire to the house, or killed himself with his ignorance. He knew then that he had to leave, and very soon. He had to go back to the Tower, go back to the only place that could help him control his power, and he had to go before it happened again. Next time, he may not be so lucky, and he knew it. He had to accept his responsiblities, stop hiding from them.

  It was time to grow up.

  Tarrin had been solitary all the next day. It hurt Janette a little bit, but Tomas the merchant and Janine the wife figured that he was still a bit shook up over his encounter in the kitchen. What he was doing was making a decision, one that didn't come lightly to him, and he needed time by himself in order to reach it.

  That night, after everyone was asleep, Tarrin padded up into Janette's room. He looked at the darling little girl, all snug in her covers and with a cute little expression on her face. How he was going to miss her.

  After a few moments of concentration, Tarrin changed form.

  The realignment of his thinking was quite profound. After so much time in his cat form, with the cat in control, it was unusual to have to think through the cat's distraction in order to form thoughts. The cat accepted the reversal of roles graciously, returning to its place in the corner of his mind. And when it returned, Tarrin bade it farewell as a brother, not in relief that it was gone. The time in his cat form had allowed him to come to a deeper understanding of his cat instincts, and though he still feared what he may do someday when he was in a rage, at least he could face that future with at least some hope that he could prevent anything as horrible as what he nearly did to his mother from happening.

  He knelt by her bed, putting a paw on her shoulder. "Janette," he called softly. "Janette, wake up. I need to talk to you."

  The little girl opened her dark eyes. Though he was a stranger, Janette did not scream or look up at him in fear. The light of the moons and the Skybands filled her room with enough light for her to see his face, and though he was unknown to her, his gentle way of waking her seemed to allay any fear and replace it with curiosity. "Who are you?" she asked.

  "I'm your cat," he said with a smile.

  "You are not," she said indignantly.

  "Yes, little mother, I am," he told her, cupping her cheek in his huge paw. "Well, I'm not really a cat. Not just a cat. Here, let me show you." He stood up and stepped back from her.

  "You're not wearing any clothes," she remarked.

  "I know," he shrugged. "I don't have any. Now watch." He changed form for her, and saw her eyes widen and heard her gasp. Then he changed back, and returned to his spot beside her bed. "See?"

  "You're not a girl," she accused. Tarrin marvelled at her innocent way, at how she could so easily accept what would have been earth-shattering to an adult. Children were very adapatable.

  Tarrin laughed. "No, I'm not a girl," he agreed.

  "If you're not a cat, why were you a cat? Why stay here? Don't you have a home?"

  "Well, it gets complicated, little mother," he smiled, stroking her hair. "You see, I was lost. I was lost, and very frightened, and very sad, and I didn't know what to do. I was so afraid that I didn't want to go on living. And then a little girl fished me out of a bush," he said, tapping the end of her nose with his fingertip. "You saved me, Janette. If you wouldn't have found, me, I would have died. Here, with you, I found my way again, little mother." He cupped her cheek again, his paw almost swallowing her face up. "I can't ever thank you enough, Janette. You showed me how to live again."

  Her eyes welled up with tears. "You're going to go away, aren't you?"

  "Oh, pumpkin, I don't want to leave you," he said, collecting her up into his arms. "I love you very much, Janette. You're my very own little mother. But sometimes, we all have to do things that we don't want to do. Like when you take your lessons with the flute. I know you don't like it, but you have to do it." He looked into her eyes, wiping away a tear. "I have things I have to do out there in the world, little mother," he told her. "Just like your father, when he goes out every day to mind his affairs. As much as I love you, and I love this house, this isn't my place. I can't do what I need to do here. Can you understand that?"

  "I guess so," she sniffled, "but I don't want you to go away."

  "And I don't want to leave you," he said, smoothing her hair. "You're very important to me, little mother."

  "Why do you call me that?"

  "Because that's how I think of you," he smiled. "You are my very own little mother, there to make all the bad things go away. You made me feel like I had a reason to keep living, pumpkin, and because of you, I think I'm ready to go back to what I'm supposed to do. And every time I feel lost or scared, all I'll have to do is think of you, and it won't seem so bad." He sniffled. "I don't think you'll understand how much you mean to me, Janette. I was so close to giving up. So close that you'll never understand. And you brought me back. I want to thank you for that, Janette."

  He held her very close for quite a while. "I'm sorry, pumpkin, but I have to go," he told her. "And for that, I'm going to need your help."

  "What do you want me to do?"

  "You have to open the door for me, little mot
her." He let go of her and changed form, then jumped up into her lap. He nuzzled her as she picked him up, and he savored the scent of her, the feel of her, as she carried him downstairs. She opened the door and set him down, tears rolling down her cheeks. He changed form again and knelt by her, holding her close one last time. "I'm going to miss you, little mother," he told her. "I wish there was something I could give you to remember me."

  "I don't need something to remember you," she sniffled. "I don't want you to go, but if you have to, you have to."

  "I won't be gone forever, pumpkin," he told her. "Someday, I'll come back. I won't be your cat, but I'll come back and see you."

  "Promise?"

  "Promise," he said, tapping her on the nose.

  She was clutching something in her hand, then thrust it at him. "I won't need this with you gone. Maybe you'd like it. Just in case."

  He took the object. It was the little wooden doll, tied to a string, the toy that they'd used to play with for hours on end, day after day. His eyes filled with tears as he clutched the tiny doll. "Oh, little mother, you still know just what to do to make me happy," he told her, hugging her. "This little toy means quite a bit to me." He fashioned the string into a loop, and then put the doll around his neck like a necklace. "I'll be back as soon as I can. Until then, think well of me."

  "I will," she said. Then she gave him a look. "What is your name? I know it can't be Shadow."

  "My name is Tarrin, little mother," he smiled.

  "Goodbye, Tarrin," she said, putting her little arms around his neck. He held her close for a moment, and then let her go.

  "Goodbye, Janette," he returned. "Don't forget to shut and lock the door," he warned. Then he let her go, and turned away from her. He didn't want to look at her again, else they'd be eating breakfast together. He changed form again, then slunk out of the garden, wriggled through the fence, and then went off in search of the Tower.

  It only took him about an hour to find the Tower. The problem was getting in.

  The guards were as thick as fleas on a dog. They patrolled the fence in such tighly packed patrols that it would be absolutely impossible to sneak in. He didn't want to just walk up to the front gate, because he wasn't sure how they would react to him. They may have received orders to kill him. He had no idea how long that he'd been gone, so he wasn't sure if they thought he was a raving maniac. Not that he'd been too far from it, but he didn't want to have to fight off a pack of guards just to prove that he wasn't crazy. He'd sat there and watched until well after the sun came up, looking for an opportunity to get in, but one never materialized.

  He was laying under a wagon, pondering the situation, then something quite suddenly grabbed him by the scruff of the neck. He yowled and tried to kick free, but that grip suddenly wrapped around his neck. If he struggled too much, he'd break his own neck, so he went very still.

  "I am very put out with you, cub," Jesmind's flat voice came to him, even as her smell, concealed by the miasma of the city, reached his nose. She turned him around and gazed into his eyes. Tarrin couldn't struggle, and with her paws on him like that, he couldn't even change form. "If you had any idea what I've gone through to find you," she grunted, then she sighed. "Ah well, that's water under the bridge now."

  He hissed threateningly at her, and her flat eyes narrowed.

  "Don't take that tone with me, cub," she said ominously. "Or I may forget my promise to your mother and kill you here and now."

  "Promise?" he asked in the manner of the cat.

  "I promised her I would bring you back alive, and I'll do just that. Now shut up. I regret it enough as it is, but my word is my word."

  That revelation came on two fronts. One, that she had went out to find him not to kill him, but to return him to his mother. The other was that she had very strong prejudices against lying. When he split from her, she accused him of breaking his word. Now he understood why it made her so angry. It seemed to be a part of her elemental nature to accept a promise as a sacred bond, and if it was broken, then it violated her to the very core.

  The ten men at the gate lined up to block her at first, but a few deadly looks made them part like water before her. Five followed her, at a discrete distance, as she made her way along the paved road that led to the central Tower. She carried Tarrin like a purse, still throttled at the neck, and Tarrin was pretty sure that it was because of him that they let her inside the grounds. "I can walk," he told her.

  "No, you can't," she said in a grim tone. "If I let you go, you may take off again."

  "I won't," he said. "You found me because I was coming back."

  "I'm not taking any chances," she said in a cold tone.

  She took him into the Tower, along the curved hallways, up stairs, until she reached the antechamber to the Keeper's office. Duncan, the Sorcerer who acted as the Keeper's personal secretary and attendant, stood as Jesmind barged into his office. In that large room, his desk was right by the door leading to the Keeper's office, and three of the four walls were lined with chairs and couches. He said not a word, just eyed the black cat in her paw keenly, then simply stepped to the side and opened the door for her.

  The Keeper was sitting behind her redwood desk, scratching out a letter or some other correspondence, when Jesmind marched into her private domain. The floor was covered with a single massive Arakite carpet, and two ornate, deeply cushioned chairs stood in front of her desk. A portrait of a vibrant brown-haired man in robes hung behind her on the wall, the room's only wall decoration. The Keeper's gray eyes narrowed as she looked up at the disturbance.

  "I didn't think you'd have the nerve to face me, Were-cat," she said in a steely voice, setting down her pen.

  Jesmind raised her arm, the one holding Tarrin, and then dropped him on her desk. "I said I'd bring him back alive. Here he is. Now take your thrice-damned curse off of me."

  "Tarrin?" the Keeper asked in surprise.

  Tarrin changed form right on top of her desk, and then he was kneeling on its wooden surface, staring down at the woman calmly. "Keeper," he said formally. "Can I hit her now?"

  The Keeper laughed. "I may let you," she said. "Are you alright?"

  "As well as can be expected," he said calmly. "I, just needed time alone for a while. I'm ready to go back."

  "Good," she said. "Jesmind, leave."

  "Not until you take your spell off!" she shouted. "I upheld my end of the bargain! Take it off now!"

  "I can't do that," she said in an ominous voice. "You're still a danger to Tarrin, and I won't allow you to hurt him. Keeping you tame is in my best interest at the moment."

  "You lied to me!" she screamed, her claws extending as her eyes flared from within with that unholy greenish aura.

  "Jesmind!" Tarrin barked, jumping off the desk and putting a paw on her chest as the other took hold of her arm. In that instant, Tarrin came to understand why Jesmind hated him so much. It was more than a personal feeling between them. When he left her, she accused him of lying to her, of breaking his word. That was so totally against the basic nature of the Cat that it was her nature to take people at their word, and expect them to live up to it. Lying was a violation of the natural order of things, and that made any Were-cat angry. That, and there was her duty. She had a duty to try to kill him, to stop him from doing what he very nearly did. He could respect that, even more so now that he'd come so close to going mad. He looked back at the Keeper. "You made a promise," he said grimly. "Take the spell off of her."

  "I won't do that," she said.

  "You will," he growled. "Because if Jesmind doesn't kill you, I will."

  The Keeper's eyes widened. "But you hate her," she said. "She wants to kill you!"

  "A promise is a promise," he said flatly. "I didn't understand that before. I do now."

  Jesmind gave him a strange look, and she put a paw on his shoulder.

  "You will take that spell off of her, and you will do it right now, or else this room will need a lot of cleaning. If you think either o
f us are nasty now, you should see what we can do when we're working together."

  The Keeper blanched, standing up. "I'll need the Council. It's Ritual Sorcery. I can't do it alone."

  "Then have someone bring them here," he said in a dangerous tone. "Now." Duncan paused at the door. "Now!"

  "Duncan, go get the Council," the Keeper commanded.

  "Don't think this changes anything between us," Jesmind said in a quiet voice.

  "I don't expect it to," he replied. "I have no real quarrel with you, Jesmind. You have one with me. I don't look at you as an enemy, no matter how hard you try."

  "Then come with me," she offered. "We can let the past be the past. We can start over."

  "I can't do that," he told her. "I came back here for a reason, Jesmind. I can do Sorcery. I nearly killed myself with it while I was away. If I don't learn how to control it, I'll either accidentally kill you or end up killing myself. And the only place I can learn is here."

  "Why do you have to be so stubborn!" she snapped, stamping her foot.

  "Why do you have to be so contrary?" he retorted. "I only need a couple of years, woman. That can't be much more than a blink of your eyes."

  "Then I guess we're back to where we started, aren't we?" she hissed.

  "I guess so. Jesmind."

  "What?"

  "Don't even think of stepping on my tail."

  She gave him a look, then laughed helplessly. "I see you've gotten over your silly modesty."

  "You bring out the worst in me," he replied dryly.

  "Yes," she said. "I imagine I do, at that."

  "Are you calm now?"

  "I guess so."

  He let go of her and stepped back. "You look haggard."

  "You're a damned hard man to find," she grunted, stretching a bit. "I haven't had a good night's sleep in almost a month. How's the arm?"

  "Never better. You didn't rip enough out of it."