 think they live in the mountains of Daltochan."
	"You're sure they're Rocs?" Keritanima asked curiously.
	"Bird with a fifty span wingspan?  Catches deer and antelope and elk?"
	"That's a Roc," she admitted with a chuckle.
	"I once chased one into the Frontier," he said, his eyes distant.  "I found one of its feathers, and I thought it landed in the forest, so I went in to see if I could find it."
	"Did you?" Dar asked.
	"No, but I found where it landed," he replied.  "It knocked a couple of trees over, and there were some bones of a few deer and elk."
	"Must have been interesting."
	"No, having to explain why I'd been missing for four days to my parents was what was interesting," he said musingly.  "They were not happy."
	Dar chuckled.  "I've seen your mother.  I wouldn't want to have to face her."
	"I'm used to her, Dar," he said, looking down into the water.  "What do you think they'll do, Kerri?"
	"We're too far away for them to try to overtake us, and we're too close to shore for them to try anything.  They never attack other ships in sight of land.  If they've seen us, they'll follow along and see if we get away from shore.  If we do, they'll try to catch up to us.  If we don't, they'll turn away."
	"So, our move is to move in closer to shore," Dar surmised.
	Keritanima nodded.  "We were going to do that anyway.  We can't be all that far from Den Gauche."
	Almost as if Keritanima's words were orders, the ship suddenly turned more towards shore, angling in so the ships behind couldn't close the distance while the galleon got closer to land.  "Hey," Keritanima called to a passing sailor, a large, willowy fellow with a missing front tooth and some gray in his short beard, "how far out are we from Den Gauche?"
	"We should pull into dock by morn'," the man replied in an accented voice.
	"Thank you," Keritanima said absently, and the man continued on about his business.  "We're closer than I thought.  It also means we turned south again.  We must have done that during the night.  Kern must have overshot his hook."
	"How can you tell?" Dar asked.
	"Simple, Dar," she said with a laugh.  "The land is on the left.  If land were on the right, we'd be travelling north."
	"Oh.  That makes sense, I suppose."
	"I'll make a sailor out of you yet, Dar," Keritanima chuckled as Tarrin wandered away from them.
	Tomorrow.  It made him feel relieved that he'd be getting off the ship, but old fears were rising in him again.  He was a Were-cat.  He had no business in the human world.  Most humans thought him some kind of very exotic Wikuni, at least those who lived near the ocean, but when they found out what he was, and learned what it meant, they distanced themselves from him.  In the Tower, he had literally lived alone among many, as the Novices and Initiates were terrified of him.  Only a rare few, like Dar, put aside his frightening appearance and reputation and simply talked to him.  But then again, acceptance seemed to be an integral part of Dar's nature, and nobody could help but like him.  He was afraid of going out into a city, afraid of the people, afraid of rejection.  But he was also afraid of losing control of himself and hurting people.  And beneath it all was his instinctive need to be free, and that would force him off the ship when it landed.  If only for a little while, he needed to roam in a nice open area and feel like he wasn't trapped.
	A hand on his shoulder startled him; the wind was in his face, and it kept his from scenting or hearing the approach.  But the sense of presence from the person behind told him immediately it was Allia, and Tarrin felt the instantaneous reaction fade just as quickly.  "You shouldn't sneak up on me, sister," he said in the Selani language, putting his hand over his heart and feeling it race.
	"I'm not used to being able to do it," she replied with a light chuckle, leading him to the rail facing land.  "What troubles you today, deshida?  You've been very quiet lately."
	"The same thing, Allia," he said despondantly.  He kept no secrets from Allia, and she knew the truth behind his quandary.  She couldn't understand it--nobody who wasn't Were could understand it--but it made him feel a bit better to talk about things to someone.  "I need off this ship, but I'm afraid I may do something out in the city.  As touchy as I've been, I'm afraid getting jostled in the streets may be enough to make me lash out."
	"Brother, getting off the ship will make you feel much better," she said, putting her four-fingered hand on his wrist.  It came down on the heavy steel manacle that was still locked around his wrist, and that made her eyes flare.  She still got on him about taking them off, but he couldn't.  The manacles represented what he had done, and all he had to do was look down at them, feel their weight on his wrists, to remember what he had done, what he had become, and try his hardest not to have it happen to him again.  "I think you are suffering from a very bad case of, what did Dolanna call it?  Oh, yes, 'cabin fever.'  You need some time on land, without being hemmed in by the length of the deck.  I know I could use some time on land," she grunted.  Allia was born in the desert, and had a fear of large bodies of water.  She had mastered it enough to be able to move around, but it did nothing against bouts of seasickness.  The first two rides on the journey, Allia could barely get out of bed.  She had adapted marvelously to the rolling sense of the ship, what Kern called sea legs, and no longer got seasick except when the ship was caught in high seas or a storm.  But the time on the sea had begun to show on her face.
	"We'll be there for two days," he told her.  "I hope that's enough for you."
	"A moment would make me happy," she sighed, "but will it be enough for you?"
	"I don't know.  I hope so," he replied quietly.
	"There is no need to be afraid, my brother," she said.  "Fear of yourself will only make things worse."
	"I don't know how else to feel, Allia," he said quietly.  "I've tried to explain it to you, but, I just can't find the words."
	"You don't need them, deshida," she sighed.  "I know how you feel.  I'm just telling you that you don't need to feel the way you do.  As far as I am concerned, you did the right thing.  It was just the part of you that understands the brutality of war that acted outside of your human need for mercy."
	"It wasn't like that."
	"Was it?  Did you not attack your enemies?  Didn't you escape from them?  It seems pretty obvious to me."
	"I didn't like not having a choice!" he said in a sudden hiss, then he turned away from her.  "Every time I close my eyes, I can see their faces, Allia!  I can see how they stared at me just before I killed them!"
	"That's because you won't let it go, brother!" she said in a sudden pleading voice, turning him around with a hand on his shoulder.  She grabbed his paws in her hands, and held them up so the manacles were before his eyes.  "You will never find peace until you can let it go!"
	"I can't," he said, closing his eyes.  "I can never let that happen again."
	"It will," Dolanna's calm voice came from behind her.  He turned to look at her, but she showed no reservation at staring into his eyes.  "You cannot stop it, Tarrin.  It is a reflexive reaction within you, and it is a very common condition throughout all of Were-kin.  Did you think you were alone?  Unique?  Even natural-born Were-kin suffer from the rages."  She approached him.  "Allia is right.  You must let it go.  Instead of torturing yourself over what you have done and dreading what will happen again, you must instead strive to limit the damage you can do while in a rage.  You must learn how to channel the animal within so that it does not do anything you will regret."
	Tarrin gave Dolanna a hot look, enough to make almost anyone else shrink back, but Dolanna had no fear of him.  "You must learn to guide the rage, Tarrin," she told him.  "Lead the Cat away from doing anything that you will regret.  It will listen to you, if you are strong enough.  You have spent a month up in that rigging instead of down here where I can teach you.  Whose fault is that?"
	His hot look suddenly turned sheepish, and he tried to look away from her.  "I have given you time, but you have no more.  Tomorrow, we go back into the world.  Do you feel ready?"
	"I, I don't know," he said, closing his eyes.
	"You must be," she said.  "We are depending on you, Tarrin.  We need you."  She looked to her left.  "Azakar, take Tarrin down to the galley and get him something to eat.  I know he missed lunch."
	"Yes ma'am," he said in his deep voice.  "Come on, Tarrin."
	"I'm not hungry," he said.
	"That's too bad," Azakar said mildly.  "I guess I'll just have to force-feed you."
	"You wouldn't dare," Tarrin said in a sudden, savage hiss, his ears laying back.
	"You can drop the theatrics," Azakar told him casually.  "You won't hurt me, and you know you need to eat.  You're already as thin as a stick.  You don't have any weight to lose.  Now let's go down to the galley."
	His eyes igniting from within with their greenish radiance, Tarrin extended the claws on his paw, laid his ears back, and presented it to the hulking Knight threateningly.
	"Azakar, I think you should step back now," Dolanna said in a very carefully neutral voice.  "Slowly."
	"Mistress Dolanna, he needs--aiiee!!" he broke in a gasp, pulling a bleeding hand back.  He held the back of his hand and stared at the Were-cat in surprise, and not a little shock, but Tarrin's ominous expression did not change in the slightest.
	"I said I'm not hungry," he said in a dangerous, low tone.  "Now leave me alone!"
	Turning, he took three steps, then scrambled up the mast so quickly that a man running on the ground could not have covered the same distance as fast.

	"He's losing his fear of Azakar," Faalken noted, coming over as Dolanna healed the deep scratches in the back of Azakar's hand and wrist.  The Knight looked up, seeing the Were-cat up on the highest boom, just atop the uppermost sail on the mizzenmast.
	"In the future, Azakar, I would refrain from using the word force around him," Dolanna chided.  "That is not how you make Tarrin do things."
	"I'm sorry, Mistress.  I forgot."
	"It is a dangerous game you play, my young friend," Dolanna told him.  "Yours is a task much akin to taming a wild beast, and he can be dangerous.  You cannot afford to forget.  Tarrin will harm you if you push him too far, as you have just discovered."
	"I was just trying to do what you do."
	"Tarrin does not see you the same way he sees me," she told him.  "Allia, Keritanima and myself are the only ones who can treat him in that manner.  I suggest you remember that."
	"Yes Dolanna," he said, rubbing the healed skin gingerly.  "I hope that doesn't eat at him too much.  I know it wasn't his fault.  I could tell that it wasn't entirely him doing it."
	"No, it was not.  And that is the problem," she sighed.  "Tarrin is becoming more and more unstable.  He needs time, time to himself and time off this ship, but we have so little to give him.  We must get to Dayis as quickly as possible."

	Den Gauche was a riot of conflicting colors.
	The city wall was built of stone, but almost all the houses beyond those walls were made of wattle and daub or timber, and they were all painted different colors.  The roofs of all the houses was the only conformity of color, a bright red tile that created eerie lines and rows among the city's significant rise from the harbor up a hill.  The castle of Den Gauche stood well over their heads, on the peak of the tall hill upon the side of which the city was built.  The city curled around the sides of the hill, and there was a plateau of sorts about halfway up where most of the larger buildings were constructed.  Tarrin had never seen such a large city built on the side of a hill before, and it was definitely an interesting sight.
	They were all near the bow, staring at the large harbor and city as the ship approached through a very light early morning mist.  The city was large, and even from their vantage, it was a very busy and crowded place.  Many men could be seen along the docks of the large harbor, bustling here and there, carrying bundles, or riding on horses.  Huge wooden contraptions that Keritanima called cargo cranes sat upon wheels of steel, which themselves sat upon steel rails attached to the quays and docks.  Those cranes had immense hooks suspended by large ropes, and they lowered to ships and picked up large nets and pallets filled with goods, then swung them over to the deck, where waiting dock workers would unload the cargo.  Suld didn't have such things, and Tarrin marvelled at their design and their efficiency for quite a while.
	"How do the hooks go up and down?" Tarrin asked Dolanna curiously.
	"Most are attached to animal trains," Keritanima answered for him, pointing to a team of large horses or mules not far from a crane.  "They use a very complex pulley system and a counterweight so that only a small number of animals are needed to lift a much heavier weight than normal.  The big cranes are fixed to that position, and those little ones are on rails, so they can move up and down the dock."
	"You said most of them use horses.  What do the others use?"
	"Men turning a winch," she replied.  "It only takes about four men to pick up a few tons, if the counterweight and pulleys are set up right.  We use cranes like these in Wikuna."  She smoothed the fur on her cheek absently.  "They're experimenting with putting a steam engine in it to drive the winch, which would allow the crane to pick up much heavier loads."
	"That sounds dangerous."
	"True, but then only two men could operate the crane, instead of nine or ten."
	"Since I have all of you here, it is best we discuss things now," Dolanna announced.  "Shacans are a people not like what you are used to dealing with," she told them.  "They are a very lively and energetic people.  Do not be offended by them if they touch you or kiss you on the cheek.  Those are customs here."
	"I've always liked Shacans," Keritanima said.  "They've all got senses of humor, and they have a zest for life you don't see in many places.  Sometimes they're so happy it makes me sick."
	"We may happen across a duel or two as well.  Do not worry about them.  Shacan warriors and Musketeers love to fence, and often impromptu duels erupt between two Musketeers who are trying to prove their fencing superiority.  They are not fights, only tests of skill.  To them, it is a game, nothing more."
	"Strange game," Dar mused.  "How often do they get hurt?"
	"Not as often as you may think," she replied.  "Injuring an opponent is considered to be bad form."
	"I see Wikuni ships," Dar noted.  "Are they going to cause us any problems?"
	"They shouldn't," Keritanima replied.  "Even if they see me, they can't do anything to me.  Binter will tie their arms in a knot if they do.  Wikuni have to obey the laws of the land they visit, and I don't think kidnapping is allowed here.  The worst thing they can do is see which ship I'm on, then try to chase me down on the open sea."  She smiled mischieviously.  "And they won't see that."
	The ship nestled up against a large wooden quay that esxtended well out into the harbor, and then the ship was tied down by heavy, darkened ropes.  And when the gangplank was lowered, their group filed off the ship.  They gathered around Dolanna, who urged them to get out of the way of the dockworkers milling about on the wooden walkway.  The men gave Tarrin and Allia strange looks, but not as much as Tarrin thought they would have received.  Then again, working on the docks, the men had to be used to seein non-humans.  There were no less than six Wikuni vessels in port.  Keritanima was with them, but she was hiding beneath an Illusion that made her appear to be human.  "I know we all have different things to do, but we should all return to the ship by noon," she told them.  "Then we will ferry out again after lunch.  That way we do not get too lost."  She looked at Tarrin.  "I suggest you come with me, dear one," she said.
	"I think we should stay together," Keritanima said.  Seeing her like that made Tarrin's fur itch.
	Dolanna shook her head.  "There are things we need, and we cannot gather them up if we stay together.  Faalken, would you handle one half of the list?"
	"Certainly, Dolanna," he replied.  "I'll take Dar and Azakar along with me."
	"But I have to stay near Tarrin," Azakar protested.
	"Just this once, I think we can depend on Binter and Sisska to watch over him," Faalken said.  "If you don't mind, Keritanima."
	"Not at all," she replied with a toothy grin.  "Miranda has her own list of things."
	Miranda nodded, patting Sisska on the arm.  "Would you mind escorting me, Sisska?"
	"As you command, Miranda," the massive Vendari female said in her deep, very un-female voice.
	After splitting up at the docks, Tarrin followed Dolanna through the streets of Den Gauche.  The manner of dress for the people wasn't that much different than Sulasia; women wore dresses, often with a vest-like bodice over the dress, and men wore doublets and trousers, though some wore very tight-fitting pants-like garments called hose.  But all one had to do was listen to know that they were no longer in Sulasia.  The Shacans had their own language, and though most of them knew the Common language, they didn't use it in Den Gauche.  Tarrin didn't speak Shacan, so he was forced to listen in curiosity as he heard it all around him.  Shacan was a very musical language, flowing and rhythmic, and it gave Tarrin the eerie feeling that he was walking in the middle of a vast opera.
	But things felt much better to him.  He had solid ground under his feet, and the land stretched out before him in every direction.  Every step past the confines of the deck made his mind feel more and more at ease, and rides of tension and uncertainty began to unwrap themselves from his mind.  The smells of the city still curled his nose, but mingled in with the smell of humans and waste and the sea was the smell of trees, of farmland and nature, wafting in from over the hill.  He was no longer trapped on the open sea, and it made him feel a great deal better.  Allia too seemed to relax somewhat, but hers was the relief of getting off the ship, getting away from the sea.
	The Shacans did stare a bit, but it had more to do with Allia than him.  Tarrin, they dismissed as an exotic Wikuni, Binter was considered to be Wikuni, but Allia was unique, strange, new, and her beauty caused almost every head to turn.  It brought more attention to them than Tarrin would have liked, but at least it was all focused on his sister and not on him.  She even had several children tugging on her shirt, asking questions in their flowing language, which Allia couldn't understand.
	"It's the hair," Keritanima said after they passed a young girl who had been gently rebuffed by Allia, having dropped her illusion as soon as they lost sight of the sea.  "They usually only see silver hair on old ladies.  A couple of the more daring ones asked if it was natural."
	"I do not think I would appreciate proving that to them in a city street," Allia said bluntly, which made Keritanima laugh.
	"That could cause a riot," Dar noted.
	"That could be interesting," Keritanima said with a nudge on Allia's side.  "Let's try it."
	"You go first," Allia challenged.
	"Children," Dolanna chided.  "We are here on business.  Let us not be teasing the natives."
	They reached the large plateau, and found that it held a huge central market.  Merchants in stalls and tents crowded into a huge open area that was relatively flat, and the place was packed with both merchants and customers.  All social classes could be found moving about, for the bazaar offered many things to customers, and all of it was packed very tightly together.  One could travel to many shops through the city and assemble their goods, or make one trip to the bazaar.  It was much like Suld, and Tarrin figured that they had the same thing here.  The better goods were found in shops, but for the frugal or hurried shopper, everything could be found near to each other at better prices, but not at as good a quality.  There was a wide avenue that went up the hill from the bazaar, and it created a wide open path that led directly to the castle at the hill's peak.  That same avenue went down as well, all the way to the docks.  Such a street seemed unwise to him.  It provided attackers a convenient path directly to the city's main foritifed position.
	"Everyone mind your belongings," Dolanna warned as they reached the edge of the marketplace.  "Such places are well known for pickpockets and thieves."
	"I don't have anything to steal," Dar said with a chuckle.
	"We will all meet right here in an hour's time," Dolanna told them, handing out small leather pouches.  Tarrin looked into his, and found it to hold a few gold and silver coins.  "Buy what you feel you need, but please, do not get exotic.  We are on a budget.  And do not leave the bazaar."
	"Alright," Dar said.
	Dolanna made them break up, and Tarrin thought he understood why.  They had been forced into each other's company for two months, and the hour, no matter how short, was at least a chance to be alone for a little while.  Tarrin didn't mind the company usually, but he had to admit that it did feel rather good to be alone for a little bit.  He wandered the bazaar randomly, looking at tables and carts holding goods of every imaginable type, from foodstuffs to rope to pottery to knives to trinkets and even good old fashioned junk.  Merchants and barkers shouted, cajoled, sometimes even pleaded for shoppers to visit their stalls, to partake of their most excellent merchandise and marvel at the deals they were willing to make.  It was new, vibrant, to the Were-cat, who had lived his life either in the calm, proper village of Aldreth or sheltered on the Tower grounds.  And they weren't afraid of him.  Merchants beckoned to him just as often as they beckoned to the citizens, probably even more so, for they probably thought that such an exotic visitor was a man of advanced means.
	They weren't the only ones not afraid of him.  After only minutes, Tarrin had a small group of children following him from stall to stall, as the Were-cat looked at what was being offered by the sellers.  One of them was even brave enough to grab him by his tail.  He looked over his shoulder and found a young boy, probably not even six, holding onto the end of his tail, staring at it with a totally mystified expression.  With a slow smile, Tarrin lifted his tail, quickly enough to make the boy squeak, but not so fast that it pulled it out of his hands.  He found himself hanging in the air by his grip on Tarrin's tail, his feet dangling a few fingers off the ground, and Tarrin began swinging him back and forth.  The little boy laughed and enjoyed the game, until he accidentally kicked a well-dressed woman with dark hair.  She whirled on the boy and gave him the rough side of her tongue, none of which Tarrin could understand, and the Were-cat mischieviously left the boy standing there abashed, to explain away his actions alone.  But that didn't dissuade the others.  He had no idea why they were so drawn to him, but he really didn't mind.  Tarrin liked children, because they never judged, and they would accept him the way he was.  Actually, the way he was was probably what drew them to him.  The Cat too liked children, and though he was male, the instinct to protect the young was strong in him.  The Cat saw all children as young, and needing to be defended and nurtured, taught the skills they would need to survive in the world.  He couldn't speak their language, but that didn't seem to be much of a barrier to them.
	It evolved into a game of sorts.  He would wander around the bazaar, and the children would try to sneak up and grab his tail.  But the limb was flexible and fully prehensile, and it moved with the speed of a striking viper.  And he didn't have to see the children to know that they were there.  The tip of his tail eluded them again and again, pulling away from outstretched hands, dancing away from sweeping arms, then tapping them on the head or chest to taunt them for their slowness.  His tail made the children giggle and laugh, and forget their cares and worries as they tried to sneak up and grab it.  It only caused him one episode, when it began swishing again on its own, then happened to make contact with a woman's backside.  She whirled with an indignant look, then saw who--or more precisely, what--had dared to pat her on her backside, then she laughed nervously.  She was a rather pretty young lady with honey colored hair and a heart-shaped face, and her dress was made of brocade and silk, a soft rose color, covered over with a very light cloak of a darker red.  This was a woman of property.
	"Sorry, it moves by itself," he apologized.
	"Apology, no is needed, no?" she replied in a heavily accented voice.  "I see play you with children.  I no am angry, yes."
	The short time in the bazaar had quite an effect on Tarrin.  He had worried that he would be out of control, or would not be accepted.  But neither had happened.  He felt very good, even a little happy, and the Shacans hadn't shown any fear of his appearance.  Shacans were known for being tolerant and inquisitive, great believers in hospitality and making all feel welcome, but he didn't know if that would extend to him.  Or more to the point, if they knew what he really was instead of what they assumed him to be.  But the hospitality of the Shacans had worked its magic on him, and he truly did feel much better than he had the day before.
	But, he found, Den Gauche had everything that other cities also had.  At the fringes of the bazaar were children and older men and women wearing tattered garments, many of them looking unhealthy.  Beggars and the poor, the lost children of most societies.  Such things still offended his sensibilities.  In Aldreth, everyone helped everyone else.  If someone suffered a poor harvest or an accident, the entire village rallied around that unfortunate, helping them with gifts or helping hands until they were back on their feet.  For people to be so uncaring towards their own seemed to totally violate everything Tarrin had grown up to believe in.  But in the cities, people forgot that everyone was their neighbor, and neighbors helped one another.  He knew it had alot to do with size.  Cities were large, and most of a city-dwellers neighbors were strangers to him.  It was hard to care for a stranger.  Even in Aldreth, a stranger was approached cautiously, though he still received hospitality.  But then again, in Aldreth, one never know exactly who or what a stranger was.  Many strangers came from the Frontier, and it was generally accepted in the village that they were disguised forest folk, like Were-kin, or solitary hermits, woodsmen, rangers, and even the occasional Druid.  Yet even they were accepted warmly, and allowed to trade and visit the inn, so long as they behaved themselves.  And they invariably did.
	Two such beggars seemed to stand out to him.  It was a young woman, dirty and bedraggled, holding onto a scratched old wooden bowl despondantly.  She looked to have been very pretty before she got so dirty, and her eyes were dominated by milky white spots that laid over her eyes.  They wore clothes that at one time had probably been well made and fine, but were now filthy, with many tears and holes in them.  She was attended by a young girl that couldn't have been more than six or seven, and both of them were shockingly thin.  The girl's appearance made her the woman's daughter, and the look of her told him that the mother was starving herself so that her daughter would have enough food to eat to survive.  When he approached them, the young girl gawked at him, then remembered to raise her little bowl and plead with him in their language.  The sound of her voice was broken, hopeless, and it pulled at both sides of him with a power that he found was impossible to resist.
	Tarrin knelt down in front of them, wrapping his tail around his foot and knee to keep people from stepping on it.  Without saying a word, Tarrin reached out and put his paw on the woman's face, his fingers covering over her eyes.  He touched the Weave without thinking, and sent probes of Divine energy into her body.  She was malnourished, and had grown very weak after months and months of improper diet.  She had a few mended bones, no doubt broken by street thugs, and there was something inside her eyes preventing them from seeing anything.  It wasn't a sickness, and because of that, Tarrin could do something about it.
	Tarrin learned two things from that touch.  One, that being so far from the Conduit in Suld, it did indeed take longer for him to build magical energy to weave spells.  The other was that distance also caused the power of High Sorcery to take longer to find him.  It had to build the same way that regular Sorcery did, and that little bit of extra time was all he needed.  He wove together a spell of Earth, Water, and Divine energy, and released it into the woman.  It sought out her eyes, breaking up whatever it was that was keeping her eyes from working, then mending the damage done to the very intricate inner parts of her eyes.  He isolated the cause of her blindness, a defect in her eyes that would make the blockages grow back, and eradicated it permanently.  While he was there, he repaired some of the damage done by her long months of eating poorly, giving her body what it needed to recover on its own.
	Tarrin pulled away his paw, and the woman closed her eyes quickly and flinched away from the light.  "Ama?" the little girl called, giving Tarrin a sudden wary look.  The woman turned her head back in his direction, and then opened her eyes.  Brilliant blue eyes stared up at him in absolute awe, and he could see them slowly focus in on him.  He smiled at her gently, reaching down and patting her on the shoulder, as she raised her dirty hands and stared at them in wonder.  Those hands began to tremble, and she stared up at him again with tears forming in her eyes.  He took the little leather pouch and pressed it into her hands, smiling, and then he stood up and started walking away.
	He never said a word to them, and he moved out of their sight quickly, but he could hear the woman begin to c