nly Tower left standing.  That depended on how quickly he could ferret out the spy in the Tower and get rid of her.
	"Stay put until tomorrow, then walk fast," he told her.  "Protect the girl.  In twenty years, she'll be a woman of great importance.  And thanks for the warning about the Trolls," he added as an afterthought.
	The woman stared at him in surprise, but he didn't pay her much mind.  He had a long way to go, and he had quite a bit to ponder while travelling.  He had to think up a way to get around the Trolls with a minimum of danger to himself, and he wanted to see if this curious after-effect of touching the Conduit would fade sooner or later.  He pulled the cloak over his shoulders, looking down at the pair one more time, then he started walking past them.  He kept his ears and senses open to feel or hear it if the woman suddenly rushed him, but such a thing didn't happen.
	She did call to him one more time, however, after he had passed her and started along the road towards the desert, a road whose end would present him with an exciting passage into the desert.  "Thank you!" she called.  "Thank you for saving us!"
	Tarrin made no visible sign that he had heard her, and there was nothing inside that reacted to her gratitude.  Helping her was only a means to protect the child.  That was all that really mattered to him.  There was nothing out in the plains to threaten them, so they would simply have a long walk ahead.  He expected them to make it with no problem, and that released him from any sort of feeling of responsibility for them.  He simply walked away from them, into the setting sun, leaving them to whatever fates smiled or frowned upon them.
	And he didn't think twice about it.

	It wouldn't fade.
	Tarrin lay in a shallow bowl, dozing after a morning of dreamless slumber in one of the shallow depressions caused by the wind, sandwiched between a sand-colored leather spread that concealed him from any observers and thick bales of wool that Sarraya had Summoned from where the woman and child had been.  He had moved on to get away from the woman, moved most of the night until his weariness forced him to stop.  It wasn't sleepiness, it was the exertion of nearly three days of constant activity with very little rest.  He still felt something of an aversion to shifting into cat form, so he had slept in his humanoid form under the leather cover that Sarraya conjured, laying on a bed of sheared wool that kept him quite warm and comfortable.
	Despite a night and morning, the sense of the Weave had not faded.  He could still almost see it, sense every strand around him, sense their sizes and power and position within the Weave.  He could feel the magic within them, feel it in a way that made the magic pulse with the beating of his heart.  It confused him that the sense of it had yet to fade, even after so long.  It made him start to wonder if it was going to fade at all.
	That wasn't the only strange feeling about his magic.  Before, when he had used it, he had felt...more in control.  Almost as if the power flooding him wasn't as intimidating as it had once been.  He'd still needed Sarraya to help control it, but she didn't have to work as hard as usual.  She even told him so.  Somehow, he knew that the sense of the Weave and this alteration in his Sorcery were related.  But what had caused the changes?  He hadn't really used his power since Dala Yar Arak, except for twice, and he hadn't felt any differences the first time.  Only now.  It made him think about what was different between then and now, what had changed that could possibly explain a change in the way he used Sorcery.
	Well, the one explanation was the Conduit.  He'd used Sorcery within a Conduit once before, but he didn't really remember that much about it.  It had been the first time he'd fought Jegojah, and the Doomwalker had pushed him into the Heart of the Goddess, the largest and most concentrated Conduit in the Weave.  But this time he remained coherent afterward, and it had been after that that he'd noticed the change.  So it was possible that the overload of trying to touch the Weave through a Conduit had created the change in feeling.
	The other explanation was him.  Shiika's draining kiss had done more than drain away his life energy, it had aged him.  He'd grown over a span since then, his hair had grown, his features had changed.  A Sorcerer's ability to use his magic was a direct relationship to his body.  It was the body's physical limits that determined how much power a Sorcerer could hold, and that amount almost never changed as the Sorcerer aged.  But Tarrin wasn't human, and his Were-cat body had a natural affinity and aptitide for magical energy.  Part of what he was, his very nature and composition, was magic.  The kiss from the Succubus had caused him to grow, to become stronger, to age.  If the aging had changed his body, it was very possible that it had also affected his Sorcery in a similar fashion.
	For Tarrin, his magic was very much tied up in his body, and his body was very much tied up in his magic.
	Of the two, the second seemed to make more sense.  If Tarrin's aged body had expanded its limitations of Sorcery, it would explain why it had seemed easier to use it.  But it didn't explain this sense of the Weave, why he could feel it around him so clearly now.  The Conduit theory seemed to support the expansion in sense better, but it did nothing to explain why Sorcery seemed more tractable.
	Well, there was one guaranteed way to find out.  This was something that he felt he'd better figure out before he went and fried himself by accident.
	"Mother," he whispered under his breath.  "Are you listening?"
	Of course I am, the Goddess replied immediately.  The sense of her presence still had yet to fade within him, so there was no expansion of self that he'd felt during her earlier visitations.  It was always with him now, a gentle glow just outside his soul that constantly bathed him with gentle love and assurance.  And the answer is the second.  Your body is different now, and it is why the Weave seems different to you.
	"But it feels...less overwhelming."
	As it should, she replied.  But that is no reason to begin experimenting.  You are stronger now, both in your ability to hold magic and your aptitude to control it, and those cancel one another out.  You must understand the dangers involved with the changes in your power.
	"What do you mean?"
	Those dangers haven't changed, they have just become more serious.  There is no room for error now, my dear kitten.  Your power is now beyond Sarraya's ability to control.  If you lose control, she cannot help you.
	"She helped me with the Conduit."
	No, you helped yourself when you tapped that Conduit, she corrected.  Remember the backlash?  Do you feel a backlash when Sarraya helps you?  Have you ever felt a backlash like that before?
	"No," he answered soberly, to both questions.
	That should tell you what happened, then.  You must be very careful, my kitten, very careful.  Sorcery is just like Druidic magic for you now.  You have no room for error, so you must exercise the most extreme caution when you use it.
	"But she helped me use it to heal."
	Yes, she did, but that was because you were not out of control, she replied immediately.  You were fully coherent, and you were aiding her by controlling the inflow of power over what she was restricting.  What I'm saying is that if you use your full power, you will be beyond Sarraya's ability to stop you.  And if you attempt to cut yourself off while filled with that power, it's very possible that the backlash will kill you.
	Tarrin absorbed that in sober silence.  Sarraya said that it may come to this, that he grew beyond her ability to control him.  Thanks to Shiika, that had happened.  It meant that there wouldn't be any mass rearranging of the local geography, and his idea to simply sweep the Trolls out of his way with magic was no longer a viable option.  Sarraya could help him control his magic when it wasn't his full power, but since he didn't know where the line was between her control and beyond her control, he wasn't about to experiemtnt to find it.  If he took in too much power for Sarraya to counter, then he'd be exposing himself to very real danger.  The backlash of cutting himself off may kill him.
	"I, I understand, Mother," he said grimly.  "So this sense of the Weave isn't going to fade?"
	No.  It is simply an aspect of your growing connection to the Weave.  You are coming into the fullness of your power, my kitten.  This will not be the first change that you notice, and you're going to find that Sorcery is much more versatile and useful than you believe.
	"How do you mean?"
	The Goddess chuckled in his mind.  Alright, I'll give you a hint.  What's the fundamental process to weaving?
	Tarrin groped for a moment to put into words something that he did without thought.  "Well, you touch the Weave.  Then you draw in the power, then you weave the flows, then you release it to let it do its work."
	Right.
	"And?"
	And what? she asked in a teasing voice.
	"That's the hint?" he asked in annoyance.
	I didn't say it was going to be an obvious hint, she told him with a giggle.  But since you're going to be dense, tell me the three strictures of using Sorcery.
	"You can't use Sorcery on yourself," he answered automatically.  "You can't weave where you can't see, and you can't weave a spell that requires more magic than you can hold.  Unless you know how to bridge the power," he amended hastily.
	I'm so glad you were paying attention when Dolanna was instructing you, the Goddess teased.  Now, to that third rule.  Why do you say it can be broken?
	"Because I've broken it," he answered, a bit pugnaciously.  "And Dolanna told me that there are advanced tricks to let experienced Sorcerers weave spells beyond their ability.  I don't know what they call it, but that's how it feels when I do it, so that's what I call it."
	Since you can break the third rule, doesn't it stand to reason that there are also exceptions for the other two?
	"Well, High Sorcery lets someone use Sorcery on himself, so that's the exception there.  And you can weave blind if you're very good.  Dolanna can weave blind."
	So, what do those exceptions show you?
	"What do you mean?"
	Think about it.  There is no rule that cannot be broken.  What does that mean to you?
	"That you make stupid rules?"
	Tarrin! the Goddess snapped.  She even used his name, so he knew he'd gone beyond the bounds almost immediately.
	"Sorry, but you told me to think about it," he said defensively.  "It doesn't make much sense to have a rule when you also have a way to make the rule pointless."
	Those rules exist for those just learning, so they know where not to go, she told him, a bit testily.  Now stop being irritating and answer the question.  What does it mean to you?
	Tarrin closed his eyes and considered it.  There was no rule that did not have an exception.  Outside of a rather bad rule system, what it told him was that there was alot more to the Weave, and to Sorcery, than one person could imagine.  The Ancients were said to have powers that made modern Sorcerers look like Initiates.  It stood to reason that they knew how to use the power in ways that the modern Sorcerer did not, which meant that they could transcend the rules by which the modern Sorcerer operates.  If there was no rule that could not be broken, then perhaps that meant that the modern Sorcerer really didn't know the true rules.  He only knew what small piece of the true rules he could understand, and pieced together an incomplete understanding of the rest.  And that adherance to things that weren't complete meant that he had little chance to reach beyond a plateau of ability.
	I'm impressed, the Goddess beamed.  Sometimes your intellect surprises me, kitten.  Now, what does that mean to you?
	"That the Ancients weren't inherently stronger.  They just knew more than we do."
	Yes and no.  Truth be told, the Ancients did have more aptitude than the modern Sorcerer, but you're partially right.  There are a good number of Sorcerers out there now that have as much aptitude as the Ancients.  In some cases, as you, Keritanima, Jenna, Dolanna, Sevren, all of the Council, Jula, and some you don't know, those Sorcerers have even more aptitude.  Their inherent aptitude is greater than the average Ancient.  So it stands to reason that you, or any of them, can do almost anything an Ancient can do, right?
	"I sorta figured that.  They call me a Weavespinner, and they existed back when the Ancients were still here.  It's why they couldn't train me, because there's nobody left that knew how Weavespinners used their magic."
	They did.  You're the first Weavespinner since the Age of Power.  But you're not the last.
	"Jenna," he said immediately.
	Among several, she affirmed.  The old powers are reawakening, kitten.  In you, Jenna, and several others you don't know.  It's also why you fought with those two Demons.  The Wizards and the Priests are also regaining powers lost to them for a long time, returning to the power they could hold before the Breaking.
	"But won't that just cause another Breaking?"
	In time, it could, she admitted.  But that's something that wouldn't happen for a very long time.  But we're getting off the point.  You just said exactly what I've been getting at, kitten..
	"I just--about there being nobody left that knows how Weavespinners use their power?"
	Exactly.  That should mean something to you.
	"It means that there's more than one way to use Sorcery."
	I'm so glad it seems obvious to you, the Goddess chuckled.  It's something you already know, after all.  High Sorcery is simply an alternative method of using Sorcery.  They're different, but they're also the same.  Each has its own set of rules and restrictions under which you have to operate, but when you boil it all down to stock, it's just two sides of the same coin.  But in this case, kitten, the coin has more than two sides.
	"You mean there's more than two ways to use Sorcery."
	Obviously, she told him offhandedly.  Your sense of the Weave has changed, my kitten.  Think about what that means, in more than narrow terms. Just don't try to solve this mystery today.  It's something that's going to take you some time.
	"Alright.  Goddess, what did you mean when you said that the old powers are coming back?"
	Just what I said.  Powers that have been sleeping for thousands of years are starting to return to the world.  You are one of them.  Your powers are one of the old powers, my kitten.  You're a Weavespinner.  And I think that now, you finally begin to understand what that truly means.  I told you once before that it was something that they call you without understanding its true meaning.  Now you begin to understand that meaning.
	"I think I do," he answered soberly.  "What made them come back?"
	That's something that would take years to explain, kitten, but the short of it is that it was the ordained time, she replied.
	"It seems awfully fast."
	Time is a subjective thing, kitten.  It moves at different paces for different things.
	"So this means that Wizards can summon Demons again?"
	They always could.  It's just now the spells that they needed to control the Demons work again--or, more to the point, they've finally rediscovered those spells after them being hidden for thousands of years.  Don't worry, you're not going to be rubbing elbows with Demonkind every other day.  There are only a handful of spellbooks left that hold those spells, and without them, no sane Wizard would dare try to summon a Demon.
	"That's a relief," he sighed.  "I'd rather not have to face them again."  He closed his eyes again.  "I take it that you're not going to teach me anything about Sorcery?"
	I can't do that for you, kitten.  I'm your patroness, and you're my direct agent in the game we play.  That means that I can't give you that kind of direct aid.  It's against the rules under which we operate.
	She said it with strange inflection, and when the Goddess did that, it told him that she was trying to pass along some information that she couldn't directly give to him.
	He mulled it over for a moment, but he decided that this too was something that he wouldn't solve quickly.  But he had the feeling that it would reveal itself in time.
	I don't have much more time, kitten.  All I can tell you is to keep going the way you're going, and be very careful when you get to the border.   You know what's waiting there for you, and now you understand the care you're going to have to exercise to get past it in one piece.  But you will.  I know you will.  I have great faith in you, my dear kitten.  I know you won't let me down.
	And when you get into the desert, you'll find an entirely new and exciting world waiting to challenge you.
	And then she fell silent, and Tarrin knew in his heart that she would say no more.
	As always, she left him with more questions than answers.
	But this time, she had left him with some interesting information.  That the old powers were returning to the world, and that his powers, as well as the powers of his enemies, they were all growing stronger.  It was an increase in the stakes in the dangerous game of chance they played with one another.  It certainly explained why the Zakkites had two Demons working for them.  Because now they could control the Demons they could summon from the Abyss.  It explained why he felt stronger now, and maybe it had nothing to do with Shiika.
	That, or Shiika's attack on him, her draining and the subsequent aging, had been ordained.
	That was something of a scary thought.  That what to him had been a completely random act, an act undertaken in the middle of a fight, had been something that was fated to happen, it worried him.  It made him wonder just how much had happened to him, how much he had done, had been things that would have happened no matter what.  It made him feel curiously helpless, as if he were nothing but an actor playing out a part, rather than a free-willed individual doing what he wanted to do.  Tarrin didn't like feeling helpless.
	"I heard half of that," Sarraya noted from just beside his head.  "What old powers are coming back?"
	"All of them," he replied quietly.  "She said that all the old powers were returning.  She said because it was the right time for it."
	"That's certainly interesting information.  I guess that means that we're going to be entering another Age of Power, and it's doomed to end in another Breaking.  Humans certainly won't learn their lesson from the last one."
	"I guess so," he sighed.
	"What was all that about other Sorcery?"
	"I think the Goddess was trying to tell me that I should be trying to learn how the old Weavespinners used their magic," he told her.  "She said that the changes I feel in the Weave are actually changes inside me, and that now I'm ready to try to expand my abilities.  She also told me why the Weave feels different to me.  Shiika's little gift did more than age my body.  It also changed my touch on the Weave.  It made me stronger."  He sighed.  "She told me that I'm beyond your power now, Sarraya.  If I lose control, you won't be able to stop me.  So I don't think you should try.  It might get you killed."
	"I knew it would come to this, Tarrin," she told him evenly.  "Your power has been growing ever since we met.  Every time you use it, you're stronger the next time.  Almost like every touch on the Weave brings it closer to you.  What this means is that now you can't use Sorcery unless we really don't have much choice, and when we do it, you have to be very calm, very collected, and know exactly what you intend to do.  And you can't do anything that I can't control."
	"I figured that already," he replied.  "I was going to use Sorcery to sweep out the Trolls at the border, but now we're going to have to find another way."  He looked up into the sky, at the Skybands.  "She said something funny.  She said that she couldn't teach me how to use Weavespinner magic, but she said it in a strange way.  I think she was trying to tell me that there is someone that can teach me that."
	"But all the Weavespinners are long gone," Sarraya protested.  "They disappeared with the Ancients and the Sha'Kar."
	"I know.  That's why I can't figure it out.  There's just nobody left to teach me something that disappeared a thousand years ago."
	"There has to be someone.  She wouldn't have told you that otherwise."
	"I know, but I haven't got the faintest idea who.  Not even the katzh-dashi know, and if anyone in the world would know, it's them."
	"Why wouldn't she teach you?"
	"She said she's not allowed.  She's my patron, and she can't give me that kind of help.  It's against their rules."
	"Well that's no big deal, Tarrin," Sarraya said impishly.  "Answer me this.  Do you think a God would know something like that?"
	"Well, they've been around since the age of Power, so they might," he said after a moment.  "I don't know if gods use Sorcery."
	"You're being very narrow-minded, Tarrin," Sarraya chuckled.  "Gods know lots of things that really don't do them any good.  It's part of what being a god is all about.  You know, that omniscience angle to impress the peons."
	Tarrin had to laugh at her irreverent tone.
	"And you've forgotten, you're an equal-opportunity peon.  You're walking around with more than one god under your belt.  I remember what Dolanna said about you, and about these," she said, and he felt her finger touch his shoulder, touch the fabric of his shirt, under which were his Selani brands.  "That when Allia put them on you, you became subject to the Selani goddess.  When you get into the desert, you think you could convince her to teach you what you need to know?  After all, she's not your patron.  She's just a goddess that has partial ownership of you.  She isn't bound by the same rules that your Goddess is."
	Tarrin sat up, then he looked down at the reclining Faerie with wide eyes.  What a clever idea!  Of course!  Fara'Nae wouldn't be bound by the same restrictions as the Goddess!  If he could convince her to teach him, she very well may be able to do so, provided that she knew about Sorcery.  When he passed into the desert, he would pass into her lands.  He would be right where he'd need to be to learn anything she was willing to teach.
	"Sarraya, if you weren't so small, I'd kiss you," he said sincerely.  "That's a very good idea.  She may not know what I need to know, but it's still a great idea."
	"Well, you finally admit to my superiority," she said with a wink.
	"Don't push it, bug," he teased with a smile, then he flopped back down onto his bedroll.
	It was certainly possible.  Only a god would really know what he needed to learn, and Fara'Nae did have a stake in him.  If she did know how Sorcery worked, she could conceivably teach him what had been forgotten by man for a thousand years.  It gave him a new reason to get into the desert, a greater motivation.
	All that stood in his way was an army of Trolls.
	He hadn't forgotten about that.  He couldn't just blast them out of his way now, so he had to come up with something else to get around them.  But he was a clever Were-cat, with a devious companion.  If he couldn't use brute force, then he could always use deception and subterfuge.  Tarrin could handle deception and subterfuge, and Sarraya was born with vast quantities of it.
	If there was a way around those Trolls, they would find it.
	But that was something that was still days away.  They had quite a bit of travelling to do first, and plenty of time to come up with a good plan to get them safely into the desert.  When the time came, they'd be ready.
	But until then, there was time to plan.  Time to prepare.  Time.  It was something that he'd felt was in short supply lately, but here, now, at least for this problem, he still had a great deal of it.  He felt nearly luxuriously afforded that precious item, at least for a little while.  Until his time ran out, anyway.
	Tarrin looked up into the bright sky, looking at the narrow white lines that were the Skybands as they crossed the empty, cloudless sky.  Yes, just this once, he had time.
	He would make the most of it.
 
Chapter 4

	Sometimes, Sarraya's cleverness amazed him.
	If it wasn't enough that she was a strong Druid, her devious nature would still make her an invaluable companion and friend.
	What she had done, quite simply, was make Tarrin Kael disappear.
	Tarrin sat on the top of a rather beaten wagon, patches and slapdash repairs obvious to any onlooker, being pulled by a pair of old, tired-looking horses with reins that had been broken and tied in a knot.  The wagon was filled with baskets of carrots and bushels of raw wheat.  Tarrin drove the wagon, scratching at his bare forearm, cursing the nagging pain that came with holding the human shape.  Though it was Tarrin, the human driving the wagon looking nothing like the Tarrin that his opposition was probably expecting.  They were looking for a young, tall man with long blond hair.  What they were getting was a man with a curiously ageless face, looking neither young nor old, with short black hair, wearing a plain undyed robe and a turban.
	Sarraya had helped with what he could not fake.  They had gone back to the overturned wagon during the night that Sarraya had engineered the plan, and found the two humans gone.  Tracks and marks showed that someone had arrived in a wagon from the city by the river, picked them up, and gone back.  They had left the wagon, which was what Tarrin had returned to get.  He fixed it so that it was good enough for their plan, and then Sarraya conjured the two nags to pull it.  Then she conjured all the vegetables and wheat, and Tarrin had used the remains of the wagon's cover to fashion reins and some other things to make the wagon look well used.  After they were done with the wagon, Tarrin had taken the human shape to test out their plan.
	And that had been the first real surprise.  Sarraya had stared for nearly ten minutes, and he stared at himself in the reflection of water in a conjured pail.  He looked so different.  He still had his own features, but the young man that had been Tarrin was gone.  Replaced with it was a male version of Triana, an ageless face that emanated its own power, as if the twitching of an eyebrow could pronounce doom upon the onlooker.  Though he looked ageless, it was apparent to anyone looking at him that he was very mature, as if he was wise beyond his indeterminate years.  In human form, his features were a little sharper, and he was nearly a span and a half shorter.  He was still an immensely tall human, but nowhere near the towering height he possessed in his natural form.  Tarrin's human form was now just as tall as his hybrid, humanoid form had been before Shiika's draining kiss.  And because of that, it felt more correct to be at that height than it did in his natural form, for he still wasn't entirely used to the gain in height yet.
	The major blessing of the disparate heights was what it caused the amulet around his neck to do.  When he was in human form, the manacles went into the elsewhere because they would fall off his human wrists.  And when he changed from human to his natural form, it caused any shoes he was wearing to go into the elsewhere, because they were too small for his hybrid feet.  Now, when he took the human form, the backpack holding the Book of Ages also went into the elsewhere, because it was fitted for his much larger humanoid body.  What that meant was that it would not lead them to him while he was in human form, and it also meant that when he had the time, he could bring the backpack back, take it off, change back into human form, shorten the straps and put it on, then change back to his natural form.  Because the backpack's straps would be too small, it would put the book in the elsewhere.  It meant that he now did have a way to stay in his much more mobile natural form, yet not have the Book of Ages out to draw every enemy in range right to him.
	Tarrin didn't scoff at this most important beneficial side effect, but it made him just a little bit curious.  If things not fitted for the new form went into the elsewhere, then why didn't his clothes go too?  After all, they were fitted for his natural form.  When he changed into his human form, they were baggy and loose, and now he had to cinch up his pants to keep them from fallling off, and the shredded cuffs of the pants dragged the ground.  But they didn't.  This intrigued him, and it annoyed him just a little bit.  It seemed strange that the amulet would somehow distinguish between clothing and manacles, shoes and backpacks.  That it would pick and choose what it sent into the elsewhere.  After all, it should have been all or nothing.  It should either send everything, or send nothing at all.  Why only this item or that item?
	But he didn't have all that much time to wonder about that.  After they got the wagon fixed and Sarraya used her magic to summon horses to pull it, Tarrin got busy setting it up to look like he was a solitary trader, coming to the desert border to sell his food.  Sarraya used her magic to conjure up some dye for his hair, and Tarrin cut off his braid.  Then he dyed his hair and eyebrows black, and Sarraya used her magic to darken his visible skin, to make him look more like an Arakite.  There was nothing she could do about his eyes, but she solved that by making another visor, this one a smoky grayish color that hid his eyes behind a dark veil.  His ageless face made it hard to pin a nationality on him, so that helped even more.  Then she conjured up the material for a simple robe, he fashioned a turban from a torn cotton shirt he found in the debris of the wagon, and he was ready to go.
	After it was all done, Tarrin had to be impressed with how thoroughly different he looked.  There was no way anyone who knew him would be able to recognize him.  He looked like an Arakite, though a tall one with sharp features.  He looked just like what he pretended to be, a solitary merchant with a load of food.  With the Book of Ages in the elsewhere and Sarraya hiding invisibly, there was nothing to give him away but his eyes and his amulet, and both of them were concealed.
	That had been eight days ago.  Tarrin had been ambling along at a lazy pace for those eight days, getting progressively more and more uncomfortable in his human form.  He'd never held it fo