Then there was the other thing. They didn't know what he was, at least yet. He had no doubt that Dolanna would warn Renoit, who would then warn the others on the ship. He didn't really care anymore what other people thought of him, but the prospect of spending another two months trapped on a ship didn't appeal to him. Especially with a bunch of strangers who would make him edgy when they were around. Another group of humans to distrust. And he was just getting to the point where he could tolerate Kern's men. He almost liked Kern. The man had certainly proved himself in Tarrin's eyes. But he didn't know Renoit, and he had the feeling that Renoit was going to be as different to Kern as night was to day.

The door opened, and Binter entered. He looked funny with that Illusion hiding his true appearance, but at least the illusory mask fit him. Stern, grim, unbending, that was the way he looked, just like the real Sisska. "Sisska," he greeted as the massive Vendari closed the door.

"You need to talk to her Highness," she said calmly. "She is almost to the point of throwing things."

"Why?"

"Because she does not wish to dance," she replied. "She finds it unacceptable."

"I don't see why she's going nuts about this, Sisska," he said. "She's shown more to perfect strangers than she would in a dancing costume, and she could really be a good dancer."

"I think it is the fact that she would have to dance before crowds that disturbs her, Tarrin," she told him. "Keritanima doesn't like being put on public display. She has hated it ever since she was a child. Dancing for spectators would certainly be the same thing."

"She knew this was coming, Sisska," he said, standing up. "Dolanna told her."

"I think she would have been happier doing something less, noticable," she said delicately. "Keritanima is a good dancer, and that will draw every eye to her. She knows that."

"She'll just have to live with it, Sisska. We're not in control here."

"And I think that is what annoys her more than anything else," she told him. "Her Highness is not used to being in such a subservient position."

"It's all water under the bridge," he said dismissively. "I'll be over in a minute. So long as she doesn't throw anything at me, I'll be happy to help."

"Thank you," she said, then she nodded to him and left.

He finished settling in and came out, to find himself staring face to face with a small red lizard-like creature, with reptillian wings beating at the air. It had a maw full of needle-like little teeth, and its yellow eyes were lucid. "Chopstick, come back here!" a male voice called, a voice that had the most curious warbling in it, almost like the man wasn't sure what tone of voice to use. Tarrin stared at the little creature. It was a drake! A very small drake, a little reptile that looked like the Dragons of legend, only much, much smaller. This one had red scales, iridescent and polished, and a narrow muzzle and little black horns that swept back behind its eyes. It couldn't be more than two spans long from nose to tail, and would easily fit in his cupped palm, if he were in his normal form. A thin man in a gray robe with white symbols sewn all over it came around the corner, wearing the most ridiculous conical hat that had to be nearly a span long. His hair was white, but his face and skin was more approapriate for a young man who just left home. "Oh my, you must be the new people," he said, beckoning to the little drake with a hand. The little drake fluttered over to him and landed on his shoulder, regarding Tarrin with those staring yellow eyes. "Allow me to introduce myself. I am Phandebrass the Unusual, sage, explorer, student of the arts of Arcane Magic, and prestidigitator extraordinary." He gave Tarrin a steady look. "I say, have you seen my familiar?"

"I think it's on your shoulder," he said.

"Oh, dear me yes, how silly of me," he said with a rueful chuckle. "Did I introduce myself?"

"You just did."

"Jolly good. I always forget about that," he said in that strange voice. "Have you seen my drake?"

Tarrin wasn't sure if he was being serious or not. And it wasn't exactly putting him in a good mood. "Isn't it on your shoulder?" he asked in a less light tone.

"No, my boy. I say, you're remarkably dense for such a sensible looking young fellow. My other drake."

"How was I to know you had more than one?" he asked defensively.

"I say, kids today," the man muttered. Tarrin wasn't sure what that meant, for the man couldn't be more than twenty five. "Turnkey!" he shouted. "You're being a very naughty drake! Come out this instant!"

And with that, the bizarre man puttered down the companionway, shouting for his other little pet. But the red drake turned on the man's shoulder and stared at Tarrin intensely, like a wary rabbit keeping an eye on a circling hawk.

"You have to excuse him," a young girl, probably fifteen, said as she came around the corner. She wore a simple dress of brown wool, a peasant's dress. She had a rusty colored hair, a dark red, but not quite auburn, though her skin was dusky and swarthy. She was either Arkisian or Arakite. He'd never seen red hair on an Arkisian or Arakite before. It was a rather exotic look. "Phandebrass usually isn't this distracted. I think he's been working magic again. It always leaves him a little scattered."

"That's not scattered, that's windblown," he told the girl, which made her giggle.

"Well, he'll grow on you. Just like a fungus," she winked. "I'm Tess."

"My name is Tarrin," he replied. "Sorry to greet and run, but someone's waiting for me."

"That's alright, I have to help Phandebrass find Turnkey."

She gave him a bright, inviting smile, then she rushed off after the odd man. That worried him more than the strange man did. She had no idea just what she was making eyes at.

Keritanima was obviously in a fury. She sat on her bed, stock still and upright, and her amber eyes were absolutely blazing. "You need to calm down, sister," he told her immediately.

"Oh, no," she seethed. "I am not going to dance. I'll sink this ship first."

"You're being silly," he told her. "Dancing isn't that bad."

"No? No? How would you like to wear a couple of ribbons and gyrate around while people try to look up your skirt!"

"You never said you were wearing a skirt," he noted.

She glared at him, hard enough to make him put his hand back on the doorknob. She looked ready to bite him. "Don't you start with me, Tarrin," she snapped. "I don't see him making you wear a little bit of fluff and-"

"Sister," he interrupted, approaching her and putting his hands on her shoulders. The feel of her silky fur was odd under human hands. "Before you go off the deep end, let's find out what Renoit wants. Is that too much to ask?"

"Oh yes it is," she said adamantly.

"You're not being rational."

"I don't want to be rational!" she screamed at him. Since he was right in her face, her voice made his ears sting. "You mark my words, Tarrin, if he tries to make me dance, I'm going to stick that feather of his up his-"

He put a hand on top of her muzzle, which cut the location of that promise short. She looked up at him with furious eyes, but he wouldn't back down. "Let's not get nasty, Kerri," he chided.

"You get nasty," she accused.

"I'm expected to get nasty. It's a cat thing."

"It's not fair," she fumed. "You get to have all the fun."

"Want to trade?" he asked immediately. "I'll wear a dress and dance, and you can be an acrobat."

She gave him a strangled look, then burst out laughing. "You'd look so darling in a dress," she said with a wink.

"Only if I wear a matching hairbow," he told her dryly.

She laughed again, then leaned up and licked him on the cheek. Her version of a kiss.

"Are we calm now?" he asked her.