But the tide didn't hold his attention for long. She appeared between two warehouses and rushed out onto the dock, moving towards the ship. But she seemed to realize that she wasn't going to be able to catch the ship, so she slowed to a standing halt and stared out at them with those penetrating green eyes. She was everything he remembered her to be, and the very sight of her made his blood run cold.

Triana.

Tarrin looked at her, and he just knew that she could see him. She was staring right at him, through him, her eyes hot and her expression obviously aggravated. She frightened him. He wasn't too proud to deny that simple fact.

"I see her, brother," Allia said with a slight hiss as his claws dug into her skin. "You can stop punching holes in me."

"See who-oh," Dar said, shading his eyes and looking at the dock. "Is that Triana, Tarrin? She looks mad."

"That is her, Dar," Allia answered for him, as they all stared at the imposing, intimidating Were-cat matron.

And then her voice rang out, as if she was just in front of them. "Count yourself lucky, cub," she said in a voice filled to near bursting with power and determination. "If not for all these witnesses, I'd be over there right now to beat some manners into you."

"She sounds mad," Dar breathed.

"She is mad, Dar," Allia said in a testy tone. "We have slipped through her fingers again. Someone like her does not take well to failure."

"Tell her to just leave me alone, Allia," he told her.

"Don't bother, cub," Triana's voice rang out again. "I can hear you just fine like that. Don't be making your friend do your taunting for you."

"It has to be magic," Dar said. "A Druidic spell."

"Obviously," Triana's voice snorted, which made Dar pale. "Don't think you're getting far, cub. It's not just me anymore. After what you did in Den Gauche, now all of Fae-da'Nar is hunting for you. Make it easy on yourself and surrender to me, and I'll do what I can to keep you alive."

"I've seen what your forest kin have to offer, and I'm not afraid of it," Tarrin shot back pugnaciously. "You better warn them off, Triana. You may be able to handle me, but I doubt that they can. I don't want to do it, but I'll kill anyone who gets in my way."

"If that's the way you want it, then so be it," she said emotionlessly. "I'm through with you. The next time we meet, one of us won't live to the end of it."

Then she turned and walked away, leaving the dock workers and pedestrians to gawk and gape at her passing. Triana, being such an old Were-cat, was tall, much taller than most Wikuni. That height made her stand out.

"Strong words, brother," Allia cautioned.

"I can back them up, sister," he assured her.

"I certainly hope so," she said, turning around and carrying him from the rail. "I certainly hope so."

Renoit was a portly man who moved with an ease that hinted he was much stronger than he appeared. His black hair was graying at the temples, but it was still full and long, curling luxuriantly around his shoulders. His brown eyes were very lucid and bright, as if they displayed openly the vitality and vigor the man possessed. He was absolutely everyone on the ship at once, both seeing to the ship's operation and talking to performers as they practiced on the deck. He wore a frilly shirt with a vest over it this day, and a pair of black pants and boots with a red sash, a clean, very sturdy shirt that looked very new. If he only knew how close he was to losing it.

The battle had been joined. Tarrin sat on a hatch in cat form not far from a group of seven slender young ladies, two of which were Keritanima and Miranda. The dancers. As promised, Keritanima had all but thrown a fit when the lead dancer, a tall, buxom Ungardt-looking woman named Lirenne, asked her to dance something that she knew so she could get an idea of the Wikuni's training. The shouting had attracted Renoit, who was trying to sweet-talk and flatter Keritanima into dancing. Little did he understand that he was dealing with a woman who knew how to sweet-talk better than anyone else on the ship. That gave the Wikuni princess a considerable defense against it when used on her, for she was too wary and distrusting to fall into the trap of flattery easily.

Tarrin stayed out of it. Mainly because he didn't want to get within reach of his sister. She had a tendancy to throw small objects close at hand when angry, and Tarrin fit that description. He didn't relish the idea of being the world's first sentient projectile weapon, and Renoit certainly wouldn't appreciate getting a face full of four clawed paws. Four of his five limbs ended in sharp, pointy appendages, which had the potential to do serious damage if there was enough force behind them.

He hadn't seen a performance like this since the Brat. Keritanima was in rare form, dressing Renoit down with a savage efficiency that left very little ground untilled. She insulted him on every level she could think up, leaving no subject, no matter how low or personal, unused. She waved her arms, shook her finger in his face, and reminded him in a shrill voice that she wasn't about to compromise her austere and royal dignity for anyone, no matter who he was or what it meant to her.

"Well, just answer me one question, Kerri," he said in a mild voice. Tarrin was impressed that he hadn't gotten angry. "Did you dance at balls?"

"Of course I did!" she spat.

"Do you like to dance?"

"Oh, no, we're not going there," she sneered. "I danced because it was expected, not because I liked it. And it certainly wasn't what you want me to do."

"I want you to strut," he said bluntly. "To challenge every eye that looks upon you. To make humans wish they were Wikuni, and make Wikuni wonder why they never got the chance to meet a woman like you. You were born to dance, young Wikuni, your body begs to be appreciated."

"That's my business," she said ominously.

"I am not going to argue, no," he said calmly. "Dolanna told you to dance, so you will dance. How you feel about it is of no matter. You will do it because you were told to do it, and I know people like you. Even though you hate it, you will do your best, because you could not live with yourself if you did badly on purpose."

Keritanima glared murder at him, but said no more. Clearly, Renoit had won this battle, but Keritanima's eyes promised that it was just the opening clash in the war.

Speaking of wars, the war between Azakar and Faalken had escalated that morning. Azakar came up from below with murder in his eyes, and missing all of the hair on the left side of his head. Somehow, Faalken had snuck into the young Knight's room and shaved all the hair off the left side of his head while he slept. Faalken came up not too much later, whistling idly to himself and looking for all the world that he had done absolutely nothing that made him feel guilty. Tarrin felt that doing that was hitting below the belt, but then again, he wasn't quite sure what rules existed in a battle of pranks. If there were rules. Dolanna had taken enough pity on the young Knight to use her Sorcery to grow his hair back out, if only to stop the giggling and pointing from Renoit's performers. Now Azakar would retaliate, but Tarrin had to admit that he'd have to really work to come up with something better than that.

Laying down on the hatch, Tarrin closed his eyes and soaked up the late spring sunshine, tuning out the world. He hadn't slept all that well last night. Triana's appearance, and her promise, had upset him more than he let on. Before, he wasn't sure if she was an enemy or not. Now he knew, and it worried him. She was not someone that he could easily dismiss. She proved she could beat him in a fight, and that meant that he had to make sure that they didn't fight again. Or, if they did, he to have an advantage over her. Jesmind said that she may not be able to get him help. He didn't really blame her, she did what she could. It was just too bad. He wanted to be accepted by his own kind, but they were so rigid, so unforgiving. Before, Jesmind had denied him because of the Tower, and now he was being hunted because he was forced into a fight that he could have avoided if Triana would have only talked with him. Instead, she made all those demands, and goaded him into a fight he would have preferred to avoid. He meant it when he told her that he would kill any of the Forest Folk that threatened him. What he was doing was way too important to let them stop him.