The Questing Game f-2

by James Galloway

  Those words struck Tarrin, and they were right. At first, he found it hard to kill. Now it was as easy as deciding between having pork or beef. But there was little remorse, little regret mixed up in it. It was more of a declaration of what he was rather than a condemnation of what he had become. He had to admit to himself that he was hard, that he was feral. But the moral consequences slid off of him like water. There was no impact there.

  "I can see that I'm right. I can also see that you don't care," he noted. "That's more or less what I expected. You don't see anything wrong with what you've done because it makes perfect sense to you. That's a function of the instincts inside you, instincts that have convinced your human mind that its way of doing things are best. You have to do something about that.

  "Part of being able to function in a human society is being able to make hard choices," Haley said, staring into Tarrin's eyes. "We all have instincts, and they're very strong. You have to learn when to tell them no. You've lost that ability. If you hope to be accepted by Fae-da'Nar, you'd better learn how to do that again."

  "I don't want acceptance," Tarrin told him flatly. He understood what was waiting for him if he became soft. Enslavement, imprisonment, to be used by people he would trust for their own ends. Deception, abuse, and sorrow. He could do without that. "I don't want to change."

  "Then you have little hope," Haley sighed. "You seem to have conquered the madness, but if you can't conquer your instincts, they'll kill you."

  "Then let them try," Tarrin said, snapping his paw across his chest in a combative display. "They can get in line behind everyone else."

  "Tarrin," Dolanna said quickly. "Haley's eyes are on the manacles. Why do you not explain to him how they got there, and what they mean to you."

  With no emotion, Tarrin stared right at him and related how Jula had betrayed him, and how he had been taken prisoner. "These remind me of what happens when I trust people," he said heatedly, holding up his arms to let Haley see the heavy steel cuffs. "These warn me of what happens when I let people get close to me, and I wear them so I'll never forget. I'll never be put in a cage again. Never!"

  "Tarrin's position is more than what you believe, Haley," Dolanna told him putting a gentle hand on Tarrin's arm. "I cannot deny that he is what you believe him to be. But how he got there is not because of his own choice. To a Were-cat, there is nothing more terrifying than to be stripped of freedom. Would you not expect him to erect a defense against it?"

  Haley only gave her a blank look.

  "Tarrin is not as controlled by his instincts as you believe. Yes, he killed a man. But it was a man that had attacked a defenseless woman. Tarrin's instincts have merged with his human morality to create within him a very stark view of right and wrong, of proper and improper. Tarrin said it himself when he told you that he gave to the man what he gave to the woman. No more, no less."

  "I'm not disputing that, Dolanna," he said. "I said that I probably would have done the same thing. But I wouldn't have killed him in the middle of a common room with some fifty witnesses."

  "You are splitting hairs, Haley," Dolanna said with a slight smile. "I know Tarrin. He has triggers, and so long as none of those triggers are touched, he is perfectly fine. To injure a defenseless woman like that is one of his more sensitive triggers. Tarrin is extremely protective, even over those whom he does not trust, if he deems them incapable of defending themselves. Especially children. And the girl he described could not have been much older than a child."

  "You're talking to a blind man, Dolanna," Haley said. "I'm not saying I don't agree or disagree. Personally, I like the boy. But speaking from the standpoint of Fae-da'Nar, his behavior is totally unacceptable."

  "Then why get me riled up?" Tarrin demanded.

  "Because you have to understand things," he replied calmly. "If we were in the forest, I'd have no problem with what you do. But this is human society, so there has to be constraint. Gutting someone in a common room with people watching isn't much of an exercise in self control." He pointed at Tarrin. "The only place for you is the forest, boy. You've proved that you can't function in human lands."

  "We have little choice, Haley. I told you what we are doing."

  "I know, but you may want to think about leaving him here, then picking him up when you come back from Yar Arak. Someone like him in Arak? He'll depopulate half the country."

  "Maybe they are due for it," Dolanna said.

  Haley laughed. "Probably. I've never met an Arakite that wasn't a sadistic, arrogant brute. But if the fact that he's a Were-cat were to be common knowledge, it would permanently damage our standing in human society."

  "So, you're saying that you don't disagree with what I do, only that I shouldn't do it in public? Isn't that a bit hipocritical?" Tarrin asked him.

  "I never said that the rules had to make sense," he said with a rueful chuckle. "There have been a few times I've felt the impulse to change form and take out someone's throat. I just know better. That's something you need to learn too." He sat down in a chair. "You're not the only one like you. There's another. Her name is Mist. She's a Were-cat, and she's almost exactly like you. The others don't let her come into human lands any more than absolutely necessary. She has this bad tendancy to leave a trail of bodies wherever she goes, like another nameless Were-cat I'm not going to mention. She never kills someone without a good reason, but the human law doesn't see it that way. Fae-da'Nar tolerates her because she minimizes the damage by only coming out of the forest very seldomly. So long as she stays outside of human eyes, the Forest Folk don't object to her. It's when her activities start getting noticed by humans that they do something about it. That's how it works, boy. In the forest, we do as we please, but we act our environment. When we go into human territory, we try to act human. They have enough reason to fear us as it is. We don't need to aggravate things."

  "So, I am to assume that you are finished admonishing him?" Dolanna asked.

  "It's not quite that bad, Dolanna," he replied with a grin. "He just needs to learn the distinctions between proper and improper behavior. I hope our little discussion helps you see that line." He got up again. "Now that that little bit of unpleasant business is behind us, why don't we go downstairs and get something to eat? But you, boy, will either have to take human form or stay up here. With what you did, it's best for you to keep that appearance hidden."

  "Come down, Tarrin. It is a good chance to practice holding the human form."

  "Is he any good at it?" Haley asked.

  "He can hold it for a few hours, but there is always discomfort," she told him.

  "That's normal for Were-cats. I've never quite understood why they're like that."

  "Jesmind told me that the Were-cats can't hold the human form long because it's not their natural form anymore," Tarrin told him, closing his eyes and bringing his human appearance to mind. Then he willed the change. There was an immediate odd sensation from where his tail and ears were supposed to be, there was a dimming of his vision and smell, sounds weren't as sharp or lucid, and he felt curiously diminished, and that constant nagging pain started taking its place in his body. Allia's exercises and meditative training had helped with some of it, but he couldn't completely put it out of his mind. "You said that all Were-cats are half feral. That may be a reason why."

  "Or a symptom of what makes you different," Haley agreed. "You look odd like that."

  "What do you look like when you do that?"

  "I guess I owe you that much," he chuckled, bending down and taking off his shoes. Then he reached behind him and pulled a seam in his trousers apart, ripping the thread holding it together. Then he changed.

  Tarrin was impressed. Haley was huge. He was just as tall as Tarrin, stocky and burly while remaining curiously sleek and sinewy, a perfect blending of wolf and human. Lupine eyes, yellow and luminescent, capped a wolf's head, but he had human-like expression and intelligence. He looked like a Wikuni, with his pelt of grayish and white fur, his long, bushy tail, and
his long, clawed hands and wolf-like back legs. Trousers that ended at the ankles of the slim man of medium height ended at the knees of his lupine hybrid form. "Meet Scar," Haley said in a deeper voice, "something of my alter-ego. Everyone thinks that Scar is a rogue Wikuni trader and fence. Because Were-kin in hybrid form look almost exactly like Wikuni, it makes it possible for us to move around like this in coastal towns." He held up a large, long hand, and Tarrin noticed the long yellow claws capping each finger. They looked sharp.

  "I have forgotten how large you are like that, Haley," Dolanna said mildly, looking up at him.

  "I forget sometimes myself. Unlike your kind, boy, we Were-wolves don't really like this form. We'd rather be either in wolf form or human form. This attracts too much attention when not along the coast."

  "We don't really have a choice," Tarrin told him, flexing some stiffness out of his human fingers, then becoming transfixed by the sight of them. He'd forgotten what they looked like. "What do Were-cats do when inland?"

  "The same," he replied. "They're usually mistaken for Wikuni. Most Were-cats move around too much anyway. For a territorial breed, you never seem to spend any time in your range." He flowed back into his human form, then put his shoes back on. "Now you see why I wear a doublet and cape," he winked. "It covers the rip in the seat of my breeches."

  "How often do you go around as Scar?" Tarrin asked curiously.

  "Not often," he replied. "I don't really need to anymore. Nobody bothers me. I'm much too well established in Dayise to be harassed."

  "I didn't realize it was a problem here."

  "Dayise is a cesspool of intrigue, boy," he replied. "Everyone plots around here, right down to the youngest scullery boy. It's a Shacean trait, that the Wikuni share only too closely. I don't think there are two more underhanded races in the world."

  "Then why are you here?" Tarrin asked curiously.

  "I've never been what you'd call a backwoods Were-wolf," he winked. "I like human luxuries and refinements. My kin don't think too highly of me for that, so I decided to settle in the one place they'd never come to call. Most of my kind would rather run through the forest and howl at the moons. Me, I'd rather have a good book by the fire."

  "What about your instincts?"

  "Oh, I indulge now and again," he replied. "I go on a hunting trip twice on the mainland twice a year. Most people just don't know how I hunt. I may like the city and humans, but I am a Were-wolf."

  Tarrin was starting to lose his suspicion about Haley. Despite his seeming hostility, Tarrin understood that he was taking that stance because of Fae-da'Nar, not because of his personal feelings. And now he had a better understanding of what that meant. Haley himself was a rather friendly fellow, and the fact that he was Were allowed Tarrin to approach him on a more comfortable level. He had made it clear why they would reject him, and what he would have to do to get them to accept him. But what were they planning?

  "You said you got a message from Triana," Tarrin said suddenly. "What did she say about me?"

  "Only that you destroyed half of Den Gauche," he replied. "And anyone who sees you better contact her immediately. Oh, we're not supposed to try to handle you ourselves," he winked. "It seems that you frightened her. That's impressive. I didn't think anything could frighten Triana."

  "Did you contact her?"

  "Not yet, but I will," he said bluntly. "I'm not stupid enough to get on Triana's bad side. That's one woman you do not upset. She won't let you forget about it. Ever. " He gazed at Tarrin with sincerity in his eyes. "After you leave my inn, I'll contact her and tell her you're in Dayise. If you're smart, you'll be gone before she gets here. I have the feeling she has a rematch in mind, boy. You don't get a second chance with Triana. If you see her, you'd better run."

  Tarrin remembered their first meeting. She had kicked him all over Den Gauche, beaten him senseless and made him feel like the half-whelped cub that he really was. Only wild luck had saved his life. No, he wouldn't let himself get anywhere near that dangerous Were-cat. He feared her, and he had the feeling from Haley's talk that it was the smart thing to do.

  "With luck, we will be gone by tomorrow," Dolanna told him. "I do not think it wise to tell you how we will leave, or with whom, because your friends may use that knowledge to try to find us."

  "I can live with that, Dolanna. The less you tell me, the better. You better have your people pack. I still want you out of the inn after breakfast. I'm not going to delay calling Triana, because she'll grill me when she gets here. My story has to be solid, and that won't work if you're here a few days before I get around to it." He glanced at Tarrin. "It's nothing personal, boy, but I fear Triana alot more than I like you. I'm not an idiot."

  "I'm not offended, Haley," Tarrin assured him. "You have a duty to perform. Sometimes duty makes us do things we don't like to do."

  "Now then, let me give you a farewell feast," Haley said. "It's the least I can for having to throw you out like troublemakers."

  "We are troublemakers, Haley," Dolanna said with a slight smile. "Just a different kind of troublemaker."

  Haley chuckled, glancing at Tarrin. "There's no doubt about that," he agreed.

  GoTo: Title EoF

  Chapter 5

  It was absolutely ghastly.

  Tarrin wasn't the only one to stare at the circus ship of Renoit's Most Excellent Travelling Circus in utter dismay. It was hideous. In his entire life, he didn't think he had ever- ever -seen such a horridly bright and glowing hue of pink. It seemed to catch the light and shine it back in the viewer's face, bowling over any who stared at it and leaving spots in the eyes of people who stared at it too long in the sunlight. It was horrible, it was almost embarassing to look at, it was so glaringly, blatantly loud that it almost made his ears twitch to look at it.

  How could a Shacean galleon be transformed into such a blaring eyesore? It was almost unbelievable that what was standing before them now was the same type of ship as the Star of Jerod. If the paint wasn't bad enough, the shiny filaments woven into the ropes of the rigging gave the ship's sails a glittering, silvery appearance. And the sails. They weren't white or canvas, they were a patchwork of a riot of conflicting colors, as if a warehouse full of blankets and quilts had been sewn together to form the eleven sails hanging from the masts and between the foremast and the spinnaker. Even the masts were painted that horrid pink color. And not to be outdone, the visible helm was lacquered and laminated in bright blues, greens, and reds, sparkling in the sunlight, with little rhinestones and other sparkly things glued to it to make it scintillate in the rocking of the sea.

  "I am not getting on that thing," Keritanima declared adamantly, dropping her pack on the dock. "I should order the Wikuni here to sink it as a public service to the world."

  "I never thought that I would see such a thing," Allia agreed.

  "I don't know, I kind of like it," Dar said, which earned him four very ugly looks. "Hey, we always looked forward to seeing it. They used to perform in Arkisia every spring."

  "The tragedy of a wasted youth," Azakar said.

  "I think I'd rather swim to Dala Yar Arak," Faalken muttered.

  "The ship carries a carnival, children," Dolanna told them. "It is supposed to be as festive as the troupe which it carries."

  "That looks like it partied itself to death, Dolanna," Faalken grunted.

  "Be that as it may, Renoit has agreed to interview us. This is our best chance, so do not do anything to ruin it for us."

  "There goes my idea," Keritanima muttered to Tarrin in Sha'Kar. "I'd rather face my father's entire fleet than be seen on board that deck."

  "I thought you said you knew Renoit," Miranda asked.

  "I do, but you forget our ultimate objective. To pass as carnival performers and be able to move freely in Dala Yar Arak, we must be carnival performers. Renoit is going to place us within his carnival so that we may pass for real performers. Some of us already have skills and abilities that will make this easy. For others, it will not be
quite so easy."

  "I'm starting to like your idea, Kerri," Tarrin replied to her in Sha'Kar. "Should we sink it now, or sink it later?"

  "I will have none of that," Dolanna told both of them, in almost flawless Sha'Kar. That made Tarrin gape. How had she learned so quickly?

  "Magic," Keritanima told him when he gave Keritanima a curious look. "She used Sorcery."

  "I didn't think we could do that."

  "Well, I certainly don't know how she did it, and she won't tell me," the Wikuni said with a hostile look at Dolanna's back.

  "Let us go aboard and meet Renoit's troupe," Dolanna announced.

  Tarrin scratched at the skin on his wrist. The manacles were gone from his arms, locked in the elsewhere that the amulet provided. They were too loose on his human arms anyway. The itching was normal, just as common as the nagging pain that focused in those limbs and body parts that were most radically altered when he held human form. Hands and feet, ears, skull, and his spine. Actually his entire skeleton, for he was about a hand shorter when in human form than when in his normal form. The tattering of his trousers, where his claws snagged on them when he put them on, had brought the ragged end of each leg close to his ankle, so they at least didn't look too much out of place. But the shoes were another matter. Haley had conjured them using Druidic magic. One of Druidic magic's little unique tricks, the ability to summon or create objects made of natural materials, or which existed naturally. He had conjured leather shoes that fit perfectly to his human feet, a parting gift for the Were-cat. They felt wrong, after so many months walking around barefoot.