nd the raw force of the blow knocked her into the air.  She made no attempt to right herself and land on her feet, coming down right on the base of her neck instead.  She crumpled in on herself like a rag doll, and when she settled to the floor, she did not move.
	Tarrin wilted, almost falling down, as the blinding pain of too many wounds to count suddenly screamed at him all at once.  He'd survived by the skin of his teeth, and he looked it.  The skin of his teeth was about all he had left.  He limped over to her and rolled her over with a foot.  She was unconscious, bleeding from her many wounds, wounds that were closing even as he watched.  He mused at that; he thought that, since they were both magical creatures, that they would deal real damage to one another.   It was a good thing they did not, for he'd have been dead in the first few seconds had that been true.  Her face, wet from the pool, was untouched, aside from the three puncture wounds under her jaw, and the blood had been washed from it by their bath.  Just looking at her reminded him how beautiful she was, and he knew that he just couldn't kill her.  Not now, not ever.  Regardless of how she felt about him, he didn't hate her.  And he wouldn't kill her.
	He knelt by her, checking her pulse to make sure it was strong, then he smoothed the wet red hair back from her face.  "Why do you have to be so damned stubborn?" he asked her weakly.  Then he bent down and kissed her lightly on the lips.  "If you'd just wait a while, you stubborn witch, I'd go with you."  He stood up.  "But it's too late for that now, I guess.  I hope you're happy with your decison.  If you'd have waited, or came here with me, I wouldn't have ran away."
	He turned around.  "Goodbye, Jesmind.  Have a nice life."  Then he hobbled away from her.
	As soon as he'd gone far enough up the steps, Jesmind opened her eyes.  They were lucid, calm, even mischievous, and she smiled a victorious little smile.  But then that light look hardened over into one of firm resolve, and she shook her head as if to clear her mind of unwanted thoughts.  She waited until the sound of his passage were too faint to detect, then she scrambled to her feet and darted up the steps, making less sound than a ghost.

	Tarrin was met in the hallways by three Sorcerers as he hobbled back towards the Novice's quarters, two men he did not know, and the red-haired Ahiriya, who were rushing towards the baths.  She was in the forefront, and she took only one look at him with those penetrating eyes.  "Did you kill her?" she asked.
	"Hardly," Tarrin said a bit weakly.  He hadn't completely healed from the grievous injuries he'd suffered at Jesmind's hands.  "It was all I could do to get away."
	Ahiriya put her hands on his shoulders, and the icy sensation of Sorcerer's Healing rushed through him, putting him up on his toes as his blood seemed to turn to ice.  The other two Sorcerers obeyed Ahiriya's short command to search the baths, rushing away quickly.  When that icy rush faded, it took the pain along with it.  Tarrin staggered back and away from her, his strength, taxed by her healing, flowing back into him.  Unlike a Priest's healing, a Sorcerer's healing took some energy away from the person being healed, using it to heal the recipient, and that always left Tarrin feeling slightly drained.
	"Your things have been moved to another room," she said.  "That boy who rooms with you demanded to be put in the same room with you," she chuckled.  "He's got guts, I'll give him that.  Let's get you a robe or something to wear, and we'll take you to your new room."
	That touched Tarrin.  Despite the obvious danger, Dar was going to stay roommates with him.
	The room Tarrin was led to was on the second level, not far from the room that Allia held alone, and it was at the very end of a hallway.  The fact that there were two mailed guards standing at the entrance to that hall, quite a distance down, was not lost on him.  Even though there were a goodly distance away, they defended the only way in or out, and thus stopped anyone from getting so close to him again.
	The room was absolutely identical to the room he'd had below.  Dar was there, busily putting up his art back on the walls, and the young man gave Tarrin a look of profound relief as he entered.  Tarrin put his paws on the Novice's shoulders wordlessly.  "Are you alright?  Did you kill her?  What happened?"
	"I'm fine, no, she's not dead, and we fought for a while before I got in a lucky kick," he said with a gentle smile.  "I also have a name, Dar.  That man gave me a name before the Wraith killed him.  That may be why the Wraith killed him."
	"What name?"
	"Kravon."
	Dar gasped slightly.  "The Kravon?" he said in shock.
	"Who is he?"
	"He's a renegade," he said as Tarrin let go of him and took of the too-small robe that had been found for him.  His belongings were in the chest--they'd done nothing but move the whole chest. "I heard about him from my parents.  He's a Wizard, and he supposedly leads a group of other Wizards who go around stealing magical artifacts.  My father said there's more to it than that, though.  He said that they're trying to do something."
	"Why would he want to kill me?" Tarrin asked himself.  "I'm nobody."
	"Maybe it's not who you are," Dar said.  "Maybe it's what you are."
	"No, why kill me because I'm a Were-cat when he sent the Were-cat that changed me?" he countered.  "He was at it before that happened anyway."  He pulled on a new pair of trousers and pulled out a shirt.  The door opened abruptly, and Tarrin and Dar were staring the Keeper right in the face.  They both stood and bowed awkwardly, Tarrin hastily throwing his shirt on afterward.
	"I see you're alright," she said.
	"Well enough, Keeper," he said.
	"What happened?"
	"Two men tried to kill me in my sleep, then Jesmind took advantage of the confusion and attacked me when I went to the baths to clean up," he told her plainly.  "One of the men gave me a name before he died," he told her triumphantly.  "He said he works for Kravon."
	Her eyes narrowed slightly, but she said nothing about it.  Tarrin seemed to understand in that instant that there was an awful lot that the Keeper knew, things that would answer all of the questions that he had, and that she simply was not going to tell him.  She knew why they were trying to kill him.  She knew who was trying to kill him too, he was certain of it.  He also came to understand in that instant that she wanted something from him.  He didn't know how he knew, but he did.  He was here specifically because they wanted something.  And that made him nervous.
	"I'll have someone look into it," she said shortly.  "We can't find Jesmind, but that won't be like that for long."
	"You'll never catch her, Keeper," he told her.
	Her eyes seem to flash momentarily.  "You have a low opinion of us, boy," she said in a steely tone.
	"No ma'am, I just know Jesmind.  She could hide in plain sight so well you'd step on her.  She hid from all of us from the day after she bit me to the day we met in the forest, and that was no mean feat.  Trust me, Keeper, you won't find her.  Don't even bother."
	"I'll have it done anyway," she said.  "It amuses me."
	"As you will, Keeper."
	"Well, things will get back to normal around here now," she said.  "I've put men at the entrance to this hallway to prevent any more midnight guests, so it shouldn't happen again."
	"Thank you, Keeper," he said politely.
	"You two try to get some sleep," she said, then she turned and walked out without another word.
	"That was strange," Dar said.
	Tarrin looked at the door with his eyes narrowed.  The first stirrings of mistrust were coming to life inside him.  Things were not as they appeared here in the Tower.  And he meant to find out what was going on.

	The next attempt on his life came the very next day, and his wariness from the previous night had been what saved his life.  Tarrin and Allia were out on the field, practicing, when the fur on the back of his ears stood up.  In that absolute instant, he knew something was wrong.  He lunged forward and drove Allia to the ground, even as something buzzed spitefully over his head.  There was a cry of pain seconds after than, and the sound of someone falling.  Then it was chaos.  Tarrin looked up, and saw that one of the students, laying on the ground near them, had a crossbow quarrel through his neck.  His eyes were already vacant and glazed.  Had that bolt hit him, it would have hit him right between the shoulder blades.
	"Spread out and capture anyone with a crossbow!" Valden, one of the Knight instructors, bellowed instantly.  One of the attending Sorcerers rushed forward, but he could see that he was too late.  So he closed the boy's eyes, then pulled out the quarrel.
	It was tipped with silver.
	"That was meant for you," Allia said grimly.
	"I know," Tarrin replied quietly.  This young man was totally innocent, a victim of being in the wrong place at the wrong time.  That was one more thing he was going to flay from the hide of whoever ordered the attack.  His eyes went flat, and his ears laid back.  "And I'm going to find who shot it."
	"I'll come with you," she said, and they got up and darted away.
	It took a bit of doing to get them to let Tarrin have the crossbow.  It was found between two buildings, in a narrow alley, and Tarrin more or less threatened to maim anyone that wouldn't let him hold it.  Tarrin put the stock near his nose, ignoring the scents all around him as he locked in on the scent of the man that had held it, and had shot it at him.  Once he had it, he checked in the alley and found the scent trail.  Five Knights, including Valden and Faalken, hurried along after Tarrin and Allia as Tarrin followed the man's trail.  It played out, though, when it got onto the road that led to the main gate of the compound, and then outside.
	"You there!" Faalken boomed at the gate guards.  "Who's gone through here in the last hour?"
	"Two wagons, five troops of guards, and ten visitors, sir," the gate sentry replied immediately.
	"Anyone looking like they were nervous about something?"
	"No sir," he replied.
	"It had to be someone walking," Tarrin said.  "I can still smell his scent.  He walked through the gate."
	"Who's walked out of here?"
	"Just two troops of guards and one visitor," the man said.  "It was a woman and her two bodyguards."
	They looked at Tarrin, who shrugged.  "Don't look at me," he said.  "I just know it was a human man."
	"It could have been any of them," Allia said.  "Even one of the guards, or perhaps a man in a guard's uniform."
	"Maybe," Faalken grunted.
	"This isn't the place to discuss it," Valden said.  "This place is in crossbow range of any of those buildings across the street."
	Tarrin swept his eyes across the area beyond the fence.  "Good point," Faalken agreed.  "Let's get Tarrin back to the barracks."
	Valden was one of the older knights, a gruff, no-nonsense kind of man that seemed to have absolutely no sense of humor whatsoever.  He was held in very high regard among the Knights, though, because he was extraordinarily good at the small details that made a successful campaign, and he was a fearsome fighter.  He was the most practical, sober man Tarrin had ever seen.  Valden led them as the five Knights formed a defenseive perimeter around Tarrin, putting their steel armor in the way of another quarrel.  Tarrin watched with an alert wariness, taking in and analyzing every sight and sound and smell for possible threat.  They reached the barracks that served as the cadets' quarters.  "We've got to tell the Keeper about this," Faalken said.  "Someone is going to an awful lot of trouble to kill you, Tarrin.  They've been trying since the day we left Aldreth, and they're not afraid to come into the Tower to do it, either."
	"What can she do?" one of the other Knights, a hulking man named Umber, asked.
	"We'll seal the compound if that's what it takes," Valden said in his no-nonsense voice.  "These people have to be coming in from the outside.  If they can't get in, they can't try to kill anyone."
	"You can't get in here without--" Umber said, then he blanched a bit.
	"That's possible," Valden said grimly.
	"What?" Allia asked.
	"That someone from the inside is bringing them in," Valden explained.  "Nobody can come onto the Tower grounds without an invitation or a summons.  For them to get in, someone has to be inviting them in."
	"Maybe they just snuck in," Tarrin said.  "I've done it.  This place isn't as secure as you may think."
	"You have certain racial advantages, Tarrin," Valden.  "It'd take a man pole-vaulting to get over the fence without touching it.  Not many people know how to do that.  And you can't touch the fence, else you're stuck fast to it until a Sorcerer weaves a spell to release you."
	"They must get tired of going out there to release the birds," Tarrin noted.
	"It doesn't trap animals," Valden said absently.  "It only--"  He swore.  "Garen, go find out if the fence works on Wikuni."
	Faalken's eyes widened, then narrowed.
	"But it was a human scent I smelled," Tarrin told them.
	"Yes, but let's close that door before they find it open," Valden said.  "I don't know how the fence works exactly.  Since it doesn't trap animals, it may only trap humans.  And that means that anyone else can climb it as they please."  He pursed his lips.  "There's really not much we can do at this point but alert the Keeper and have her take steps," he said.  "There's no way to find out who brought the assassin onto the grounds."
	"Well, until we talk to the Keeper, not much else can be done," Valden said.  "Tarrin, go back to the Tower, and stay indoors.  I suggest you stay in a public area as well.  Try to keep people around you."
	"Alright," he said.  Tarrin was starting to get annoyed.  That he had a name seemed to be something a step in the right direction, but he had nowhere to take it, and so long as he was in the Tower, he had no means to search it out.  Tarrin didn't like being the target of someone's homicidal tendencies; at least someone he didn't know.  Jesmind, he could understand, and he had hopes that the two of them could settle their differences peacefully. But this mystery man Kravon was an unknown, a stranger, and he had no idea how to make him stop other than to kill him.  But he didn't know who he was.  That was the problem.
	If he only knew why they were after him, at least then he'd have some idea of what to do, how to make them stop.  He was floundering around in a sea of possibilities, and it was a long way to shore.  He couldn't think of anything he'd done to offend someone to the point where they would have him killed.  It was maddening.
	He sat in his room for quite a while pondering it, then finally gave up in disgust.  Allia was meditating in her room, a private time that she needed to herself, so he decided to read a book until she came for him.
	The door opened, and the Keeper entered his room.  Tarrin stood hastily and bowed to her.
	"I was told what happened," she said.  "It won't happen again, I can assure you of that," she said in a flinty voice.  "I'm having the compound searched at this very moment, and no visitor may enter armed from this day forward."
	"That's all well and good, but that doesn't tell me anything," he said pointedly.  "Why are they trying to kill me, Keeper?  They've been trying for a very long time now.  They must have a reason."
	She looked him in the eye, but said nothing.  "Don't concern yourself with it, Tarrin.  You're under our protection, and we're going to protect you.  Oh, I've received word that your parents and your sister are on the way here," she said.
	That managed to sidetrack his anger.  "They're coming here?" he said, his heart both leaping in his chest and sinking into his gut at the same time.  He so desperately wanted to see them, but an irrational fear of how they would react to his new shape almost gave him the panics.  If they rejected him, it may be more than he could bear.  He knew his parents; he doubted they would do such a thing, but a part of his mind simply wouldn't stop thinking about it.
	She nodded.  "I got word yesterday that they were at Marta's Ford.  By now, they are halfway to Ultern.  They should be here by the Midsummer Festival."
	"I can't wait to see them," he blurted.
	"You'll have to wait until they arrive," she said with a smile and a wink.  "The teachers tell me that you're doing well," she said, changing the subject.  "Keep up the good work, Tarrin.  Now, I must be off.  Take care of yourself."
	And then she left, leaving him somewhat giddy at the thought of his family coming to see him.
	The door opened again.  "Was that the Keeper I just saw?" Allia asked.
	"It was," he replied.  "My family is coming to the Tower to visit me," he told her.
	"That is good news," she smiled.
	"I hope so," he said.  "If they see me like this and scream and run away, I think I'll kill myself."
	"Do not get worked up over it," she said, patting him on the shoulder.  "You are their son, and they love you for who you are, not how you look."
	"I hope so," he sighed.
	"Come, let us go someplace quiet, so that you may practice."
	"Not the garden," he said.  "There are people watching me right now, I think.  If I disappear in there, they may send people in to find us."
	"Then we will not practice the hand-language today," she said.  "Let us simply talk.  You need to work the edge off of your accent."
	"I can speak the language almost as well as you can," he said tartly, in Selani.
	"Maybe, but if you're going to do something, do it right," she shrugged, speaking in Selani as well.  "You don't sound Selani, and that's what matters."
	"Whatever," he said.  "We need to talk anyway.  Let's go out and walk around the outer garden a while.  I have some things to tell you."
	"Alright."
	Outside, they walked the paved paths along the gardens, and Tarrin noticed that they were a bit busier than usual.  More than one Sorcerer, and more than one guard, walked along the paths.  At least two kept him in sight at all times.  He was definitely right about that.  "Allia, they want something from me," he told her in Selani.
	"What?"
	"I don't know, yet," he said.  "I looked into the Keeper's eyes today, and I could see things there.  She knows who's trying to kill me, and why.  But she won't tell me who it is or why they're doing it.  And they want something."
	"Well, since you're not dead, they obviously don't want your body," she said.  "They're going to teach you magic, and they've been having me train you to fight.  That means that it's not you they want.  Perhaps they want something that you can do for them."
	"You said a Sorcerer came and asked for you, right?"  She nodded.  "Well, it seems I'm not the only one they want."
	"Maybe they asked for me because of what I could teach you," she said.
	"They had to do that long before they ever knew of me," he protested.  "You know how long it takes to get to the desert from Suld?"
	"As a matter of fact, I do," she said primly.  "And you're right.  They had to send that Sorcerer months before I left my people, and we've been here only about three months."
	"And I was still human at that time," he added. "Maybe they wanted you," he said, "and since I'm here, they decided I'd do a better job of it.  Whatever it is."
	"It's all just sand blowing in the wind," she sighed, bending down to look at a particularly lovely rose.  "We can't prove anything."
	"Maybe not, but I can start looking for answers," he said.
	"How so?"
	"I'm a Were-cat, dear one," he said with a smile.  "I can go places that humans wouldn't even dream about."
	Her look sobered instantly.  "What you're thinking about is one step from suicide," she warned.  "The Keeper is a Sorcerer.  I'll guarantee that she and her office have magical protection."
	"Hmm," he said, rubbing his chin with the side of a finger.  "You're right.  But Tiella cleans the Keeper's office.  I think I'll ask her to start remembering any scrap notes she happens to see.  Maybe we'll get lucky."
	"Just be careful, deshida," she warned.
	"I will," he promised.
	It was a large problem, but the thought of his family coming quickly drowned out such heavy thoughts, and replaced them with a mixture of joy and terror that put him on edge for several days, and put him so out of sorts he did not one thing to start unraveling the veil of mystery surrounding his place in the Tower.  He wanted desperately to see his parents, his sister, to put himself in the arms of his mother and father and know that they would accept him as he was.  But the very thought that they would reject him made his heart lurch.  He'd had a nightmare that made him sleepless for three days, a nightmare that his mother looked on him for the first time, and a look of horror overwhelmed her.  Mere words or actions could hold nothing on that one dream, that one image, that had shaken him to the very core.  It seemed the embodiment of all the gnawing fears, the self doubts.  He'd thought he'd achieved an equilibrium with his animal instincts, but the fight with Jesmind showed him how pitifully wrong he was.  They only seemed abated because he was in a very controlled, safe environment.  He knew, then, that every time his life was in danger, or he was angry, that he would fight that same fight, a fight for control.  And he knew that he could lose.
	Of Jesmind, there was no sign.  She had simply vanished again, most likely waiting for another chance.  Tarrin still had mixed feelings about the fight, and about her.  She wanted to kill him, but he knew he could not kill her.  It just seemed wrong.  When they were apart, the Jesmind he remembered was the incisive, light-hearted woman whom he'd met in that treetop, who had a quirky sense of humor and those glorious green eyes.  But it was like she was another person now.  He saw it in her eyes right before that fight.  She absolutely despised him, hated him with every fiber of her being.  In a way, that hurt him, because he didn't feel the same way.  She had cared about him in some way before he left her, that he knew.  Be it compassion, or responsibility, or even the beginnings of friendship, he wasn't sure.  But not anymore.  He could see the lust for revenge in her eyes.
	It was a hot summer day, and Tarrin sat panting on the sand-pit practice field, nursing a broken tail.  Allia stood calmly in front of him, hand on her hip, with a distant expression he knew only too well.  Allia was nearly sadistic when she was training.  She'd told him that a respect for pain was one of the lessons learned.  It was the way she had been taught.  She had the scars to prove it.  "Don't lead with your foot like that again," she told him absently, checking her fingernails for any sign of damage as Tarrin took his broken tail in his paws.  There was a visible kink it in, and he winced as he pulled the bones apart and gently let them come back together in the right way, so they could heal.  Despite a month of training, he'd yet to even lay a paw on her.  He was starting to get frustrated.  No matter how well he thought he was doing, she would simply seem to grow an extra arm or leg, and that phantom limb would hit him in some very sensitive area.  The Troll-skin gloves she wore gave her strength proportional to his, and without that strength advantage, it was clear who the better fighter was.
	"I'll try not to," Tarrin grunted as he got to his feet.  he spread his legs wide, in a ready stance, and waited for her.  She didn't disappoint him, wading back into the fray confidently.  What amazed him about her was her fluid suppleness.  She seemed to be capable of moving in ways even a rope wouldn't dream of.  She was like a candle flame, contorting in the wind, bending herself in almost impossible angles to avoid blows, and then springing back to the attack.  That agility coupled with her speed made her almost impossible to hit.  Tarrin was no novice, but even his own training couldn't find a hole in her defenses.  He gritted his teeth as she flowed around several more darting attacks, then she kicked him right in the backside with the inside of her foot.  He stumbled forward as she laughed lightly, and that just seemed to set off something inside him.  He was going to get her, no matter what it took.  He'd give her a reason to laugh.
	He set his feet wide again, putting his clawed paws out over his feet, spreading his weight.  She'd warned him against doing just that, because it would slow him down.  And when she saw him do it again, she rushed in to chastise him.  She feinted a jab, then spun around, bringing her foot up, performing one of her circle-kicks.  Her foot whistled through the air as it sped towards its target, his cheek.
	And passed through empty air.
	She almost spun to the ground, and had to wildly catch herself before falling down.  She'd been counting on hitting him to stop her momentum, and he'd simply disappeared.  All she saw were his pants laying on the ground.  She gasped as the significance of that hit her.
	Just as the pad of his paw struck her right on the back of the head.  She catapulted forward, head first, and her face dug a furrow in the sand as she hit the ground.
	Tarrin pulled his hand back, enormously pleased with himself.  She'd preached and preached about the advantage of surprise in combat.  She never even dreamed that he would change form on her.  That put him right out of harm's way, and after slipping out of his clothes, he changed back right behind her and literally slapped her on the back of the head.
	Allia turned over and sat down, spitting sand out of her mouth.  Her sweat had made the sand stick to her face, and it looked like she painted her face.  Tarrin took one look at her and started laughing.  "I believe you made your point," she said icily, as the instructors and cadets stopped to look at them.  The fact that Tarrin had no clothes on didn't catch everyone's eye nearly as much as the sight of the nigh-invincible Allia with her backside on the ground and her face caked with sand.
	Faalken and Valden walked over from where they and their six cadets had been watching the two spar.  They always watched them, because there was much to learn from watching two such as them.  From time to time, Allia and Tarrin sparred with the cadets, to give them some exposure to fighting against Non-humans.  Tarrin and Allia both used tactics that relied on their natural abilities; Allia's speed, and Tarrin's strength and natural weaponry.  In that way, Tarrin and Allia were more cadets than Novitiates.  They were even more involved with the Knights than most cadets were, since they too sparred with the Knights.  To give the Knights some basics of unarmed combat, and too to fight against unconventional foes to broaden their experience.  Allia had approached the idea with trepidation at first, but the tremendous respect the Knights had for her had worn away that reluctance.  She often called to them by their names, which was amazing, considering she would not so much as speak to a Novice, and wasn't quite cordial to Sorcerers that talked to her.
	Allia gave him a wry smile, and offered her hand.  "Very well done," she complemented.  "You changed form on me.  I didn't think of that."
	"I hope you're not talking about me," Faalken said dryly.  Tarrin blinked.  She spoke in Selani.  Tarrin often forgot that he was the only one who could understand her when she did.
	"No, Faalken," she said as Tarrin helped her to her feet.  She pulled up the tail of her shirt and started wiping off the sand.  "I was telling Tarrin that he did very well."
	"That was a pretty clever move," Faalken agreed.  "Uh, Tarrin, you can put your pants back on now," he said pointedly.
	Tarrin chuckled.  "The clothes don't change with me, Faalken," he said, reaching down and collecting his pants, and then putting them back on.  "Why do you think I didn't do that before?  I'd be losing clothes left and right."
	Valden laughed.  "True enough," he said.  "I'd feel a bit out of place bare as a newborn in the middle of a battle."
	"At least people would say you had courage," Faalken noted slyly.
	"They'd say I had something," Valden returned.  "I doubt it would be courage."
	"Do not get too much of an opinion of yourself, Valden," Allia said calmly.  "I have seen you in the baths.  They would say you have something, but it would not be what fills your codpiece."
	Valden gave her a strangled look, and then turned beet red.  Faalken almost fell over in a sudden gale of uncontrollable laughter.  Allia gave Valin a very calm, sober look, then one of those sea-blue eyes winked slyly, and a corner of her lip quirked up into a near-smile.
	"Ye Gods!" Valden gasped mockingly.  "Allia has a sense of humor!  Great Karas, call me home, for the end is here!"
	"It's a rather base one, at that," Faalken managed to gasp.  He was wheezing audibly, and was bent over.
	"You humans are so amusing," she said with a light smile, then she put her four-fingered hand on Valden's cheek, bent down and kissed the shorter man's other cheek like his daughter, and then turned her back to him.  "I think that is enough today, Tarrin.  A day of practice is always better when the student can walk away with a sense of accomplishment.  And you have done very well today.  Very well indeed."
	"Well thank you," he said with a smile.
	"Come, let us bathe.  I need to get the training field off of my face and out of my hair."
	Tarrin chuckled, picking up his shirt from the post where he'd left it hang.  They left Faalken, who was still in a state of near-paralysis, now on his knees, laughing uncontrollably, pounding his hand on the ground.
	"All kidding aside, Tarrin, you're coming along very well," she told him as they walked back to the Tower.  "I know I didn't do half as well after only a month and some days."
	"I had prior training," he shrugged, then he wrinkled his nose.  "Goodness, Allia, put those gloves somewhere else," he said.
	"I left them with Valden," she objected.
	"What?"
	"Valden has them," she affirmed.
	"Then why do I smell Troll?"  They both looked around, and there was nothing.  Just grass, the Tower, and a few of the surrounding buildings that they could see.
	"Maybe Valden is upwind of us," Allia shrugged.
	"Maybe you're right," he agreed.
	He felt a tiny shudder under his feet, conducted up through the pads on his foor.  That was the only warning.  But it was enough.  A paw o