eat of another's drum, in unknown territory.  It's an entirely different situation."
	"If you say so," he shrugged.
	"I do say so," she teased, poking him lightly in the ribs.  "And I also say that it's time for you to take a nap."
	"But I'm not tired."
	"But I am, and I miss napping with my brother," she said.  "I'm starting to chafe at the time they take from me to train."
	"I don't mind.  You don't have to be right beside me for me to know you're near."
	"Yes, but we don't talk as we used to do, deshida," she sighed.  "The loss of private conversation could make us drift apart again, and I won't have that."  She scooted up onto the bed more fully.  "Now make room."
	Tarrin gave her a light smile, then shifted into cat form.  She laid down on the bed without a word, and Tarrin curled up beside her.  His head nestled under her chin, he could hear the beating of her heart within the vessels of her neck.  He listened to it for quite a while, listening to it slow, become stable and calmed as Allia drifted off into sleep.  The sound of that, the coppery scent of her, the very feel of her closeness was usually more than enough for him to enter a state of utter security and contentment.  Much as he felt with Janette, Allia's presence made him feel totally safe and secure, knowing that she wouldn't allow anything to happen to him.
	Closing his eyes, he began to purr.  To him, there were few things better in life than peace.
 
Chapter 7

	The city of Tor was alot like home.
	Tarrin and the others stood at the rail, looking at the port city as they approached.  The city's architecture was dominated by wood, cut from the thick forests surrounding the city's stone walls and farms.  Wood houses with thatch or tiled roofs covered the visible city skyline, with the occasional stone house, tower, or turret breaking up the wooden monotony.  Very few of the houses were painted, the vast majority of them either whitewashed or covered with wattle and daub to protect the wood against the corrosive salt air.  The result was a city of white and brown, the white of the walls with the brown of the thatch or the slaty grayish color of those houses with either tiled or flat roofs.  Tor was a very large city, sitting in a very wide basin, almost like a teacup saucer, a depression in the land around the mouth of the River Tor, which bisected the city.  The buildings they could see on the waterfront were all warehouses.  Tor was a merchant city, dealing exclusively with the food grown in the breadbasket lands of the Free Duchies and sent down the river by barge.  It was the sole reason the city thrived.
	That wasn't the only thing to look at.  There were many ships in the city's wide, undefended harbor, and most of them were military in nature.  Tor maintained a decently sized navy to protect ships in its waters, but Keritanima remarked that they were rarely concentrated as they were now.  Cargo ships, fishing boats, and flat-bottomed barges being ferried out to a wide sand bar to the left of the city had to carefully wind their way through anchored naval vessels.
	"I wonder what's got Tor all stirred up," Faalken asked absently as they looked out at the city.
	"What do you mean?" Dar asked.
	"They have an army camped just outside their walls," he replied, pointing to the where the wall of the city descended right into the water.  "They're flying Torian banners.  It's a friendly army."
	"And they've called in their entire navy," Keritanima added.  "They're definitely worked up about something."
	"We are certain to find out soon enough," Dolanna said dismissively.  "Renoit said we would be here for nearly ten days."
	The performers were somewhat puzzled, and not a little worried, as the ship slid into port, its ropes being caught by dock workers.  Tarrin was in his human shape, using the meditative techniques that Allia had taught him to shunt the pain away to the side, to make it something not worth holding his attention.  Because he looked that way, the other performers had forgotten who he was, or perhaps didn't consider him to be dangerous, and had gathered around his group of friends.  "What's the matter?" Dar asked one of the gymnasts, a small, lithe young girl whose name Tarrin did not know.
	"There's nobody here to greet us," she said pensively. "Usually the Dancer attracts a crowd at the dock, and we greet them.  But there's nobody here."
	"Maybe they have something else to worry about," Faalken predicted.  "An army, a navy, and I don't see a whole lot of people moving around.  Something's definitely going on."
	Keritanima blew out her breath, then immediately looked at Miranda.  "Don't start," the mink Wikuni said immediately.
	"I'm certainly going to start," she said threateningly.  "You still haven't recovered from your injury yet.  You're going to take it easy, do you hear me?"
	"I'm not a china doll, Kerri," she said dismissively.  "If I've been well enough to dance, I'm well enough to do some of my real duties."
	"Come come, my friends, just because there is no crowd to meet us does not mean we are going to just sail away!" Renoit's voice boomed over the deck.  "We have a tent to raise!  Let us begin making ready!"
	Tarrin's position in the troupe had been redifined after the incident with the other gymnasts.  Now he was nothing more than a deckhand, hired help to aid the circus in setting up and breaking down their carnival.  He was confined to his human form when working in the public eye.  He moved with the others towards the hold, but Miranda took him by the arm and pulled him aside.  "I'm going to need someone to go with me," she said.  "Sisska will be busy with the carnival, and you're the only one she'll trust to take her place.  What do you say, Tarrin, want to be my escort?"
	"What are we going to do?"
	"I'm going to visit the Wikuni mission here in Tor," she replied.  "I happen to know the current lead diplomat personally.  We're old adversaries.  I'm sure he'd tell us what's going on."
	"What about Keritanima's little situation?  Won't he turn us in?"
	"No, not this Wikuni," she grinned.  "He owes me a favor.  I'll just call it on him."
	"That must be some favor."
	"Let's say that he owes me his ability to father children.  I don't know about Were-cats, but Wikuni men treasure that particular part of their anatomy more than life itself."
	"That must be quite a tale."
	"Not really.  I'm the one that was about to deprive him of it."
	"Then it must really be quite a tale."
	She laughed.  "So, interested?"
	"I guess.  It beats dragging canvas around, but we'd better get permission first."
	"Permission?  If I asked permission for half the things I did, I'd never get anything done," she said with a cheeky grin.  "The only permission I need is from Sisska.  We'll leave Kerri a note."
	"We'll hear her screaming in town."
	"So?"
	Tarrin gave her a look, at the mischievious glint in her eyes, and he had to laugh.  "Alright.  There's no fun in getting in trouble unless you have company."
	"That's the spirit," she said with a wink and a light poke in his ribs.
	After getting permission from Sisska and leaving the others a note, Tarrin and Miranda walked along the streets of Tor.  Very quiet streets.  For a city its size, the streets should have been absolutely packed with pedestrians. But the number of people on the streets looked more like it was midnight than daytime.  Every few blocks, a large party of armed men marched by, wearing the axe and crescent moons standard of Tor and looking very wary and grim.  Tarrin saw that the other pedestrians gave the soldiers a wide berth, but did not shrink away from them as if they were occupiers.  It seemed that the army's presence had at least some approval from the citizens.  But the soldiers didn't impede anyone or interrogate anyone.  They were merely asserting their presence within the city.  For what reason evaded Tarrin, but then again, they were on their way to find out.
	The Wikuni mission in Tor was a large stone building overlooking the city's main market square.  It was staffed exclusively by Wikuni, few of which paid Miranda much attention.  Tarrin, however, attracted more than a few glances, looks, and more than a couple of scornful glares.  They spoke to each other in Wikuna, and they were probably unaware that Tarrin could understand parts of it.  Keritanima had been teaching it to him, and he was a very fast learner when languages were concerned.  What he could understand wasn't very flattering, and he had to resist the urge to change form and smack some people around for their unflattering remarks.  They didn't challenge Miranda, however, nor did they challenge him, who was obviously in her company.  They moved along dark hallways lit by candles, with old wood panelling put there to give the stone structure some feeling of more than stone.  Miranda approached a desk on the second floor confidently, behind which sat a rather ugly-looking warthog Wikuni with a huge snout and tusks.  He lacked the humanization of his facial features common in most other Wikuni.  "What business you got here, missy?" he asked in a grating voice.
	"I'm here to see Jander," she replied calmly.  "I'm an old friend."
	"Alright.  Who should I say is callin'?"
	"Tell him it's the crazy lady with the scissors.  He'll know who that is."
	The warthog nodded and got up, then went into a plain brass-bound door behind him.  Almost immediately, a tall, lanky wolf Wikuni that looked shockingly similar to Haley's hybrid form appeared in the doorway.  He looked just like Haley, down to the gray fur and piercing eyes, but Haley's snout was a bit wider, and Haley was a bit taller and little more stocky than this thin Wikuni.  This Jander had no human-like hair like some Wikuni did, just a wild mane of wolf fur on his head that poofed out and made it look like hair.  "I never thought to see you here, my lady," he said in the doorway, with a wide grin.  "Come in, come in.  It's been years since we talked."
	Miranda led Tarrin into a spartan office about the size of his room back home.  It had a large stone-topped desk near the room's only window, which looked out over the market, and a leather-covered cushioned chair behind it.  The walls were the same wood panelling as downstairs, but his walls were decorated with a few wooden engraved plaques, a parchment framed and hanging on the wall, a portrait of an austere lion-Wikuni in a very elaborately decorated frame, and a sword and shield with a coat of arms enamelled to its metal surface on the wall opposite the portrait.  The man's slate-topped desk was clean, immaculately clean, with only a sheaf of papers sitting before where one would sit, and a pair of small wooden trays sitting on the opposite corner, beside an inkwell that was capped off.  Two upholstered chairs sat before the desk for whatever guests this Wikuni had in his office, one of which Miranda occupied after letting Jander take her hand in greeting.
	"Miranda," he said fondly, sitting in his chair facing them.  Tarrin sat down as Jander smiled at her.  "How have you been?"
	"Oh, same as always, Jander," she replied.  "Jander, I'd like you to meet Tarrin, a friend of mine.  Tarrin, this is Jander, one of my most favorite adversaries."
	Jander laughed.  "Was I.  Did she tell you that she once tried to cut off my--"
	"I told him about that," Miranda cut him off with a wink.
	"And she was only sixteen!  I never expected such ruthlessness out of a stripling maid."
	"It did get your attention, Jander," she grinned.
	"It did at that," he chuckled in agreement.  "Whatever happened to Duran and Lassiter?"
	"Duran was killed last year," she said with a little sigh.  "Lassiter works for the House Artep now."
	"Pity," he said.  "From what I heard, your employer hasn't changed.  And if you're here, then she's here."
	"Ah, but I was never here," Miranda told him with one of her devastatingly cute grins.
	"You see what I had to fight against," Jander said to Tarrin.  "The woman is a terror.  And she was even worse when she was a young girl."
	"I don't find her that terrorizing," Tarrin said absently.  "Just scratch her behind the ears from time to time, and she'll follow you around like a puppy."
	Miranda smacked him on the arm, and Jander laughed.  "You don't have to hide in here, Tarrin," he said.  "I'm sure you realize that I know who and what you are.  But you'd better stay hidden outside."
	"Why is that, Jander?" Miranda asked seriously.
	"It's just one of the things going on around here," he said soberly, leaning back in his chair.  "I'm sure you noticed the military presence."
	"King Rathbonne is flexing his muscles?" Miranda asked.
	"Hardly.  The southern Free Duchies have entered into a military alliance, and Tor is their target.  Rathbonne is mustering his army to fend them off."
	"An alliance?  They'd attack each other as soon as their armies came onto the same field," Miranda scoffed.
	"Believe it or not, they're working together," Jander said grimly.  "And it's all over a rumor that the Firestaff was hidden somewhere in the ruins of Old Tor.  Rathbonne has half his army here, and the other half is turning his kingdom upside-down and shaking it to see if it falls out."
	"A war, over a rumor?" Miranda asked incredulously.
	"This particular rumor had some basis in old historical documents," he replied.  "I think the Firestaff was probably kept in ancient Tor at one time, but it was moved long ago."
	"That's ludicrous," Miranda grunted.  "You don't start a war over a rumor."
	"When it's anything about the Firestaff, rumor is usually enough," Jander said.  "Right now, Sulasia and Daltochan are fighting it out south of the forests over the rumor that the Firestaff is being secretly held in the Tower of Six Spires.  Draconia joined Daltochan against Sulasia, and that immediately brought Tykarthia into it on Sulasia's side."
	"South of the forests?" Tarrin asked intently.  "Where exactly?"
	"From what I've heard so far, Daltochan owns all of northeast Sulasia," he replied.  "They were trying to capture Ultern, the last my reports said.  Marta's Ford, Two Forks, Arrigon, Torrian, they're all occupied by Dal forces.  What makes that so bad is that the Dals seem to have entered pacts with some Goblinoid tribes," he said grimly.  "There are Bruga, Waern, and Dargu running around up there wearing Dal livery, and you know how they are.  I'm glad I don't live in occupied Sulasia right now."
	Miranda put a hand on Tarrin's elbow, and he jumped slightly.  The very thought of Dargu or Waern occupying Aldreth made him want to jump up and ride home to kick them out.  They were his friends, his people, and they were probably suffering terribly under the cruel yoke of the Dal invaders and their Goblinoid allies.  He had no idea he had lost his concentration, and Miranda's touch brought a throbbing ache through his body as the pain of holding the human form reasserted itself in his mind.  Breathing a few times to center himself again, he forced the pain away from him, back into the depths of his consciousness, where it couldn't distract him from the situation at hand.
	"Have the Sorcerers stepped in yet?" Miranda asked.
	"They can't yet," he replied.  "They can't intervene, or they won't, until the invaders threaten Suld.  But right now there's chaos in Suld."
	"Why is that?"
	"King Erick Aralon is dead," he said bluntly.  "He died last month of a fever.  His wife, Amerine, gave birth to an heir about two days before he died, and she's declared herself regent until he's old enough to assume the throne."
	"Did the Sulasian houses accept that?" Miranda asked.
	"It looks like they have," he replied.  "Erick was an incompetent dolt, but Amerine is sharp and very skilled.  She's already made the very smart move of appointing Duke Arren of Torrian as general of her armies, and that made the Dal army grind to a halt at Ultern.  Appointing Arren was the smartest thing she could have done.  The noble houses realize that they need some stability right now, and Amerine can supply it, so they've thrown their lots in with her."
	"Ugly," Miranda sighed.  "What is the Wikuni position in the war?"
	"We have none, as usual," he replied.  "Damon Eram doesn't support either side."
	"Typical," she said critically.  "What else is going on?"
	"Just the usual degeneration of the world into unbridled chaos," he grunted.  "Wars have flared up all over the world, and it's all over the Firestaff.  Even the most wildly insubstantiated belief that it rests in one kingdom gives all its neighbors enough motivation to invade it.  Even Sharadar was invaded, believe it or not.  Stygia tried to invade across the Inner Sea, but it ended as disastrously as every other Stygian attempt to invade Sharadar."
	"Why is that?" Tarrin asked curiously, trying to shunt aside his fears for Sulasia.
	"The Sulasian Tower doesn't work with the kingdom," Jander told him.  "The Sharadite Tower is the kingdom.  Sharadar is ruled by a Sorceress, Alexis Firehair.  Stygia got their usual butt-stomping by the Sharadite Tower when they landed their marines on Sharadar's northern coast."
	"How could they do that?" he asked.
	"Tarrin, the Sulasian Tower has a thousand Sorcerers at the most," Miranda told him.  "The Tower in Sharadar has tens of thousands of Sorcerers among its number, and that doesn't even count the priests and arcane mages also living in the kingdom, attracted there by the receptive nature of Sharadar to magic and learning.  They have a literal army of magicians.  Few armies can stand up to that for long."
	"I guess not," he agreed after a moment.
	"So, the world has become a keg of gunpowder with a lit fuse," Miranda summed up.
	"More or less.  As to local matters, I suggest you keep a low profile, and I heavily suggest you don't go out alone, Tarrin."
	"Why is that, Jander?"
	"There's been a rash of pet murders, Miranda," Jander said seriously.  "Someone's been going around and killing cats with silver-tipped arrows."
	The importance of that wasn't lost on Tarrin.  Someone thought he was here, and they were trying to kill him.  It wasn't much of a surprise, but it seemed a little bit of a surprise in that it was the first time in a long while he was certain that people were out to get him, people who knew exactly who and what he was, and how to best eliminate him.
	"You can't find a cat anywhere in Tor, and the rat population has absolutely exploded as a result," Jander said sourly.  "I even found one in my bed a few days ago.  The people who own the cats that are still alive won't let them out.  There's been no absolute proof, but it looks like the kii'zadun is behind it.  A group of men arrived here last month and hired every cutthroat and thief they could find, with orders to kill any cat-like Wikuni they found.  Needless to say, tensions among our own people are very high right now, because they're still out there.  The idea of killing cats seems like a logical next step, and is probably being done by the same group."
	"Maybe.  Whoever ordered it certainly knows Tarrin," Miranda said thoughtfully.  "Or knows about him."
	"Half the world knows about you now, kid," Jander told him seriously.  "Your description has been floated around for nearly four months."
	"What do they say about him?"
	"Only that he's the Tower's horse," Jander replied.  "Since they know so much about the Firestaff, half the world wants to kill you to keep you from finding it, and the other half wants to either capture you or follow you so you can lead them to it."
	Tarrin was quiet and very sober.  It was nothing really new, just confirmation of what he and Dolanna had quietly feared would happen.
	"The kii'zadun has gotten maniacal about killing him, though," Jander added, looking at Tarrin.  "I think they hold you personally responsible for what happened in Suld.  There's a ten thousand crown price on your head."  He leaned back in his chair.  "They've hired most of the thugs and murderers in Tor, and they're all looking for you, the Selani, and the Princess.  I suggest all of you stay out of sight."
	"I'll see to that, Jander," Miranda said professionally.  "Is Damon Eram still chasing us?"
	He nodded.  "That hasn't changed.  He's even ordered the private ships of the nobles to hunt for her, but they don't know where she is now.  They caught the Star of Jerod and searched it, but she wasn't there.  The captain told them he'd put you all off in Dayis, so they're back at the beginning.  With all the ships that leave Dayis, you could be anywhere."  He chuckled.  "And now she's in my backyard.  I'm sure you realize how much trouble I can get into if they find out I know she's here, but didn't tell anyone."
	"You enjoy the danger," Miranda said with a cheeky grin.  "Besides, you'll be in even more danger if you blab.  I still have those scissors."
	Jander chuckled and winked at the mink Wikuni.
	"They didn't hurt Kern, did they?" Tarrin asked in concern.
	"The captain?  Of course not," he replied.  "They have orders to find the Princess, not sink every ship they cross.  I'm sure the King isn't too happy that this Kern transported her, but then again, he probably had no idea who he had on board until it was too late.  I certainly wouldn't take on such a dangerous passenger willingly."
	"That's a relief," Tarrin sighed.  Kern wasn't exactly a friend, but he had been a solid man, and Tarrin respected him.  He didn't want to see anything bad befall him because of the fact that he had taken them to Dayis.
	"I think that's about it," Miranda said.  "How is life behind a desk suiting you, Jander?" she asked curiously.
	"It's not as exciting as the Service, but it has its moments," he replied.  "Instead of skulking around with a dagger, now I play wordgames and diplomatic chess with Torian lackeys."
	"Sounds safer."
	"It is, but it's still not quite as fun as the Service.  Before, we kept score by staying alive.  Here, it's more a contest of reputation, rumor, and hearsay."
	"You can keep it," Miranda said calmly.
	"Why don't you come join me?" he asked.  "I still have a place open in my staff for you."
	"I'm sure it also includes a place in your bed," Miranda winked.
	"Well, I'm sure you wouldn't find the idea to be repulsive," he said calmly.
	"I was never meant to settle down, Jander," she told him with a gentle smile.  "In a way, I'm already married.  It's just to my job."
	"Ah well, one can always try," he sighed, then he stood up.  "I think the two of you had best get back to where you belong.  If I stay in closed doors with strangers too long, certain people may get curious, and I'm sure that's something you'd prefer to avoid."
	"No doubt there," Miranda said as she stood.  Jander escorted them to the door, where he took Miranda's hands and gave her a lick on the cheek.  "You keep yourself well, Miranda."
	"I always do, Jander," she replied, patting him on the cheek.
	"What was that all about?" Tarrin finally asked after they had left the building.
	"Jander has a crush on me," she replied matter-of-factly, almost as if she were discussing the weather.  "I used to use that against him, back when he worked for Damon Eram."
	"That's mean, Miranda, playing with his affection like that."
	"I told you once before, Tarrin, I'm not a nice girl," she told him with a wink.  "In my line of work, love is a weakness to be exploited.  I'm not about to ignore such an available opportunity."
	"Sounds lonely."
	"It can be, but the rewards do occasionally make up for it," she told him.
	"How far did you have to go to do your job?" he asked in a hesitant curiosity.
	"Are you working around to asking me if I had to flip my skirt?" she asked, then she laughed.  "Sometimes I forget how naive you are, Tarrin.  I'm not a virgin, if that's what you're asking.  Sometimes luring a mark into bed was part of what had to be done to get information.  And it's not an entirely unpleasant thing to do, you know.  The right mark can make it very entertaining."
	Tarrin blushed, and looked away from her.  That made her laugh harder.
	"Come on, admit it.  I know you're not as pure as you're trying to make me believe.  That Were-cat blood of yours runs even hotter than ours.  I've heard yours and Allia's little discussions about that."
	"You're impossible."
	"No, I'm just not embarassed," she retorted, jabbing him in the ribs.  "I heard you and Jesmind had quite the emphatic relationship.  When you weren't trying to kill each other, you were--"
	Tarrin poked her in the belly, just hard enough to make her cut her statement short.  "What me and Jesmind did is no concern of yours," he said primly.
	"True," she admitted, "but neither of us are the angels you want to make of us.  I'll promise not to be shocked that you're not pristine, if you promise not to be shocked that I'm not either."
	Tarrin looked at her, then he laughed helplessly.  "I'm not used to this from you," he said.
	"You've never asked before."
	"You've just totally destroyed my vision of you," Tarrin teased.
	"Sure I did," she said scathingly.
	Tarrin laughed again.  "Well, I guess I can agree to that.  But I don't think I want to know any of the details."
	"Come now, Tarrin, I'm not about to spend days going over my numerous affairs and conquests with you," she grinned.  "I demand reciprocation when I do that, so you only have enough stock for one lurid tale.  And I just gave that one to you."
	"Lurid?  There was nothing lurid in that."
	"I'll just have to give you lurid, then," she winked.  "A garment by garment account of the first time I seduced Jander."
	"I think I'll pass."
	"Too late," she teased.  "Now you're going to hear it, whether you want to or not."
	"Not today," he said, then he lunged forward and started running away from her.
	"Tarrin!" she called in surprise, picking up her skirts and running after him.  "This is not funny!  My big sister will kill you if you leave me alone!"
	That was about the only thing that reminded him of where they were and what their position was.  He slowed to a stop and let her catch up to him.  Being playful was all well and good, but they were in a town which was full of potential enemies.  And what was worse, he just made Miranda shout out his name, which was probably heard by half the other people on the street.  He berated himself for his carelessness as she reached him, giving her a pained look.
	"I just messed up," he said with sincere chagrin.  "I'm sorry."
	"I did too," she said with a wince.  "I called for you out of surprise.  I know better than that.  A first mission rookie wouldn't have made such a stupid blunder.  Right now, we need to get back to the ship without attracting any attention to ourselves, and making damn good and sure nobody is following us."
	"I think that's a really, really good idea," he said, taking her arm after she offered it to him.
	Miranda didn't know the streets of Tor very well, and neither did Tarrin.  They meandered almost aimlessly while keeping the docks in view, which sat at the bottom of the shallow depression in which the city sat and were visible from almost anywhere in the city, to mark their progress as they moved towards them in their roundabout pattern.  Tarrin didn't really feel all that much fear or trepidation at what they were doing, but his mind was clearly focused on the task at hand, and his eyes searched the other pedestrians to see if they seemed hostile, or seemed to recognize the pair.  Miranda was the one who kept watch for anyone that may be following them.
	After nearly half an hour of zigzagging through the streets of Tor, Miranda pulled them into a narrow alley between two warehouses near the docks.  The alley was strewn with empty wooden crates and other refuse, some of it not smelling very pleasant.  "Come on, now we hide and see if someone comes looking for us," she whispered to him as they retreated down the alley.  Miranda silently cursed as they reached a corner of it, and found a stone wall blocking the alley some paces away.  The alley only had one entrance.  "Hide," she said, ducking behind a stack of crates near that corner.  The crates were old and rickety, and they had wide areas between the slats that would let someone look through them to see what was inside.  In this case, they let Tarrin and Miranda look up the alley with them blocking anyone from seeing them, for the alley's gloom made the crates' interiors dark.
	They waited in tense silence for nearly ten minutes, until a single lean man appeared at the end of the alley and stopped.  He was thin and wiry, rather tall, with greasy black hair and olive-colored skin that marked him as Torian.  He had a shortsword in his hand.  Another man appeared, then another, then another, and they kept appearing at the end of the alley, until nearly twenty men, all armed, blocked off the entrance to the alleyway.  From the lighting and the way the swords reflected it, Tarrin figured that they were either highly polished, or they were silvered.  He doubted such ruffians would take such care of their weapons, so he decided grimly that the weapons were silvered.
	Twenty men blocked off their escape, all of them holding weapons that could deal him real injury, and  Tarrin was unarmed.  But the alley was very narrow, only about eight spans wide, and it would prevent any more than two of them from threatening them at any one time.  Tarrin weighed the options quickly.  Sorcery was an option, but the Goddess' warning reminded him that he'd have to change form to try that.  He may have his regeneration in human form, but not his Were-cat body's power and resistance.  Just like when Sheba attacked, he thought if he could use it quickly, maintain contact for an absolute bare minimum of time, he may be able to get them out without endangering himself.
	That seemed to be the best course of action.  There were too many to fight, even for him.  He may have his Were-cat speed and power, but those were silvered weapons, and he could take no chances that a lucky stroke would put him down.  He had to protect Miranda.  Stepping back from her, he closed his eyes and changed form, feeling the ache vanish as his body returned to its natural state.  Staying behind the crates, as Miranda looked on, Tarrin reached out for the Weave--
	--and was suddenly assaulted by it!  Power flooded into him at a rate that shocked him to the core, a rate that defied the magical balance of the area.  There just weren't enough strands to support the amount of power he was drawing.  He didn't have ti