"So?"

Dar gawked at him, then he laughed helplessly. "Like you care about what people think of you," he accused with a grin. "I was raised with manners."

Tarrin lowered his eyes, then turned and looked back over the bow. So had he, once. But a bite from Jesmind had changed all that. Now he had a new upbringing, one that was much more primitive, much less civilized. It hurt a little to think that Dar thought that what he was now was what he always was. He was human, once. He'd had a life, and friends, and family, and he wasn't violent or dangerous. But that was another life, another time, a time long past. Being in human form made the Cat a bit more distant, but it was never enough to get away from it, to return to what once was. His human form was just an image, an illusion, a convenient way to hide the truth within. A painful reminder of what he once had, and what was taken from him.

"When do you think we'll get there?" Dar asked.

"Go away, Dar," Tarrin said calmly, quietly. Dar understood Tarrin enough to know that he wasn't being facetious or playful. Without another word, Dar quietly retreated from him, leaving him alone in the bow with his thoughts.

"That wasn't very nice, Tarrin," Sarraya accused indignantly as she winked into view beside him. Sarraya really liked Dar, and she jumped to his defense whenever she felt him slighted.

"Get away from me, Sarraya," he said in a deceptively calm voice, low and throaty, nearly a growl.

Not one to be foolish, the sprite did as she was told immediately.

He spent the time it took to dock in complete solitude and in silence. Dar's jibe stung, but he hadn't meant it as an insult. Tarrin had to admit that he didn't care what people thought of him. He was who he was, and he accepted it. That was all he needed. The approval of people he had no care for didn't concern him. It didn't hurt to think of what people thought of him, it hurt when he remembered how he used to be, how much he had changed. Changed in ways he'd never have expected, changed in ways that would make his family ashamed of him. It was a good thing they were all in Ungardt, well away from him.

The ship tied up and lowered its gangplank smartly at sunset. Tarrin was joined by Allia and Dar, each wearing long silk robes to conceal themselves from wandering eyes. Allia looked particularly uncomfortable in her attire. It was a bright red silk, complete with a hood-like cowl and veil common in Saranam and Yar Arak. Saranami and Arakite women favored the garments, for some mysterious reason. She was carrying his staff, which she handed to him wordlessly when she reached him.

"You look unhappy," Tarrin remarked to her.

"I despise being dressed like this," she growled. "But Dolanna said that we must not attract attention. She feels I would attract attention."

"You're Selani, Allia," Dar said simply. "You'll attract attention. Trust me."

"She'll attract attention like that anyway," Tarrin noted. "She's about a head taller than an average woman. It makes her stand out."

"No disguise is perfect," Dar shrugged.

Dolanna arrived, wearing a similar robe and veil. The woman's pale skin made her stand out a little from her black robe. "Tarrin," she greeted, "You need to take your cat form."

"Why?" he asked.

"Because you will be the one to try to find the Doomwalker," she replied. "You cannot smell it in that form. You need a form with good senses, and your natural form will give us away."

"With that stench out there, I may not be able to smell it, Dolanna," he warned. "This is the worst city I've ever scented before. It puts Dayise and Suld to shame. They smell like country meadows compared to that," he said with a wave towards the city.

"We will be happy with whatever aid you can provide, my dear one," she smiled through her veil.

"Any idea about what we do when we get to Arak?" Dar asked curiously.

"Some. I have been talking with Phandebrass and Camara Tal. We have worked out an idea."

"What kind of idea?" Tarrin asked.

"The Book of Ages is an ancient tome, dear one," she replied. "And there are weaves for locating items of extreme age."

"I-ohhhh," Dar said with a smile. "I get it. Even in a city the size of Dala Yar Arak, there can't be thousand-year-old antiques in every attic."

"Precisely," she nodded. "Phandebrass is researching a wizard spell that will duplicate the weave, and Camara Tal has already arranged the proper spell with her goddess."

"You didn't ask me," Sarraya fumed.

"You already have a primary task, Faerie," Dolanna replied. "We will not usurp you from it."

"I could be convinced."

"True, but I will not answer to Triana for your own failing. That is an unpleasant chore that you may undergo alone."

"Cheater," Sarraya grumbled.

"There are bound to be a great many items that will react to the spells we have in mind, but at least it will give us a way to search in a systematic manner," Dolanna told Tarrin. "But we must do it quickly. We are not the only ones looking for the book. We must find it first."

Faalken joined them, wearing his full armor, his magical sword belted at his side. "We're about ready to go, Dolanna," he reported. "That crazy wizard's stuffing his pockets with sand, scales, a lizard's tail, and other weird things."

"Spell components, most likely," Dolanna replied. Tarrin looked, and saw the mage rifling through his pockets and a satchel he was carrying. The drakes were on his shoulders, looking down as he checked his inventory of goods.

"Maybe he just wants to scare somebody," Faalken chuckled to himself as he moved towards Camara Tal. The Amazon still wouldn't get all that close to him, but for this excursion, he had already steeled himself against her presence.

"Allia, you carry Tarrin. You are the only one that can understand him," Dolanna ordered.

Allia nodded, and Tarrin absently shifted into his cat form. It felt a little weird doing it directly from the human shape, but the immediate easing of aching muscles and joints was a blissful relief, release, from the unnatural form. His staff disappeared with him, since it was in his hands when he changed form, riding along in that elsewhere his clothing went when he shapeshifted. It would reappear when he changed back. Allia reached down and picked him up, then cradled him to her chest gently. The horrific stench of the city assaulted him with surprising power, since they were literally in the city now, and the wind blew its foul miasma right into his face. He sneezed a few times at the horrible odor, but forced himself to test it, sift through it, rule out the stink of human waste and decaying vermin and animal droppings to search for that unnatural grave smell that accompanied the Doomwalker. There was no hint of the Doomwalker in the wind, but he'd know more when they went out into the city, as Dolanna planned. Go out and make sure it either was there or it wasn't there, and plan the rest of the night accordingly.

"Alright, is everyone ready?" Faalken asked with a light smile.

"Let's go, then," Camara Tal grunted.

"I say, I'm ready to go," Phandebrass announced. "Chopstick, Turnkey, you stay here and watch the ship while we're gone. Come get me if something bad happens," he ordered the drakes, who both nodded and flew up into the rigging. "Alright, let's go about and hunt down that fell monster."

"Sounds good to me," Sarraya said with a bright eagerness in her eyes.

It worked rather well. Allia carried Tarrin through the city, following Dolanna and Faalken confidently, as Tarrin choked through the horrible smell of the city and searched for any scent trace of the Doomwalker. They walked along streets that were bustling with many people, dressed almost universally in robes or silks so as not to stand out. Most of them were dark-skinned, Arakites, Saranami, maybe even a few Godani or Nyrians from east of Yar Arak. A few dusky Tellurians from the southern continent were also visible on the streets. All of those people were merchants, traders, coming to Saranam to arrange trade with Yar Arak, or arrange for goods from that massive empire. Many outlander merchants preferred to deal with Arakites outside Yar Arak, because of the Arakite penchant for enslaving outlanders. More than a few slaves were former merchants who had offended their potential business associates. The late hour didn't seem to affect business in the slightest, and the few permanent structures were loud with musicians, dancers, and revelry. Those permanent buildings were either inns or festival halls, hosting open parties for anyone with the coin to pay to enter. The streets were lit by torches on tall stands, ten spans overhead, torches that spat and guttered in the moderate breeze blowing towards the sea. The minor streets were surprising, haphazard at best, packed dirt with slight ruts in them from wagon wheels, which turned and meandered around tents that were erected wherever there was enough room for them to fit. Only established large streets were kept open, streets clearly marked by shallow ditches on either side, ditches filled with human excrement and dead rats. Those major streets had been what had made the city look more orderly from a distance, for the tents lining those streets were evenly spaced and created a pattern that the eye naturally sought out. Wooden slabs were laid over the ditches to form smaller side streets, streets that rarely went straight for more than twenty spans before curving around someone's tent. It made the city a packed maze of stretched cloth and decay, where the only landmarks were the major streets and the towers of the city wall, which were visible over the tents.