All matters aside, he had to admit. Jula had a cute butt.
"Sit back down," he told her calmly. "Can you still use Sorcery?"
"Yes," she admitted, sitting down with a defiant look in his eyes. She sat down cross-legged, like him, and her eyes dared him to look below her neck. "It took me a while. I had to learn how to touch the Weave all over again. After I changed, it altered my sense of the Weave." She placed her elbows on her knees and leaned on them, then propped her chin on her paws. "I'm actually stronger now than I used to be. I seem to have a greater limit for building power to weave flows as a Were-cat than I did as a human."
"It's your body," he replied. "Were-cat bodies are tougher than human ones, resistant to the damage that alot of Sorcery can cause, and they're more attuned to magic. It increased the amount of power you can hold, because that's something that depends partially on your body. It's a physical limit."
"That's exactly what happened," she agreed. "I had hopes that it would make me a Weavespinner, like you. I did get stronger, but nowhere near your level."
"Be glad it didn't," he told her with utter sincerity. "My condition isn't a function of my body. I was born this way."
"I know that now," she said with a small sigh. "You know, Tarrin, I actually feel a little better now."
"About what?"
"About everything," she replied. "What you said already has me thinking. From what I felt before, it makes sense. I have real hope that I can find that balance this time."
"Even if it changes you?"
"I get the feeling that the changes won't matter that much to me," she replied. "Being changed is a small price to pay for staying sane."
"That's a good attitude," he told her. "I want you to listen to your instincts while they're suppressed," he instructed. "Listen to what they're telling you while they can't affect you. That will help you understand what they'll be doing when they can influence your behavior. That way it won't feel as unnatural or frightening, and you won't be as quick to fight against them when they do. You'll find that if you pay attention to your other half, actually listen to it and give it weight in your mind, it will be very cooperative with you. It doesn't want to control you. It just wants to have a say in what you do. No more, no less."
"I certainly hope so," she said fervently. Tarrin let his gaze fall to her chest, and Jula's paws moved immediately to drop into her lap, covering her most intimate charms from his view. She didn't move to cover her breasts. Obviously, she was willing to let him see some of her, but not all.
"Let's make this easier, Jula. There's no part of you I haven't already seen. Since your modesty has already been compromised, why try to defend it now?"
"I can't change like that, I guess," she said ruefully. "I may be a Were-cat female, but I was still raised to not sit naked in front of a man."
"You weren't this shy in the baths."
"Everyone was in the same state in the baths," she replied.
Without batting an eye, Tarrin stood up and started unlacing the top of his loose shirt.
"What are you doing?" she demanded.
"Meeting you on common ground," he replied calmly, pulling his shirt off.
She stood up quickly. "No, you really don't have to do that," she said quickly, reaching down and picking up his shirt, then pushing it back at him. "I'm sure you were just as embarassed when Jesmind did this to you as I am now, so cut me some slack."
"It was worse for me," he admitted. "Jesmind took her clothes off first, then ordered me to strip in front of her. She didn't even try to make it easy."
"Good. Now that you know how I feel, you can put your shirt back on and we can sit back down," she said, rather quickly, pushing it at him more.
A hasty reaction. Tarrin studied her scent carefully, since nothing in her bond was telling him why she was acting like that. It wasn't strong enough, whatever it was. His ears picked up when he noticed the shift in the texture of her scent. Then he smiled ever-so-slightly, which made her look at him with confusion. "Alright," he said calmly, putting his shirt back on.
Jula was feeling some sexual attraction. No wonder, after so many months with no physical contact, and recovering from a total domination of her cat instincts, which would be very wanton if she were in season. Even him, someone she feared, was looking good to her, because of her long months of isolation. And she was trying very hard to deny it, or hide it. "Put your robe back on," he told her as he sat down.
Jula nearly ripped the robe pulling it back on, then she sat down demurely across from him. Alot of the tension in her was gone now.
"Rule one, Jula. You can't hide anything from me. What your eyes won't tell me, your scent will. No matter how embarassing you think it is, you can tell me, because odds are I already know."
Jula blushed to the roots of her hair.
"It's a normal reaction," he told her. "You've been alone for a very long time. It's only natural for you to have sexual interest in a male, and it doesn't offend me." He looked at her steadily. "Get over it. I'm not interested. What you're feeling now is something you'll deal with until you do too."
"Did you," she said, then she blushed. "Did Jesmind make you feel the same way?"
"Some. Then again, she didn't give me much choice. She had interest in me long before she caught up with me."
"She seduced you."
"If that's what you want to call it," he said bluntly. "Turned Were-cats aren't easy to deal with, because we have adult impulses and desires, when we have to be treated like children. Jesmind didn't feel like waiting until I was mature enough to deal with an intimate relationship."
"It's embarassing. I know you don't like me, and here I am--" she blushed.
"You won't have the same luck," he warned. "I wouldn't trust you enough to let you get your claws that close to my throat."
"I know. That's why it's so embarassing. You knowing that I want to--it's just embarassing."
"Why? Because it's a rather stupid human custom? So what? So you want to mate. That means as much to me as if you were hungry. Since I'm not interested, I simply don't care. If I was interested, then it would matter to me, but not unless I was interested. One of the little customs among Were-cats is a plain disclosure of those little truths," he told her. "If a male and female are interested, they say so. If one of them isn't, then it goes no further. No male or female would force the issue."
"Jesmind did."
"Jesmind was wrong," he said. "And she got an earfull from her mother for what she did. Simply put, Jula, I don't embarass easily. Neither will you, once you settle into your instincts a bit. What humans make such an issue of doesn't mean as much to us. What I know of you isn't going to change how I act towards you in any way."
"I guess that's a small comfort," she sighed. "But just in case it does bother you, I'm sorry."
"It doesn't bother me at all." He threw his braid over his shoulder. "I think that's about all we can say about that. Making you blush isn't as fun for me as it was for Jesmind. Let's go get you some clothes, and then we're going to go walk around the city."
"Why?"
"Two reasons," she said. "To give you some time to think about things without much stress, and see if someone comes looking for us."
"Why would they do that?"
"Because of what you did before I found you," he said simply. "If they tie you to what happened, I need to know about it now. We can only hope that you didn't leave many witnesses."
"You make it sound so cold."
"I am cold, Jula," he said bluntly. "I don't care about the humans in this city. They can all drop dead, as far as I'm concerned." He stood up and looked down at her. "Thanks to you, I have such a wonderfully cheerful outlook on life."
"How many times do I have to say I'm sorry!" Jula flared, rising to her feet and getting in Tarrin's face. Her eyes were hot and challenging, and she had her paws on her hips.
"How many times can you say it?" he retorted in a low hiss.
"How many times do you
want to hear it?" she snapped. "I ruined your life. I admit it! There, are you happy now? I can't change what happened in the past, but don't pretend to say it's in the past, when you do nothing but remind me of it!"
Tarrin took a step back and gave her a light look. That confused her, her ears picking up as she stared into his face. "Good."
"What?"
"I'm not teaching a mewling sheep, Jula. You have spirit, and I want you to have spirit. You'll need that spirit when you deal with your instincts. I wanted to rouse your fighting spirit. I see I finally hit a nerve."
"You did that on purpose?" she said in surprise.
He nodded. "I've been goading you for a while now."
She made an infuriated sound, stamping her foot on the ground. "Don't play with me!" she shouted at him.
"I'm not playing with you, cub. I'm teaching you what you need to know. You just learned that you are strong enough to challenge a stronger, dangerous adversary. You'll need that when you face your other half."
She glared at him, her ears trying to lay back.
"Don't give me attitude, cub," he said in a dangerous tone. "I'll beat it out of you." She blew out her breath and looked away. "Better. Now let's get you some decent clothes, and walk around a while."
"It's not me," Jula said clinically, twisting in a way no human could to look behind her.
The pants were new. Made of that Selani plant fiber whose name he could never remember, they were light and flexible, yet very strong. This pair was dyed a very dark brown, like leather, and they fit her rather well. Tarrin leaned against a wall in the shop of a clothier, and the small Arakite man looked at the pair of non-humans with obvious fear and worry. Jula had the waist of the trousers in her paws, holding them up as far on her as she could to see how they fit her legs. Her tail prevented her from pulling them all the way up. Since her tail emerged from her back just at the top of the cleft of her buttocks, it preserved her modesty. She had the robe hiked up so she could see the fit of the pants, and it was bunched up around the top of the breeches.
"It's not the old you," Tarrin told her. "Trust me. After two days, you'll glare at me if I even mention a dress. Dresses just won't work for you." He turned to the small, thin, bald man calmly. "We'll take them," he told the man in Arakite.
"Ah, ah, yes, good master," he said in a thin, nervous voice, bowing several times. "Would the lady like to wear them now, or should I wrap it up?"
"She'll wear them," he said. "Do you have any shirts like this one?"
"Not linen, good master, but I do have some saiya fiber shirts."
"Go get one," he said. "A dark-colored one."
"They didn't know you speak Arakite," Jula mentioned to him. "What am I going to do with my tail?"
He walked over to her and grabbed her tail by the base. She squeaked a bit when he pulled it out of the way, then pulled the fabric up and over its base. He noted the position of the bulge, then slit the fabric of the trousers with a single claw. "Thread it through there," he told her.
"Give a girl some warning next time," she said primly to him. "If it were anyone else pawing me down there, he would have gotten slapped." She expertly threaded the tip of her tail into the slit he made, pulling it through and smoothing the fur, then she pulled them up over her hips and buttoned them. She swished her tail a few times. "Nice," she said. "It's not pinching."
"I see you have full control of your extra parts," he noted.
"It took some time. Especially the ears. They never wanted to go where I wanted them to go." She turned around for his benefit. "It still feels weird having these things clinging to my legs. When did you learn Arakite? You speak it like a native."
"Back in Aldreth," he told her.
"These aren't going to wear the fur off my knees, are they?"
"They haven't worn it off mine," he replied.
"You're wearing leather. This is fabric."
"Jesmind likes canvas pants, and she still has all her fur. That's the best answer I can give you."
"Canvas? That much itch."
"But it's tough," he said. "Those pants won't last you very long, but they'll do until a tanner can measure you for some good leather trousers."
"They seem pretty rugged to me."
"It's cloth. The claws on your feet will shred them inside three rides. You need something tougher if you want it to last."
The small clothier returned with a shirt the color of dark sand. He held it up grandly for Tarrin to see. "Is this acceptable, good master?" he asked nervously.
"Try it on," he told Jula, taking it from the small man, then tossing it to her.
Jula turned her back to them and pulled off her robe, then shrugged into the shirt. It was a bit loose in the shoulders, tight in the bust, and it gave her lots of room in the stomach. "Not quite," she said, turning around. "This is a man's shirt. I'm not quite that flat-chested."
"The lady wants something more accommodating to her assets," Tarrin told the clothier blandly.
"I'll find something, good master," he said with several rapid bows, then he scurried away.
"I feel like a boy," Jula complained.
"There's too much in that shirt for you to be a boy," he told her bluntly.
Jula flushed slightly. "You know what I mean. I've never worn pants in my life."
"You're not here to look pretty for the men, Jula," he reminded her. "You're not a human lady anymore. You're a Were-cat female, and this is what Were-cat females wear. By this time tomorrow, you'll understand why."
"You keep saying that. Why?"
"Do this," he said, squatting down and putting his paws on the ground between his knees, right beside his feet.
"That looks silly. You look like a frog."
"It wasn't a request," he said flintily.
Sighing, she mimicked his pose, squatting down and putting her paws down between her feet. "This wouldn't be easy in a dress," she admitted.
"And that's why you're not wearing one," he told her, standing back up. "Tonight, you're coming with me, and I don't stroll along the street. Two hours on the rooftops, and you'll be kissing my feet for getting you into a pair of pants rather than a skirt."
"I didn't get much into physical activity after I recovered from our little meeting," she said as she stood back up. "I had my Sorcery. It was handy being stronger than three men, but I didn't use it all that much."
"Part of what we are is what we can do," he told her. "You'll find that out tonight."
The clothier returned with three shirts, all of them a light sandy color. "This is all I have for a woman, good master," he said apologetically. "Only slave women wear such things, and I don't usually cater to them."
"It'll do, shopkeeper," he said. "Try these on," he told Jula.
Jula took the shirts and turned her back to the two males, and tried on the shirts. The first was too small, but the second fit her very well. "This is the one," she stated, turning around for them. "It's loose everywhere it needs to be loose."
"We'll take it," Tarrin told the man. "That's all we need."
"Very well, good master," the small man said with a nervous laugh. "The price will be twenty silver kangs."
"Fine," he said, handing the man a handful of gold coins. "Take what you need and give me change. I'm sure you know better than to try to cheat me, human," he said grimly.
The man's eyes widened. "I'd never do such a thing, good master," he said quickly, bowing about ten times in five seconds. He picked through the coins and took out two gold ones, then pushed the rest back to Tarrin. "I'll bring you your change."
"Keep it," Tarrin said with a wave of his paw.
"Would you require anything else for your lady, good master?" he asked with a bright smile. "A brush for her hair?"
Tarrin glanced at the man. "Actually, that's a good idea," he said. "She does look a little frizzy."
"I have a nice horsehair brush, backed with ivory and carved with a very nice design of a unicorn on its back. It's a very nice piece.
Because of your generosity, I offer it to you at the bargain price of two gold shangs."
"Bring it," he told the man tersely.
"I have to fetch it from the storeroom," he said with another bow. "I'll be right back."
"What's he after now?" Jula asked curiously. "He has more clothes that fit me?"
"Something almost as good," Tarrin said.
He returned a moment later, holding the brush. It was indeed a very nice piece of crafted art. The ivory was very old, yellowing, and carved in the back of the brush was a relief of a unicorn standing by a stream. The brush's horsehair was much newer than the ivory back. It had been rebristled. The brush's handle was quite large, large enough for Jula to manipulate it very easily. "Is this acceptable, good master?" he asked, holding it out.
"Very nice," Tarrin admitted, taking it from him and looking it over.
"A brush? Tarrin, that's very thoughtful," Jula said sincerely. "My hair is a mess. If I felt it was safe, I'd kiss you."
"If you don't feel good about yourself, then you won't be as prepared as you can be to face your instincts," he told her calmly.
"Then let me put on a dress."
"Not when it will interfere with my other lessons," he said. "Just trust me about the dress, Jula."
"Alright, but only because you're giving me that brush," she said with a slightly teasing smile.
Tarrin paid the man for the brush, and handed it to Jula. "It's lovely," she said with a smile, running a padded fingertip over the carved back of it. "Thank you, Tarrin. You almost make me think you care."
Tarrin snorted. "Let's go," he said.
They walked for nearly an hour in complete silence. Jula pulled the brush through the snags in her hair mechanically as they walked, smoothing it and restoring it to the beauty that he remembered when she was human. People stared at them as they went by, even a few bands of the city's watch, but nobody challenged them, or so much as spoke to them. Tarrin spent that time alternating between watching the people, watching for any kind of sneak attack, and observing Jula. She seemed completely at ease now. There was no sense of her through the bond; she wasn't experiencing any one emotion strongly enough for it to seep through. The fear and anxiety she'd felt before their talk had evaporated, and he hoped that it meant that her fears had been eased somewhat. She invoked conflicting emotions in him, both anger and pain at the memory of what she did, and his paternal duty to protect her and prepare her for adulthood. The long talk had had an effect on him as well.
The Questing Game Page 105