tually pretty easy."
	"Did she teach you anything else?"
	"Not really," he replied.  "We were only together a few days, and we spent alot of that trying to sneak around the Goblinoids that were all over the place."  He decided not to tell her about the night they'd spent together.  That was too private, even to discuss it with Dolanna.  "What happened after the Wyvern sunk the ship?" he asked.
	"There were several casualties among the crew," she replied.  "We helped them as best we could, and then we took another ship south.  It was a very uneventful trip after you left us.  That leads me to believe that you were the reason for it."
	"I was," he said.  "Whoever it was that's after me certainly didn't stop after the Wyvern.  I spent most of my time running from Jesmind and dodging Goblinoids at the same time."
	"Are you sure that they were after you?" Sevren asked.  "I'm assuming here that by Goblinoid  you mean more than one race.  They don't usually cooperate."
	"These were," he replied.  "I saw a Dargu tribe meet with a Waern tribe, and the chieftans spoke without drawing weapons.  That's not right, because Waern consider Dargu a delicacy.  They're working together.  And that means that there's someone that's telling them what to do that they fear more than they hate the others."
	"A very grim suggestion," he said, stroking his chin in thought.  "I think that the King should know about this.  A coordinated horde of goblinoids could storm any city in Sulasia, except for Suld."  He picked up a slice of beef.  "They may decide to pick a few cities in their leisure time."
	The door opened, and a huge woman entered.  She was wearing a pair ofblack trousers and a brown shirt, and her long, thick blond hair was done up in a simple braid that was as thich around as Tarrin's wrist, and reached almost to her backside.  Her face was strong but very handsome, and she had a sword belted at her waist.  There was no doubt that she was Ungaardt.  Tarrin stood and eyed her calmly as she closed the door and approached them.  "Vasra guhn," Tarrin greeted.  Tarrin had been taught the language of the Ungaardt by his mother.  They used it often, especially since Eron had never gotten around to learning it.
	"Vasra dughus," she noted with surprise.  "What clan?" she asked in the Ungaardt tongue.
	"Vashtalla," he replied.  "You?"
	"Emden," she replied.
	"We are cousins," Tarrin noted, holding out his paw to her.  "Greeting, cousin.  Honor to Dallstad."
	"Honor and glory," she replied, clasping his wrist in a strong grip.  "It's nice to meet someone with manners," she said in the common tongue, grinning.  "You're Ungaardt under that fur, and dirt."
	"Half," he admitted.  "My mother is of the blood."  "Of the blood" was the way the Ungaardt referred to themselves.
	"You look Ungaardt," she noted clinically.  "You take after your mother.  You are also of the blood, no matter who your father was.  A good thing for you."
	"I'm happy with it," he said.  Ungaardt were a very arrogant people, and just agreeing with her was the easiest way to keep the peace.
	"But you're also a Novice, and I'm the Mistress of Novices.  Don't expect any preferential treatment just because we're cousins," she said in a steely voice.
	"I don't expect any," he replied.
	"Good.  I'm going to take you to the Novice quarters," she told him.  "We'll get you some clean clothes, give you a room, and I'll show you where you can bathe."
	"Yes!" he said fervently.
	"You are a bit fragrant," Dolanna noted.
	"Dolanna, if I smell that bad to you, just imagine how I smell to me," he told her.
	She laughed.  "Yes, that nose is very much a liability, is it not?" she asked with a smile.
	"At the moment, yes," he said with a grunt.
	"As of this moment, she's Mistress Dolanna," Elsa said bluntly.  "And you're a Novice, just like any other Novice.  Come along, Tarrin, and we'll get you washed and dressed."
	"Yes, Mistress Elsa," he said calmly.  He'd kiss a Dragon for the chance to take a bath.
	"Dolanna, you can see him later," Elsa instructed her.
	"I'll talk to you about arranging time with Tarrin," Sevren told her.  "He's agreed to let me do some studies."
	"As long as it doesn't cut into his class time, we'll talk about it," she told him.  "Let's get moving, Tarrin."
	The halls of the Tower were wide, and they were all lit by those softly glowing globes.  From as far as he could tell, they simply hovered in midair near the ceiling.  Another thing that he noticed was that the floors were carpeted out in the halls.  That was unusual, and it had to be frightfully expensive if every hall was like this, considering the awesome size of the building.  They went down stairs quite a ways, all the way to the ground floor, and he saw that the carpeting did indeed stop.  The hallways in the sector of the Tower to which she took him were just as wide, but there were many, many more doors set into the walls.  The floors and walls were absolutely spotless, and not a cobweb could be found anywhere.  There were also many people. They were universally young, in their mid teens, from pale, tall Ungaardt to stocky Dals to swarthy Arkisians.   Even one or two olive-skinned people from the Free Duchies between Shac and Arkis.  They were wearing either plain white wool dresses or white wool shirts and brown wool trousers.  They all wore exactly the same kind of leather shoes.  They all stared at Tarrin in shock, and more than one shrank away from him as Elsa led him deep into the domain of the Novices.
	"These are the halls of the Novices," she told him as they walked along.  "There are three levels above this one also.  My office door is at the end of this hall.  Pray that you're not called in there."  She pointed down a side hall.  "At the end of that hall is the Novice Hall," she said.  "It is where you will eat, and it is also where you will gather for any assemblies called for the Novices.  The classrooms where you will receive your instruction are on the third and fourth levels.  I'll have someone else show you all the little things.  For right now, we're going to worry about the main things."
	They stopped in front of a door.  "This will be your room," she said.  He noticed that it was within sight of the plain wooden door with her name on a wooden plaque which was nailed to the door.  She was keeping him well within her sight.  "You will have a roommate, Tarrin.  We are not treating you any differently than any other Novice.  Right now, he's probably in class."  She opened the door.  Inside the surprisingly large room were two narrow beds, both neatly made, with a strong, sturdy chest at the foot of each bed.  Each bed also had a stand to the side of it, and there was a small writing table, with one chair, between them against the far wall.  There were two pegs on the wall on each side of the room, and on the right side, one peg was occupied with a plain wool robe, and the other had a brown cloak hanging from it.  Tarrin saw that hanging on the wall on the right side were pieces of paper with very elaborate sketches.  Many of them were the towers and buildings of the compound, but there were also several sketches of people.  One of them, he saw, was Elsa.  And it was remarkably well done.  Whoever had done them had a natural talent for art.  "See how clean this room is?" she asked.  "It had best stay this way.  Now then, let's go see the Quartermaster and get you clothing."
	The Quartermaster was on the second level, in a large room that was filled with shelves, those shelves holding assorted items and articles.  The Quartermaster himself was a small wiry man, approaching his golden years, with a bald pate fringed with gray hair.  His face was drawn, as thin as he was, but Tarrin saw that he moved with a spry step that belied his advanced years.  he wore a simple brown coat over a white shirt, with brown trousers, and he had several stick pins stuck to the sleeves of his coat.  He had several Novices and similarly young people with colored shirts or dresses rather than white.  Those, he'd managed to deduce, were Initiates, in the step above the Novices.  "Madam Elsa," he greeted in a scratchy voice, eyeing Tarrin warily.  "What can I do for you?"
	"This boy needs Novice's clothing," she said, jerking her thumb at Tarrin.
	"Ah, this could be a challenge," he said, studying Tarrin.  "Is he always so thin?"
	"He should fill out a bit," Elsa said.
	"Turn around," the man told Tarrin, and he did so.  "That tail is going to cause a problem," he said.  "I'll have to put a button in the back for it.  I'll just have to cut holes in the underclothing."
	"Do you have anything just for now?" she asked.
	"We could put him in a robe until I get his pants sewn," he offered.
	"That's a good idea," she agreed.
	"Do you commonly wear shoes, Novice?" he asked.
	"No sir," he said, holding up a leg and letting him see the rough pads on the bottom of his feet.  "My feet do well enough for me."
	"Good, I don't have any shoes big enough for those feet," he said, "and those claws would cut them up pretty quickly anyway.
	"Let me measure you, and then I'll get to work on some pants," he said, taking a knotted cord out of his pocket, the knots tied at regular intervals along its length.  "Go behind that screen and take off the shirt and pants."  The affair took about ten minutes, for the wiry Quartermaster was quite adept at what he was doing.  He would wrap that knotted cord around some part of Tarrin's body, and then write down the resulting measurement on a slate board he'd taken off a table.  Tarrin was a bit antsy when the man casually wrapped that cord around the base of his tail to measure its width.  He was unaware of how sensitive that particular place was, but Tarrin didn't do anything.  He just stayed still and let him get it overwith.  In a very short time, he had Tarrin thoroughly measured, and had taken reference measurements from Tarrin's current pants.  The man gave him an old, worn out robe to wear, for he adamantly refused to give back the filthy, ripped clothing Tarrin had been wearing.  "I'll be sure to leave room for him to fill them out," he told Elsa.  "From his current clothes, I have a good idea of how much that's going to be.  He can wear that old frayed robe to the bathing pool, and he can wear this one until he gets these clothes."  He pointed at a folded garment that had been placed on a table by a Novice.
	"When will they be ready?" Elsa asked.
	"I can have them for you tomorrow morning," he replied.
	"Very good.  Come along, Tarrin, we'll get you clean."
	They went down into a basement, and he was quite surprised.  In the basement was a huge pool of water, one end of it steaming, and it was occupied by a surprising number of people who were bathing.  Both men and women.  There were many chairs set around the bathing pool which were filled with clothing and towels, and there were several Novices scurrying about tending the baths.  The water smelled heavy to his nose, and he realized that it was minerals in the water, the minerals of a natural hot spring.  A most ingenious way to build a communal bath and keep the water hot.
	"Surprised?" she asked.
	"A bit, ma'am," he responded.
	"There's just the one pool, and since we all don't have the same hours, it would be impossible to divide the time.  Don't worry, you'll get used to it.  It takes some people longer than others, but you will.  Everyone uses this pool.  You, me, the Novices, Initiates, Sorcerers, guards, servants, and visitors.  Even the Keeper herself bathes here."
	Tarrin felt absolutely no reservations about undressing, he realized.  The time with Jesmind had indeed changed him, in more ways than one.  Or maybe the time with her had allowed him to come more into contact with the Cat within him.  Either way, he realized soberly in that instant that he was changing, he was adapting to his Cat instincts.  And, in some ways, they were starting to have a serious influence on his views and mannerisms.
	He unbelted the robe immediately, and pulled it off his shoulders, then draped it over the back of a chair.  She laughed richly.  "That didn't take very long," she said as he stood beside her nude.
	"I'm not human, Mistress Elsa," he reminded her gently.  "My idea of modesty isn't the same as yours."
	"Point taken," she acceded.  "Is there anything else I should know?  Anything special you'll need?"
	"No," he replied.  "I don't need anything special, ma'am.  My blood is dangerous to humans, but let me be the one to worry about that problem."
	"Yes, you would be the best to deal with it," she agreed.  "And telling everyone that you're contagious may not endear them to you."
	"I can do without that added stress, ma'am," he told her, giving the hot water a longing look.
	"I'll leave you to your bath now," she told him.  "I'll send someone to take you back to your room."
	"I can make it back on my own, ma'am," he replied.
	"Are you sure?"
	"Positive, ma'am," he said.  "I can find it.  I'd like to walk around and see things after the bath, anyway."
	"Alright then," she said.  "Just don't get lost."
	"No chance of that, ma'am," he told her.  "I can follow my own scent trail back if I don't know where I am."
	"Your nose is that sensitive?"
	He nodded.
	"Interesting.  Have a good bath.  Don't get waterlogged."
	She left him as he lowered himself immediately into the water.  It was tepid, and he discovered that it got hotter as one moved towards the far end of the pool.  He waded in the waist deep water until he reached a delightfully hot temperature, then picked up a cake of soap that was sitting on a tray between the outer and the inner lip of the pool.  He saw that there were two edges to the pool, the upper one and a lower one near the water level, that was just below the surface of the water.  The water poured over that edge in a very thin stream, then was channeled away to a drain that removed the excess.  He noted that that skimmed the soap foam and dirt out of the water and carried it away, keeping the water clean for other bathers.  A very clever design.
	He scrubbed at himself for a very long time, washing over twenty days of dirt and sweat and leaves and bark and all other manner of things off his skin and out of his fur.  It was a bit hard to get at his tail, but he managed to scrub the formidable dirt out of it and comb out the mats with his claws.  He unbound his hair and washed it thoroughly, watching as dirt and bits of bark and leaves, and a couple of dead flies and mosquitos, washed out of his hair and were carried away by the gentle flow towards the edge.  He climbed up onto the edge of the pool to thorougly soap down and lather the dirt out of the fur on his legs, then he combed the mats out after dropping back into the water to rinse.
	During the bath, he'd come to realize how thin he'd gotten.  His ribs stuck out like bare branches, and every muscle he had was visible to the eye as he moved.  The heavy meal had done wonders for him, though, and he could literally feel how much weight he'd gained since then.  He suspected that it was the semi-magical power of regeneration that Jesmind said they possessed at work there, using the food he'd eaten to quickly put meat back on his bones.  He was already hungry again.  He was going to have to find out if he could get more to eat.  He had the idea that if he ate heavily for a day or so, his regenerative ability would flesh him back out in almost no time.
	He felt like an entirely new person when he climbed out of the water and shook much of the water out of his fur.  He was clean, warm, safe, secure, and he would soon be full.  The trials of the journey to Suld were quickly fading into his memories.  He felt the eyes on him, but unlike the sensation he'd felt when he was on the run, he didn't mind these eyes.  Some of them were in fear, but the look on one blond woman who was in the bathing pool was one of appreciation, not fear.  Jesmind's prediction that he would come to not mind being nude in the presence of others had come to pass, he knew.  The Cat had taken that much of a hold on his mind.  And he found that he welcomed it.
	He took a towel from an edgy Novice girl and dried himself off, then sat down on a chair, nude, and tried futilely to try to braid his hair back up.  His huge paws made the task extremely difficult, and he came close to using his claws to shear it off more than once.  He knew how futile that would be.  It would grow back in a matter of hours, and may end up growing back longer than it was now.  He didn't want to risk that.  Having it three quarters of the way down his back was more than long enough.
	"You look like you could use some help," a voice called.
	He looked up.  It was the blond woman who'd been in the pool, with a towel wrapped around herself.  Her face was young and very pretty, with deep blue eyes that sparkled in the light and the classic high-cheekboned, delicate face that made Draconian women famous for their beauty.  Her common mode of speech marked her as a Tykini, from the breakaway kingdom of Tykarthia.  "I do have trouble with it," he admitted.
	"Here, let me," she said.  She went around behind the chair, and he felt her take up his damp hair in her hands.  "Why do you grow it so long?" she asked.
	"Because it just grows back," he replied.
	"Hair this long must have taken you years," she noted, starting to pull his hair into sections for braiding.
	"No, hours," he told her.
	"Really?"
	"It's racial," he said delicately.
	"Ah," she sounded.  He could feel her hands swiftly begin to intertwine his hair into a single thick braid.
	"You're good at this," he noted.
	"I have five sisters, and braids are a very common hairstyle in Tykarthia," she said.  "Not as popular as they are in Tor, but popular enough.  Have you ever seen a Torian woman?"
	"No."
	"They put their hair into as many tiny little braids as they can," she told him.  "Sometimes they weave beads into the ends.  I shudder to think of how long that takes."
	"They must have alot of time on their hands," he noted.
	"Truly," she agreed.  "My name is Jula," she introduced.
	"I'm Tarrin," he responded.
	"You're visiting?"
	"Actually, I'm supposed to enter the Novitiate," he told her.
	She laughed.  "Then I'd best not let too many people see this," she told him.  "I'm katzh-dashi.  If they see me braiding the hair of Novices, I'll never hear the end of it."
	"I'm sorry," he said.  "I didn't know who you were."
	"I didn't know who you were either," she said.  "Down here in the baths, it's not easy to tell.  It's not like I have the shaeram tattooed on my bosom."
	"I think that would be a bit ostentatious," he said sagely.
	"Not to mention painful," she agreed.  "Do you have a bit of twine or thong?" she asked.  "I need to tie this in, or it'll unravel itself."
	"I think I have the old one somewhere," he said.  "No, wait, I undid it in the pool.  I forgot about it."
	"Not a problem," she said.  "I'll cinch it so it'll hold itself for a while, but you need to--"  She stopped as Tarrin, who had his old, frayed robe in hand, ripped a bit of cloth off the hem, then handed it to her.  "I hope you're not quite that hard on your clothes," she said with a bit of a laugh, taking it from him and tying it to the end of his braid.  "Want me to make a pretty little bow in it?"
	"No thank you," he said dryly.
	"We don't have too many non-humans in the Tower," she told him as she knotted the torn fabric and then came back around him.  "I think there are a couple of Wikuni that act as emissaries of a sort, but that's about all.  If I may ask, what race are you?"
	"I'm not Wikuni," he told her.  "I'm a Were-cat."
	"Really?" she asked, her eyes brightening.  "We'll definitely have to talk.  I have an interest in the non-human races, and most Were-kin are very tight-lipped.  Well, it will have to wait, I guess," she sighed.  "I need to get dressed and get to the class I'm teaching before they think I'm not showing up."  She went over to the next chair and dropped her towel without so much as batting an eyelash.  Tarrin noted that she had an exquisitely shaped body.  She was very lovely.  Her figure almost compared to Jesmind's.
	Tarrin pulled the new robe on and belted it at his waist, then gathered up the old one.  He realized that they didn't tell him what to do with it.  He decided to take it back to his room and drop it off.  He'd ask about it later.
	"What do I do with the towel?" he asked Jula as she pulled her shift over her head and settled it into place.
	"Just leave it," she told him.  "A Novice will pick it up in a while."
	"Thank you, Mistress Jula, for the braid," he said.
	"Any time, Tarrin," she told him, shrugging herself into a robe.  Obviously, she would wear that back to her chambers, where she would dress.  And the sight and thought of that told him that this robe he was wearing was his.  He was supposed to hang it on that peg on the wall.
	He couldn't follow his scent-trail all the way back, since they'd come from the Quartermaster's so he went up to the first level and wandered until he saw something that looked famliar.  From there, he quickly found the central hall, and followed it down to the door to his room.  He noticed that there were no locks on the doors.  Opening it, he saw the room much as it was before, except for a neatly folded pair of trousers and a shirt resting on the bed.  He also saw, to his own surprise, a single leather pack sitting in front of it, and his staff was sitting in the corner.  Dolanna had had his things all this time?  He was impressed, and a little relieved when he realized that the Box had been in that pack.  Going to it quickly, he noticed a note resting on top of the pack, and another note sitting atop the clothes.  The note on the clothes was from the Quartermaster.

		Master Tarrin:
		I finished this set, and decided to bring it so you had more to wear than a robe.  You can pick up your other four sets of clothes in the morning.  They will be ready for you.

	The second note was from Dolanna.

		Tarrin:
		We managed to recover this pack from the wreck of the ship.  Thank Faalken for this, it was his quick thinking that saved our belongings.  I dried them out as best I could with magic, and I do believe that nothing was damaged.  It took some doing to recover your staff, but I knew how much it meant to you, so I decided that it was worth the effort.  By the way, what is in this pack will be held in the strictest confidence.  It was obvious to me that what is within are things that you hold dear for sentimental reasons.  It will remain a private matter.
		This evening at sunset, I think you should visit the library.  It is easy to find.  I am certain	that you will find it to be an interesting place.

	Tarrin folded the note carefully, and then opened his pack.  It was obvious from the letter that Dolanna wanted to talk to him, and without the Keeper or a stranger around.  It would be no problem.  Since he wasn't really a Novice yet, even if his excursion broke a rule, it wasn't a rule that applied to him.  Then he unpacked his pack to check things.
	The Box was alright.  The four items inside, the tooth, the piece of quartz, the gold nugget, and his treasured wing, were just fine.  They showed not a sign of being dunked in the water.  Neither did the box.  His small daggers were in the pack, and so was his larger one, which surprised him.  He thought he'd lost the item he'd won at staffs in the fair.  His shaving razor was there, but not the soap.  But then again, he didn't need the razor.  With a start, he realized that he'd not shaved once since being bitten.  And his face was hairless.  That he didn't mind, for he didn't like beards and he hated shaving even more.  His sleeping mat, tent, and cooking pot were absent, probably lost, but this pack, with his clothes and his personal items, it was what was important.
	He placed the pack in the chest at the foot of his bed.  The clothes in the pack were his sturdy leather clothes, and he wanted to keep them.  A bit of cutting with a knife or claw would free up a place for his tail in his pants, and that was all that really mattered.  He took off the robe and dressed in the Novice's clothes that had been left for him, and hung his robe on the wall on the peg.  Then he went to his staff.
	The sturdy Ironwood showed not a sign of any duress, but that was usual for it.  It took something like a blazing inferno to mark Ironwood.  It seemed almost feather-light to him now, but he could feel every indentation on the wood intimately, and it felt just the same as he remembered.  He was just stronger, and that made the very heavy wood feel lighter.  His hands were now paws, and were much larger.  He knew he'd have to practice with the staff to get used to the different grips he'd need to use it, now that his hands were so different.  And learn how to use his natural weaponry in harmony with it.
	The door opened.  Tarrin stood by the bed calmly, staff in paw, and regarded the young man that entered.  He was a bit tall for his age, which looked to be around fifteen, and he had the dark, swarthy skin that marked him as an Arksian.  His hair was black as pitch, long and done up in an attractive side-parted style, and his eyes were a rich almond brown, almost like amber.  He too wore the white shirt and brown pants of a Novice, and he had a book in his hand.  "They told me that you may be here," he said calmly.  "I'm Dar, Dar  Ulthan," he introduced.  "I'm your roommate."
	"I'm Tarrin," he replied calmly.
	"They asked me to show you around," he said.  "We can do that after lunch, if you want."
	"Lunch sounds very good at the moment," Tarrin said with a smile.
	"Well, if we're going to eat, we'd best get moving," he said.  "They don't let stragglers eat."
	Tarrin put the staff back in the corner and followed the tall, lanky young man out.
	"Where are you from?" he asked.
	"Aldreth."
	"Where?"
	"A village about as far from Suld as you can get without leaving Sulasia," he replied.
	"I'm from Arkhold, in Arkis," he returned.
	"What brought you all the way here?"
	"My parents are in the spice trade," he explained.  "Merchants who are educated in the Tower tend to do better, and my parents want me to keep up what they've built."
	"Educated?  I thought that the school they have here would have been in some other building."
	"The Initiates stay in other towers," he said, "but we Novices are here."
	"Why do they all wear different colors?" he asked curiously.
	"The Initiates?  It's their rank," he replied.  "Except the ones that wear brown.  Initiates who wear brown aren't Sorcerers, they're just the advanced people in the school.  They're here in the Tower too, in the levels above the library."
	"Which way will you go?"
	"I don't know yet," he said.  "All I've learned so far is history and geography, and they've taught me about fifty different ways to add two and two together," he said ruefully.  "But they haven't given me the Test yet."  He led Tarrin down another passageway.  "I'm not entirely sure which way I want to go.  Seeing the Sorcerers here, it's made me interested in what they do.  But if I do end up learning Sorcery, it's bound to make my parents very mad.  They're paying alot of money to send me here.  But, on the other hand, if I do have talent, they don't have to pay anymore," he said with a smile.
	"Hmm," he mused.  "My parents weren't quite so lucky.  They made me come here."
	"The Test?" he asked.
	Tarrin nodded.
	"I didn't know they tested Wikuni."
	"I'm not Wikuni, and I wasn't like this when they tested me," he told him.
	"I wasn't sure," he admitted with a short laugh.  "I know alot of Wikuni from when my parents bargain with them, and you don't look like any Wikuni I've ever seen.  But you look almost like one.  I thought maybe you were a deformed Wikuni."
	"No," he assured him.  "I'm a Were-cat."
	"Truly?" he said in wonder.  "Then none of the stories I've heard of the Were-people are true, are they?"
	"Probably not," he said.  "Well, the part about biting is true," he added somberly.
	"That's how it happened?"
	He nodded.  "It was just one of those dumb things," he said.  "I was in the wrong place at the wrong time."  That much was true, to a certain degree.  If he'd chosen another bedchamber, it would have been Walten, or Tiella.  Or maybe even Faalken or Dolanna.  Or maybe nobody.
	"You took it better than I would have," he said.  "I'd still be screaming."
	"I'm over that now," he said.  "It's actually not that bad, once you get used to it."
	"I'd rather not find out," he said.
	"Smart man," Tarrin agreed.  "The getting used to it is not pleasant."
	"I didn't think it would be."  They went through a door, and entered a huge room, much like a grand hall.  There were tables and benches aligned in orderly rows in the center, with a single table on a raised dais on the far end of the room.  There were already a great many people in the room, and almost all of them were sitting quietly at the tables, where a myriad of different foods sat and waited.  The smells of them made his stomach growl.  Sitting at the table on the dais were several men and women wearing assorted dresses, shirts, doublets, and robes, but Elsa was seated firmly in the center of the table facing the assembled Novices.  Dar led them to the closest empty seats, and he had them sit down fast.  "Anyone standing once the Mistress starts the meal prayer is sent away hungry," he explained in a very low whisper.
	Tarrin nodded calmly, taking in the nervous reactions of the other Novices seated near and around Tarrin.  They all couldn't help stare at him, but they tried to make it inconspicuous.  He decided that ignoring them would be the best thing to do.  Not an arm's reach away, a large platter of roasted ham sat, almost taunting him.  It was a tremendous act of will not to reach out and take it.
	"Everyone stand!" Elsa's booming voice called across the hall.  All the Novices stood respectfully and bowed their heads.  Tarrin endured a short little speech from Elsa, where she invoked the blessing of some Goddess on the meal, but Tarrin didn't listen to her.  He was more interested in hearing her voice stop than he was listening to her speak.  When the Novices began to take their seats, he realized that Elsa had stopped talking.  He sat down with Dar, and when he saw several people reach for platters of beef, or pork, or a bowl of potatos, he knew that it was time to eat.
	He graciously let 