The Questing Game

by James Galloway

  "I know," she said in a groaning voice, laying back on the bed and putting her paw to her forehead.

  "You can put your trust in a complete stranger, but you can't trust your own daughter? Excuse me if I sound rude, but that's mean."

  "Alright!" she said in a ferocious snap. "You're making me regret this, Tarrin."

  "Liar," he teased with a light smile.

  "Don't you call me a liar, you half-whelped kitten," she shot back, but there was no animosity in her voice. She was being playful! "I certainly don't regret taking you for mate. I forgot how sweet it could be."

  "And I'm injured," he said enticingly. "You'll find a strapping, tall Were-cat with a nice body, and--"

  "No," she said. "Not a stranger. Not like that. Not someone I can't trust."

  "You're just painting yourself into a corner again, Mist," he sighed. "If you can't trust your own kin, who can you trust?"

  "You," she said emphatically. "I can trust you. I think I can trust Kimmie too."

  He realized that arguing with her would be pointless. She still wouldn't be receptive to the idea of opening up to her kin. That would be a job more suited to the patient Kimmie. All Tarrin could do was make her more amenable to the ideas that Kimmie would certainly plant into her. He realized that when it came to Mist, even a less feral Mist, anyone who wanted to be close to her would have to prove themselves to her. Until they did that, then she would be just as she was before.

  "You don't mind, do you? Being my mate for a while?" Mist asked.

  "For the thirtieth time, no," he said in a bit of exasperation. "I like you, Mist. Don't give me a reason to doubt that now."

  "I like you too," she replied. "Can I sleep here? I don't want to be alone. Not tonight."

  "Mist, you can sleep with me any time," he said gently as he looked down at her, stroking her cheek with a furred finger.

  She gave him a shy smile, then the texture of her scent changed in a way that he found strangely appealing. "I won't be quite so rough this time," she promised in a husky voice, her arms looping around him very gingerly, intensely aware of the injury to his chest. She pulled him down to her carefully, then she kissed him with a passion that made him immediately surrender to her desire.

  Chapter 11

  "Cub, you're something else, do you know that?" Triana asked conversationally early the next morning.

  It was some time past sunrise. Mist had left him just before dawn, while he was sleeping. She probably couldn't much fathom the idea of having him wake up with her. She was so anti-social, what had passed between them probably baffled her, and she was most likely afraid of it. To keep from having to look at him and answer any uncomfortable questions, to admit to herself that she had did what she did, she snuck off. He could appreciate it. It was an entire plethora of new emotions and feelings for her, and she needed some time to sort things out.

  Tarrin was standing by the window, looking out over the tiled roofs of Shoran's Fork. His room had quite a view, standing on a rise that overlooked the river, so the slate and gray of Var Denom rose up on the other side of the wide, sluggish river. Despite his exercise from the night before, he felt remarkably well refreshed and energetic. The wound in his chest was down to nothing more than minor discomfort, easily ignored, though it did tend to bite at him when he moved.

  It just felt so good to be standing. Days and days in that bed had taken its toll on him, and he didn't want to lay down or sit down, not when he could stand. Not when he could move. He would accept the pain of it just to be able to do it. He was rubbing at a wrist absently, trying to get used to feeling fur rather than steel, looking down on the residents of Shoran's Fork as they went about their morning activities.

  "Not really, mother," he replied in a half-attentive voice, watching a tall, rather wide matron woman carrying a large basket up the street. She looked alot like Matron Luci from Aldreth. Luci, the wife of Gart the miller, a round woman who was renowned through the village for the many types of bread and pastries she could bake.

  "I don't like being ignored, cub," Triana said in a frosty voice, a voice that made him turn and look at her immediately. "That's better. As I was saying, do you have any idea how long we've tried to get Mist to open up?"

  "Probably a while," he said. "I'm just glad she's alright. She is alright, isn't she?"

  "She's fine. She's out with Kimmie. I have the feeling the two of them are going to have a long talk today. Just as soon as Mist finds the courage to break the ice with her. It's about time," she grunted. "She probably won't be bothering you again the way she did last night. I cheated a bit on her last night to make her more likely to conceive. That happened."

  "You mean--"

  "She's pregnant," she nodded. "Or she will be in about ten hours."

  "How can she not be pregnant? She either is or she isn't."

  "It's complicated, cub. Just take it on faith that she'll be comfortably pregnant in about ten hours."

  He wasn't quite sure how to feel about that. Having Mist right there made it all perfectly logical last night. But this was this morning. The simple fact of it was that he was going to be a father. He wasn't married, Mist wasn't even a girlfriend, and she was going to have his baby. But it really wasn't his. Were-cat males took no responsibility for parenting. The females managed all that. The baby was Mist's, he was just the sire. But it was hard for his human morals to rectify that in his mind. He did feel responsible for the baby. It was his, and he felt it right and proper to have a hand--or paw, as it were--in the child's rearing. But he doubted Mist would stand for that, and his mission was too important to take twenty years off to raise and nurture a child. It was best for both of them if Mist took her infant and raised it in her own way, and out of his sight. He had little doubt that the fights they would have over what to teach the child would be legendary. Both of them didn't know when to back down.

  "I can say that doubts would be normal for you," Triana said, seeming to read his mind. "But it's not our way to let the males meddle with how we raise our cubs. That's not what's important, anyway. You've wedged your foot in the door with her. She trusts you, cub. That's something I didn't think she'd ever do. The best I ever hoped for her was that she could find a way to be friends with some of us, even if the friendships were wary, the way her relationship works with Kimmie."

  "I had a long talk with her about that last night," he said as she approached him. "I think she'll be more open with Kimmie now."

  "I know she will," she said. "You did something that nobody else could do, cub. I'm proud of you for that."

  Tarrin blushed, and shyly looked away from Triana's eyes. "I didn't do it for you, mother. I did it for Mist."

  "And that's why I'm so proud of you. I know it wasn't easy on you to do that. Well, maybe it was," she grinned. "Jesmind told me that you're not shy at all once you commit to--"

  "I know," he said quickly, cutting her off.

  "All of that aside, it was exactly what Mist needed. I think she'll be just fine now."

  "That's really all that matters. I just hope she'll let me see the baby."

  "Boy," Triana said. "It's a boy. And she won't keep him away from you, Tarrin. Males don't get involved with raising cubs, but we don't deny them from seeing them either. Besides, Mist would walk through fire if you asked her to."

  "Well, she doesn't have to do that," he said dismissively.

  "Anyway, come down to breakfast, then we'll start on your lessons again. We're running out of time."

  Downstairs, he felt very uncomfortable. They all stared at him. Rahnee just stared at him, Singer tried to stare but was trying to be discreet, and Shirazi had a slight smile on her face. They wouldn't say anything. All three of them just stared at him. He really didn't ever know what to say to them anyway. They were kin, his kind, but they were...strangers. He didn't fear them as he did humans, because they were his kind, but it didn't change the fact that he didn't know them. He never knew quite what to say in the face of Rahnee's blatant sexual
interest, or Shirazi's predatory bent. Singer was a complete mystery to him. He was their kind, but then again...he wasn't. He was turned, had once been human, and that meant that his mindset and basic personality was somewhat different from theirs. His upbringing marked him as different, and it was a different set of morals and beliefs than theirs. Looking at them, he realized that that one fact made them treat him differently.

  "Well, we heard what happened with Mist," Singer finally said. "That was sweet of you, cub."

  "And you thought he was too weak," Rahnee snorted at Triana. "I think this means I have the right to court him now."

  "Mist was a special case," Triana shot back at the sharp-featured Were-cat. "Besides, it's moot. Laren will be here with Shayle and Thean around noon. You can wait for him."

  "Who are Shayle and Thean?" Tarrin asked.

  "Shayle is my daughter," she replied. "I have five children, cub. Jesmind you know. There's also Shayle, the next oldest, Laren, my first son, Nikki, my youngest daughter, and you. Think of the others as step-siblings. Thean is another male, one of the older ones."

  "Three males in one place?" Shirazi said in surprise. "That's not very common."

  "How did you know they're coming?"

  "I'm a Druid, cub," she said plainly. "You keep forgetting that. Thean has enough talent to be able to use the spells of sending. I got a message from him this morning."

  "Oh," he said. "What are they like?"

  "Shayle is rather mellow," Triana answered. "Laren is--"

  "A disappointment," Rahnee said with a snort. "I've never met such a vain, self-centered--"

  "He has a few faults, but he's still my son, Rahnee," Triana said in a cool voice, a voice that instantly cowed the sharp-featured Rahnee.

  "You should have beaten that out of him as a cub, Triana," Shirazi said calmly.

  "He picked that up after I set him loose," Triana grunted. "If he acted like he does now back when he was under my care, I would have killed him."

  "I think it's just a form of rebellion, Triana," Singer said. "He's always felt a little overshadowed by you and his older sisters. I think it's just his way of getting attention."

  "It better be," she said bluntly.

  "Anyway, Thean is one of the older males. He can tell you all about your side of our society. He has alot of experience."

  "I'll say," Rahnee said with mischief in her eyes.

  "As you've seen, Tarrin, Rahnee has something of a one-track mind," Singer said with a wink.

  "You keep your track, I'll keep mine," Rahnee shot back. "So I like males. Deal with it."

  "Rahnee is the oversexed tart among us, Tarrin," Shirazi added, giving Rahnee a cherubic grin. Seeing humor out of Shirazi was something new.

  "I'm no tart, and there's no such thing as oversexed," Rahnee huffed in reply.

  "This from the Were-cat who wants to be human so she can be a prostitute," Singer teased.

  "I can't think of a better way to make a living," Rahnee shrugged. If it was meant to be an insult, it had no effect on the blunt, daring Rahnee. She seemed to have little shame.

  "Why don't both of you drop it," Triana said. "Tarrin isn't used to that from us yet."

  "I can deal with it, mother," Tarrin said cooly, giving Rahnee a challenging stare. Jesmind had warned him about Were-cat females. He had a good idea that if he admitted they were embarassing him, they would just try harder. "At least that will be a problem I won't have."

  "What problem?" Triana asked.

  "Finding a date," he said, staring right at Rahnee. "You probably scare them off. You really should say hello before you start trying to undress them."

  The other three laughed, but Rahnee's ears almost laid back, and she gave him a hostile look. "We're all adults here, cub," she finally managed to say. "This is what adults do. You'd better get used to it."

  "Rahnee, you have the mentality of a human teenager in puberty," he told her. "You were supposed to outgrow the period where you think of nothing but what's under a man's trousers."

  Shirazi laughed so hard she almost fell out of her chair.

  Rahnee shot Shirazi a venemous look, but then her face turned calm. "Just wait til your wound heals, cub, and I'll show you why that's a good thing," she promised him. "No male forgets a night with Rahnee."

  "Why? Because it was that good, or because some things are too horrible to forget?"

  Shirazi fell over backwards with her chair. Her feet and tail were standing straight up, her toes flexing and the tip of her tail shuddering as she tried in vain to speak, but then just gave up. "I think...I broke...my tail!" she finally managed to wheeze.

  "You better put your tail down, before Rahnee sees it and starts getting the wrong idea," Tarrin suggested lightly. That sent Shirazi back into gales of helpless laughter.

  Rahnee gave him a withering look, standing up abruptly. "I don't have to sit here and stand for this," she declared in an indignant tone.

  "I was so hoping that you'd stand here and sit for this instead," he replied with a steady gaze.

  Rahnee stormed out in a seething fury, and that made Shirazi only laugh harder. Singer had her face on the table, on her paw, as the other pounded against the table as her shoulders heaved with mirth. Triana was even laughing, putting a paw on Tarrin's shoulder and patting it.

  "That was masterful, cub," she said with another chuckle. "I haven't seen anyone dress Rahnee down like that in a while."

  "At least...he wasn't...undressing her down!" Shirazi gasped from the floor.

  "I hope she's not too mad," Tarrin grunted.

  "She'll get over it," Triana promised. "She'll probably respect you for standing up to her like that."

  "Rahnee likes them fiesty," Singer laughed.

  "Don't worry, cub," Triana said, looking where Rahnee went. "She's not normal. Rahnee's mind is a bit one-sided."

  "At least I think about other things," Shirazi grinned as she got her chair back in a standing position, then sat back down. She had her tail in her paws, rubbing a part of it delicately. "Rahnee goes around in a state of perpetual heat."

  After a hearty breakfast that was probably too much food for him, Tarrin wandered away from the others. He hadn't really been in the inn, and he found out that it was very large, very elegant, and very empty. Triana had kicked everyone else out when she rented it, and there was only a very small complement of maids, cooks, and valets on hand. The inn was decorated with very expensive-looking art, and rare carpets from the mysterious lands east of Nyr, and china and vases from the masters of Telluria. Made by the Tellurians, bought and transported by the Wikuni, and sold wherever they made port. He worried about his Wikuni. Keritanima, alone on that ship, sailing back into the pits of the Abyss. Goddess only knew what was waiting for her there, but with Miranda to help her, and Binter, Sisska, and Azakar to protect her, Tarrin felt that she had a good chance of coming out of it in relatively good shape. She knew now that all she had to do was call, and that made him feel better. If she were in trouble, or she just needed to talk, she could reach out to him or Allia.

  Allia. She'd been missing this morning. So had Dar, Dolanna, and Faalken. Odds were that Dolanna went to see Renoit, or was out doing something, and had brought the others along with her for some reason. The city was probably safe enough now that Triana and his kin had eradicated anyone hostile to him. Anyone hostile to him were the same ones hostile to them, so they would probably have no trouble moving around. Of them, Dar was the only one he'd really worry about, but he was in very good company. The other three were veterans, survivors, and they'd look after the young Arkisian. In many ways, Dar would probably be better off out there than them. Dar was Arkisian, and that would get them into some places that they normally wouldn't be allowed to go. The others didn't know the language.

  He stopped and looked at an old portrait of some strange, yellow-skinned man with very narrow eyes. He was seated in front of a strange white wall with panels in it, wearing an elaborate robe of yellow silks. The paint a
nd style used to make the portrait were elegant, different from the styles of the west, giving the painting a much more exotic aire than the mere appearance of the man suggested. He'd never seen a man like that before, but the general descriptions he'd heard meant that he was from that land from beyond Nyr. It was amazing that the portrait had managed to come so far, and remain in such good condition.

  He gently touched his chest. Last night's escapade notwithstanding, the injury was healing quickly and very well. With luck, there would be no lingering effects once his body was done mending, as some severe injuries did occasionally cause. Then again, those lingering effects could probably be healed with Sorcery. Sorcery couldn't heal the wound, but it could probably correct any effects caused by his body not healing itself properly, as Mist's body didn't correctly heal itself.

  Mist. He hoped she was alright. He hoped she was talking with Kimmie, getting things out in the open, accepting her bond-child's trust in the same way she had accepted his. Mist needed someone, after being alone for so long. And after he was gone, if she didn't find someone to be her friend, she would be alone again. But Kimmie was a patient girl, it seemed, and she could probably bring Mist around. She'd stuck with her feral bond-mother this long, he had no doubt she'd stay with her now that it looked like she was about to get through the formidable defenses the wild Were-cat kept around herself.

  He could sense Triana's approach. She appeared at the end of the hall, staring at him calmly. "Come on, cub," she called. "We have alot to do today. There's still much you need to learn, and we don't have much time."

  "Yes, mother," he said, looking at the portrait one more time. Then he moved to obey her.

  After a very long session of instruction, where he began learning the customs of the other races of Woodkin, they broke for a meal, then went right back to it. The customs could be simple or complicated, depending on the race, and they seemed to blur together after a while. It was nearly evening when Triana finally stopped, and only because the knock at the door wasn't anyone he'd seen before.