ising to her was that he could somehow hover in the air, and he had killed the Wyverns with magic.  Knowing this, they could reason that Tarrin was also responsible for the bar of light and the subsequent fire and explosion that erupted from somewhere inside the city.  But after that, it was anyone's guess as to what happened, what had caused the titanic magical calamity that had destroyed Torrian.  All they could do was gather as near the raging inferno as they dared and watch Torrian burn.
	And they did.  Centaurs and Were-kin joined Rangers as they crossed the fields and got as close to the burning walls of Torrian as they dared, trying to see something, notice something, that would solve this most dreadful mystery.  Some wept at the loss of life; the fire had whipped up so incredibly fast that there was no chance anyone escaped it.  Not with the gates closed.  Some stared in confusion.  Some refused to believe what they had witnessed with their own eyes, angrily arguing that what had happened had to have had some natural, logical explanation.
	About an hour after the fire, Jesmind, Kimmie, and Jasana had rejoined the host.  Jesmind looked pale, Kimmie looked almost hysterical, but what caught everyone's eye was how sad and depressed Jasana looked.  They all knew that Tarrin had fallen into the city, and they all believed him dead.  But nobody knew how they had known that, since Tarrin had all but forced them to stay well away from the city.  They were surrounded by the other Were-cats immediately, who formed a buffer of protection from prying eyes and demanding questions.  None of them spoke from the moment they arrived, but it seemed obvious to everyone that they must know something.  It was the only way to explain why they had arrived in such a state.
	About two hours after the fire, the first Centaur spotted a hazy, indisctinct form that appeared within the flames.  He pointed to it and noted it to his companion, and by the time he looked in that direction, the form was obvious and apparent.  More and more people and Woodkin looked as an excited buzz sprang up around the host, and many of them were there to see Tarrin Kael literally step out of the fire, a fire that could not touch him.  He had black ash and soot on his face, on his burned clothing, but his flesh and hair were untouched by the intense heat of the flames.  It wasn't just this that caught everyone's attention, however.  It was the look on his face.
	He looked like the walking dead.  There was no life within his eyes, and his expression was one of empty emotionlessness.  He stepped from the flames and stopped just beyond them, still too far away for anyone to approach and live, due to the intense heat the flames radiated.  The Were-cat stopped and stared at the Rangers and Woodkin with those empty eyes, and then he did the most curious thing.
	He turned around and stepped back into the fire.
	Jesmind had to be restrained by Rahnee and Thean as she tried to run into the inferno after him, and Jasana burst into tears.  Kimmie hugged herself with a horrible look on her face.
	Arren, who had arrived on the scene just after Tarrin returned to the fire, noticed them and their behavior immediately.  He marched over to them and gave Jeri and Singer a look so flat that even they would not stand in his way, and then he stood before the Were-cat females with a desperate look in his eye.  "What happened?" he demanded loudly.  "I can tell you know something, Mistress Jesmind!  I demand to know what happened to my city!"
	Kimmie looked away from him, turning her back on him and wrapping her tail around her waist.  Jesmind picked up her daughter and let her bury her little face in her mother's shoulder, weeping uncontrollably. Jesmind's face was haunted, almost frightening in its own way, and she stared back into the fire with eyes that burned as brightly as the flames did.
	"Not now," Jesmind said in a growling tone at the smaller human.
	"What other time is there than now?" Arren screamed at her.  "Look!  My city is gone!  Thousands of good, decent Torrians are dead!  Everything I've built and watched over and loved for the last thirty years stands burning before you!  Dammit, woman, I'd say now is as good a time as any for an explanation!" he finished with a thunderous roar.
	Jesmind looked away from him, unable to meet his eyes.
	Arren looked about to explode.  "Answer me, woman!" he raged.
	She looked away from him pointedly.
	"There's no need for that, Arren," Sathon said in a weary tone as he arrived on the scene with Mikos.  "Jesmind won't tell you, no matter what you do."
	"Why is that, Sathon?  What's going on here?  What happened to my city?" Arren demanded, turning to him.
	It was obvious that Sathon was suffering as well.  His face was gray and pallid, and his eyes looked very, very tired.  "I don't know exactly what happened, but I have a pretty good idea."
	"What?" Arren said in a shrill tone.
	"Torrian was burned by magic," Sathon said grimly.  "And I only know one person with the kind of magical talent capable of something like this."
	"By Karas' hammer!" Arren gasped.  "Tarrin!"
	Jasana cried even harder, and Jesmind tried to comfort her.  But she was beyond comforting.

	The fire did not scour away the pain.
	Tarrin walked in the middle of the raging inferno that had once been Torrian, walking through the hellish scene as if on a morning stroll.  His feet often came down in puddles of liquid lead, or piles of glowing embers, or upon red-hot steel armor, twisted and smoldering, still encasing the blackened bones of the man who wore it.  He was oblivious to his surroundings, walking only until something rose up to block his progress, then he would turn in a random direction and continue onward.
	So many...so many.  And he had killed them all.  Soldiers, Goblinoids, and all the men, women, and children of Torrian, who had been hiding in their homes.  It was the nightmare reborn, legions of new eyeless faces that would haunt his dreams for all time.  Enemies and friends, guilty and innocent, all of them wiped out in a single moment.  And what made it so terrible was that this time, there was no rage, no fury blanketing the awful truth.  There was no excuse.  He had done it consciously, had made a deliberate choice, a choice that ended the lives of thousands of people in a hellish firestorm.
	It was the last thing he wanted to do...but there seemed to be no other choice.  The enemy army was all over Torrian, and they outnumbered the Rangers and the Were-kin by at least ten to one.  It would have been an absolute slaughter, and Suld itself would have been jeopardized.  But those reasons seemed pitiful compared to the awful reality of what stood before him, the fruits of his handiwork.  He didn't mourn much for the destruction of the Dals or the ki'zadun, what hurt him most was the thought that he had destroyed innocent people along with them.
	Tarrin fell to his knees as absolute exhaustion overwhelmed him.  The strain of creating such a powerful weave had been almost more than he could stand, and then he had wandered the burning city in a daze for hours afterward.  His body simply had nothing left.  He put his paws down on the blasted ground, panting from exertion, feeling the ash shift beneath his paws.  He grabbed a pawful of it and trembled as he rose up, watching it sift down through his fingers.  It was all that was left, all there was to serve as a memorial to the thousands that had died here.  He opened his paw and watched it blow away on the fire-whipped wind.  He couldn't face the rest of them.  Not now, not after this.  Sathon probably knew, and that meant that Fae-da'Nar would declare him Rogue.  Jesmind was gone to him now, as were Triana and Kimmie and Mist and the son he never met, and all his Were-cat friends and acquantances.  They would never speak to him again; they would try to kill him now.  The only one he could even think to face was Jasana, and only because he had no choice but to take her with him.  But he could never look at his little girl again and feel the same joy he had felt before.  The day she found out what he had done here, he would lose her.  And because of what he was, it would probably be Jasana that they sent after him, the only one capable of defeating her father with Sorcery.  Allia would never speak to him again after she found out about this, and neither would his parents or Jenna.  Keritanima would be the only one that could come close to understanding, but he wasn't sure if she could rationalize something like this.
	His life was over.  All the hopes and dreams that had been kindled by his reunion with Jesmind and meeting his daughter crumbled to dust inside him.  There was nothing now, nothing to live for, nothing to look forward to.  There was nothing but the Goddess, and the terrible mission he was committed to accompish.  And that did not seem to be enough anymore.
	Sinking down, putting his forehead against the tortured, ash-covered ground, Tarrin began weeping.  He couldn't live with himself now.  Not after losing everything that mattered to him.  The exhaustion and the shock and the horror and the fear and the guilt all washed over him at once, and finally, mercifully, he spun down into the black depths of nothingness.

	There was fire everywhere.  The scene was one of firelit devastation, where ash blanketed the ground and blackened, charred posts and logs rose up from the mound of black ash and split rock like the fingers of some giant reaching up from where it was buried under the ruins.  Fires still burned all over, slowly dying as the last of the fuel was consumed, but they were still enough to kill anything wandering the blasted landscape with the heat they generated.  It looked as if nothing could survive in that hellish place.
	But there was one thing.  The body of a Were-cat lay sprawled in the ash by a large, blazing pyre that had once been an inn, his face and body covered with streaked black ash, clothes singed and burned.  He should not have been able to survive where he was, but regardless, he was there.  He was bathed in the reddish light of the burning city around him, casting his haunted face with shadow.
	Those shadows vanished as spots of light began to glow over him.  There were four of them, each nothing more than a mote of dancing light, but the light they generated bathed the entire area in blinding white radiance.  Each carried its own unique color, its own flavor, as if each one represented something or someone different.
	Can you see what we have done? one of them declared in a voice without sound, a voice filled with anguish.  We have broken him!  There is nothing left for him, and he cannot go on any longer!
	Calmly, daughter, another answered, a deep voice of authority.  What was done was what had to be done.
	We had to know, a third affirmed, a voice of endless energy and vibrance.  We had to know if he was capable of what may be asked of him.
	But at what cost? the fourth demanded, a voice of regimented order.  The cost is mine!  My people, my worshippers, my own power, they are the victims of this!
	It is as it needs be, my child, the voice of vibrance said sadly.  It always saddens me to see any life end, but it is but the cycle coming to its rightful end, only to begin again.
	But what of him? the first cried out.  What of my sweet child? Must we continue to destroy him?  Must we take everything that he is before you are satisfied, and leave him nothing but an empty shell?
	Calmy, my daughter, the voice of vibrance said, mirroring the first to rebuke her.
	But it is too much! she protested vehemently.  Mother, this has destroyed his soul!  What we made him do here, it is more than he can bear!
	What was done can be undone, the first to speak to her said gently.  But consider the cost to the world to protect just one.  The test here will become tainted by our hand, and it may change our champion's ability to make such hard decisions later.  The echo of this will always remain in him, and it may alter his behavior later on.  As all of you know, he stands beyond mortal restrictions.  He will know without knowing what happened here today, and we cannot change that.  Faced with another such decision as this, he may not choose as must be chosen.
	It must be undone! the fourth cried out.  It is my land that has sufferered for this!  My people!  To take so many, it is a crime!  Mother, father, I beg of you, undo this!
	Such a thing comes at a price, my son, the voice said gently.  A terrible price.
	Perhaps, the first said hesitantly.  Perhaps, a compromise can be reached?
	What do you propose, my daughter? the voice of vibrance asked.
	Perhaps if only a portion of it is undone, the first offered.  It is not the destruction of the land that weighs on my sweet child, it is the knowledge that he has destroyed the innocent.  If the children of Karas are not destroyed in this test, it would give my child the will to go on.  All of you understand his nature.  For the guilty, he cares nothing, but for the innocent he cares almost too much.  Perhaps, if we asked our Twin siblings to return the souls of only the Sulasians, a compromise could be reached to satisfy all sides.  Karas would not lose his faithful.  Our champion would have cause to continue his quest, and the test and the knowlege it has provided shall stand and bolster us, for we would know without tampering that my child has the fortitude necessary to make decisions that must be made.
	Would this be acceptable to you, my son? the voice of authority asked.
	It would be most acceptable to me, Father, he answered immediately.  Cities can be rebuilt, but the life that makes it so can never be replaced.  If I could have my children returned to me, I would be most grateful, even if the power I lost by their destruction cannot be returned to me.
	I find your devotion to your children most admirable, my son, the voice said, which made the point of light which represented Karas suddenly shine brighter, as if he were beaming in pride.  Would you find this acceptable, my wife?
	I find it to be a sensible alternative, my husband, the voice of vibrancy agreed.  The path of things shall not be greatly changed by such a compromise.  All things will continue as they need to continue, and it will assuade great turmoil and grief that could put the quest in jeopardy by forces within Sulasia.  Such things already exist in great abundance.  The Balance would be better served to show mercy in this.
	Then we are in agreement, the voice of authority declared.  With your leave, my wife, it shall be so.  Do we consent?
	We consent, the voice of vibrancy agreed.
	Then it shall be so, the voice of authority repeated.  My wife, summon our daughter Sheniia.  Only the goddess of mercy and life can demand of the Twins of Death what all others, even ourselves, must plead.  Only Sheniia can assure that the bargain is fulfilled.
	It shall be so, my husband, the voice of vibrancy answered.
	Then let it be so, he declared in a voice of finality.
	The four points of light then flared into incandescence, and were gone.

	All over the blasted, burning city of Torrian, points of light appeared within destroyed buildings.  Charred bones and ash suddenly began to glow with a soft, gentle radiance.  And then, in a simultaneous blinding flash, brighter than the fire, the glow flared up and then faded away, leaving behind it whole, living, breathing people, eyes closed and minds asleep, bodies unclad and exactly as they had been before the fire that destroyed them, protected by gentle cocoons of magical power, shielded by the hellish firestorm raging beyond.  They were the townsfolk of Torrian, restored to life by a bargain between the gods, a bargain struck in compassion and sealed in duty.
	The fires suddenly began to die out, unnaturally so,and the air cooled to where it would no longer burn the skin from the bodies of those left behind.  When it reached that point, when the air was scrubbed of the toxic gases that would kill those remaining within it, the coccoons of protection wavered and vanished.
	And the thousands of Torrian citizens opened their eyes, staring at the blasted devastation with confusion and uncertainty.  Many of them were too confused to understand what had happened.  Many of them cried out in embarassment when they realized that they were laying in ash-choked rubble with no clothes on.  But most of them realized that something of titanic proportions had occurred, and they got up and started wandering about, looking for family or friends, trying to make sense of it all.

	"Did you just see that?" Mikos asked suddenly as they all watched the flames.  "Did you see that light?"
	"I saw nothing," Arren said, but Sathon had an ashy pall, and his eyes were about to pop out of his head.  And then the Druid laughed.
	"What is it, Sathon?" Arren asked in irritation, watching his precious city burn.
	He was about to respond, but the flames burning what had once been the walls simply stopped, like closing a tap on a cask of ale.  Smoke rose up from the charred remains of the wall, and for the first time, they could see well into the city itself.  It was a scene of total devastation, all black, charred ash and twisted fingers of debris rising from the black ground.  But then they all saw something moving out in it.  It approached them uncertainly, and when the haze began to clear, they saw that it was a young woman, no more than twenty, wandering the devastation with ash smearing her totally nude, yet totally unmarked, body.  It was apparent to them all that she was Sulasian, and she swooned about in disoriented stumbles.  One of the Rangers jumped forward, rushing over the burned logs that had once been the wall, and he reached the woman quickly.  He threw his cloak over her and swept her up from the ground, then began carrying her out towards the others.
	"She's alive!" someone called in an Ultern accent, which caused a short roar of happiness to rise up from the Rangers.  "Look!  There's another one!"
	"I think Timon shows the way, men!" Arren said in sudden excitement as another figure appeared, rising up from the ashes of Torrian.  Then another, then another, and then another.  "Let's go see what miracles this fire left behind!  Go find anyone alive, and bring them out to the field behind us!"
	The Rangers rushed forward into the smoking ruins of Torrian, and they weren't alone.  The Centaurs and the Were-kin rolled forward with them, just as surprised and intrigued by this seeming miracle as the humans were.  Jesmind rushed forward with them with Jasana in her arms, but her mission was not to find the humans or help them.  The only thing she cared about was that Tarrin was still somewhere in the city, and she had to find him.  And she wasn't alone.  She heard Thean call out to the other Were-cats, who still stayed protectively near Kimmie, "Alright, everyone, Tarrin is out here somewhere.  Let's find him!"

	Consciousness returned slowly, because he did not want to be awake.  He did not want to remember.  He did not want to feel.  But consciousness was a dogged, determined opponent, forcing his mind back to coherence, forcing him to open his eyes, forcing him to sit up from where he lay.
	He looked around and blinked.  The fires were all out.  Puffs of smoke still wafted up from some remaining embers, but the fires were gone.  Had he been out for so long?  He looked up into the night sky, and saw that the moons had barely moved since the last time he saw them.  Had he been out for an entire day?  His body was still dreadfully weak; it was all he could do to rise up and look around.  It certainly didn't feel like he'd been asleep an entire day, not as worn as he was.
	Movement.  He saw movement to his right, and he turned to look.  That look confused him.  Over there were two adult humans, male and female, trying to pull a third human, which looked to be a child, out from under a charred piece of something.  Both adults were nude, and the female looked torn between covering herself with her hands and helping to pull the child free.  What were naked humans doing wandering out in this wasteland?  He heard the male call out to the female, and it made his ears pick up.
	"Come on, Elenor!" he growled at her, in perfect Sulasian, with that twangy Torrian accent.  "It's too heavy for me to get Trish out by myself!"
	"But I'm naked, Dory!"
	"We all are, you goose!" he shouted at her.
	Torrians!  What were Torrians doing wandering the ruins of the city with no clothes on?  It was ludicrous!  It was ridiculous!  It was impossible!  The Torrians were all dead, he had killed them!
	The rumors of their demise is greatly exaggerated, the voice of the Goddess rang within him, and from the sound of her, she was almost exultant.
	"Mother!" he gasped.  "I, I don't understand!  What's going on?"
	Kitten, you didn't kill the Torrians, she said immediately.  They were granted...protection, from the power of your spell.  As you can see, it did little for their wardrobes, but they are all well and whole.  And after all, that is all that matters, isn't it?
	That news hit him like a hammer, making him flinch and blink.  The Torrians weren't dead?  None of them?  How did that happen?  He saw the devastation.  He had wandered the streets in a daze, and he was certain he saw nobody milling around out in the firestorm.
	No, you saw no one before, because they were still being protected, the Goddess said delicately.  The fire had to be extinguished before they could be released.
	The relief that suddenly flowed through him was too unbelievably overwhelming for mere words to describe.  A sigh that summed up his entire feeling about the matter escaped him, and he flopped back down onto the ash, putting the back of his paw over his eyes.  "How did it happen?" he managed to ask.
	That is not your concern, kitten, the Goddess told him primly.  And I'm not going to tell you.  But I do want to tell you that this kind of intervention does not come easily, nor will it happen again.  Remember that the next time you decide to burn down a city.
	Her tone made it sound like she was terribly displeased with him, and it made his entire being shiver.  Ways to make it up to her, redeem himself in her eyes, the only eyes that mattered to him, began to fly through him like dust in a tornado.
	Calmly, my kitten, she soothed.  I'm not angry with you at all.  In fact, I'm quite proud of you for what you did here tonight.
	"Proud?" he gasped, sitting straight up in an instant.
	Of course I'm proud, she replied easily.  You were forced to make a terrible decision.  To weigh your own feelings and needs against the cruel burden of necessity.  But despite knowing what it would cost you, you chose to protect me rather than succumb to your desperate desire not to carry through with it.  You were willing to sacrifice everything for me, kitten.  You were willing to do something that every fiber of your being cried for you not to do.  Don't you understand how that makes me feel?  How proud I am of you, how much it makes you special to me?
	He couldn't say anything.  He only closed his eyes and bowed his head.  "The Dals?"
	All who called you enemy are dead, she told him fiercely.  They were not protected from your wrath.  I know even that will weigh on you, but remember who they were and what they were trying to do.  And remember how the Cat feels about enemies.
	"Dead enemies are the best enemies," he said immediately.  She was right, the deaths of so many did concern him, make him feel somewhat guilty, but they had all been enemies.  Enemies meant nothing to him after they were dead.  He felt unsure as to how killing so many would affect him, but he knew right then and there that he had no moral compunction to punish himself for killing Dals and ki'zadun.  They were trying to kill him, kill his daughter, kill his Goddess, and that made them not worth a moment's concern.
	And then again, there was the destruction of Torrian.  If all the citizens were indeed alive, then they had less than nothing.  Not even clothes.  Tarrin's spell had utterly devastated the entire city, leaving nothing but ash in its wake.  He looked over to the three humans, where the female had finally gotten over her bout of modesty to help the male pull the child out from under the blackened post.  They had nothing.  No home, no possessions, no food, not even clothes.  He had deprived them of everything but their lives.
	Tarrin somehow struggled to his feet and stumbled over towards them in a discordant gait.  They gasped and shrank back from him when they realized he was there, saw him as they leaned over their backs to look at the child.  It looked like a female child, about ten or so, with her legs pinned under a short, blocky stone post that was blackened from the fire.  He reached down without a word and grabbed that stone, then struggled as he picked it up enough for the little girl to squirm her way free.  Once she was out, he dropped the stone immediately and dropped to one knee, panting from the exertion of it.  Had he been whole, he could have picked up that stone with one paw and thrown it a good ten spans.  The little girl, a cute little female with blond hair and blue eyes and adorable cheeks that reminded him of his own daughter, stared up at him in innocent wonder.
	"Th-Thank you, your honor," the man said in an uncertain voice.  "I couldn't lift it."
	"I almost couldn't," he said with a wheeze.  "How did you come to be here, goodman?" Tarrin asked the male, looking up at him.
	"Well, your honor, I can't rightly remember," he admitted.  "The last thing I recall before waking up naked in this was hiding in our bedroom as the men quartered in our house ran out.  Can you tell us what in the blazes happened?"
	"The short of it is that the Dals were destroyed," Tarrin said.  "Unfortunately, they took the city with them."
	"It was worth it to get those damned stoneheads off our land," the man spat.
	Tarrin glanced at the male, seeing his nudity.  Were he rested, he could have Conjured the man some clothes, but to even try in the state he was in would be fatal, and he knew it.  If he couldn't find the strength to stand, then there was no way he could handle using Druidic magic. But somehow, he did manage to get back to his feet, though his knees trembled and threatened to unlock at any moment.
	"Something like that," he told her, standing fully erect despite the fact that he didn't have the energy to remain so very long, and looking out over the blasted wasteland.  "The Rangers should be in the city by now," he surmised.  "If the fires have stopped all over, and they've seen the survivors, they should be in the city finding them.  We need to get you to them."
	"Papa!" he heard from behind.  Tarrin whirled in time to see Jasana break free from her mother and run towards him.  Jesmind rushed up behind her.  The turn had unlocked his knees, and he found himself dropping to them on the ground, just in time for Jasana to jump into him and hug him fiercely about the neck.  He nuzzled his daughter lovingly, smelling the ash and soot on her, marring her usually wonderful scent, smelling her worry and fear all over her.  Jesmind reached him an instant later, putting her paws on his shoulder, on his back, hugging him, then going over him with her paws to make sure he was whole.  It was almost amusing, watching her try to inspect, hug, kiss, and glare at him all at the same time.  Were he not so tired, he would have laughed.
	"What's the matter, papa?" Jasana asked immediately.
	"It's alright, cub," he said soothingly.  "I'm alright."
	"Tarrin, I was so worried," Jesmind said breahtlessly, kissing him repeatedly as she pushed Jasana to one side, leaning against him.  "We saw you go back into the fire, and I almost died when I saw the look on your face."
	"It's alright now," he said, glancing towards the three humans, who were watching on in surprise.  "It wasn't as bad as I thought it would be, that's all."
	"How did they manage to live through that?" Jesmind demanded.  "They could probably see the flames in Aldreth!"
	"The--the townsfolk were immune to the spell," he said weakly, uncertain how Jesmind or the Torrians who no doubt were listening would take it if he started talking about how a god talked to him.  "It didn't hurt them."
	"Why did you do it?" Jesmind asked quickly.  "Why?  There was a plan!"
	"They knew the plan," he said grimly.  "And they had many more men here than Arren thought.  If I'd have allowed the army to attack the city, they would have been slaughtered.  It was the only thing I could do to save the men outside," he sighed forlornly.  He looked back to the humans.  "We need to--"
	"You need to do nothing!" Jesmind shouted at him.  "You've done enough tonight, Tarrin Kael!  Look at you!  You look half dead!  Right now, you're coming back with me, and I'm going to give you something to eat, and then you're going to get some rest.  And never scare me like this again!" she screamed at him.  Then she hugged him fiercely.
	That was Jesmind.  Didn't give a flip for the men he'd killed or the destruction he'd wrought.  Her only concern was him.
	"Jesmind--"
	"Jesmind nothing!" she snapped, cutting him off.  "You're going to obey me, or I'm going to drag your sorry butt back to the camp by your tail!"
	"You may have to," he said, drooping against her.  "I, I don't think I can walk right now."
	She looked at him in surprise, her eyes softening immediately.  "What's the matter?" she asked in concern, putting a paw on his face gently.
	"I'm tired, Jesmind," he sighed.  "It took everything I had to do what I did.  I just don't have any more strength.  Not even to walk."
	"Then I'll carry you," she said firmly.
	"I'm too big for you to carry."
	"The day I can't lift something as light as you is the day I call myself a human," she snorted, standing up.  "Watch out, cub, I need to pick him up," she told Jasana, who was still clinging to his neck.  She let go silently, staring up at him with teary-eyed concern, and then Jesmind scooped him up with one paw under his legs and the other under his back.  He sagged in her grasp, nothing but dead weight to her.  Even his tail dangled limply under him.  "Jasana, grab your father's tail and throw it over his legs.  I don't want to trip over it," she ordered crisply.
	"Yes, mama," Jasana complied, grabbing his tail and tucking it up around his leg carefully.
	"Well, come on," J