me to think about where it was coming from, because he was almost immediately struggling against it.  It was too much, too fast!  Control was out the window in a heartbeat, and Tarrin's mind floated within a realm of pure magical energy.  But the Cat reacted where Tarrin's mind was incapable of doing so, beating back the magical onslaught to the point where his rational mind could respond to the crisis.  He had to sever himself, and he had to do it now, or he was going to die.
	It was the hardest thing he ever did in his life.  It was like trying to chop down a tree with a butter knife.  But he managed to turn the power flooding him against itself, using the power to choke off the rampaging inundation trying to fill him, until he cut the connection.  The backlash defied description, a blasting wave of pain that started in his soul and lashed out through his body, extending past his body to generate a short blast wind that stirred up the dust around him, knocked Miranda from her feet, and toppled the stack of crates behind which they were crouching.
	Panting, disoriented, Tarrin sagged towards the ground, trying to clear the cobwebs.  What had just happened?
	He recovered his wits just in time to see the point of a sword trying to stab him through the eye.
	Moving with a speed that startled his attackers, Tarrin smacked the sword aside by hitting the flat of the blade with his paw.  He felt the burning sting in that touch.  The weapon was silvered.  He was on his feet in an instant, hulking over the men filling the alley, eyes radiating that greenish aura that so clearly marked his anger.  He struck again at the man that tried to kill him before he could recover, slashing his paw down with all five claws out.  The savage blow hit the man in the forehead, claws shearing into bone as his inhuman power slammed down through the man's skull.  Tarrin's claws literally ripped the man's face off as they travelled down through the face, then ripped huge lines in the man's chest before his claws came free of flesh just below the breastbone.  The man went down, smashed down to the place where he had been standing.  Tarrin shook the tatters of flesh, hair, and bits of bone out of the hooks of his claws and gave the remaining men an evil look, and that made the others hesitate a moment.
	Tarrin extended the claws on his other paw and hunkered down into a wide-pawed stance, eyes blazing in his anger and a savage snarl twisting his expression.  Ears back, tail straight out behind him, fangs bared, he dared them to come within his reach by growling deep in his throat.
	"What are ye waitin' fer!" a man near the back called.  "Ye got the swords, an' he knows it!  Kill 'im!"
	The two in the front rushed forward as Miranda quickly crawled behind Tarrin, swords leading.  They slashed at him and stabbed at him at the same time, but Tarrin's paws whipped out to intercept them.  The manacles on his wrists suddenly became more than decorations, as he used them to parry the deadly silvered swords, letting their killing edges strike the black steel of the heavy manacles and using his strength to push them out of danger.  The two men were good, very good, using their weapons in a complementary fashion that didn't give Tarrin the time to strike back with his paws, and kept both his feet solidly on the ground to keep his balance.  The chiming sound of steel on steel rang through the alley as the Were-cat feverishly kept those killing swords at bay, blocking them with the manacles, smacking at the flats of blades with open paws, and evading whenever he could.  The two men worked in conjunction to keep him off balance, prevent him from using his power, forcing him to rely on his speed to keep himself out of harm's way.  But the two men began to show clear frustration that they couldn't reach the unarmed adversary, that no matter how clever or intricate they were with their feints and stabs, he could always intercept the blades before they reached his skin.  They didn't understand that Tarrin had been specifically trained for unarmed combat by Allia, Binter, and Sisska, that he had a keen understanding of how to use his Were gifts to be the equal of an armed opponent.  Humans that were well trained to fight were dangerous, as these two men admittedly were, but their fatal flaw against him was that they could not match his speed.  Tarrin fell back on the training he received, keeping their weapons away from him, making them get impatient or angry and make that fatal mistake that would let him turn the tables on them.
	And it came.  The man on the left stabbed at him as the man on the right raised his sword over his head in preparation of a vicious overhanded blow that Tarrin could not hope to parry with only one arm.  But Tarrin had one more limb, a limb longer than all his others.  As he parried a savage overhanded chop from the man on his left with both paws crossed to catch its edge in a V formed by the manacles, Tarrin's tail lashed out from between his own legs and swept up between the legs of the man on his left, who was pulling his sword back to stab at him again.  His tail slammed into the crotch of the man on the right, who immediately winced, cried out, and sagged towards the ground with his knees locked together and both hands cupping his injured groin.  Tarrin used that space to wrest the sword caught between his wrists to the right, then brought up his left foot and planted it in the man's belly with enough force to rupture internal organs, sending him flying back into the men behind him and giving Tarrin a precious few seconds to prepare for the next wave.  The sword dropped, but Tarrin caught it by the hilt even as his tail wrapped around the hilt of the sword the other man dropped, pulling it up into his paw.  The swords' hilts were almost too small for his oversized paws to hold, but he had enough space with which to work.
	These were not opponents he could fight hand to paw without taking a wound.  They were very well trained, very good fighters, and he afforded them the respect they deserved.  He needed the cushion of space a weapon would provide.
	An armed Tarrin advanced slightly, so that anyone trying to step over the bodies of the men in front would have to dodge his swords while they did it.
	"Who's next?" he asked in a cold voice.
	They rushed forward immediately, coming over the two bodies by stepping on them, and Tarrin met them.  They found out, to their shock and dismay, that Tarrin was more than competent with swords, even wielding two at once, and his inhuman power made trying to fence with him a deadly proposition.  Single parries and killing blows felled the first two to come over the bodies, as the power in the parry knocked each man out of position and set him up for the killing stroke.  Allia was a master of two-weapon combat, and she had taught some of that technique to her brother.  He now used that, falling back on forms she had taught him on how to move with and use the two swords to maximize the confusion and uncertainty of his opponents.  They never knew which would strike first, or how or when the second sword would strike like a viper at them while they were still engaged with the first.
	Tarrin cut down four more men in a fast, furious flurry of striking swords, cutting flesh, and agonized screams, until a knee-high knot of bloody bodies separated him from them.  The two men in front suddenly lunged towards the walls, opening a space between them right in the middle of the alley.  That was when he saw the crossbow.  He desperately slashed across his body even as the weapon discharged at him, hitting the heavy quarrel in midair as it buzzed angrily right for his heart and deflecting it to the side.  The edged head of the quarrel sliced across his upper left arm, leaving a bloodly line across it and creating a burning, stinging wound that he could feel was quite different from anything he had ever had before.  He reared back and threw the sword in his right paw back down that line, between the front men that had moved aside to let the crossbowman get a clear shot.  It hit the man pommel first, but it struck him right between the eyes, caving in the skull and making both of his eyes pop out of their sockets.
	The man to the right, that had moved out of the way, suddenly sprouted a dagger in his neck.  It was a little thing with a handle designed for throwing, but it was good enough. The man gurgled once before sagging to the ground, trying to hold in his lifeblood with his hands.  Tarrin glanced back to see Miranda, back on her feet and with two more of those little daggers in her left hand, and a third coiled back in her right, ready to be thrown.
	"He'll kill any man who comes over the bodies, and I'll kill anyone who stands around," Miranda warned in a loud voice.
	"She's only got three daggers!" one of the men bolstered the others.
	"Yes, but which three of you want to die?" she challenged in a calm voice, rearing the dagger back just a little more.
	It hung there for a moment.  The alley was too narrow for them to rush in all at once, and the bodies piled up between them and the Were-cat made trying to get close enough to use their swords suicidal.  They were a little taken aback that the Were-cat had deflected a quarrel shot at point blank range from a heavy crossbow, one of the most powerful missle weapons made.  And they couldn't just stand there, or the Wikuni would kill three more of them with her daggers.
	That made the men in front turn and flee, but the men behind, shielded from the daggers and hungry for the reward, refused to give ground.  They pushed at each other until one man screamed and went down with a sword in his belly, and that started a short, nasty fight between the former allies as the men in danger actually attacked the men keeping them from retreating.  Tarrin and Miranda wisely ducked around the corner of the alley and peeked around it, watching the short melee from the safety of cover.  Five more men died at the hands of their own, until they finally managed to move their brawl to the mouth of the alley, where they simply scattered.
	Tarrin blew out his breath, then winced when Miranda placed a torn piece of her dress over the bleeding cut in his arm.  "That was nervous," she said calmly, putting pressure on the wound to control the bleeding.
	"That was fast thinking," he complemented.
	"I'm paid to think fast, Tarrin," she replied calmly.  "It's something of a job requirement.  Is this alright?"
	"It burns like fury, but it's not deep," he replied, putting his paw over the cloth.
	"Let me get my dagger, and we'll get out of here," she said.  "I don't think we want to go out the same way they did.  You think you can jump us over that wall?" she asked, pointing to the wall blocking the alley.
	He looked at it.  It was only fifteen spans high.  He groaned audibly.  "I could have done that in the first place," he said contritely.  "We never had to get mixed up with them."
	"We didn't have time to do it before," she assured him.  "And I wanted to get a look at them.  What happened with, whatever it was you did?" she asked.
	He blew out his breath.  "Something I have to talk to Dolanna about," he said.  "I tried to use Sorcery, but--" he shuddered.  "I never had a chance.  I was completely overwhelmed, almost immediately.  That's never happened like that before."
	"Let's talk about it later.  Let me get my dagger, and let's get out of here."
	"Where were you hiding those?" he asked curiously.  The light, rather revealing dress she was wearing didn't exactly support little folds and gaps where daggers could be hidden.
	"You don't want to know," she winked as she approached the dead man with her dagger sticking out of his neck.

	Shirt off, Tarrin held very still while Dolanna sewed up the cut on his upper arm by the light of the lantern sitting by his bed.  It had missed his brand by a few fingers, fortunately, but he was more worried about Dolanna.  She sewed up the cut with no regard for her own safety, and he was keenly aware that a single pinprick could turn her Were.  That needle had his blood all over it, and it only took the tiniest drop to begin the change.  Tarrin marvelled at how fearless Dolanna tended to be around him, fully aware of the incredible danger he posed to her, and that never failed to endear her to him more and more.  That she could be so selfless, so confident that he wouldn't do anything to hurt her touched him deeply, and reminded him again and again how important the small, dark-haired Sorceress was in his life.
	She hadn't been as angry as he thought she would.  Keritanima was another story.  She had all but exploded when she found the note, and even now he could hear her berating Miranda in the next cabin, shouting at the top of her lungs.
	"I did not see anything wrong with you going out alone, Tarrin," Dolanna said calmly in a lull of Keritanima howling.  "You are a grown man, after all, and Miranda has the sense to not lead you astray.  I trust your judgement."
	"I appreciate that, Dolanna.  You think you can explain that to Kerri?"
	Dolanna gave him a light smile, then went back to her work.  "Probably not.  She is blinded by her love for both of you.  How did they track you down?"
	"By my stupidity," he said with a grimace.  "I was playing with Miranda, and I forced her to shout my name.  I guess someone that's not friendly overheard it.  When we ducked into an alley to see if we were being followed, we had no idea it was a dead end.  We had to fight."
	"An honest mistake," she said calmly, cutting the thread and tying it off.  "After so long on the ship, and after all that has happened, I cannot fault you for not being more careful in the city.  Just let this remind you to be careful in the future."
	"There's no problem with that," he grunted.
	The door opened, and Allia entered.  She looked a little annoyed for some reason.  She stopped when she saw Dolanna patting blood away from the sutured cut in Tarrin's arm.  "What happened?"
	"Me and Miranda got bushwhacked in the city, by men with silvered swords," he said.
	"Are you and Miranda well?"
	"We're fine.  I got this little cut.  Miranda came back without a scratch."
	"How many did you defeat?"
	"Six or seven," he said.  "I wasn't exactly counting.  I didn't kill all of them.  I left two of them alive."
	"You must count," she chided.  "You cannot sing of your honor without knowing exactly how much honor you have accrued, and leaving a defeated opponent alive is more honorable than killing.  Any child can kill, but a true warrior of honor can defeat foes without killing."
	Dolanna snorted slightly.
	"Why are you back?  Aren't you supposed to be raising the tent?" Tarrin asked her.
	"They will not permit the circus to set up," Allia announced.  "Renoit tried to get them to change their minds, but they did not.  They said that the circus would distract the soldiers from their duty."
	"A silly choice," Dolanna said an absent voice as she started wrapping a bandage around Tarrin's arm.  "The circus would put the citizens in better morale."
	"Guess they're worried more about the soldiers than the civilians," Tarrin said.  "What are we going to do now, then?"
	"I do not know.  I will have to talk to Renoit," Dolanna replied.
	"I know Kerri's happy about that," Tarrin chuckled.  "I saw the costume she was wearing.  If she were human, she'd be beet red from head to foot.  I think I saw less fur when she was naked."
	Allia giggled.  "I think Renoit put her in it just to annoy her," she said in a conspiratorial tone.  "I thought she was going to bite his nose off when he handed it to her."
	"We need to talk, Dolanna," he said calmly.  "About a few things."
	"Such as?"
	"Well, for starters, they've got people looking for me and my sisters," he said.  "Jander, the Wikuni at the mission, was really helpful.  He said there are armed men hunting for all three of us, and if this is any indication of what kind of reception we'll get," he said, patting the bandage on his arm, "I think it'd be a good idea for all three of us to stay out of sight."
	"Truly.  Allia, bring Keritanima to us, if you do not mind."
	"At once, Dolanna," Allia answered, and scurried out the door.
	"I think they also know about me," he said.  "About what I can do.  Jander said that men have been going around the city, killing cats with silvered arrows.  I think they're trying to pick me off, but that says that they know I'm a shapeshifter."
	"Certainly it does," she agreed.  "Because there are enemy agents in the Tower, we must assume that they know as much about the three of you as the Council did.  That means that they have access to a great deal of sensitive information.  But this is not critically damaging information.  There is little they can do with it aside from try to find us."
	"True, but if they know about Kerri, then they know about Miranda, Binter, and Sisska," he argued.  "That means we have to hide them too."
	"We must hide all of us," she said calmly.  "They no doubt know about Azakar, myself and Faalken, and Dar as well.  We are a rather unique group, my dear one.  I think it may be time for disguises again."
	"You don't think our carnival disguises are good enough?"
	"No.  They do not hide who we are, they just place us in a place that our enemies may not think to look for us," she replied.  "Of us all, only Dar does not stand out.  He is the only one that could probably move about without being hindered."
	Tarrin mulled that over, and found her to be right.  Faalken was too long a warrior.  The very way he moved gave away his training to anyone who knew what to look for.  Dolanna too stuck out like a sore thumb, because of her Sharadite features and the way she carried herself.  Azakar was simply too huge, too unique to not attract attention.  Dar was the only one that hadn't been trained to the point where the very sense of him seemed unusual or attracted the attention of a trained observer.  With a costume and a bit of coaching, Dar alone could travel through the city without enemies singling him out.
	"What good does that do us now?"
	"For now, little," she replied.  "But it is something important for us to know, in case we have need for an inobtrusive companion."
	The door opened, and Keritanima came in with Allia.  She was wearing a simple red robe, obviously over her costume, belted at the waist tightly.  Her face was tight.  She was obviously angry.  "The other problem is with Sorcery," he continued after nodding to his sisters.  "I, tried to use Sorcery to defend me and Miranda, and it was an absolute disaster."
	"What happened?" Dolanna asked.
	"I can't say I lost control because I never had control," he grunted.  "The absolute instant I touched the Weave, I was drowned by power.  I don't have any idea where it was coming from, because the strands around here couldn't support such a heavy draw.  I mean it was instant, Dolanna.  Usually when I use Sorcery, I can get away with it because it takes me time to charge up to that level, and I can weave together my spell and let go before I cross over into High Sorcery.  But this time, it was just there."
	Dolanna pursed her lips.  "Perhaps it was a freak occurance," she said.  "I cannot see how that could happen.  But with Keritanima and Allia here, I believe that we have enough power to counter you if you were to try again."
	"That's a good idea," he agreed.  "If this is going to keep happening, I want to know before my life depends on using it."
	"Alright, Keritanima, Allia, circle with me.  I will be the lead."
	He felt them join into a circle, then took a few deep, cleansing breaths.  If it was going to happen again, he wanted to be ready for it.  "Go ahead, Tarrin," Dolanna urged.  "We are ready."
	Closing his eyes, he reached out and touched the Weave, and it happened again.  The instant he opened that link between him and the Weave, the power poured into him like water down a wellshaft.  But this time, he was ready for it.  He managed to maintain control enough to channel that power back at itself, an attempt to sever himself from the Weave, and then he felt Dolanna and his sisters push at the connection from the other side, aiding him in getting away from it.
	And it worked.  Their efforts met in the middle, cutting him off from the Weave, but creating a painful backlash that felt like a Giant had stepped on him.  Tarrin gasped as the backlash washed through him, then he panted to regain his breath, flexing the fingers on his right paw absently.  "Just like that," he managed to say.
	"Strange," Dolanna said curiously.  "The instant you touched the Weave, the strands you tapped expanded, becoming like miniature conduits."
	"Isn't that supposed to be impossible?" he asked.
	"Yes, but you are a Weavespinner, my dear one," she replied calmly.  "There is no telling how your power affects things, because we do not understand completely how it works.  Since you have the power to directly affect the Weave, we must assume that this expansion of strands is an aspect of your capability.  If you can create and destroy strands, logic only assumes that you could also have the power to alter existing strands in just such a way."
	"But that would have to come from him, Dolanna," Keritanima objected.  "The strands are expanding when he touches the Weave.  I think it's the Weave reacting to him, not him affecting the Weave."
	"Perhaps," Dolanna pondered, tapping her chin.  "Either way, this is something that must be studied before we can make solid conclusions.  And I heavily suggest that you refrain from using any Sorcery until we come up with answers, dear one," she said sternly to Tarrin.
	"I don't think there's a problem with that," he agreed.
	"We will talk about this more in a while.  Right now, I must go see Renoit and find out what we are going to do next.  Until then, the three of you should stay out of sight.  Do not go on deck."
	Tarrin took her hand before she left, glad that she was there.  Dolanna always knew what to do.  After she left, he turned to Keritanima with a grin on his face.  "I hear you had a conniption today," he teased.
	"I'm about to have another one, Tarrin," she fumed.  "What possessed you to go running off--"
	"She asked, I agreed, because neither of us had anything to do.  Sisska felt we were safe enough to go alone, so I think you can cut us some slack, Kerri," he cut her off.  "And don't be so hard on her.  She's trying to help."
	"I know that," she snapped, "but I don't like seeing her put herself in danger like that."
	"She used to do it all the time for you back in Wikuna," he countered.  "Why worry so much about her now?"
	"Because we had the upper hand in Wikuna," she almost shouted in reply.  "Her risks were well known and calculated.  Out here, it's alot riskier, and the risk is unknown.  That makes it much more dangerous."  She grabbed him by the shirt.  "And I resent the implication that I just sent her out into danger without worrying about her," she seethed.  "I never sent her anywhere without Sisska and others nearby to help in case she got into trouble."
	"I never meant to imply that," he said calmly.
	"I think Tarrin is saying that you should let Miranda stand on her own feet, sister," Allia said sagely.  "That you worry for her is good, but you don't need to act like her mother."
	"I do no such thing!" she snapped at Allia.  "Miranda is my oldest friend.  I'd yell at any friend for doing something that stupid!  And you're next, boy," she pointed imperiously at Tarrin.  "What possessed you to take on a small army of armed men!  You should have grabbed Miranda and ran!  Those legs of yours let you jump onto just about any roof you please, even with Miranda weighing you down!"
	"I would have done that if I hadn't have tried Sorcery first," he replied calmly.  "I tried it first because I wanted to end it quickly.  But you saw what happened.  While I was recovering from the backlash, they engaged us."
	Keritanima seemed to analyze it, looking for any holes that would give her an excuse to rail on him, but she could find none.  Snorting, she crossed her arms beneath her breasts and gave him a flinty look. "Well, just don't do it again," she huffed.
	"I don't plan to," he agreed.
	"Fine."
	"Fine," he said calmly, sitting down on his bed and patting the cut absently.  It still burned.  He'd never been hurt by silver before, and it was certainly something he'd prefer to avoid in the future.  The wound buzzed, stinging and tingling, and it wouldn't let him put it out of his mind.  Even Triana's claws in his belly hadn't left such an unpleasant aftereffect.
	"Is it alright?" Allia asked.
	"It stings, but it'll be alright," he said.  "I've never been hurt by silver before.  It's not very pleasant."
	"Why didn't Dolanna heal it?" Keritanima asked.
	"She can't," he replied.  "She tried.  It seems that silver does me harm that even magic can't heal.  It'll just have to heal on its own."  Keritanima sat down in a chair as Tarrin sat down on the bed.  "Did Miranda tell you about what Jander said?"
	Keritanima nodded.  "It's nothing that we didn't expect, Tarrin," she told him.  "We'll just have to be more careful.  All three of us."
	"That goes double for you, sister," Allia said.  "You are too headstrong.  If we must stay hidden, so must you."
	"I don't take risks, deshaida," Keritanima said absently.
	"This from Kerri the Plunderer," Tarrin said to Allia with a slight grin.  "I remember a stranger in Kerri's body when we ransacked the temple in Suld."
	"Yes, that must have been someone else," Allia agreed with a staight face.
	"You two," Keritanima said, slapping Tarrin's leg.  "They left the cards.  Good.  Let's play King's Crown until Dolanna has some news for us."

	Things were all confused.
	Tarrin stood at the rail, looking out over the lights of Tor as members of the circus played instruments and danced on the deck behind him, illuminated in the dark night by torches and lanterns.  His presence didn't upset them, mainly because they didn't really see him come up on deck.  He was still under restriction, but Dolanna wasn't on deck, and he felt the need to be out of cat form.  To reduce tension on the ship he was in human form, tolerating the pain for the benefit of the others.  They weren't quite so afraid of him when he looked more normal.  The moons and Skybands were obscured behind heavy clouds, and there was an unseasonably cool quality to the wind that promised a heavy spring rain was coming.  That was very much needed, for the lack of rain had begun to take its toll on the crops in the fields surrounding the city.
	They were leaving tomorrow.  The Torians had absolutely refused to allow Renoit to set up the circus, even for one night.  The best that Renoit had managed was a small, spontaneous performance in the market square that afternoon, with only ten of his forty performers.  Dancing, juggling, and entertaining market goers for whatever coins they would scatter.  Renoit had found it humiliating, saying that it was like being a gypsy all over again, but his performers, itchy after so much time off season and on board ship, had jumped at the chance.  Now they would travel to Shoran's Fork, the westernmost port city of Arkis, some ten days travel east.  The music and dancing was the troupe's way to prepare for ten more days of sailing and practice, and hopes that the next stop would be better than this one.  It was also a time to remember the two men killed by the Zakkites, to honor their memories and remember their lives.  Tarrin had never seen anything quite like it before, he didn't even know their names, but his distance from the others had caused that.  The only names he could match to people aboard ship were Renoit, Phandebrass, and Henri.  He'd heard other names, but he didn't know who owned which name, and he really didn't much care to know.  The less he knew about them, the better, as far as he was concerned.
	He looked back out over the city, his human eyes making everything look dark and mysterious.  Only the lights of lamps and torches were discernable along the slope on which the city stood.  He never felt quite right in his human body anymore, despite the pain that it caused.  It just seemed to confining.  He didn't have his senses, and that left him feeling curiously vulnerable.  Not being able to scent or hear people as they approached made him wary and nervous when he was alone.
	The lights from behind were blocked, and Tarrin looked back to see Sisska approaching him.  The massive Vendari came up and stood by him at the rail quietly, her massive tail swishing behind her absently.  In human form, Tarrin barely came up to Sisska's chest, and he could appreciate how intimidated people were by the Vendari.  She and Binter both almost seemed mute sometimes.  They almost never talked, and their activity always centered around their charges.  But nobody ever failed to notice them when they were in sight.
	"Tarrin," she said in her deep voice.  Even when they spoke, it wasn't for very long.  Directness was a Vendari trait, almost as if it were a competition to see who could say the most with the fewest words.
	"Sisska.  Is Miranda alright?"
	"Fine," she assured him.
	"I'm, sorry I got her in trouble," he apologized.  "I should have done things differently."
	"If I did not trust you, I would not allow you to watch her," she said directly.  "That means that I trust her life to you.  You are more than capable of defending her."
	"I should have ran," he sighed.  "I shouldn't have tried to fight."
	"There is no honor in cowardice," Sisska said.
	"But there's no honor in fighting when you're responsible for more than your own life."
	"Wise.  Binter has been teaching you our ways."
	"No, it's just common sense, Sisska," he sighed.  "Something I seem to be lacking here lately."
	"You underestimate yourself," she said, looking down at him.  She put her hand on his shoulder, and his shoulder was too small to accommodate it.  "Did you do as you saw best at the time?"
	He stared up at her, at her boxy muzzle and her dead-black eyes, and blew out his breath.  "At the time, yes," he admitted.
	"Then there is no fault," she declared.  "The greatest fault comes when you do not believe in yourself, and trust in your own decisions."
	He looked up at Sisska again.  Her words were powerful, and he had no doubt that she believed them.  Vendari were absolutely incapable of lying.  Tarrin had been challenging his own self-confiden