m its body, taking out its right eye, as Tarrin struck at it again and again and again, driving it backwards.  Tarrin felt its hands strike him in the side and chest and shoulder, but he ignored the Wraith's blows and concentrated on ripping it to shreds as quickly as possible.  The Wraith actually backed up to get away from him as Tarrin assaulted it furiously, ignoring dreadful wounds to his shoulder and chest and neck, not feeling the side of his chest rupture around a frozen expanse of flesh and send blood pouring from him in such a rush that it fell to the floor in rivulets.  Tarrin was beyond pain, beyond feeling, beyond thought.  There was only the Wraith, and his mind had focused down to the single goal of destroying it.  Tarrin did sidestep when the Wraith reached for his face, slamming his claws down on its right arm with enough force to tear the shadowy limb from its body at the elbow, a limb that fell to the floor and evaporated like mist.  The Wraith fell to the ground, and Tarrin jumped on top of it, ignoring the instant freezing of his knee and foot, holding the Wraith down with one paw on its chest as his other paw rose up over his head, then drove down like a striking snake.  The claws drove right into the shadowy head, right through it, driving the tips of his claws into the stone beneath.  The Wraith made a curious keening wail, then its entire body simply evaporated like smoke before the wind.
	In his rage, Tarrin started looking around for his enemy, but it was nowhere to be seen.  Then the pain hit him.  He arched his back and howled in agony, as if a thousand red-hot lances drove into him, and then he mercifully passed out, falling into a half-frozen pool of his own blood.

	Outside, Sevren held tightly onto Allia with both hands, ignoring the struggling Selani's desperate cries and savage oaths and promises to kill him.  Sevren knew no weaves to affect a Wraith, and they had been moving about inside with such ferocity that no other weaves would have been useful.  To allow Allia to rush in there would have killed her, and maybe Tarrin too.  Sevren didn't like standing helpless outside, but under the circumstances, there was nothing else he could do.  He'd had the presence of mind to send another Initiate out to find a Sorcerer, any Sorcerer, with healing ability.  Sevren himself could barely ease the pain of a scratch, let alone seal it.
	With the Wraith vanished and Tarrin passed out, Sevren released the Selani and followed her as she rushed towards the Were-cat, who was laying in a pool of blood that was expanding at an alarming rate.  Then the Selani rebounded off the ward with enough force to knock her down.  Sevren paid her little mind, reaching out his hands to test for an invisible barrier, but there was none.  He passed into the circle and instantly felt the biting cold against his skin.  He almost knelt in that pool of blood, but he remembered at the last instant what a danger Tarrin's blood posed to him.  He wove a weave instead, freezing it solid, then used another weave to drag Tarrin's body out of the red circle.  Kneeling, he put his hands on Tarrin's chest and wove yet again, thawing the frozen flesh of Tarrin's body and restoring his body's warmth, heat that had been bled out by his blood loss and the touch of the cold of the grave that came with the Wraith's shadowy hands.  He worked quickly and carefully, else his warmth actually cook the flesh of his patient rather than thaw and warm.  Tarrin's body began to shudder violently, and his teeth chattered with such force that blood started flowing from his mouth.  Sevren saw with some horror three of Tarrin's fingers, claws driven into the stone, broken off from the hand that had driven through the Wraith's head.  Tarrin's arms were almost frozen solid from the repeated touches of the Wraith.  Tarrin's shirt was soaked with blood, plastered to his chest and sides, and it was starting another pool of crimson around his torso.
	Then another was beside him.  It was Koran Dar, the Divine Seat, and one of the most powerful healers in the Tower.  Koran Dar put his hands on Tarrin's chest, and the Were-cat's shuddering instantly stopped.  Sevren stood after Koran Dar nodded to him, his hands covered in Were-cat blood, and then he stepped outside the ward.  A strange feeling on his hands made him look down, and he saw that the blood on his hands had been stopped by the ward's power.  Two small spots of red were on the floor over where his hands had pass through the ward.  The Initiates were gone, even the Selani, and in their stead stood the Keeper and her secretary, Duncan, as well as Ahiriya and Amelyn, two of the Council.  "Tell me what happened," the Keeper said in a hissing voice, through clenched teeth.  Her features were tightly controlled.  She looked about as mad as a bear with a hornet in its mouth.
	Consicely and quickly, Sevren related to her the events.  "I was trying to see the runes of the warding circle when the Wraith appeared," he said quickly.  "Tarrin pushed me out of the circle, and before I could put together any kind of spell, they were moving around too fast for me to try anything.  Then the Selani tried to rush into the circle with a dagger," he sighed.  "It was all I could do to keep her outside.  If she'd have gone in there, it would have killed both her and Tarrin.  Tarrin actually managed to kill the Wraith, and when he did, I rushed in to help him as best I could."
	The Keeper was silent for an agonizing moment, a moment where Sevren saw his life pass before his eyes.  "You did what you could," she said in a grim voice, one that made Sevren take an involuntary breath.  "I can't even see the runes."
	"I know," he said quietly, not wanting to press his luck.  "I've never seen its like.  Will Tarrin be alright?"
	"We'll know as soon as Koran Dar works with him.  For now, link with us and help us break the Ward holding him in."
	Sevren nodded, and in seconds, the runes that made up the Ward flared into brilliant light, then winked out of existence as the combined power of the Keeper's circle destroyed it.  The ward's walls shimmered, then vanished, and a wave of cold air that carried the smell of death and blood washed over them.  The Keeper broke the circle, her eyes furious, but her voice tightly controlled.  "Ahiriya.  Amelyn.  We raise the Ward immediately.  I'll not have one more attempt on Tarrin.  Not one."  She grunted.  "Amelyn, gather the others, and as soon as Koran Dar stabilizes Tarrin, we'll raise the Ward."
	"Yes, Keeper," the dark-haired woman replied.
	"Ahiriya."
	"Yes, Keeper?"
	"I want every Mage in Suld driven out of the city.  I don't care what it takes.  I want the Priests too afraid to leave their churches.  I want them to know that when the Tower is displeased, the consequences are not worth the risks."
	"It will be done, Keeper," she said quietly.  The look on her face made it clear where she thought the blame was.
	"I want whoever did this found.  Alive," she grated.  "I'm going to kill him myself."
	"It will be done, Keeper," the fiery-haired woman repeated.  Sevren knew that it was one of the jobs of the Fire seat.  Hers was the task of running and arranging the things that were not exactly within the bounds of law and propriety.  She ran the Tower's spy networks, and it was her responsibility to make those who made too much trouble for the Tower "disappear".  It was a job for which she was well suited.  Ahiriya was born to a noble family in Draconia, where policital intrigue, betrayal, and assassinations were as common as livestock and clouds.  She performed her unusual duties with a savage efficiency that made the others in here rather unique profession very nervous and wary.  Nobody crossed the Tower, and Ahiriya was one of the reasons for it.  No doubt Ahiriya blamed herself for this attack; it was her responsiblity to know what was going on, both in the Tower and out in the world.  The attacks on Tarrin had probably driven the woman crazy with their subtlety and cunning.  This one, by far, had to be the most cunning yet.
	Two Tower guards had arrived with a litter, and they were carrying the limp form of the Were-cat away, with the Selani walking beside him, holding his huge hand in hers.  Sevren noticed that the hand again had five fingers, and looked for all the world like no damage had been done to it.  Concern for the young man in his eyes, Sevren followed the litter out of the chamber.
	He missed seeing the Keeper order the Were-cat's blood put into jars and stored in a safe place.

	Tarrin drifted in darkness for quite a while before he finally managed to claw himself back into awareness.  All of the pain was gone, pain that he didn't really remember that well, but he still felt cold in his bones.  The scents in the room were both familiar and unknown, as Allia's coppery scent mingled with the scents of Sevren and three or four others that he didn't know, and those scents mingled with the very familiar scents of his own room.  The bedsheets were freshly laundered, and one of the scents was thick with food, as if the person had just come from the kitchens or from dining.  The new pillow's goosefeathers were old enough to give up most of their goose smell, but had not been used, so the pillow had not  taken on the combined miasma-scent of the people who had laid their heads on it.  And underneath it all was the stony smell of age that the Tower itself exuded, a smell of stone exposed to air for thousands of years, a smell that he didn't even notice anymore unless he was paying close attention to his nose.  He felt strangely weak and very tired, and the voices he heard sounded curiously distant.  But he was awake, and didn't quite feel like going back to sleep, so he stirred and opened his eyes.
	Allia was there immediately, smiling down at him and patting his paw.  "Welcome back, deshida," she said in a warm voice, cupping his cheek in her other four-fingered hand.  "How do you feel?"
	"A little cold, but otherwise alright," he replied as he sat up in the bed, then scooted back so his back was against the headboard.  His clothes were folded and piled his desk chair, on the far side of the room, sitting in an upholstered chair that wasn't part of the furniture of his room, held some middle-aged woman he did not know--no, she was one of the Council members.  He recognized her dark hair and heart-shaped face.  Sevren was standing on the other side of the bed, along with a plump older woman wearing a gray dress of coarse wool.  Beside Allia's stool stood a very, very tall dark-haired man that Tarrin recognized as another of the Council.  "What happened?"
	"You were attacked by a Wraith," Sevren told him calmly.  "I'm sorry that I didn't help, Tarrin, but I don't know any weaves to affect a monster like that, and you were moving around too much to try anything else."
	"It's alright, Sevren," he waved him off.  It was coming back to him quickly, as the Cat gave up the memories of the nightmarish, whirlwind fight.  He reached up and put a paw on the side of his head, and felt short hair.  Very short.  "What happened to my braid?"
	"It broke off," Allia told him.  "You look slightly funny like that."
	"I imagine I do," he replied with a smile.  "It'll grow back by tomorrow," he told her.  "That's why I keep it long in the first place."
	The dark-haired man sat down on the edge of the bed and took Tarrin's face in both his hands abruptly.  Tarrin felt fingers of Sorcery flow into his body, searching, reaching, examining that which could not be seen.  This man was a powerful healer, Tarrin realized.  Probably one of the Tower's strongest.  "There's no permanent damage," he said in a deep voice, a very strong one.  Tarrin looked up at him, seeing high-boned features that were very strong and somewhat handsome.  He had no beard, and his skin was a strange dark bronze, almost coppery in color.  His black hair was done up in a single tail that flowed down his back to peek out from behind his right arm.  "I still don't see how you survived."
	"I agree," Sevren said ruefully.  "No offense, Tarrin, but that Wraith should have killed you with the first blow."
	"It can't," Tarrin said absently.  "At least, not without hitting me in the right place."
	"I beg your pardon?"
	"Dolanna explained it to me," he replied.  "It's a magical creature.  Well, so am I.  Because of that, we can hurt each other.  That means that I can touch it, and it can't help but touch me."
	"Ah," the dark-haired man mused.  "So it couldn't put its hand through your body."
	"More or less," Tarrin affirmed.  "It still hurt like anything, but it saved me from instant death.  And I think that's what got me stuck inside the symbol," he added.  "Sevren said it was a circle."
	"A Warding Circle," Sevren said.  "A mystical construction Mages use to protect themselves from their conjured creatures.  Magical beings can't cross a Warding Circle's perimeter.  I guess it also works on magical creatures that exist in this world to begin with."
	"I guess I could get in, but I couldn't get out."
	"No, it should have stopped you from entering as well," Sevren said.  "There was some kind of spell placed on it that made it dormant until a magical creature went in."
	"So, it was a trap," Tarrin said calmly.  "I expected as much."
	"Well, don't worry about that anymore," the woman sitting on the chair told him.  "The Council is taking steps to see that it doesn't happen again."
	"No offense, ma'am, but I'll believe that when I see it."
	"You missed that part," she told him.  "The Ward has already been raised."
	"Ward?" Tarrin asked.
	"The Ancients placed a tremendous Ward around the Tower, Tarrin," Sevren told him.  "It was woven into the fence.  When it's raised, it prevents any magic or magical creatures from entering the grounds.  It will stop the Wraiths and other magical monsters that have been attacking you.  It also totally absorbs any spellcasting on the Grounds that is not Sorcery.  If there are any Wizards or Priests here, their magic is useless.  Only Sorcery works."
	"So you see, young one, you are much safer now," the woman told him.  "Without magic, these mysterious enemies will have a much harder time getting to you.  And since we've increased the guard on the grounds, it will be that much harder."
	The copper-skinned man took his hands away, and Tarrin felt the magic fade from inside him.  "You are perfectly healthy," he announced.  "You'll be a little weak for a few hours, but that'll pass with a good meal and some rest.  I'll have a proper meal sent to you, but in the meantime, no strenuous activity and stay in your room.  Allia, stay with him and make sure he doesn't exert himself."
	"Yes, Master Koran Dar," Allia said with a flinty look at her friend.
	"Now then, we should leave Tarrin to his rest.  Come along, Mathilde."
	"Yes, Master Koran Dar," the plump woman piped in a voice too shrill for her size.
	Koran Dar and Sevren left the room, Sevren giving Tarrin a reassuring pat on the arm and a promise he'd come back later that afternoon to see him.  The dark-haired woman gave Tarrin a calm look, then left without a word.  Two men that had been standing outside his door quickly entered and picked up the fancy chair, then spirited it out of the room and closed the door behind them.  Allia got up from the stool and sat down on the side of the bed, her white hair falling from behind her shoulders as she leaned over him with a stern look on her face.  "You about scared me to death!" she told him in Selani.
	"I didn't do it on purpose, believe me," he sighed.  "Why didn't you come running in there?"
	"Because Sevren wouldn't let me," she grunted sourly.  "He's strong for such a thin human.  He wouldn't let go, even after I threatened to gut him with a dinner spoon."
	"He did the right thing, deshaida," he told her.  "You wouldn't have been able to help."
	"I know, but I can't stand aside idly and watch my brother fight for his life," she said in a voice thick with emotion.
	"I love you too, my sister," he smiled, touching her cheek with a furry finger.  "How long was I out?"
	"Not long," she replied.  "Master Koran Dar is a very strong healer."
	"I wouldn't notice," he said, "I don't even remember how bad I was hurt."
	"It was not pretty, my brother," she told him.  "The Wraith hurt you badly.  You even lost a couple of fingers."
	Tarrin held up both paws and wiggled his fingers with a smile.  "You can't keep a good paw down," he said with a chuckle.
	"I know, they grew back," she said.  "Koran Dar was very surprised."
	"Well, at least this way, I didn't lose the whole day," he said thoughtfully.
	"How well do you think the Sorcerers can defend you?" Allia asked.
	"I'm not really counting on them," Tarrin replied, leaning back some.  "I think this magical ward of theirs will slow this Kravon person down, but I doubt it'll stop him."
	"Wise," Allia agreed.  "Always expect the worst.  That prevents nasty surprises."
	"There's more we need to talk about," he said.
	She nodded in acknowledgement.  "You should be able to move about by this afternoon," she said.  "As long as you don't push it.  We can do it then.  For now, how about a nice game of stones?"
	Tarrin laughed.  "Anxious to put me back out, I see," he said with an impudent grin.  "Go ahead and get the board.  I can lose a few times before this meal arrives."
	They were close to the end of the first game when the meal arrived.  It was a large affair that took up four trays, but the smell of the food seemed to break a dam of starvation in his stomach, and he attacked the food with wild abandon.  Tarrin seemed to understand that it was the healing that did it, both his own regeneration and the strength-sapping healing that the Sorcerers employed, but that didn't make him any less ravenous.  He polished off the entire meal and went back to the game, losing to Allia and then starting a new game.  At about noon, Koran Dar entered the room and gave Tarrin an exhaustive examination.  Tarrin was starting to get a bit annoyed at the prodding and magical searching inside his body.  Koran Dar even opened his mouth and took a look at his teeth.  "How often do you bite your tongue?" he asked.
	Tarrin blinked in surprise as Koran Dar let go of his lower jaw.  "I used to bite it alot," he replied.  "Sometimes clear through."
	"I noticed," he said.  "Those teeth look like they could be painful."
	Tarrin unconsciously ran his tongue over his altered teeth.  They looked more or less human, except all of them were sharp.  They either ended in points, or in sharp ridges along molars.  His elongated fang-like incisors were the greatest sign of that part the change had rendered on him.  "Not really," he said.  "Sure, it hurts, but then it heals over."
	"I've been meaning to ask you about something," Koran Dar said.  "You grew back fingers that you lost in the battle."
	"I know, Master Koran Dar," he said, holding up his hand.  "I guess we regenerate lost body parts.  I know I can regrow teeth.  Allia has knocked some of them out."
	The tall, dark-skinned man gave the chocolate-skinned Selani a curious look.  She smiled at him and reached under her Initiate shirt, then pulled out a simple leather thong around her neck, that had six teeth hanging upon it.  Three of them were obviously Tarrin's fang-like incisors.  "Just a reminder to my brother for when he gets stupid," she said with a faint smile.
	Koran Dar laughed richly.  "You remind me too much of home, Allia," he said with a warm smile.
	"If I may ask, where is your home, Master Koran Dar?" she asked.  "I have never seen a human that looks quite like you."
	"I come from the Southern Continent, Sharadar," he replied.  "Actually, from a series of islands off the northeast coast of it."
	Tarrin made the connection instantly.  "You're an Amazon?"
	Koran Dar nodded.  "I know, we don't often leave our islands," he said.  "I, well, let's just say that I decided to avoid an unpleasant marriage arrangement when I was very young.  The ship that granted me passage docked in Den Gauch.  I discovered I had the Gift, so I found my way here."
	"My father told me stories of the Amazons," Tarrin said.  "He said--well, you shouldn't be here."
	Koran Dar nodded.  "I know.  I think I'm the only male Amazon outside of the isles of Amazar."  According to his father's stories, the Amazons were a race ruled by female warriors.  They were fierce and strong, and they ruled almost fifty islands in a large chain of the northeast coast of Arathorn.  Amazon law was that all men were property, even men that made their way to their islands by accident.  Men were the submissive sex on the Amazon Isles, though they were by no means weak.  Koran Dar was a good example of that.  He was tall, very tall, lean and graceful, and the way he moved told Tarrin just how strong the man was.  "You should stay in bed for two more hours," he ordered.  "Just to give your healing a chance to set.  Then you may get up and move about, but no strenuous activity for at least a day."
	"Will he be able to take to the training field tomorrow, Master Koran Dar?" Allia asked.
	"Fighting?  Yes, he should be up for it," he replied.  "I think he'll be whole by tomorrow morning.  Now then, I have other matters to attend.  Be well, both of you."
	Allia got up and bowed to him in the Selani manner as he left, then she sat back down on the side of the bed.  "Now then, we were about to start another game," she prompted, putting the stones board back on the bed in front of her.

	Later that afternoon, after Allia had gone to bathe and eat, Tarrin wandered idly around the gardens.  He did so for nearly a half an hour, feigning intense interest in the flowers and trees, making the other visitors lose track of him.  Because of who he was, many eyes followed him, both the curious and those who were there to keep their eyes on him.  He entered a confined area of small shrub trees bordering a large trellis holding thick climbing vines, then he managed to evade the other garden visitors' line of sight and change form.  Now small and inobtrusive, Tarrin slinked easily through the gardens and entered the hedge maze.  Allia was probably already there, waiting for him, as they'd agreed upon as they played stones.  They didn't come out and say it, cause both of them were aware that someone was probably listening to them.  He simply asked her if those roses of hers were still pretty, and she told him that he should go take a look at them.  That was all both of them needed.  Tarrin didn't trust speaking to her in the manner of the Cat, because if she could understand it with magic, then so could others.  He had no doubt that some Sorcerer about knew a spell to make that happen, so it didn't make that method of communication secure.
	She was in there.  Her scent trail was strong on the ground, and Tarrin used that as his guide to lead him into the center of the maze.  It took him only a short time to get into the center courtyard, where Allia was tending the large rose bushes behind the fountain, the fountain which held the statue of the Goddess who had spoken to him.  It had been a very long time since he'd been in the courtyard, and the sight of the statue momentarily overwhelmed him with a feeling of warmth and security.  Almost as if it emanated from the statue itself.  It was as beautiful as he remembered.  The statue's marble face was still carrying that utter perfection, that smooth flawlessness.  The body was just as perfect and tall and lithe as he remembered, and the statue's hair flowed over her shoulders and down her back in frozen waves, the detail so fine that he could see the individual strands in the tumbling mass.  The peacefulness of the courtyard was still there, and it soothed him, welcomed him, made him feel as if, in all the world, this was the one place where he would be safe.  The sound of the bubbling of the fountain's water seemed to soothe him, and the faint rustle of the roses and flowers in the courtyard as the wind caressed them made him feel a tug for the wide expanses of the tractless forest.
	He changed form absently, adjusting his shirt a bit as Allia turned around at the faint sounds that he made as his large feet slipped across the thick, lush grass at the edge of the courtyard.  "You're late," she chided in Selani.
	"There were alot of people in the gardens," he shrugged.  "It took me a while to find a secluded spot."
	"What did you want to talk about?" she asked, coming over and sitting on the marble bench before the bubbling fountain.
	"A few things, actually," he replied, sitting down beside her.  "I guess the first would be--"
	There was a faint noise outside the choked-off opening.  The sound of branches being moved, very carefully.  He stood up instantly and rolled his paw to Allia as he padded towards the opening.  "Oops, sorry," he said in false contrition.
	"That's alright," she said in a voice that lacked the sudden wariness showing on her face.  "I don't think you tore it."
	Though he doubted that the eavesdropper could understand the words, he had to be impressed by Allia's ability to think on her feet.  He rolled his paw at her again as he approached the opening with one paw out, claws extended.  "Anyway, what did you want to talk to me about?" she continued.
	Tarrin was there.  His paw lanced into the ragged wall of irregular branches that choked off the opening of the courtyard, striking like a viper.  His claws and fingertips hit the border of a heavy material, and they closed around it.  It was the bodice of a dress.  He yanked back, dragging the wearer of that bodice through the branches quickly.  In a explosion of green and brown, the red dress of an Initiate was yanked into the courtyard, and the wearer of that dress had reddish fur and a tail.  Tarrin threw the figure to the ground, where it made a squeak of surprise.
	Tarrin looked down into the hot eyes of Keritanima, the yellow orbs blazing up at him as her face screwed up into a near-snarl, showing just a little bit of her formidable canine teeth.  "What did you do that for!" she demanded.
	"You should know better than that," he shot back at her, reaching a paw down and offering it to her.  Allia's eyes were flat and hostile as Tarrin helped the Wikuni to her feet, where she brushed off her red dress and then delicately checked the front of her dress for rips.  The neckline was askew, from where Tarrin had grabbed it, showing a considerable amount of fur-clad cleavage.
	"I should slap you for putting your hand down my dress!" she barked at him in a tiff, straightening her bodice and then adjusting the plain leather belt around her slim waist.  "You don't go pawing a lady!  It's impolite."
	"So is eavesdropping," Tarrin replied.
	"I wasn't eavesdropping," she sniffed.  "I was trying to figure out how in blazes you got through there.  And I certainly didn't want to get yanked through like a--my, what a lovely statue," she said, her tone going from annoyed to sincerely impressed in a heartbeat.
	"Allia, I'd like you to meet Keritanima," he said to his Selani friend.  "The real one."
	"The Brat Princess is real enough," Keritanima winked.  "Pleased to meet you," she said, holding her hand out to Allia as if she expected the Selani to kiss it.
	"She is different," Allia said.  Allia did nothing to accept that hand, crossing her arms under her breasts and giving the Wikuni a strong look of distrust.
	Tarrin nodded.  "She screwed up her act and I figured it out," he said, to which Keritanima sniffed disdainfully.  "I promised to keep her little secret.  I was going to tell you about it, so you didn't kill her in a pique."
	"I doubt she'd have gone that far," Keritanima said calmly.
	"I beg to differ," Allia said with steady eyes.  "I came close to doing it five times during the morning."
	"Well, then I guess I'm doing something right," the Wikuni grinned toothily.  "I see they Healed you all up, Tarrin.  Are you feeling alright?"
	"Good enough," he said.
	"What are we going to do with her now?" Allia asked Tarrin in Selani.
	"You won't do anything with me, oneshai," Keritanima replied sternly in flawless Selani, using the Selani term for "near-stranger", which was a term to use with business associates and distant acquaintances.
	Allia gaped at her, and Tarrin chuckled ruefully.  "Where did you learn that?"
	"As a Princess, I'm expected to know all the languages of the peoples that we trade with," she said in an annoyed tone.  "You have no idea how many people we trade with," she said in exasperation.  "I still haven't learned them all.  It's a frightful bore."
	"I didn't know that the Wikuni trade with the Selani," Tarrin said.
	"I did not either," Allia admitted.
	"We trade with the Bloodwater Clan," she replied.  "They're the only ones that come close enough to the ocean for us to see.  We saw them about three hundred years ago, worked out a couple of trade pacts, and everyone's happy.  There's quite a market for Selani koufa fiber."  Koufa was the plant fiber that the Selani used to make their incredible clothing.  It was very tough, and very light.  It kept the wearer warm when it was cold, and cool when it was hot.  It wouldn't accept dye, so all of the Selani clothing was the same colors, the colors of different types of koufa plants.  But those colors were white, brown, and a beige that was almost the exact color of sand, which was perfect camoflauge in the desert.
	"Ah," Allia said.  "We don't have contact with that Clan.  They're too far south."
	"Then there you go," she said, walking away from them and sitting down sedately on the bench.  Her bushy fox tail swept back and forth a few times, then settled to a stop behind her.
	"How did you find us?" Tarrin asked curiously.
	"You're not the only one with a nose," she told him with a wink.  "Unlike most of the Wikuni, I have the senses of the animal as well as the looks.  Both of you have very distinct scents, and neither of you did anything to hide your trail."
	"Now what?" Allia asked Tarrin quietly.
	"Now, we talk," Keritanima replied for him, patting the stone bench beside her impatiently.
	"About what?"
	"About why it seems so odd that I find a Selani and a Were-cat in the Initiate at the same time as myself, when the Tower hasn't had a Non-human in the Initiate since before the Breaking."
	That got Tarrin's attention.  Then again, he realized that Keritanima was a High Princess, someone that, being used to political intrigue, would quickly 