magnified her almost unbearable cuteness.  "I think Keritanima is in good hands," he told her sincerely.
	"I'm so glad you appreciate me," she smiled.  "You know, if we're not careful, we could end up being friends."
	"I think that's already happened," he told her with a smile.
	"Ah well.  Water under the bridge, and all that," she said with a roguish smile.
	"Guess you're stuck with me."
	"I can think of worse people to be stuck with, believe me," she told him.  She closed another chest lid.  "Looks like we're down to scrolls."
	"Let's finish up, and I'll escort you back to Binter and Sisska.  That way your cargo is protected."
	Miranda picked up the first two, then modestly slipped them into the bodice of her maid's dress.  "I think it's protected now,"she winked.
	"What a hiding place," Tarrin mused.  "But you've got a bulge in your stomach."
	"Most people don't look at my stomach, Tarrin," she said, using her hands to emphasize her white-furred cleavage.
	"I know.  I'm more of a tail man myself, though."
	Miranda laughed.  "Well, I think I can give you something to look at, then," she said, sweeping her very, very thickly furred blond tail around and brushing it up against his side.
	"I do love that tail," Tarrin mused as they closed the chest holding the scrolls, threw canvas over the chests and table, then left the tent.

	It was a cold blustery day everywhere but in the garden.  There, though it was still overcast and blustery, it was pleasantly warm, and the flowers and green plants continued to thrive and bloom.  On cold days, the garden became a very popular place, as katzh-dashi, servants, guards, and Knights visited it to feel warmth on their skin not made by the dry heat of a fire, and to recapture a bit of spring green when surrounded by leafless trees and winter-browned grass.  The blustery day brought many into the garden, and its white gravel pathways were crowded with many people as they walked along the flower-lined pathways and marvelled at the Tower's one true vanity.  One of those pedestrians was Miranda, wearing a lovely little gray maid's dress that offset her white fur and blond hair and tail perfectly, and her passing caused more than a few heads to turn.  Unlike Allia's ethereal beauty, Miranda's cuteness seemed to awe and sweep away everyone who crossed her path.  Where Allia's intense beauty inspired jealousy in women, Miranda's cuteness only made them treat her like an old friend.  Miranda always left a trail of whispered "how cute!" remarks wherever she went, but she was careful to always dress in clothing that showed a bit of fur-clad cleavage, or hugged her curves, so that the onlooker firmly understood that he or she was dealing with a woman, and not a little girl.  She could easily change her clothing to look like a younger teen--she was only nineteen, just a year older than Keritanima--because her type of cuteness was always associated with youth.  And like Jervis, Miranda had learned how to use her appearance as a weapon.  Nobody--nobody--ever associated such a cute, precious little thing with activities like spying, extortion, blackmail, even such grisly things as interrogation, and even murder.  People tended to say things in her presence that they normally wouldn't say, for they were disarmed by her cuteness, and the trend in both human and Wikuni alike to treat someone like her with inordinate friendship than they would with others.  Miranda had learned from her employer in how to raise vapidness to an art, for few associated people as cute as her with intelligence either.  A few little eyelash flutters, a couple of breathless, brainless remarks, and a whole world of priviliged information was opened before her.  Sometimes it took a bit more, and more than once she'd had to trade kisses and even more in darker alcoves in the palace...but such activities in themselves were occasionally quite enjoyable.  Provided she was trying to get information from a handsome young nobleman.
	It was a meeting of deceptive importance, on more levels than people who witnessed it could possibly understand.  The foppish rabbit Wikuni, Jervis, happened to cross paths with the mink at a meeting of pathways, and they travelled on in the same direction at the same pace.  At first, nothing was said.  They were merely travelling in the same direction.  But then the rabbit Wikuni took out his most treasured pocketwatch and began to wind it, hanging his hooked cane on his forearm as he went about his task.
	"You're looking well, Miranda," he said in his lilting, slightly squeaky voice.  "Could you kindly ask the fellow with the crossbow to stand down?"
	"Only when you order your man with the flintlock to do the same," she replied in a calm, almost friendly voice.  "Really, Jervis, why bring a man with a musket on the grounds?  They're much too noisy."
	"Not when a priest casts a spell of silence," Jervis replied.
	"Clever."
	"Thank you," he replied modestly.  "Was there anything specific you wanted to talk about?"
	"Yes," she replied.  "How many men have you lost?"
	"Nine," he said with a grunt.  "You?"
	"Fifteen," she replied calmly.  "We have to put a stop to this.  Good men are hard to find."
	"Indeed.  So, you wish to call a truce?"
	"We were never really opposing one another, Jervis," she said calmly.  "We just work in different ways to the same goal."
	"True.  But if we weren't opposing, you could have been more open in your activities.  And you didn't have to buy one of my men."
	"Jervis, that's like asking a canary not to sing," she told him with that cheeky smile.  "How else do you expect me to find out what you know?"
	Jervis chuckled.  "It's just not polite," he told her.
	"I'm not one much for pleasantries, Jervis," she told him.
	"True, true.  So, you wish to combine our actions?"
	"Just along this task, old friend.  I do have other operations going.  No need to bog you down in those."
	"Yes, yes.  I do too, to be honest.  So, what plan do you have in mind to put Ahiriya in her place?"
	"I have a very simple one," she replied with a cheeky smile and a wink.  "It's time for us to play a game of Beri Bally Bell."
	Jervis laughed.  Beri Bally Bell was a children's game where one person was blindfolded, and everyone else wore a small bell.  The blindfolded person had to catch someone else, using the sounds of the bells to guide them.  But many times, the number of bells and the sounds they made made it difficult for the blindfolded person to single any one out.  A coordinated group of bell wearers could utterly confuse the blindfolded person.
	"And what will lure Ahiriya into taking the blindfold?" Jervis asked with a smile, a smile that showed his bucked front teeth.
	"Nothing short of a little misdirection," Miranda replied with a smile.  "Our bells will be information.  We pretend that we find something very damaging to the Tower, make sure she hears about it, then set out agents to give her a bit of confusion.  The activity should draw out her people, and then we can deal with them."
	"Simple, yet very thorough.  Now I understand why you're such a worthy opponent, my dear."
	"Thank you.  It's always nice to be respected by one's peers."
	"I think we can work together, my dear.  When do you want to start?"
	"Tomorrow seems a very uneventful day," she replied with a smile.
	"It does indeed.  I have a very empty calendar.  I think I can pencil in some time."
	"I'd appreciate it."
	"When are you going to take up my offer and come work for me, Miranda?" Jervis asked.  "You're wasting your talents protecting Keritanima.  You need to be working for the Crown."
	"I'm just not interested, Jervis," she said politely.  "I'm happy where I am.  Let's leave it at that."
	"Well, the offer is always open," he told her.
	"I appreciate that."
	"I go that way.  Have a good day, my dear."
	"You too, Jervis," she said mildly, and they parted ways.
	A few moments.  That was all they were together.  To the casual observer, it seemed nothing but a chance meeting, a moment of polite conversation, then a parting of convenience.  But the casual observer would never comprehend the titanic magnitude of the simple arrangement that had been formed between the pair of spymasters.  A formidable arrangement indeed.

	Tarrin had no idea what they wanted him to do that day.  He thought that he'd probably be in limbo while they talked things out, but that turned out to be a daydream.  They were waiting for him when he returned, and it took a few minutes of fast talking to explain why he wasn't in his room, why he wasn't in his Initiate uniform, and why they'd never seen him leave.  But it was fortunate that it was Koran Dar that had been the one to come fetch him, and the man's mild nature and respect for Tarrin's privacy kept him from pressing too hard.  That the Council members always came for him themselves was a fair indication to Tarrin of how important they thought he was.
	After convincing the Amazon man that he needed food and a bath before starting, Tarrin got everything attended to as quickly as he could.  He didn't want to leave the Council waiting too long.  He arrived at their chamber not long after leaving Koran Dar, and found the room populated with the Council, the Keeper, and six men and women wearing white robes.  Surprisingly, Brel was among them, and the old man's sour face and hard eyes hinted that it wasn't entirely by choice.  The other five were pattern Sorcerers, they looked young or in their early middle age, yet their eyes made them appear older--
	Tarrin blinked, and looked at Brel.  He was old.  In fact, he was the only Sorcerer he'd ever seen that looked old.  Every other Sorcerer he'd ever seen looked much like Dolanna, or Jula, or Sevren.  They appeared mature, but never old.  The seven members of the Council, the most powerful and supposedly wisest of the katzh-dashi, all looked like they were Elke's age.
	What made Brel different?  Why was Brel the only Sorcerer Tarrin had seen that actually looked old?  It was a puzzle.  Could something stop the Sorcerers from aging?  Maybe they'd discovered weaves that retarded aging, or perhaps only made them appear much younger than they actually were.  Perhaps it was a weave that Brel couldn't accomplish, because of lack of contact or access to a certain Sphere.	
	Tarrin stopped, staring at Brel so hard that the man began to look uncomfortable.  Why did Brel look old?  What made him different from the other katzh-dashi?  He was Master of Initiates, a very important position, so it couldn't be because he lacked access to certain Spheres, or even lacked training or experience.  They wouldn't put someone like that in that position, because he may be called upon to deal with an Initiate who had a weave get away from him.  No, Brel's experience or ability wasn't what made him different.  It had to be something else.
	Maybe the puzzle wasn't why Brel was old, but why everyone else was not.  He found himself staring at a room full of young faces, or mature faces, and he had no doubt that not a single one of them was really as old as he or she looked. Why had he never noticed this before?  Tarrin was usually a very observant young man, because he was raised in the forest and had a hunter's eye.
	A fleeting memory of a conversation the day before seemed to answer that puzzle.   A talk with the Goddess.  Isn't it a rule that no mortal can access more than one order of magic? he had asked, and she had told him yes.  But she had also told him that the katzh-dashi were granted certain limited priest powers in order for them to be capable of functioning as the priestly order of the Goddess, since she was forbidden to have priests when she sponsored the Sorcerers.
	Isn't it curious that katzh-dashi are allowed to defy the rules? she had asked him.  Kind of makes you wonder why.
	It was a riddle for him to think about, but in all the confusion the day before, he'd honestly forgotten about it.  But he thought he had the answer now.
	The stricture stated that no mortal could access more than one order of magic.  If the katzh-dashi didn't age and die like mortals, that made them something other than mortals.
	And that allowed them to circumvent the stricture in a limited manner, reflecting their limited access to priest magic.
	To give her children access to their limited priest magic, the Goddess altered the way they aged, or simply stopped it altogether, to raise them out of the category of mortal.  It also had the added boon of keeping her small numbers of Sorcerer children alive.
	Brel looked relieved when Tarrin stopped staring at him, and he turned his gaze on the others.  Just how old were they?  They weren't as young as they looked.  They couldn't be.  Their scents matched their appearance, so that was no indicator.  Perhaps they were that old, but only physically.  Scents couldn't lie.
	"And what is the matter now, Tarrin?" the Keeper asked in a huffy voice.
	"I was just wondering how old all of you really are," Tarrin said calmly, looking around the room.  "I've never seen so many of you in one place before, and Master Brel there looks keenly out of place."
	That caused a bit of light chuckling and some knowing looks passed between them.  "It's not polite to ask a lady's age, Tarrin," the Keeper smiled.
	"I'm not polite," Tarrin said bluntly.
	That wiped the smile off of her face.  "Why we look how we do is something that you'll learn at the last stage of your Inititate," she told him in a dismissing tone.  "It's much too hard to explain, and we don't have time to waste on it."
	"Make time," Tarrin said.  "Because I don't think I'll get to the last stage of the Initiate."
	That made the Council stare at him, then glance at each other nervously.  "And what nonsense is this?" the Keeper asked.
	"I don't have to stay," he told her bluntly.  "The latter stages of the Initiate are for those who go on to become katzh-dashi.  I have no intention of becoming katzh-dashi.  After I'm taught how to control my power without hurting anyone, I'll be leaving.  So I'll never reach that stage of the training."
	It was technically true, anyway.
	"Well, if you must know, when a katzh-dashi serves for a period of ten years, they take the Vows of the Goddess.  When we do that, we simply stop aging," she said calmly.  "It's one of the gifts given to us by the Goddess.  Master Brel there came to us as a middle aged man when he began his Initiate.  How he appears now is how he appeared when he took his Vows."
	And that answered that.  The Goddess stopped their aging, and when they were no longer technically mortal, she could bestow her blessings upon them.  Making a katzh-dashi stop aging wasn't a gift, it was more like a change so they could receive their true gifts.  It was just a change with beneficial side-effects.  It explained why most of them looked mature, in their thirties or early fourties.  Some took years to pass the Initiate, and that would make them middle-aged after their ten years of service.
	"Now, enough silliness," the Keeper said.  "Come sit on the table, Tarrin.  We're going to try a few experiments to see what limit your power has.  I promise you that you won't have to touch the Weave without being restricted in some way.  And if you feel anything unusual while trying, you're free to stop and let us know.  We don't want this to be painful for you."
	"Alright," he said suspiciously.
	That began a very curious morning, where the Council would cut him off from the Weave at varying strengths before he tried to make contact with it.  And unlike the previous attempts, this time the Council could manage his power, if but for a few moments.  By reducing his ability to touch the Weave, it lengthened the amount of time he had before the power that tried to flood him could wear away at the barrier they placed in front of it.  They had tried stopping that flood while it was in progress the time before.  This time they put obstructions in front of it before it could really get moving.
	But it was still no solution.  It took the combined might of the Council to slow the flood by a moment or two, but it did give Tarrin long enough to perform a few simple weaves, and it gave him time to let go of the Weave before that flood hit him and neutralized his ability to separate himself from his magic.  He was very careful not to let it catch him; the pain of tearing himself away was enough to make it something to avoid if at all possible.  And the Council, fully understanding that their circle was in very real danger should Tarrin get overwhelmed, were also very careful to be ready to break the instant Tarrin did get overwhelmed.
	After a morning of such careful, delicate probing and experimentation, they had found that Tarrin's raw power could be briefly contained by a barrier.  They had studied how his power worked, and the Keeper had promised him that the six Lorefinders in attendance, of whom Brel was part, would study that and try to come up with a new, more effective barrier that they could use for him to help him control that power.
	The Keeper leaned back in her chair, rubbing her eyes.  The lunch bell had just sounded on the grounds, and the Council looked a bit harried.  It was real work for them to use their power to control Tarrin's, so he could do what the Lorefinders asked.  "I think this is a good stopping point," she said.  "We've made real progress today."
	"Yes," a dark-haired Sorceress, Lilenne, said.  She was the Mistress Loremaster, the lead of that organization of knowledge-seeking katzh-dashi.  She was a Shacan, with a thin, graceful neck and a swallow's eyes.  She was pretty, but there was a sharpness to her features that Tarrin found a bit unnerving.  She looked like a bird of prey.  "We have made good progress, yes?  I think we can find a control solution for you, Tarrin.  Maybe something that you can even use for yourself to give you more time, yes."
	"I'd appreciate it," Tarrin said sincerely.  "I can't learn if I can't use the Weave, and I can't get out of here if I can't learn."
	"Yes, well, a solution, we will work on that for you, yes.  Have no worry.  I notice you use our library."
	"It's a good way to study what I can, Mistress."
	"A good attitude, yes," she said with a hawkish smile.  "Come to the library tonight.  A book, I will give to you, on High Sorcery.  Maybe it will help."
	"Is that wise, Lilenne?" the Keeper asked.
	"High Sorcery, it is his domain, Keeper," she replied calmly.  "If he can access it alone, then he should learn as much about it as possible, because nobody will be there to help him.  Mistakes, it will help him avoid them.  Best he be armed with everything he can, yes?"
	"You're the Lorefinder, Lilenne," Amelyn told her.  "We will accede to your judgement in the matter."
	"Tomorrow," she told Tarrin, looking at him, "be here at sunrise.  We will keep working."
	"Yes, Mistress Lilenne," he said respectfully.
	"You are excused, Initiate," the Keeper told him.  "You have done well today."
	"Thank you," he said, scooting off the table.
	It wasn't as long as he thought it would be, but he definitely felt it.  He was tired, both from effort and from fear.  He was afraid of Sorcery, because he knew what was waiting for him if he was flooded.  That pain was something nobody could ever get used to, and it was pain that he would avoid at all costs.  Only if threatened with more pain than he would feel tearing himself away from the Weave would he subject himself to that kind of punishment.  The morning of feeling it right on the edge of him had exacted a toll, and he felt drained by the time he walked out the door.
	He thought about the Goddess' riddle for him, and its solution.   So she had worked a way around the restriction for her people, but why was it so important to him that she would send him off to find out why?  It really didn't make much sense.  After all, he never intended to become katzh-dashi, and it wasn't like that would do him any good anyway.  Maybe she was just testing him, to see how observant or how smart he was.  Maybe she wanted him to know for some other reason, something that he couldn't comprehend.  The Goddess was obviously trying to carefully set him up for something, but unlike the katzh-dashi, he trusted the Goddess.  If she wanted him to do something for her, he probably would.
	Miranda's wise words about a person occassionally having to give up personal need to fulfill the needs of others rang in his mind for some reason.  Maybe the Goddess needed something from him, and because he was one of her children, he would have to try to fulfill it for her.
	Maybe everything she was doing, and everything around him, was preparing him for the choice that she said he would have to make.  And that choice would involve whose needs he would strive to fulfill.
	The thought occupied his mind as he went to the kitchens and fixed himself a plate for lunch, then sat down in the small Inititate's dining hall and pondered on it.   Because he was so preoccupied, Dar managed to sit down at his table before he scented or noticed the young man, and that startled him.  His claws were out and halfway across the table before the young man flinched, but they stopped well short of his nose.
	"Don't do that!" Tarrin gasped as he pulled his paw back.   "Never sneak up on me, Dar!  It's dangerous!"
	"I didn't realize you weren't paying attention!" Dar objected.  "By the Scar, Tarrin, you're hard enough to sneak up on as it is, and I've seen what you do when you're surprised!  Do you think I'd do it to you on purpose?"
	Tarrin gave him a look, then laughed ruefully.  "No, I guess you wouldn't," he agreed.  "How is class?"
	Dar gave a sour sound.  "It's like trying to grab smoke," he complained.  "I can feel it out there, but I just can't seem to find it."
	"It was the same for me," he said.  "Just stick with it.  It'll come to you."
	"I hope so.  It's aggravating.  And Keritanima doesn't help.  She makes it look easy."
	"Huh?"
	"She was standing in the hall practicing her weaves as we came down the hall to our practice rooms," he complained.  "She's only just begun the Red, but she throws weaves around like a full katzh-dashi.  It's really annoying."
	"Kerri is, special," Tarrin chuckled.  "I think she's a natural."
	"That's what my teacher calls her," Dar agreed.  "But she uses the term daughter for some reason.  She always calls Keritanima 'that lucky daughter'.  I'm not sure what it means."
	"Me either," Tarrin told him.  "The katzh-dashi use alot of strange terms that only they understand."
	"No doubt," Dar grunted.  "I talked to Allia this morning."
	"Oh?  And where is the wound?"
	Dar laughed.  "She's not like that anymore," he grinned.  "She looked haggard.  Did you keep her up last night?"
	"We were doing something," he said calmly, but the direct look in Tarrin's eyes made Dar nod knowingly.
	"Speaking of something, I also talked to Tiella this morning too," he said.  "I think there's something wrong with her."
	"Why do you say that?"
	"She's beet-red," he said.  "Does she have a chill?"
	Tarrin laughed.  "No, she has a little problem with modesty," he replied.  "She likes you, and it mortifies her that friends see her without any clothes on."
	"Is that all?" he asked.  "We have communal baths in Arkis.  I'm not used to that kind of a reaction."
	"She's from a little, very straight-laced and highly moral village, Dar," he said.  "Just seeing a woman's bare knee is a scandal retold for years there."
	"How barbaric.  Were you like that?"
	Tarrin shook his head.  "My mother is Ungardt, and my father is from Suld.  They're a bit more cosmopolitan, so even before this happened," he said, holding up his paw, "I had a little more open viewpoint about that kind of thing."
	"Strange," he mused.
	"Truly," Tarrin agreed.
	"She likes me, you say?  We barely know each other."
	"She's a good judge of people, Dar," he said mildly.
	"I must say, she's very cute.  I wonder if I could convince her to go for a walk in the garden with me."
	Tarrin didn't say anything, and Dar missed his grin.  "What did she have to say?"
	"Not much," he replied.  "She hasn't found anything out about what you asked her to find.  Not yet.  She said that they've been too busy to really say anything to her."
	That, Tarrin could understand.  "Well, at least she's keeping me posted," he said.
	"She went on and on about the Initiate," he said.  "She's being moved over here in a few days.  She's really anxious to get over here."
	"I seem to recall you doing the same thing, Dar," Tarrin chuckled.
	"Yes, well, it is alot more interesting," he admitted.
	"You just wanted out of the kitchen."
	Dar laughed.  "I will never touch another pot or pan for as long as I live," he said emphatically.
	They enjoyed the rest of their meal with idle chatter, and Dar had to scurry back to class.  Tarrin had a need to talk to someone, and all of his friends were busy, so he found himself in the company of Sisska and Miranda.  The delicate, cute little mink was scribing from a scroll and into a book, and Tarrin was shocked at the raw speed at which she could write.  She had already completely transcribed the first scroll, and was halfway through the second by the time Tarrin was let in by Sisska and took a seat across from the small table which she used as a desk.  Miranda's writing was crisp, clear, and exacting, and she could write with such speed that it seemed almost inhuman.  He noticed that the pen wasn't a quill pen, it was a curious wooden pen with a strange metal tip.  Ink seemed to come out of nowhere, appearing on the paper, though there was a pot of ink sitting on the table by the scroll.
	"Tarrin," she said in greeting as he sat down.  "Excuse me if I don't give you much attention, I'm rather busy at the moment."
	"It's alright," he told her.  "Where is the ink coming from?" he asked curiously.
	"This is one of the inventions from Telluria," she told him.  "It's called a fountain pen.  You fill the pen with ink, and the special tip makes it come out only when you're writing.  You can write very fast with one, because you only have to refill the ink every few pages rather than ever few lines."
	"Interesting."
	"Expensive," she said, leaning back and blowing on the page to accelerate the drying of the ink.  "This pen cost me almost five hundred gold lions."
	Tarrin gaped at her.  "Five hundred gold coins?"
	She nodded.  "They're dreadfully hard to make, so they're very expensive.  But in my position, it was worth the cost."  She turned the page, then looked up at the scroll, and began transcribing again.  "I hope to be done with this by the end of the week."
	"I didn't realize you'd be so busy," he said in apology.  "I'll just come back later."
	"We don't have to talk, Tarrin," she said, looking up at him and smiling.  "If all you want is company, feel free to stay.  Sisska plays a very good game of chess.  Don't you, Sisska?"
	"I will teach you, Master Tarrin, if you wish," the massive Vendari female offered.
	"Why not?" he shrugged.  "Where is Binter?"
	"Watching her Highness," the Vendari said, coming over after firmly barring the door.  "The Tower forbids him from accompanying her, so he always follows her to be near, in case of attack."
	"I can't blame him," Tarrin said.  "You two take your job seriously, and it would probably drive him nuts to let her run around out there by herself."
	"Binter protects her Highness when she is away from Miranda.  Miranda is my child."
	"Child?"
	"A Vendari term for the one they protect," Miranda said from the table.
	"At least it's not a trial of Honor and Blood," Tarrin said to Sisska with a smile.
	"It can be at times," Sisska said with a faint glimmer of humor.  "Miranda is more reckless than her Highness.  She gives me fits sometimes."
	"I can't help it if you can't keep up," Miranda grunted from her chair.  "Now stop distracting me.  I almost made a mistake."
	"Yes, Miranda," Sisska said in a calm, bass voice.  "The chessboard is in the closet, Tarrin.  Please fetch it for me."
	"Sure," he said.
	Chess was complicated, but Tarrin's grasp of strategy and tactics, taught to him by his parents, and a quick memory allowed him to grasp the more obvious ideas behind the game.  Sisska showed that she was indeed good, explaining some of the more subtle concepts of the game, and effective ways to use the advantages of the different pieces.  After Tarrin got a good basic idea behind the game, he began to play against Sisska.  Sisska showed no mercy, however, defeating him soundly time after time.  But Tarrin wasn't one to get frustrated, and Sisska always explained the mistakes he made after each game.  That allowed him to learn quickly how to avoid obvious errors that kept costing him the game.  Keritanima's cat, Bandit, curled up in Tarrin's lap to sleep, and Tarrin accepted his little cousin calmly, absently petting it and scratching it behind the ears as he furiously thought ways to make the game less humiliating for him.
	By the time Keritanima and Allia entered the room, actually giggling like little girls after Sisska rose to unbar the door and let them in, Tarrin had reached the point where Sisska had to use strategy to beat him.  He still had no chance against her, but he did make her work a little to secure victory.  "What are you doing in my room?" Keritanima demanded of him when she saw him.
	"Losing," he said sourly as Sisska took another piece after sitting back down.
	Binter entered just behind the nonhuman females, and closed and barred the door quietly.  "Well, maybe it's just as good that you're here.  I was going to send Bandit to find you."
	"What's on your mind?" he asked, making another move.
	"We're going to have class," she smiled.  "All three of us have to learn what Miranda's working on.  How is it going, Miranda?"
	"I'm done with the first two.  I was about to go get the next two."
	"I told you she's good," Keritanima told Allia.
	"That little pen of hers helps," Tarrin said.  "I've never seen anything like it."
	"Telluria is famous for inventions," Keritanima shrugged.  "The wood stoves we sell were originally a Tellurian deisign.  Lately, they've been working on a machine that uses steam to drive gears.  They call it a steam engine."
	"What good is that?" Tarrin asked.
	"They intend to use them in ships, so ships don't have to depend on the wind anymore," Keritanima said.  "The Ministry of Science in Wikuna has picked up the idea, and they're also trying to fit the st