re.  And the main reason for that was standing at the doorway, in the form of Phandebrass the Unusual.
	The doddering mage had discovered that Tarrin's bedridden condition left him incapable of defending himself from the man's endless ranting.  He had a captive audience, he and his two little teacup dragons, and he had taken advantage of it.  Phandebrass had quite effectively bullied his way past Keritanima and Allia, and then he went to work on Tarrin.  The mage was fascinated with the Were-cat condition, asking endless repetitive questions about every facet of Tarrin's life, even the most intimate and private things, without so much as batting an eyelash.  He would write endlessly in his little book, with a drake on each shoulder looking down.  Even Sevren and some of the other Sorcerers hadn't hounded him as severely as Phandebrass did.  It was an ordeal for Tarrin, who had come close many times to breaking the man's arm just to make him shut up.  But the words of the Goddess always drifted back to him, about how the path he travelled was up to him.  Phandrebrass was aggravating, but he represented a rather grim challenge to the Were-cat, to keep from killing him as an exercise in self control.
	But as two days went by, something strange happened.  Tarrin started to like Phandebrass.  He was a bit scatterbrained, but he was very smart, and his questions were inciteful and searching.  He loved to talk, and he knew many stories.  When he wasn't grilling Tarrin about being a Were-cat, he would tell the most wonderful stories about faraway lands and times long gone, about dead legendary heroes and sinister villains.  Tarrin quickly became completely infatuated with the mage's ability to tell a tale, how his voice would reach out and grab hold of him, and not let go until the tale was complete.  It turned out that that was one of the things Phandebrass did for the carnival.  He was a storyteller who used his arcane magic to enhance the story, bring it to life, supplying visual and audial effects to add weight to the story's plot.   But even without magic, Phandebrass was exceptionally gifted in bringing a story to life with his voice alone.  But it was more than the stories.  Phandebrass was a bit addled, but he had a good heart, and his sincerity was worn on his sleeve.  Tarrin couldn't help but like him because he didn't feel in any way threatened by him, and the man was alot like Dar, having a nearly infectious personality that people couldn't help but like.  After he'd overcome his irritation with the human over his endless questions, Tarrin started liking the man.
	But where Tarrin was starting to warm to Phandebrass, he was not so friendly with the drakes.  Chopstick and Turnkey were small dragon-like creatures, but they were still animals.  Tarrin's scent was one of a predator, and his size made the Were-cat a perceived threat to the two little dragons.  They didn't like Tarrin, hissing and snapping at him whenever Phandebrass approached him, and that quickly rubbed Tarrin's fur the wrong way.  He'd already decided that the first one that bit him was going to lose all its teeth.  Maybe even the head in which they were rooted as well.
	It was a very unusual position for Tarrin.  He liked Phandebrass, despite his irritating personality, and it was obvious that Phandebrass was working very hard to befriend the Were-cat.  And what was the most confusing was that he still didn't entirely trust Phandebrass.  It was just like Kern.  Tarrin respected Kern, would even fight for him, but didn't completely trust him.  He had the feeling that it was because he was human.  Tarrin was very distrustful of humans, mainly because they had proven themselves to be untrustworthy in the past.  Phandebrass hadn't conquered his mistrust yet, and until he did, Tarrin wouldn't let the man get too close to him.  He did like him, but only from a distance.  When Phandebrass started trying to get close, Tarrin would stiffen his back and push the man away, forcing the mage to start all over again.
	He may be a bit more open, but Tarrin was still feral, and he understood that.  He doubted he would be anything but feral for the rest of his life.  He had simply been betrayed one time too many.  But what he was hoping was that he could dull that intense distrust of everything not known to the point where he could operate in a human society without killing someone.  That was his only realistic goal.
	The mage was there that morning, sitting in a chair usually reserved for Keritanima, wearing a silly black robe with patches portraying mystical symbols sewn randomly to the fabric.  And that hat.  It was a truly ridiculous conical hat, with a wide brim, that tapered to a sharp point some two spans over the mage's head.  It was Phandebrass' stage costume, and he was wearing it because he'd spilled ale on all his other robes.  A mug of ale was casually held in his left hand, threatening to soil the last garment the mage had left with each movement of his hand.  Turnkey and Chopstick--or was it Chopstick and Turnkey?--sat on his shoulders, glaring at the Were-cat as the mage finished off what was left in the tankard.  The two little drakes, with their reddish scales, looked almost exactly the same.  Their scents were different, but Tarrin had yet to figure out which drake was which.  Phandebrass rarely called them by their names, nor were they often separated from each other.  The mage was relaying a tale of the gods, of the twin gods of death, Dakkii and Dakkuu.  The origins and histories of the Elder Gods were very blurred and uncertain, but what was generally known of the twin gods was their roles.  Everyone referred to death as she because nobody wanted to see the male Death come to claim them.  Only those who had lived a live of selfishness or evil, whose afterlife would be a punishment, were claimed by Dakkuu, the male Death.  Those who had lived a good life, and were being carried on to an afterlife of reward, were claimed by Dakkii, the female Death.  When Death Herself came to claim someone, it was a fear only of what was lost.  When Death Himself came for a person,  it was a fear of what was to come.
	The story he told was the story of the twin gods' eternal hatred for each other.  So the story went, they had been borne at the same instant, and had originally been meant to be only a single entity.  But fate had split them into two, and each secretly felt that they were what was originally intended the god of Death to be.  Dakkii saw the god of death as a nurturer, to gently carry the souls of the deserving on to their patron gods, who would mete out justice.  Dakkuu saw Death as an avenger, someone to keep the souls of the damned and torture them for their failures and evil natures.  They had nearly went to war with each other, until Ayise, Allmother, the creator of the gods, stepped in and separated them.  To each she granted that position in which they believed.  Dakkii became the god of Death for the vast majority of the world, someone to ferry the souls on to their final destination, doing it with compassion and love.  Dakkuu became the punisher, who kept the souls that the other gods told him were beyond hope of redemption, to make them suffer for the hatred and evil he had in his own heart.  Because of the horrible finality of this punishment, the very name of Dakkuu became taboo to the world, and nobody ever spoke of death as male.  To be claimed by Dakkuu was a fate worse than a million agonizing deaths, because it meant that an eternity of torment awaited the hapless fool.
	"Of course, Dakkuu rails against this custom," Phandebrass concluded.  "Dakkuu wanted to be a punisher, and he became one.  But the fact that when everyone thinks of death, they think of his sister, causes him even more anger and frustration.  Ask a common man about death, and he'll tell you it's a she.  Ask him about what happens to the damned, and he'll tell you that it comes for them.  That's what Dakkuu has become to the world.  An it.  A nameless spectre everyone fears, but nobody completely understands."
	"Isn't it a bad thing to speak his name then?" Tarrin asked.  Tarrin was impressed.  He didn't know that.  He knew there were ten Elder Gods, but even he could only name nine.  The tenth was a mystery, a mystery that the mage had just solved.  He knew about the nameless reaper of the damned, but had never been able to put a name to it--no, he.
	"Oh dear me, no," Phandebrass chuckled.  "If anything, he probably appreciates the fact that some mortals remember him, and remember, Dakkuu is a punisher of the deserving.  If you're not deserving eternal torture, then you have nothing to fear from him.  I'm not saying he's going to appear before us and shake my hand, but I also don't doubt that he knows we're talking about him.  To mortals, Gods are capricious beings, my boy.  They seem to adore attention.  Why they adore attention is something that sages still argue about.  Us lowly mortals will probably never fully understand the minds and motivations of the gods."
	"Probably not.  If we could, we'd be gods too."
	"Excellent observation.  I must write that down.  I say, where is my pen?"
	"In your hand," Tarrin pointed out delicately.
	"Ah.  So it is."
	"I've been wondering, why are you in the carnival, Phandebrass?  You seem too, experienced, to be in a travelling circus."
	"True, my boy, but to be honest, I love telling stories, and it always makes me smile to see people marvel at my magic.  They see my magic, and some of them become interested, and want to learn about it.  It helps spread the learning of magic through the world, and if my efforts help bring only one child to the path of the Arcana, then it makes me happy.  And this circus visits some of the largest cities in the western world, where they have very comprehensive libraries.  I say, the fact that I'm allowed into the Imperial Library in Dala Yar Arak when we perform there makes my employment with Renoit more than worth what I lose in quiet study time.  That library has the most complete collection of magical works in the world.  Mages drool over the idea of being allowed unrestricted access to it."
	"So it's mutually beneficial."
	"I say, my boy, that's the best kind of agreement," he said.  "I do alot of experimenting on the ship.  I have my own lab, you know.  I just have to break my studies from time to time to go perform, which I don't mind doing at all.  Father always said I had a flare for the dramatic."
	The door opened, and Azakar stepped in.  "How are you feeling?" he asked Tarrin without greeting him.
	"I feel alright, Zak.  Dolanna says I'll be off bed restriction by tomorrow, but I think she's being protective about it."
	"You need to listen to her.  She's trying to keep you healthy."
	"Are you going to start trying to be my mother again, Zak?" the Were-cat asked in a dangerous tone.
	"Yes," he said flatly.  "You need to start taking better care of yourself, Tarrin.  If you're not going to do that, well, then I guess we'll have to do it for you."  He wiped sweat from his brow absently.  "Anyway, I'm done for today, and I was wondering if you wanted to play stones or cards or something."
	"Sure.  I think Phandebrass knows how to play King's Crown, and it's always more fun with three people."
	"King's Crown?  I say, do you know the tale behind the game?"
	"We can hear it some other time, Phandebrass," Azakar told him immediately.  "I can't concentrate if you're distracting me with your stories."
	Phandebrass glanced at Tarrin, then he winked.  "Well then, I'll just save it for later, then.  I say, you have a deck?"
	"I do, but only if you promise the dragons won't eat the cards this time," the huge Mahuut said steadily.
	"I scolded them for that, my boy," he replied with a straight face.  "I say, do you know that the suit of crowns started out as the suit of gold?  There were four suits, all named after precious metals.  The suit of gold, the suit of silver, the suit of copper, and the suit of platinum.  But time and the need for pictographic cards, which are easier to make, brought about the changes.  Now we have the suit of crowns, the suit of clubs, the suit of diamonds, and the suit of swords."
	The door opened again, and Dolanna entered with Keritanima, Allia, and Dar in tow.  Tarrin's small cabin wasn't really meant to hold so many people, so Allia and Dar stayed by the door as Dolanna and Keritanima entered.  "Gentlemen," she said brusquely, "your presence here is no longer required.  I wish to speak with Tarrin alone."
	"That's a sweet way of saying 'get out'," Azakar told Phandebrass.
	"If that is what you wish to hear, then get out," Dolanna said in a calm voice, but with a light smile that made her face radiant.
	Azakar chuckled, but Phandebrass gave the Sorceress a curious look, then he too broke out into laughter, giving Azakar a wink.  "Very well.  I say, this must be secret Sorcerer business.  They must be preparing to exchange the secret handshake."
	"I've seen it.  It's nothing compared to the Knights' secret handshake," Azakar said with a straight face.
	"I will give you reason to wish you were not here in a moment," Dolanna said flintily.  "Out."
	"Yes ma'am," Azakar said calmly, standing up.  "We'll play later, Tarrin, when Dolanna's not being pecky."
	"I am about to show you pecky," Dolanna challenged the huge Mahuut.  She pointed towards the door imperiously, her eyes hard and impatient.  Azakar, being taught the wisdom of retreat in the face of a more powerful foe, bowed out with an elegantly overwhelming bow to the Sorceress, nearly brushing his forehead to the deck.  She smacked him lightly on the top of the head when he started rising, making Phandebrass laugh heartily.  Then the two filed out between Allia and Dar, who closed the door behind them.
	"Now, down to business," Dolanna said.  She seated herself in the plush chair Keritanima had dragged in so she could sit with Tarrin.  That got her a nasty look from the Wikuni Princess, who sat down on the end of the bed as Tarrin sat up and sat cross-legged at the head.  Allia sat in the middle of the bed, and Dar took the sturdy wooden chair after moving the small end table aside, that had been put there to hold cards.  "It has been made clear to me that I was in grave error to allow you to ignore your training, Tarrin," Dolanna said.  "So we are here to study, practice, and learn.  The first thing we are going to do is listen to you explain exactly what it is you did to make new strands."
	"That doesn't sound much like instruction," he countered.
	"For us, it will be," she said.  "Perhaps the relation of your discovery will help us come into closer contact with the Weave, or learn new ways to apply its power.  Besides, a good Sorcerer learns everything he or she can, whether or not it is knowledge that can be applied practically."
	"I guess that's a good way to look at things," Tarrin admitted.  He closed his eyes and conjured up the memory he had of that, but it wasn't easy.  The entire affair was heavily tinged by his outrage and anger, and it made the dynamics of the act hard to recall in words that could easily be explained.  "I remember pulling out all seven flows, then sending them out in groups," he said in a quiet voice, as the others all leaned in to listen.  "Groups of flows that would make strands.  I braided them together and made them connect to existing strands, then I, well, pulled on them.  That's how I remember it, anyway."
	"You charged them with your power," Dolanna told him.  "That caused them to snap taut, just like loose-weaving a spell, then snapping it down to release it.  I suppose you charged them with enough energy for them to interact, and form new strands."
	"I remember that," Keritanima said.  "The entire Weave shifted when he did that."
	"It shifted because he was making it move with him," Dolanna replied.  "Do you remember that, Tarrin?"
	"I think so," he said, trying to pierce the veil resting over much of his memory or the episode.  "Maybe."
	"Do you think that you would remember how it was done?"
	"I could do it again," he told her confidently.  "I'd rather not, though."
	"I do not want you to, dear one," she told him immediately.  "The amount of energy it cost you to do it was staggering.  I am still shocked that you did not tear the Weave in the attempt, and that you were not burned to ash within seconds.  This is something I never want you to attempt alone again."
	"I saw the scorchmarks," he said quietly, memory of the pain making his spine tingle.  Up above, on the deck, were two blasted, charred marks that were perfect imprints of the bottoms of his own feet, right down the the texturing of his pads.  Branded into the deck as a testament to what had occurred.  "Was it really as bad as it looks?"
	"Worse," Allia answered evenly.  "You were all but on fire, brother."
	"I don't really remember that."
	"I think I'd be happy not to remember something like that," Dar noted.
	"No doubt," Tarrin agreed.
	"This is something that we will work on later, Tarrin," Dolanna said.  "For now, you are too weak to attempt anything, and I am unsure as to how safe it would be to try.  But I would very much like to see if there is a safe way, and that brings us to the real reason we are here."
	"What is that?" he asked.
	"I recall that the Tower never trained you in Circling," she announced.  "You will learn this skill with us."
	"What good will that do?"
	"I did not see what happened when you interposed yourself on the Council's Circle, but I did hear about what happened.  If you could circle with us, it may be possible for you to wield your power in a much safer manner, spreading it out among the five of us instead of shouldering the burden alone.  There would still be danger, but it would take much longer for it to reach a critical point.  In the interests of safety, we should practice and prepare for the possibility that we may have to defend this ship from marauders again."
	Tarrin mulled it over, and he found her reasoning somewhat sound.  When he had managed to hijack the circle of the Council, it did allow him to spread the burden of his power among them, allowing him to keep control of it much longer.  He remembered that clearly.  He even had the control necessary to let go of the Weave without having to sever himself and suffer a backlash.  He didn't like the idea of putting his friends and sisters at risk, for he remembered clearly the effect he had on the Council after the circle was broken.
	And he remembered what had broken the circle.  The Cat had done it, rejecting the intimate mental communion that came when Sorcerers formed circles.  Even if he was willing to learn, it was very possible that the Cat wouldn't permit him to form a stable link to the others.  "There may be a problem, Dolanna," he told her.
	"What with?"
	"Your idea is good, but they didn't tell you why the circle broke up when I got dragged into it.  The Cat rejected the link.  It took the circling link to be a foreign entity and attacked it.  If I hadn't released the Weave and dissolved the circle myself, the Cat would have broken in for me.  I remember that.  I'm not sure if I can circle."
	"Yes, but you know the four of us intimately.  There is a good chance that your trust in us will allow your instincts to accept our bonds."
	"Well, I'm not sure, but we can try.  If you're willing to accept the risks."
	"I'm aware of the risk," Dar told him.  "Dolanna explained it to us.  I trust you, Tarrin."
	That meant more to him than he could easily express.  He gave Dar a sincerely grateful look, then nodded.  "I know how my sisters will answer."
	"If I was not prepared to face danger for my brother, I would not have the honor to call him so," Allia said bluntly.
	"I'll do almost anything to further the cause of Sorcery, even if it wasn't my brother and sister doing the risking with me," Keritanima said with a toothy grin.
	"Very well then, it is decided," Dolanna said dismissively.  "To start, Tarrin, the key of a circle is communion.  The Sorcerers join together, both their power and their minds, forming a cohesive will led by the designated Sorcerer commanding the circle.  A circle cannot have more than seven, because too many minds in a circle cause the creation of a mass mind that dies when the circle is broken."
	"That's not entirely true, Dolanna," he said absently.  "Only seven of the same species can circle."
	"Where did you hear this?" she asked quickly.
	"I didn't.  I remember it from when I joined the Council's circle.  If you don't mind me sounding obvious, there were eight of us in it.  It didn't form a mass mind because my mind isn't human.  My different mind blocked it.  I realized it when I dissolved the circle.  I think that's one of the reasons why I had trouble holding it.  If it had been seven other Were-cats, I don't think the Cat would have rejected the contact."
	Keritanima gave him a strangled look, then she laughed.  "I forgot all about that!" she admitted in a loud voice.  "You even told me that!"
	"Kerri forgot something?" Tarrin asked, giving her a smile.  "Someone look out and see if the sea hasn't turned to glass."
	"Well, maybe not forgot.  Maybe more like misplaced," she said with a chuckle.
	"The theory does have merit," Dolanna said after a moment of tapping her chin, obviously in deep thought.  "A great deal of merit.  The reason a mass mind forms is because of the presence of numerous minds linked together in the communion of the circle.  It only stands to reason that a mind of a dissimilar nature would reject such a formation, and prevent the mass mind from forming.  The different mind would insulate the other members of the circle, protecting them from the formation of a mass mind.  After all, the mass mind cannot form unless all participants of the circle join with it.  If one does not, then all do not.  It is the very nature of a circle."
	"What does that mean to us students?" Dar asked curiously.
	"A circle is inclusive, Dar,"she explained.  "It is like a school of fish, or herd of goats.  Where one goes, all go, when one turns, all turn.  But if one does not jump off a cliff, for example, then none will."
	"Even if other goats go first?" he asked.
	"It is an abstract concept," she reiterated.  "Think of the herd being tied together with rope.  If the one goat that does not jump is strong enough, it holds all the other goats up, preventing them from falling to the bottom."
	"Oh," he sounded.  "I think I get it.  Even if all the other goats want to jump, they can't do it because the one goat that doesn't want to jump won't allow them to.  Because they all have to go together."
	"Pecisely," Dolanna agreed.  "They must go together."
	"So, if we had seven human Sorcerers aboard, we could conceivably make a circle as large as ten," Keritanima mused.  "The seven humans and use three non-humans."
	"Perhaps larger," Dolanna elaborated.  "There are many ways to circle, young one.  If the lead of a circle were to join to another circle, they could conceivably expand the total number to fifteen.  Seven in the first, seven in the second, with the non-human mind between them to act as a buffer."  She tapped her fingers on the bed.  "It certainly makes sense.  The old stories tell of the Ancients joining in circles numbering in the hundreds, to perform their mightiest magic.  That was when the Sha'Kar lived.  Non-humans, to buffer their circles and permit them to join in such large numbers."
	"Can we prove it, though?" Keritanima asked.
	"Actually, yes," Dolanna said.  "We have two humans here, and Dar knows how to circle.  Dar, Keritanima, join into a circle.  Keritanima, you lead it."
	Tarrin felt the edges of it.  Dar reached out to Keritanima in the oddest way, almost as if he were trying to touch the Weave.  But instead of touching the Weave, he was trying to touch Keritanima.  He felt Keritanima respond to that searching probe, and when they met, he felt their power pool together and expand.
	"Very good.  Now, Keritanima, join with me in another circle.  I will lead it."
	Tarrin felt it again, as Keritanima simultaneously maintained her contact with Dar, and reached out to touch Dolanna in the same manner Dar had reached out to her.  He felt Dolanna's reply, and then they too were linked together into a circle.  The pooled power of Dar and Keritanima suddenly expanded into Dolanna, joining the two human Sorcerers through their non-human conduit.
	"Yes, I think it does work!" Dolanna exclaimed.  "I can barely feel Dar at all!  Keritanima is isolating him from me, yet I can still access his power!"  She looked at Tarrin.  "Did you feel it?  How it was done?"
	Tarrin nodded.  "It was like trying to touch the Weave, except she was trying to touch you."
	"Try it," she urged.  "Reach out to me.  Try to touch me."
	Tarrin nodded and closed his eyes.  He knew how to touch the Weave; it was almost instinctive now.  He used the same sensation to begin, but instead of trying to touch the Weave, he reached out for Dolanna instead, using her scent and her feel and her presence to guide his awareness.
	It was shockingly easy.  He touched Dolanna, almost as if she were the Weave, and he felt her mind respond.  There was almost something of a door opening between them, and he found he could peek through it and look into her mind.  But she could also look into his, and the Cat took immediate notice of this unknown, strange sensation, of this strange presence.  It rose up to investigate, to challenge the interloper.
	Dolanna gasped audibly as the Cat invaded her through the contact between them, and he felt her mind attempt to push it back away from her.  He tried to rein it in, convince it that the mind in contact with them was a friend, not an enemy, not an attack, but the impulse was powerful and it was irresistable.  He felt the Cat rise up and smite the doorway between them, shattering it like a window.
	Both Tarrin and Dolanna cried out, reaching for heads that were suddenly splitting with pain.  The Sharadi Sorceress sagged in her chair and Tarrin's head banged into the wall behind him.  Keritanima winced, flinching away from the other two, but Dar made no outward motion at all that he felt anything.  "That was very unpleasant," Dolanna said delicately, rubbing her temples.
	"I felt it too," Keritanima said.  "What happened?"
	"Tarrin rejected the link," Dolanna replied.  "Violently.  The disruption of the circle fed back into us as a backlash."
	"I didn't do it on purpose," he said defensively.
	"I did not say that you did, dear one," she assured him.  "I do not wish to try that again any time soon."
	"I warned you it may happen."
	"So you did.  But we do seem to have unlocked a forgotten secret.  This is something I must write down and send back to the Tower for further study."
	"You're going to tell them?" Tarrin flared.  "I don't trust them, Dolanna!"
	"True, but we cannot allow knowledge to be cast aside," she said calmly.  "If we fail in our quest, we very well may perish.  I will not allow this to die with us."  She patted his paw.  "Besides, dear one, how can they possibly use this against us?  All of the non-human Sorcerers are right here.  This provides them with absolutely no hold over us.  Because of that, I see no reason not to share it."
	He looked for a good logical reason to object, but he couldn't find any.  He decided that logic was a great deal overrated.  "Well, I still don't like it," he snorted, crossing his arms.
	"I do not like it very much either, but I see little recourse," Dolanna assured him.  "Because of my newfound headache, I think we will stop for now.  After I recover some, we will continue with normal lessons."
	"That's fine with me," he said flatly.  But then the words of the Goddess, about how he chose his own path, echoed in his mind.  "We'll try it your way, Dolanna," he said, with considerably less hostility in his voice.  "I guess I can trust you to do the right thing."
	"I appreciate that," she said, standing up.  She swooned slightly, but Dar was there to give her a reassuring arm.  "I think I need to lay down a while," she announced.
	"I'll take you to your room, Dolanna," Dar said in a gentle voice.
	"Thank you ever so much," she said with a bright smile to her pupil.
	"Are you alright, brother?" Allia asked in Selani as Dar helped Dolanna from the room.
	"I'm fine, just a little headache," he replied.  "I think Dolanna took the brunt of it."
	"I think she did too," Keritanima agreed.  "It was about the same as being hit in the head by a cannonball.  I can only imagine how bad it was for her, since she was the lead."
	"Sorry," he apologized to Keritanima.
	She snorted.  "It was a calculated risk," she replied.  "At least it wasn't a complete failure.  I doubt we'll get you into a circle, but at least you remembered that part about non-humans.  That's new information, and that's always good to have."
	"Whatever," he yawned.  "How are dance lessons going?"
	Keritanima visibly bristled.  "You have alot of nerve to ask that," she said ominously.
	Allia giggled like a little girl.  "She has the other dancers in a state of terror," she told Tarrin.  "They're afraid she's going to pull out a knife and stab them."
	"What about you?" Keritanima challenged.  "Didn't you break Jak's arm this morning?"
	"I can't help it if he can't land on his feet," she shrugged.
	"Renoit's talking about making you dance instead," she told the Selani in a light tone.
	"Fine.  Unlike you, I find nothing wrong with dancing.  I enjoy it."
	That seemed to take the wind out of Keritanima's sails.  She gave Allia an irritated look, then took Tarrin's paw.  "Well, at least Tarrin understands," she grunted.
	"No, I don't," he said bluntly.  "But I'm not going to tease you about it.  If you don't like to dance, then that's fine."
	"Hmph," she snorted.  "I'm going to spend time with Miranda.  At least she doesn't make fun of me."
	And with that, she stormed out.
	"She'll never learn," Allia chuckled.
	"What were we teaching her?" Tarrin asked curiously.
	"That fear is there to be conquered," she replied easily.  "Keritanima is afraid of dancing in front of people.  Stagefright, I think Renoit called it."
	"That's a strange condition for someone who lived her entire life in the public eye," Tarrin mused.
	"True, but she was always in a position of control before, or at the very least she was on familiar ground," Allia reminded him.  "This time, she must dance to the b