o once was or she who once was, depending on how it's used by the speaker.  There's an old legend that says that a Mi'Shara has the best chance of passing the Guardian that protect the Firestaff.  In other words, of all the people that may try, you have the best chance of succeeding.  Half the world wants you dead because of that, and the other half probably wants to follow you, so they can take the Firestaff from you once you do get your paws on it."
	That wasn't new information.  The Goddess had told him that as well, back when she had originally pressed him into this crazy mission.  He still remembered her exact words:  But of all those who seek the Firestaff, you, Tarrin Kael, Mi'Shara, you have the best chance to succeed.  But to hear it from them, to realize that they understood alot more than he did, it was frightening.
	"You knew about that?" he asked Triana.
	She nodded.  "It's an old myth," she replied.  "I never held much water to it.  I guess I was wrong."
	"He is the Mi'Shara, Triana," Camara Tal said.  "My Mistress told me what the Goddess of the Sorcerers told him to do with it, and she supports it.  So she sent me to aid in his quest."
	"What did she tell you to do with it?" she asked him intently.
	"To keep it away from everyone else," he replied honestly.  "To make sure it isn't used."
	"I can agree to that," Triana grunted.  "And I think I'd better make some arrangements."
	"Why?" Tarrin asked.
	"I knew about what you were doing, but I honestly thought that you wouldn't pull it off.  I figured to see you drag your tail home in about a year with empty paws.  I didn't realize that you were one of the big players, that you really have a good chance to pull this off.  I think Fae-da'Nar probably wants to have a say in who gets their paws on that old relic."
	Tarrin's head was spinning.  He sat down heavily on a chair near the table in the private dining room, sitting on his own tail.  The pressure caused his mind to focus.  Camara Tal, he could deal with.  It was obvious that the Goddess had arranged her appearance to help him, so he felt he could give her the benefit of the doubt.  She'd still have to prove she was worthy of his trust, however.  But to find out that Camara Tal knew his bond-mother!  That Triana knew as much as she did about the Firestaff.  He had never told her much about it, and she had never asked.  She was more interested in teaching him than learning more about what he was doing.  She knew what he was doing, but as she said, she didn't realize that he was as serious about it as he was.
	"I think you'd better have Allia go get Dolanna and the others, cub," Triana said after a moment.  "I have some people to talk to.  Do not leave the inn unless I directly tell you that you can.  I think we all need to sit down and have a long talk."
	"Don't worry about him, Triana," Camara Tal said confidently.  "Tarrin's safety is my responsibility now.  I won't let him do anything stupid."
	"Good," Triana said with a nod, then she turned and left without another word.
	Tarrin glared a bit at Camara Tal.  He wasn't a fool, nor was he an idiot.  That she felt he needed a babysitter was insulting.  "I don't need someone watching me at all times," he warned her.
	"That's not your decision, Tarrin," she said directly.  "It's my responsibility to keep you alive and whole.  How I do that is not up for debate.  You will do what I tell you to do, because I told you to do it.  Not because I like bossing you around, not because you're capable of taking care of yourself, but because it's my duty to protect you.  I take my duties seriously.  You don't want to find out how seriously I take them," she warned.
	Tarrin developed both a seething resentment of this demanding Amazon, and a strange respect.  Her manner and her words were very similar to the stoic duty he'd seen from Binter and Sisska, the quiet, ever-present bodyguards for Keritanima and Miranda.  They had taken their duties just as seriously as Camara Tal seemed to be over him.  He'd respected them for their quiet devotion, and he found he could respect Camara Tal in the same manner.  Camara Tal was putting her life on hold to come and do her goddess' bidding, to protect a complete stranger from harm who would probably be a pain in her butt.  At least in that way, he found respect and a little admiration for the intimidating Amazon warrior.
	And the Goddess was right.  She reminded him a great deal of his mother, Elke.  She also had that same no-nonsense aire as Triana.   This was a woman he found he could respect, because of her strength.  Tarrin could appreciate strength.  He realized that he wouldn't take a "normal" human woman, a submissive mewling female with no more will than livestock, seriously.  Any female--anyone, for that matter--that wanted to deal with him had to be willing to stand up to him, and it seemed that Camara Tal was more than willing to do just that.  He didn't scare her, he didn't intimidate her, and he respected her a great deal for that.
	"I can respect that," he told her seriously, standing up and looking down at her, "but you have to respect me.  I don't need someone to hold my paw, Amazon.  I'm more than capable of fighting for myself.  I just need someone to help watch my back."
	"We'll see," she said calmly.  "For now, let's talk to your other friends, so they can get to know me, and I can find out who runs this circus of fools."
	Allia went to go get Dolanna, and Tarrin found himself spending that waiting time with Camara Tal.  She was a quiet woman, alot like Binter and Sisska, perfectly willing to stand by the door in complete silence.  She simply crossed her arms, leaned against the wall, and waited.  She unnerved Tarrin, more than a little bit.  She was a stranger, but that wasn't what worried him.  It was the fact that he felt she was going to cause him some serious trouble.  Azakar had also been told to protect him, but Tarrin had managed to browbeat and intimidate the Mahuut into giving up on that idea.  This woman, he would not be able to push around so easily.  She wasn't afraid of him, and since she was an unknown, he wasn't sure if it was bravado or confidence that was making her so fearless.
	He noticed something about her, something that seemed strange.  She was obviously a warrior, but she didn't have a mark anywhere on her.  Just that scar on her cheek.  Allia had scars, as did he, and Faalken's arms and legs were crisscrossed with them.  But her skin was as smooth as a milkmaid's.  She looked at him as he studied her form, and her expression didn't change.  "You want me to lift my skirt so you can sniff under it?" she asked directly.
	Tarrin flushed.  "You don't have any scars," he pointed out.
	"I used to," she replied.  "I was a warrior before I answered the call of my Mistress and took up the faith.  She allowed me to remove my scars, except for this one," she said, rubbing her jaw with a thumb and a finger.
	"You're a priestess?" he asked in surprise.
	"I'd better be, or fifteen years of devotion was for nothing," she replied.
	"The priests of Karas aren't allowed to carry swords."
	"Then Karas is a fool," she said with a grunt.  "My goddess demands that her order be able to fight.  A sword is a suitably practical weapon."
	"The priests of Karas learn to fight, but with maces," he told her.  "Karas doesn't permit his order to shed the blood of enemies, because they're taught to try to avoid fighting whenever possible."
	"Foolishness," she snorted.  "They probably rely on their god and the spells he grants them."
	"I guess.  I just remember the stories Faalken's told of them.  He's a Knight."
	"My goddess demands her priestesses be self-sufficient," she said.  "We have to be able to fight for ourselves.  We also have to be able to farm, and to sew, and work leather and build with wood, because our duties to our people often force us to take up tools or a plow.  She grants us magic, but we don't use it unless we can't do something any other way.  To depend on her magic would make us soft, like those priests of Karas."
	Tarrin couldn't see anything wrong with that philosphy.  "Where did you meet Triana?"
	"In Dayis," she replied.  "I came up again to track down my husband, and I met her while waiting for a ship to Suld."
	"Husband?  You're married?"
	"If you want to call it that," she snorted.  "He ran away on our wedding night.  If he wasn't in that damned Tower, I'd--"
	"Koran Dar!" Tarrin exclaimed in surprised.
	"Koran Tal," she said adamantly.  "And if he's using his birth name, he's got a lot to answer for," she snarled.  "How did you know him?"
	"There's only one Amazon in all of the Tower," he told her.
	"Figures," she sighed.  "He's my first husband.  He's from a small clan, given to me to marry to cement an alliance between my clan and his.  He went through with the wedding, but he vanished not long afterward.  He's a weak-willed little coward.  Sometimes I wonder why I bother coming up here every few years to try to steal him back."
	"He's no weakling," Tarrin said in defense of the Divine Seat.  "Maybe he just doesn't like you."
	"Liking me has nothing to do with fulfilling his obligations," she snapped.  "He embarassed me and my family when he took off.  He'd only have to see me a few days a tenspan, anyway.  If he can't tolerate me that long, then it's his problem."
	Tarrin mulled over her words.  "First husband?" he asked curiously.  "How many times have you been married?"
	"I have three husbands and four concubines," she said calmly, giving him a cool look.  "Amazon society doesn't restrict a woman to just one husband.  She can have as many as she can arrange, and all the concubines she can buy."
	That startled him.  He'd heard of Arakite men who had more than one wife, but it was the first time he'd ever heard of a society where a woman could have more than one husband.  Then again, in Amazar, her home, all men were property.  Male children were owned by their mothers, and were sold to other women when they matured.  The women controlled the government, served in the armies and navies, and it seemed that they staffed the churches.  It was a reversal from strict sexist societies like Draconia, where women were little more than property.  In Draconia, women were there to make babies and keep the house clean.  It looked that those were the duties of an Amazon man.
	"What's the difference between a husband and a concubine?" he asked.
	"Husbands are noble-born males.  Concubines are commoners.  All three of my husbands are political marriages.  I keep my concubines because I like them."  She glanced towards the door.  Tarrin's ears picked up when he heard the sounds of Faalken's armor, and Dolanna's voice.  "We'll have plenty of time for me to educate you about how a society should be, boy," she said.  "It sounds like your Knight just got here, from all the clanking."
	"You have good ears."
	"If you don't pay attention, it makes it easy for someone to stick a dagger in your back," she said in her husky voice.
	She was a warrior, all right.  Or had once been one.
	Dolanna, Faalken, and Dar all three took their turns staring at the Amazon when they entered the dining room.  Allia came in behind them, but Camara Tal seemed oblivious to Dolanna's searching look, Faalken's lingering appreciation of her beauty, or Dar's fearful gawk at her.  "Uh, Dolanna, this is Camara Tal," Tarrin introduced.
	"My goddess sent me here," Camara Tal announced in her husky voice.  "I'm here to protect him, and help you as I can," she concluded, pointing at Tarrin.
	"Forgive my suspicion, but how are we to know this to be true?" Dolanna asked.
	"She's for real, Dolanna," Tarrin told her.  "The Goddess told me to accept her, and she knows enough that even if I wasn't warned, I'd still have to accept her."
	"Another visitation?" the Sorceress asked, and Tarrin nodded.  "Very well then, I guess we have no choice.  I will not go against the will of my Goddess."
	"Spoken like a true believer," Camara Tal said approvingly.  "Boy, if you don't stop staring at me, I'm going to give you a reason to look the other way," Camara Tal warned Dar, who was still gawking at her.
	"Dar's not used to seeing a human woman in such interesting clothes," Faalken said with a sly grin.
	"I see men are a universal constant," she said gratingly.  "Do you want to play at trying to catch a glimpse, or should we get it overwith now and lift my skirt?" she asked, reaching down and grabbing the hem of her skirt meaningfully.
	"Ah, no," Faalken said lightly.  "I prefer it when it's a challenge.  Free looks are cheap looks."
	If she took offense, she didn't show it.  She just let go of her skirt and crossed her arms beneath her breasts again.  "If I minded men looking, I wouldn't wear these clothes, but I hate it when people stare at me," she warned.  "Just get over it."
	"Yes ma'am," Faalken said impudently.
	"Faalken," Dolanna said calmly.  "I think we will welcome your aid, Amazon," she told the woman.  "Our number has been reduced, and another sword will be helpful."
	"That's why I'm here," she said easily.  "When do we leave?"
	"With Triana's blessing, we will be leaving tomorrow afternoon," she replied.  "A ship carrying a carnival will be taking us to Dala Yar Arak.  They are our cover to allow Tarrin and Allia to enter the city without being enslaved."
	"Clever," she said approvingly.  "But let's not leave anything out.  Start at the beginning.  I like to know what's going on."
	"Very well," Dolanna said.  "I think you may want to sit down.  This will take a while."

	Camara Tal was going to be a problem, Tarrin decided the next day.
	His things were packed, and he stood at the gangplank of the Dancer.  The ship was still garish and ugly, a floating eyesore, but in a strange way he was glad to see it.  For a solid month, they had been in Shoran's Fork, a month lost to the other players of the Questing Game, waiting for Tarrin to recover.  The pain was gone now, though it did twinge some when he moved too fast, and Triana had told him that morning that he was officially an adult.  She had no more hold over him, no more than the already vice-like control she could exert when she really wanted to.  He was free to go.
	Free.  It seemed a strange word, because he didn't feel free at all.  He was still bound to his mission, and Camara Tal had effectively made him feel like a prisoner again.  She wouldn't allow him to go out into the street without her, and she stayed close enough to him to step in in case of attack.  He already felt smothered by her presence.  He really had to find a way to make her give him some space, but without offending her or making her think that she wasn't doing her duty.  If there was one thing about her, it was that duty was everything to her.  She took her accepted duties as seriously as life and death, and he realized already that all he could hope for was to loosen her deathgrip on him a little rather than making her give up on it.
	The others were getting on board.  Tarrin stayed behind to say goodbye to his bond-mother and her two daughters, and to Thean.  They stood near him, accepting his goodbyes warmly, either hugging him or taking his paws.  Triana's stony mask broke a little when he kissed her on the cheek and thanked her for all she had done for him, and her eyes actually looked a little misty.
	"It was my pleasure, cub," she said with a warm smile.  "And I have one more surprise for you."
	"What is it?"
	"Me," a tiny, piping voice announced.
	He hadn't scented her until she blurred into view, sitting on Triana's shoulder.  Sarraya sat there sedately, looking at him with a quirky little grin.
	"Say hello to your new shadow," Triana said calmly.  "Sarraya has agreed to go with you, to help."
	"Why?" he asked.
	"Because you can't control yourself, cub," she answered flatly.  "You have no control over your Sorcery.  All it would take is one moment of weakness, and you'd try to use it.  If you do that, you'll kill yourself.  Sarraya here is a Druid, a strong Druid, and she has the power it takes to keep your power under control."
	"And I like you," Sarraya said with a grin.
	"That too," Triana smiled.  "She can be very useful to you, Tarrin, for obvious reasons.  Not only is she a Druid, she also has the magical powers of her kind.  And I know both of you are clever enough to find ways to use them wisely."
	"Well, I guess I can't stop you," Tarrin sighed, "and I know you'll just forbid me to go if I say no."
	"You're right," she said flintily.  "I've already taught Sarraya how to throttle you, so don't worry about it.  Just try not to test her, cub.  I put too much time and effort into you for you to just incinerate yourself in a moment of distraction."
	"I'll try not to, mother," he assured her.
	Sarraya flitted off of Triana's shoulder, and then landed lightly on his.  Her weight was barely more than a ghostly feather on his shoulder, but her scent told him that she was there.
	"Don't worry, Tarrin," Sarraya said.  "I think we'll get along fine."
	"Dolanna's going to love this," Tarrin grunted.
	"She'll be happy to have the help," Triana said.  "Now you have a couple of Sorcerers, a Priest, and a Druid along.  That's alot of magical firepower, and I have the feeling you may need it not too long from now."
	"I hope not," Tarrin said fervently.
	"Don't hope for what you can't have, cub, it's a waste of time," she snorted.  "I taught you better than that."
	"Tarrin, lad!" Renoit boomed from the ship.  "The tide, she is turning!  We must be on our way!"
	"I have to go," he told Triana with wistful eyes.  "I'm going to miss you, mother."
	They shared one more fierce embrace, and he took in the powerful scent and feel of his bond-mother one last time.  She had been everything that he had needed, right when he needed it.  A mentor, a guide, a friend, and someone to depend on.  She had relieved him of more than one burden, and because of her, he felt more hopeful for the future.  He also felt that now he had something to live for, something much more tangible than the hazy thoughts of his life after his mission had been completed.  She had brought a new focus into his life, had allowed him to see past the moment and look into the future, gave him hope that there would be a life for him when he returned from his mission.  He didn't know if he'd ever see her again, but he was certain that she had changed his life for the better.
	He let go of her reluctantly, then turned and clasped paws with Thean one more time.  "Thanks alot, Thean, you really helped me," he said sincerely.
	"Any time, cub," Thean smiled.
	"Goodbye, Nikki, Shayle," he said to Triana's daughters, then he rose up on his toes and kissed his bond-mother on the cheek one more time.  "I love you, mother."
	"And I love you," she said in a trembling voice.  "Now go on, cub.  They're waiting for you."
	"Come on, Tarrin, it's time to go!" Sarraya said in a voice full of anticipation.  "Travel, adventure, monsters, intrigue, danger, and scary things await us!  Let's go!"
	"Let's go," he said under his breath, giving Triana and her family one last wistful look.  If only he could be among them.
	Maybe someday, he could.  But not now.  He had a job to do.
	Adjusting the manacle on his wrist, he turned and padded up the gangplank.  It was time to get back to reality.
 
Chapter 12

	The rain fit her mood perfectly.
	Keritanima stood on the deck of the Sailor's Pride, the personal flagship of the Eram noble family's private fleet, staring out over rain-roughed seas, her short, boxy muzzle scrunched up into a perpetual snarl.  The air was surprisingly cool for so late in the spring, and the rain had come down for two straight days, wetting down sails, dripping below decks, and making things miserable for everyone in the huge convoy of ships that escorted the clipper as it sailed west, back to Wikuna.  The rain didn't bring lightning or wind, however, making the going very slow and very soggy for all the ships involved, weighing down on the morale of the men.
	Twenty-seven ships.  That was how many escorting ships there were.  Ten clippers, two Wikuni rakers, twelve frigates, and three Dreadnaughts, huge ships that were brand new to the Wikuni fleets because their sides were plated with sheets of steel.  Those ships formed a teardrop formation around Keritanima's vessel, keeping it solidly in the middle of their formation to prevent anything from reaching her.  They had taken extravagant measures to protect her for the voyage home, from a small fleet of ships to the Marines that stood on many of them, ready to board enemy vessels and take the fight to the enemy up close.
	The morale of the men was another issue for the cagey Admiral Therak, one of her father's oldest and most experience officers.  The old raccoon Wikuni was missing his left ear and had scars breaking up the continuity of his fur in many places, and he paced nervously whenever she could see him.  To put it plainly, Keritanima-Chan Eram absolutely terrified his crew.  She terrified anyone who looked at her, looked at the expression of utter fury that had not left her features since her capture.  Many of them had seen what she had done to the Wikuni Colonel who had been right there when she was initially captured.  This was not the vapid little fool that they had heard about.  This was a Sorceress, someone who commanded magical power, and had demonstrated her willingness to kill with it.  They knew that the King had ordered her captured and brought back, but many of them wondered if that was a really wise thing to do.
	Keritanima pulled the cloak around her a bit tighter, staring out into the sea.  It was better now than it had been before.  After they had dragged her onto the ship, seeing Tarrin laying there in a pool of his own blood, not knowing if he was alive or dead....it almost drove her mad.  It frightened her that she had grown so powerfully attached to anyone, but the truth of it was there in her heart.  Tarrin and Allia were her brother and sister, her family, and seeing Tarrin like that had nearly destroyed her.  It deeply pained her that they weren't close to her, there to laugh with her or cheer her up, or just be close to her.  She felt lost and alone, so very alone, and that loneliness brought with it a strange, acute pain that she had never experienced before.  Dear Miranda and Azakar tried to help ease her fear and her suffering, but their friendship just wasn't enough to fill the huge void left in her heart, or comfort the dread terror she felt whenever her mind conjured up the image of Tarrin laying on the dock.  Her eidectic memory had saved her many times, but for the first time in her life, she had vigorously cursed it for burning such a starkly vivid memory of her injured brother into her memory.  It was an image she would never forget, to her deathbed.
	But then she had had the dream.  It was simple enough.  She dreamed she was back in the courtyard in Suld, in the Tower, the courtyard that had been their sanctuary while they were there.  She was standing there at the fountain, looking up at the perfection of the statue that stood in the center of it, and then the statue spoke to her!  It was a lovely voice, full of power and compassion, and it assured her that Tarrin had survived.  That he was alive, and that he and Allia were much closer to her than she thought.  Right about then, she woke up, but the powerful clarity of the dream had attached itself to her consciousness, and she found that she had to believe it.  That had taken a tremendous burden off of her heart, and though a little part of her wouldn't accept it until she saw Tarrin standing in front of her, the rest of her found comfort in it.  She had the feeling that it was Tarrin's mysterious Goddess that was doing it.  Keritanima herself didn't hold much salt with gods.  They hadn't answered all her prayers when she prayed for her family to stop fighting with each other.  But this Goddess seemed a bit different.  She was supposedly bound to her by the fact that she was a Sorcerer, but she really didn't hold much salt for that either. This Goddess had never spoken to her, never helped her.
	At least until then.  She didn't know if it was the Goddess of the Sorcerers, and she really didn't care.  She just knew that Tarrin had made it, and that had brought peace to her.  It wasn't enough to calm her completely, for there was still the doubt, the uncertainty, and the fury at being treated in such a callous fashion.
	The fury of helplessness and fear had been replaced by a burning anger towards her father, and a savage intent to pay him back for his interference in kind.  They were sailing back to Wikuna, back to her father, and back to his world.  Back to a world of intrigue and backbiting, where nobody could be trusted and anyone could be aiming a dagger at your back the instant you turn around.  Where she had more to fear from her father and sisters than anyone else in Wikuna.  Her fury had evolved into a cold, almost pure hatred, a hatred of her father and everything he stood for, a hatred of what she had left behind.  And now she had to go back into it.  Thrown back into the pit of fire, without the support and presence of her brother and sister to ease her pain or calm her fears.  She was going back alone, so terribly alone.
	Miranda had become a complete crutch for her.  The mink Wikuni was her oldest friend, and without her siblings, she was the only one Keritanima could turn to with her thoughts and fears, the only ear she trusted to share her burdens.  Miranda's quiet presence with her for so long had given her insights into Keritanima that only Tarrin and Allia knew, and she was able to calm Keritanima down, make her feel a little better, if only for a little while.  Binter and Sisska tried to help, but there was only so much they could do.  Their devotion wasn't to her, it was to their roles as bodyguards and protectors.  They were fond of Keritanima, and she trusted them, but it just wasn't the same.  Azakar--poor Zak.  She didn't know him as well as she probably should, but it was clear to her that he felt lost.  The only human on a ship full of Wikuni, facing their arrogance and scorn every time he turned around.  Yet he stood up to it with a quiet dignity that impressed her, comfortable in the fact that he was a Knight, he had people who respected him...and he could probably thrash anyone on the ship except for Binter and Sisska any time he wanted.  Azakar helped her in his own way by just being someone nearby, someone to play a game of chess with, or yell at when she needed to vent, or stand guard over her when Binter and Sisska weren't capable of it.  That her Vendari bodyguards would trust him with her protection said everything that needed to be said about how they felt about him.  He was a bit quiet, but then again, he had once been a slave, so being quiet and not drawing attention to himself were probably ingrained habits he'd yet to break.
	Then Tarrin had contacted her.  To say she was relieved was an understatement.  For the first time in over a week, she had been truly happy, had felt complete relief.  There was her absolute proof that Tarrin was alright, that he was going to be alright.  To hear his voice, then hear Allia, had made her feel whole again, to feel close to those who were far away.  She couldn't help but stroke the silver amulet around her neck any time she thought about her brother and sister.  She hadn't contacted them since that day, but just knowing that she could, at any time, put her fingers to the amulet and hear their voices gave her a feeling of tremendous security.  It wasn't a good idea to abuse the amulet, to make it plain that she had that ability.  It would just give the spies watching her opportunities to try to separate her from her amulet, and that she absolutely would not allow.  So long as they didn't know how she was communicating with her brother and sister, she was happy.  The very thought of one of them taking her amulet horrified her.  It was her only link to her family, to those who loved her, and she would defend it tooth and claw, defend it to the death.
	Her mind free of the crushing fear and worry, it had turned to the other business at hand.  Revenge.  She wasn't foolish enough to deny the fact that vengeance was very much on her mind.  This was something that she couldn't allow to go unpunished.  Her father had abused her, neglected her, even tried to kill her.  But to rip her away from the people she loved, to take her away from the only place where she had felt happy...that was just going too far.
	When she got back to Wikuna, there was going to be hell to pay.
	As much as the thought of barging into her father's study and frying him like a chicken appealed to her, made her feel all warm and fuzzy inside, she knew it would never work.  That was the easy way, the childish way, and it would get her killed.  No, Damon Eram wasn't going to get away as easily as just dying.  Keritanima intended to destroy him, to take away or remove everything he cherished, everything he held dear, everything he coveted in this world.  And knowing her father, she already knew what those things were.
	His crown, his power, and his fortune, in that order.
	To completely repay her father, she intended to take away everything that he held dear.  That meant that she was going to take his throne, destroy his network of power, then have him ostracized from the Eram house.  Then she was going to fix it so he lived a long and miserable life, a life where his failures and his losses would howl in his brain and drive him mad with each new dawn, only so she could heal his madness and make him face it again the next day.  Just killing her father wasn't good enough.
	Allia had often remarked that revenge was an art form, and those who performed it well were honorable.  She would make her sister proud of her.
	Of course, Damon Eram would be expecting such tactics.  At least the attempt to overthrow him from the throne.  That was why she had to start on another track.  Undercutting his power was a good first step.  Her ordered round of assassinations before she left the Tower had proabably done half of that job, and he most likely still wouldn't be fully recovered when she got there next month.  What it was going to take to get him would be a bloodbath, a bloodbath of monumental proportions.  She would have to eliminate absolutely anyone that supported him on the throne, leavin