in the Tower, he already knew Dolanna, already knew what to expect from her.  Despite them being Sorcerers, and despite the warm welcome he had received from many in the Tower, Tarrin was still a bit reluctant about getting close to strangers.  He wouldn't be as forthcoming with a stranger as he would with Dolanna, and that made her the best teacher for him.
	Tarrin was used to being what he was.  Now he had to get used to how that would affect relationships with others.
	
	Tarrin was up before dawn, and so was Dar.  Someone walked up the hallway just as Tarrin awoke, ringing a bell.  That was obviously the signal for all Novices to get up and start preparing for the day.  Tarrin had had a very good sleep, and much to his surprise, so had Dar.  Dar had not shown the slightest reservation about sharing his room with such an exotic, unknown creature as Tarrin, and that surprised the young Were-cat considerably.  Dar was perfectly at ease with Tarrin, and that simple fact had endeared the Arkisian to him even more than the previous day.  Being able to sleep soundly in the same room as someone was a definite measure of trust.
	Tarrin wondered if it hadn't been for that specific reason that Dar was chosen to be his roommate.  Because he was so tolerant.
	Dar groaned, sat up, and yawned deeply.  "Dawn gets here earlier every day," he grumbled in complaint as he rubbed his eyes.
	"Of course it does," Tarrin told him.  "It's coming into summer.  Each night is a bit shorter than the last.  If you'd go to bed at a decent hour, then you wouldn't be so sleepy."
	"You're the one who kept me up," he shot back.  "Do you always like to play cards?"
	"It helps me think," he shrugged.
	"Next time, read a book," he complained, sliding out of bed.
	"I may.  You're a lousy hand in King's Sword."
	"Give me a break, I just learned it last night," he said indignantly.
	"Do you play stones?"
	"Religiously," he replied.
	"I'll get a stones board."
	"Not in this room you won't.  Neither of us will sleep if you do."
	"You may be right there," he admitted.  "I don't like stopping in the middle of a game."
	"I don't either."  Dar was wearing his small clothes, and he pulled his robe off the peg and belted it on.
	"What's the routine in the morning?" Tarrin asked.
	"We all have to bathe first," he said.  "After that, we eat.  Then we either go to class or to our work."
	"All the Novices at once?"
	"No, they do it a floor at a time.  We have to go bathe first."
	"What do the others do while they wait?"
	"They wait," he said.  "They have to get up at the same time we do.  But we have to wait on them to finish before we can go to eat, so it evens out."
	"Well, what happens in you want to take a long bath?" he asked.
	Dar laughed.  "Tarrin, you don't see many Novices take long baths," he said.  "At least everyone but Torians."
	"Why is that?"
	"Because they have to appear naked in front of the others," he said.  "The Torians have communal baths, so it doesn't bother them.  Most Novices jump in, jump out, and then wrap a towel around themselves as fast as they can."
	"Humans," Tarrin sighed.  "You're so quirky.  After you see someone naked once, does it matter how many more times you see it?"
	"I don't like doing it either," Dar told him.  "I think having to take a bath with the girls is the worst part of the day."
	"I'll go with you," he said.  "I feel like taking another bath.  That bathing pool is just too handy."
	"It'd be real nice if I didn't have to take my clothes off in front of girls," Dar grumbled.
	Tarrin laughed, which made Dar blush.  Which made him laugh even more.  Now he understood why Jesmind was so amused at his own discomfort.  And now that he seemed to be closer to Jesmind's way of thinking, it was just as amusing to him as it was to her.  It was such a silly custom, almost ridiculous, for humans to be so ashamed of themselves.
	Dar and Tarrin left their room and fell into step with the other Novices that lived on their floor.  They all seemed as sulky as Dar.  Tarrin also noted that many of them stared at him in wide-eyed amazement, and not a few of them wouldn't get that close to him.  That made him sigh a bit.  It wasn't like he was some unholy monster there to drink the living blood from their veins.  He was a person, after all.  He even had a name.  He understood that to them, he was a very strange creature, but it was silly to be afraid of him.  He was a Novice, just like them.  It wasn't like he'd gotten himself into the Tower so he could eat the unwary young Novices.
	He ignored them as best he could.  He was more interested in a hot bath than anything else.  That he attended to with a brisk businesslike manner of which Dar seemed to approve.  They disrobed and jumped right into the water, and he waded out into the hot water quickly, before others could get over there and intrude on his space.  He had plans for the day, several of them.  The first was to take his staff outside and start working out the differences that there would be.  He had larger hands now.  He was stronger, faster, and he had natural weaponry.  He needed to work with them more than the chaotic, half-instinctual way he'd been using them.  He needed to know exactly what he could do, so he would know exactly what he was capable of doing.  In a fight, that was dreadfully important.  His life would hinge on it.  Then he would go to the library and start reading about Sorcery.  He'd discovered from talking with Dar last night that they didn't start really teaching Sorcery until the Initiate.  Well, he wanted to know now.  And he was pretty sure that he could talk Dolanna into giving him lessons, whether or not they were sanctioned by the Tower.  Before he started doing that, he wanted to read about it.  Besides, he was rather sure that they'd watch him very closely for a while.  He'd just arrived, and they had no idea what he was about.  They'd watch him carefully until they were certain that he wasn't going to do anything unusual.  At least for him.  After that, if he had time, he wanted to explore the rest of the grounds more thoroughly.  That, he knew, was a purely Cat instinct, to know his territory, but he was more than willing to go along with the idea.  He was curious to see what all there was out on the grounds, which were about three times the size of Aldreth.  And after that, he would meet with Dolanna in the library at sunset.
	He'd been right about his body repairing itself, though.  He wasn't half as thin as he'd been this time the day before.  His ribs were again sheathed in a layer of muscle, and the little aches and pains had faded quite some time ago.  It had only taken a single day with a huge amount of food for his body to restore what had been consumed during his period of near-starvation.  He looked healthy, and he felt healthy.  He was strong again, strong enough to take his staff out in the field and work with it.
	"Man, this is hot," Dar complained as he lathered his hair.
	"I like it like this," Tarrin said.
	"It's tolerable, but only just," he said.
	"For you."
	"Hey, I'm the only one that matters," he said with a grin.
	"You might think so," Tarrin shot back.
	"You mean the world doesn't revolve around me?  I'm crushed."
	"You look it."
	Dar answered that by splashing water at him.  Tarrin retaliated by snaking his long tail around the boy's ankle, and then yanking.  Tarrin's tail was by no means as stong as the rest of his body, but it was strong enough.  Dar disappeared under the water with shocking speed, and then came up spluttering.  "Cheater," he accused after spitting out a mouthful of water.
	"Oh, did my tail catch on your leg?  I'm so sorry," Tarrin said with false sincerity.  "Let me help you up."
	"That thing is long," Dar remarked, looking behind Tarrin in the water.
	"About half again as long as my leg," Tarrin told him calmly.  "Long enough to be useful."
	"I noticed," Dar said after he stuck his tongue out at the Were-cat.
	"It doesn't look it because it moves all the time, and it's always bent," Tarrin said, washing the soap out of the fur on his arms.
	Dar laughed.  "Your tail reaches farther than your arms."
	"I guess it does."
	"And you can grab things with it?"
	"Yes.  It's not as delicate as my fingers, but it's got enough agility to grab things."
	"That's the first time I ever heard of the butt grabbing the hand."
	Tarrin gave him a face, then laughed.  "Wait til it smacks you.  Then you can say that it's the first time a butt ever smacked back."
	Dar laughed with him as they climbed out of the bathing pool.  But it also made Tarrin consider the possibilities.  From a combat situation, his tail was a tactical advantage.  It gave him a third arm, as it were, one that didn't have an elbow and was as supple as a snake.  He made a mental note to ponder that.  He was rather sure he'd thought of that once before, but he hadn't pursued it last time.  Most likely it had been during his flight from Jesmind, and at that time he was too busy trying to survive.
	They went back to their room and dressed, then they stood at the hallway leading to the Hall, waiting for the Mistress of Novices to appear and lead them in.  Dar explained that the food was already laid out on the tables, but those unlucky Novices that had pulled kitchen duty, and only awaited them to come in and sit down.  They had the same thing for breakfast every day.  Cooked eggs, slices of bacon, ham, porridge, bread, milk, and fresh fruit, when it was in season.
	Elsa appeared a short while later, and she stopped in front of Tarrin.  "You look a whole world better, boy," she noted.
	"I feel just fine, Mistress," he assured her.
	"Good.  You're entering the Noviate tomorrow.  Oh, and don't forget to pick up your clothes from the Quartermaster after breakfast.  He's waiting on you."
	"I'll take care of it, Mistress Elsa," he promised.
	"I saw that staff in your room, boy.  You're not supposed to have that.  Unless, of course, it's of sentimental value."
	"I've owned it for five years, Mistress.  I made it myself.  It's got a great deal of sentimental value."
	"Good," she said.  "That's all I wanted to hear.  And if anyone asks, you'll tell them that.  Understood?"
	"Understood, Mistress," he told her.  Then she led them into the Hall.
	"What was that all about?" he asked in a hushed voice.  Elsa was only a bit ahead of them.
	"We're not allowed to have weapons, except for a personal knife.  I didn't think it was a weapon," he shrugged.
	"It's very much one, if you know how to use it that way," he told him in an equally hushed voice.  "I could teach you, if you want."
	"I may take you up on that.  It's always handy how to know how to fight with something so ordinary."
	"That's the idea," he said.  "My mother could whip your tail with nothing but her hands and feet.  My father could do it with a leather belt."
	"A belt?"
	Tarrin nodded.  "I've never seen one used quite that way, and I doubt I ever will.  He could even block a sword blow with it.  He said he learned it because even if you lose everything else, you'll always have your belt."
	Dar chuckled.  "That's a very smart idea."  They entered the Hall and took the closest available seats, but they didn't touch any food.  That came after the blessing.  "Your mother knows the Ungaardt Ways?" he asked in a whisper.
	Tarrin nodded.  "She taught them to me, but I'm still not as good as she is."
	"I heard that they don't often teach them to women," he said.
	"You heard wrong," Tarrin told him.  "Even a village grandmother has some training in the Ways.  It's a custom."
	Many more Novices poured in, many of them still damp from the baths.  After the hall was more or less full, Elsa stood up and delivered the blessing in a booming voice.  When she was done, the Novices started in on breakfast.  Now that he was mended, he didnt' have a quarter of the appetite he'd had the day before, so his breakfast plate was much more reasonable.  He did like scrambled eggs, so he put more on his plate than was good for him, then added some bacon and fried ham to it.  He didn't touch the porridge, but did have an apple after cleaning his plate.
	As he'd discovered the day before, he wasn't required to sit and wait for everyone else to finish.  Once a Novice was done with the meal, they were permitted to leave and get about their affairs.  Tarrin bid good day to Dar and left the Hall, going straight to the Quartermaster's.  The wiry man greeted him warmly when he entered.  "Ah, I see you got my clothes," he said.
	"Thank you, sir.  They were very handy.  I don't like wearing robes."
	"With that tail, I can understand why.  I have your clothes ready for you.  Come with me and we'll get them."
	The wiry man led him to a shelf some ways back into the huge room.  "Those are the same size as the ones you have on now," he said.  "Hmm, maybe I should have made them looser.  They're already snug on you."
	"No, sir, this size is perfect," he assured him.  "I'm as thick as I'm going to get."
	"But you were thin as a stick yesterday."
	"I got better," he said with a mischievous grin.
	"I don't think I want to know, so spare me the details," he said dryly.  "With all the magical things that go on around here, I should know better than to ask anymore."
	"Oh, what do you want me to do with the old robe?" he asked.
	"Keep it," he said.  "It'll make good rags if anything else.  That's what I was about to do with it."
	"I'll find something to do with it, sir," he assured him.
	"Well, I won't keep you.  I know they keep you Novices busier than a frog on a griddle.  Have a good day, young man."
	"You too, sir," he mirrored.
	Tarrin took his clothes back to his room and put them away neatly in the chest.  He took off the ones he was wearing and put on a set of his old leathers out of his pack, then picked up his staff and went outside.  He debated where to do his practicing for several moments.  It had to be an open area out of the way.  But a moment of thought told him that the perfect place was that sand-strewn area he'd crossed the night he arrived.  It even had several large posts driven into the ground, and was obviously a training field for someone, most likely the Tower guards.  If nobody was using it, it would be perfect for his needs.
	But it was indeed being used.  A squad of young men wearing leather pseudo-armor labored on the field, swinging lathe-bundled practice swords to the barking command of a burly man wearing the plate armor of a Knight.  Farther down the line, young men swung their practice swords at the wooden posts, and in another place they sparred against each other.  About seven or eight other Knights prowled the field, correcting stances and giving instruction as they moved, or they supervised the sparring matches with a keen eye.  Tarrin also noticed three robed Sorcerers standing to one side.  They were obviously there in case of an accidental injury.
	As Tarrin approached, he recognized one of the prowling Knights.  It was Faalken.  Dolanna had said that he trained students when not out with her.  Faalken noticed him and trotted out quickly to greet him, his plate armor jingling as he moved.  "Tarrin!" he said joyfully, clapping the Were-cat's paw in his strong hand.  "Dolanna told me you were back.  You look very well."
	"I do now," he said ruefully.  "I wasn't in very good shape when I got here."
	"Yes, she told me.  She said it wasn't easy on you."
	"Not by a measure," he grunted.
	He took notice of his staff.  "Here to practice a bit?"
	"I remembered seeing the field, but I didn't know if it would be used," he said apologetically.  "I'll go find someplace else."
	"Nonsense," he said.  "You're more than welcome here.  It's not often that we get to see someone other than Elsa use the Ways, anyway."
	"Is she any good?" he asked.
	"Let's just say that I've never seen a Sorceress thump so many heads without magic," he said with a grin.
	"I'm not surprised," he said back.  "She's from the Emden clan, and they've always been very good at the Ways.  It's a matter of pride with them."
	"Yes, well, just find yourself an open spot," he invited.  "I hope you won't mind if some of us watch."
	"Not really," he said.
	Tarrin picked a small corner of the soft sand practice field and turned the staff over in paws several times, getting a feel for the changes.  The staff seemed a little smaller to him now, and he'd have to adjust his grip on it.  He started going through forms, very slowly, sliding from one to the next with a fluid grace and feeling the changes in leverage, the shifts in the grip he'd have to make, the adjustments to take his new height into account.  His wide feet gave him more stability than before, and his Were-cat sense of balance and equilibrium was a definite asset.  He worked through the same forms again several times, going faster and faster each time, until he whirled through the routine at blazing full speed.  He almost dropped the staff three times, but his inhuman agility and speed allowed him to snatch it back before it got out of control.  His huge paws made walking the staff over the back of his paw harder than it had been before, which meant he'd have to be more careful with grip-shift moves.
	Tarrin began to sweat as he started practicing with some of the more difficult forms, slowly working himself into the changes the bite had brought about and adapting to them.  He knew it would take more than just one day, but he was pleased at the amount of progress he'd already made after a few short hours of work.
	He then started with the mixed move forms, staff moves that were accented with punches or kicks, even headbutts and several throws.  He began to experiment, changing a punch into a claw rake or a stab with the pointed ends of his claws, changing a foot sweep into a tail-sweep.  All in all, making such minor changes wasn't much of a problem, just very subtle changes to his stances or sets to take a broader swipe into account and such.
	"Not bad," Faalken complemented as Tarrin stopped for a moment to gather in his breath.  "I forgot how good you are with that thing."
	"It's coming along," Tarrin told him.  "I need to practice the hand forms.  I think it'll be harder for me to use them that the staff now."
	"Why is that?"
	"Because alot of what they are depends on your strengths and weaknesses," he said.  "All those are different for me now.  I'll almost have to re-teach myself the forms.  Weapons don't change like that.  Well, sure, there are some things that are different now, but it's adjusting to the weapon.  In hand forms, I have nothing to adjust to, so that changes it all around."  He made a face.  "If that makes any sense."
	"I understand what you're trying to say, even if you're doing a bad job of it," he said with a grin.  "Weapon forms are weapon forms, but your hand forms are more or less suited just for you.  You're a different you now, so you need to use new forms."
	"Exactly," he said.  "What I already know is all I need.  I just need to learn the new way to use them.  I have these claws now, and the tail.  I need to learn how to use them in a fight."
	"Wise idea," he said with an outrageous smile.
	"You," Tarrin said, shaking a paw at him.  "It's good to practice again," he sighed.  "I forgot what it was like.  And I still want to beat my mother in a fight."
	"I think you could do that now," Faalken observed slyly.
	"I wouldn't cheat," he said in an outraged tone.
	"How is it cheating?"
	"It just is," he said after a moment's blank look.
	"When are you going to give up that overgrown toothpick and use a real weapon?" Faalken asked.
	"Like what?"
	"Like a sword."
	"I've used swords before.  I don't like them," he said.  "They're too crude."
	"Crude?" Faalken gasped in feigned shock.
	"Crude," he said again.  "They have no style.  Any fool can pick up a sword and use one."
	"I'm glad you think so," Faalken laughed.
	"And they're crude in using them as well," he added.  "It's too easy to kill when you don't want to kill.  With my staff, I have to make a conscious choice to deliver a killing blow.  It's not as uncertain as it is with a sword."
	"You just never learned how to control one," Faalken told him.  "If you think it's that crude, then you have alot to learn about them."
	"I do know how to use one," he said.  "My father uses one.  But then again, my father won't draw it unless he intends to kill, so there's no open area about leaving people alive as far as he's concerned."
	"So....you consider it crude because you don't like it?" Faalken surmised.
	"Just about," Tarrin said with a grin.  "Keep you toy, Faalken.  I'll stay with a real weapon."
	"What happens if you don't have it with you?" Faalken asked.
	"Faalken, my friend, that's what these are for," he replied, showing the Knight his claws.  "And I can't leave these behind.  They're with me everywhere I go."
	Faalken laughed.  "Point taken," he acceded.  "But all in all, I'd still like to see you practice the sword.  And the axe, and any other weapons you know.  Best get used to using them as you are, in case you ever come to a situation where you need to use them."
	"I can agree to that," he said after a moment.  "Better to be ready for what will never be."
	"Because only a fool says never," Faalken finished the saying.
	Tarrin looked up at the sun.  It was nearly noon.  The students were filing off the field in neat rows, and that reminded him that it was about time for lunch.  "I have to go, Faalken," he said.  "I'll see you later."
	"Have a good day, Tarrin.  Come visit again soon."
	"I hope to," he said.
	In the Hall, as he was settling in for lunch, he managed to spot Walten a few tables over.  Rushing over there, he saw that Tiella was sitting with him.  They both saw him, and Tiella waved to him happily.  "Tarrin!" Tiella said with a smile.  "It's so good to see you!"
	"They told us you made it," Walten told him with a grin.
	"It wasn't easy," Tarrin said.  He tapped the shoulder of the Novice that was sitting across the table from his friends.  "Excuse me, would you like to trade seats?" he asked.  "These are old friends of mine."
	The young girl gaped at him a moment, then hastily vacated the area.  The novices to each side of her scooted away from him as he stepped over the bench and sat down, shaking Walten's hand over the table and holding onto Tiella's a moment.  "What happened after the boat sank?" Walten asked.
	Tarrin gave them a very brief account of what had happened after he'd parted ways with them.  He told them about Jesmind, but didn't go into the more personal things that had happened between them.  "So after I got away from her, I made my way here," he finished.  "It wasn't easy because of all the raiders running around.  I was in pretty bad shape when I got here."
	"Wow," Tiella said.  "Nothing happened to us.  We just got another boat and kept going."
	"How's the Noviate?" Tarrin asked.
	"Busy," Walten grunted.  "I've never cleaned so much in my life.  I think I may see if I can go back to being a carpenter."
	"I'm starting to hate rags," Tiella added.  "They make me clean the Keeper's office, and she goes into fits if she sees even a speck of dust."
	"That's all you do?"
	"Believe me, that's enough," she said with a screwed-up face.
	Tarrin laughed.  "Just stick with it," he said.  "They can't make you clean forever.  What are you learning?"
	"Right now, history," Walten told him.  "We don't get to start learning Sorcery until we learn some things about history and geography, and even things about adding numbers and a class on logic.  After that, they put us in the Initiate, and we start learning magic."
	"Sorcery," the Novice beside him said absently.
	"Yeah," he said.  "They make you scrub the privies if they hear you say that word."
	"We call it the M word," Tiella told him.
	"How long have you been doing this?" he asked.
	"Almost two rides," Tiella told him.  A ride was ten days, so it was nearly twenty days.
	"They must have put you in fast."
	"The day after we got here," Walten told him.
	Tarrin chuckled.  "They didn't waste any time, did they?"
	"None," Tiella agreed.
	Elsa stood, and the Hall stood with her for the blessing of the meal.  Tarrin thought about what they'd said while she talked.  They'd wanted to do the same with him, but he hadn't been in shape to do it.  It must have been standard practice.  He was very glad that they'd had no trouble after he'd been separated from them.  Faalken and Dolanna were experienced travellers, but Walten and Tiella weren't really suited for fighting.  They could, and did, though.  Both of them had exhibited dogged courage and determination in the fights that had happened while he was with them.  But they hadn't had the fighting background that he did.  He was happy that it had been left to him, and not to them.  It wasn't that he liked fighting, it was that he was better suited for it than them.
	The blessing over, they all sat back down and started to eat.  Tarrin listened as Tiella and Walten talked about the routine of classes in the morning, lunch, then maybe one more class, and then off to do all the cleaning, or whatever duty was imposed upon them that day.  They talked about several instructors, and Tarrin was a bit surprised to find out that only a few of the Novitiate teachers were actually Sorcerers.  But then again, the Novitiate dealt with pure knowledge, and a non-sorcerer was just as capable of teaching history or numbers as a Sorcerer.
	Tarrin stared at a Sorcerer who had entered the Hall and started staring at him.  It was an old man, with sunken eyes and cheeks and with a white-fringed ring of hair around that bald pate.  He wore a simple brown robe that was slightly food-stained.  The man moved with an erratic gait, as if one leg didn't always want to work the right way, and he made a zig-zagging, meandering course to Elsa and the Sorcerers seated at the table on the dais at the far end of the Hall.
	"Who is that?" Tarrin asked.
	"Brel, the Master of Initiates," Tiella informed him.  "Nobody I talked to likes him.  Mistress Elsa is firm, but fair.  I hear that Brel enjoys punishing people."
	"He's a little man that thinks it makes him bigger to put other people down," Walten grunted.  "Standing on a man's shoulders may let you see higher, but you're still the same size once you get down."
	"Well, that's a problem that will have to wait," Tarrin told them.  "None of us are there yet.  I'm not even here yet," he said with a smile.
	"Tomorrow," Tiella told him.  "We were all told about you, Tarrin," she said with a wink.
	"Told?  Told what?"
	"That you'd be in the Noviate," she said.  "A Sorcerer came into our class and told us about you.  That you'd be in the Novitiate, and that since you're not human, you're not quite like everyone else.  He said a few things about how to act around you, and said as long as we don't make you mad, that everything will be just fine."
	"Nobody told me they were doing that," he said.
	"I guess they want to make sure that nothing bad happens," Walten said.  "Tykarthians and Draconians don't like people who aren't human, and the Dals really hate them, because of all the Goblins up in the mountains."
	"I'm not a Goblinoid," Tarrin grunted.
	"Yes, well, even I think that if someone called you a really bad name, you'd do something to them," Tiella said.
	"I would," he affirmed bluntly.  "But you know me, Tiella.  I would have done it even before this happened to me."
	"True," she acceded.
	"There's going to be another one," Walten said.
	"Another what?"
	"We heard about it in our class today.  A Selani is going to come and enter the Noviate."
	A Selani.  One of the Desert Folk, who lived out in the Desert of Swirling Sands to the east of Arkis.  That desert, and the Selani that lived there, were the only things keeping the countless legions of the empire of Arak out of the West.  The Selani were a hard people, like their desert, and they were regarded the world over as the most lethal adversaries in hand to hand combat in all the world.  The Ungaardt were known for their fighting ability, but even the Ungaardt paled in comparison to the Selani.  Five hundred years ago, the Emperor of Arak decided to try to invade Arkis.  That was when Arkis was a fledgeling nation, made up of Arakites that had fled from the brutal oppression of the Emperor, Zanak XVI.  An advance force of Arakite Legions had tried to cross the desert, and were obliterated by the Selani.  Angered by the loss, the Emperor ordered his legions to sweep the desert and kill anything that moved.  The Selani simply allowed the invaders to come in, let them wander around for about a month to let the heat and blowing sand take their toll, then they wiped out the invaders.  The Selani had been angered by the attacks, and after a council of all the clans, they decided to attack Arak.
	No nation in the world would have been insane enough to make that decision, but the Selani were beings of high honor.  Their honor had been stained by the invasion, and they meant to punish the Emperor for his actions.  Nine of the fifteen clans left the desert and fell on the western border of Arak like the a tidal wave of destruction.  They laid waste to absolutely everything in their path, but, according to their honor, they killed not one civilian.  All who did not raise a weapon to the Selani were allowed free passage to safety.  Many simply remained behind the Selani lines, for the Selani advanced so quickly that there was no way they could outrun the advance.  These were treated as guests of the Selani, and were given tents to live in and food to eat while the Clans eradicated their Empire.  Zanak became so enraged and bewildered at the unstoppable Selani that he took command of the army personally and met them on the plains of Dala Ren.  The Selani clans met the elite of the Arakite Legions on that grassy plain, and killed them to the last man.  The Emperor himself was captured and taken back to the desert, where not a word was heard from him again.  Nobody even knew what fate had befell him at the hands of the Selani.
	The Emperor captured, the Selani clans simply withdrew, leaving the throne to the Emperor's eldest son, Zanak XVII.  The ruined western marches of the Empire blamed the Empire for their loss, and seceeded, becoming the kingdom of Selas.  The Emperor was too busy fighting a sudden war on his eastern frontier, caused by the decimation of the Legion reserves, to attend the matter imm