Her eyes fluttered open as Tarrin pulled his paw away. They were beautiful eyes, blue as the sea, and they were well matched to her blond, honey-colored hair. That anyone would try to kill such a pretty young girl itself was criminal. She looked a bit confused, staring up at him blearily, then she coughed a few times to clear some blood from her lungs. "Who did this?" Tarrin asked in a quiet tone full of promised vengeance.

She looked at him, her eyes clearing. "My, my, shado," she said in a heavily accented voice. "My agent."

"Agent?"

"He who arranges my customers, yes."

"Where is he?"

"What will you do?" she asked after a moment.

"What he did to you," he replied in a tone of utter emotionlessness.

That made her eyes harden slightly. "Go out and turn left. Two streets down, in the Laughing Mermaid inn," she said. "Make him hurt."

"He'll hurt," Tarrin said in an ugly tone, flexing his claws menacingly. He leaned down and sniffed delicately at her neck and shoulder. His scent was still on her from his contact, and it sealed the man's doom. That scent was blazed into his memory, and there was nowhere in Dayise where he would be safe from Tarrin's avenging fury.

It didn't take him long to reach the Laughing Mermaid. It was a rangy, run-down place that catered to sailors and the prostitutes that served them. The place had no door, just two shutter-like wooden panels hanging in the doorframe. He pushed them open and stepped into the inn, his sharp eyes taking in all of the patrons in the large common room in a single glance. Most were armed, and many of them had the look and bearing of men used to having the floor rock underneath them. But one stood out, because his hair was wet. It would need to be wet, because with as much blood as the girl lost, some of it had to get on her attacker. Tarrin moved directly towards the man, who was sitting at a table in the back of the inn, attended by four young women who were dressed as prostitutes. Tarrin knocked one drunken man out of his way as he moved directly towards the man, inciting a loud protest in a slurring voice. But he paid it no heed. He reached the table and stood there for a second, giving the ladies a chance to get out of the way. The man noticed him and looked up, his face serene and a smile gracing his features. "Well, you're an interesting Wikuni. Have a taste for human girls?"

Tarrin put his paws on the table and leaned forward, just close enough to get a very good whiff of the man's scent. It was him. And the smell of the girl's blood was still all over him.

"You didn't clean off all the blood," Tarrin told him in an icy tone.

That serene smile dropped, then turned into a mask of terror when Tarrin's eyes exploded into the green radiance that clearly marked his rage. It would be the last thing the man would ever see. The girls shrieked in terror when Tarrin's paw lashed out and hit the man square in the face, palm first, the padded palm breaking his nose and his claws punching through both eyes. Tarrin's claws hooked into the sockets, and he dragged the man back across the table by that grisly clawhold, as the man shrieked in agony and grabbed his wrist with both hands. Tarrin picked him completely up off the table by that grip, then slammed him down into it with enough force to shatter the table and drive the man to the floor. Blood erupted from his mouth and sprayed on Tarrin's palm, when wood shard penetrated deeply into his body, stunning him enough for Tarrin to let go, then hold out a single finger with claw extended, a claw sharper than any knife. He slashed the man five times, in the exact places where he had slashed the girl, then backhanded him to break his left cheekbone. Claws punched into flesh as Tarrin picked him up off the broken table, then he turned and whipped him back down, letting him smash into the reed-strewn floor with enough force to break bones and split the wood beneath him.

That was enough. He wouldn't survive from those injuries. Shaking blood from his paw absently, he stared directly at the four horrified young women, his expression blank. They were clutching onto each other. He noticed the dead silence in the inn; the fury and speed of his assault had taken them all aback, and he was done before even one tried to intervene. "Don't grieve for him," Tarrin told them in a cold tone. "What he got is what he gave to a young girl not an hour ago, something he would have done to any of you. He got what he gave. No more, no less."

Then the turned and left the man to bleed on the floor, and wait for Death to come and claim him.

That bit of business concluded, Tarrin walked out of the inn and into an alley, then changed form and stalked off. He was still trying to find a cat to replace him, and he wasn't going to stop until he did.

He snuck back into the inn close to dawn, his business finished. He found a suitable cat about an hour after killing the man who had so grievously injured the young girl, and spent most of the rest of the night teaching it what it needed to know. Once he had that done, and assured the cat that Kern would feed it and care for it, he took it to the Star of Jerod and woke up Kern. He introduced the cat, explained how to instruct it to pretend to be him, then explained the cat's demands in return for this service. Kern was very receptive, for a cat's demands usually went no further than a steady supply of food and a warm place to sleep comfortably.

The inn's common room still had people inside it, but it was nearly empty. Only a couple of patrons and a single serving girl remained in the room, the three men drinking from tankards and talking in low tones as the girl cleaned tables nearby. Haley stepped from a door near the bar and his eyes seemed to be drawn directly to where Tarrin was standing, near the stairs. He gave Tarrin a blunt look, then pointed to a table near the back, to which Haley moved and sat down. He was demanding an audience of sorts, he guessed. There was no real reason to refuse. Tarrin jumped up onto the table and gave the Were-wolf a calm look.

"And where have you been all night?" he asked in a slightly hostile voice.

He didn't see any reason to reply. He wouldn't understand anyway. He just stood up and walked to the edge of the table, then jumped down and started for the stairs.

Upstairs, he settled onto the couch just as the door to Allia's room opened. She padded out on bare feet and a nightgown lent by Dolanna, looking like a dark-skinned rose in the pink garment. Her long silver hair was a bit wild, and her eyes hung heavily. The night without sleep didn't affect Tarrin at all, for he could go days, rides, without any real sleep. Allia didn't sleep long, but she always had trouble waking up.

"Tarrin," she said sleepily. "Dolanna was looking for you. You were gone all night."

"I had to find a replacement cat for Kern," he told her in the manner of the Cat. "It wasn't easy."

"That Haley was also looking for you. I don't know why."

"He probably had a good reason," he said knowingly.

Keritanima and Miranda came from their room. Keritanima was wearing one of her dressing gowns and looked very much like herself, rather than the strict, stern Kaylin. Miranda wore a soft robe that was tied loosely, hanging off one shoulder. Miranda looked as if she wanted to go right back in there and go back to sleep. "Morning," Keritanima said.

Dolanna's door opened, and she stood in the doorway. She gave Tarrin a blunt look, obviously she wasn't happy about something. "Tarrin, come in here, now," she said in an authoritative voice.

Getting up, he padded into her room calmly. There really wasn't much she could say. After all, she didn't tell him that he couldn't go out. He sat on his haunches and looked up at her expectantly.

"Change," she ordered, and he did so, going from looking up her great height to looking down at her. She grabbed him by the paw and turned it over, looking down at the dried blood clinging to the pads. "Really, Tarrin, can you not go out by yourself without killing someone?" she said in exasperation.