"I don't plan to," he agreed.

"Fine."

"Fine," he said calmly, sitting down on his bed and patting the cut absently. It still burned. He'd never been hurt by silver before, and it was certainly something he'd prefer to avoid in the future. The wound buzzed, stinging and tingling, and it wouldn't let him put it out of his mind. Even Triana's claws in his belly hadn't left such an unpleasant aftereffect.

"Is it alright?" Allia asked.

"It stings, but it'll be alright," he said. "I've never been hurt by silver before. It's not very pleasant."

"Why didn't Dolanna heal it?" Keritanima asked.

"She can't," he replied. "She tried. It seems that silver does me harm that even magic can't heal. It'll just have to heal on its own." Keritanima sat down in a chair as Tarrin sat down on the bed. "Did Miranda tell you about what Jander said?"

Keritanima nodded. "It's nothing that we didn't expect, Tarrin," she told him. "We'll just have to be more careful. All three of us."

"That goes double for you, sister," Allia said. "You are too headstrong. If we must stay hidden, so must you."

"I don't take risks, deshaida," Keritanima said absently.

"This from Kerri the Plunderer," Tarrin said to Allia with a slight grin. "I remember a stranger in Kerri's body when we ransacked the temple in Suld."

"Yes, that must have been someone else," Allia agreed with a staight face.

"You two," Keritanima said, slapping Tarrin's leg. "They left the cards. Good. Let's play King's Crown until Dolanna has some news for us."

Things were all confused.

Tarrin stood at the rail, looking out over the lights of Tor as members of the circus played instruments and danced on the deck behind him, illuminated in the dark night by torches and lanterns. His presence didn't upset them, mainly because they didn't really see him come up on deck. He was still under restriction, but Dolanna wasn't on deck, and he felt the need to be out of cat form. To reduce tension on the ship he was in human form, tolerating the pain for the benefit of the others. They weren't quite so afraid of him when he looked more normal. The moons and Skybands were obscured behind heavy clouds, and there was an unseasonably cool quality to the wind that promised a heavy spring rain was coming. That was very much needed, for the lack of rain had begun to take its toll on the crops in the fields surrounding the city.

They were leaving tomorrow. The Torians had absolutely refused to allow Renoit to set up the circus, even for one night. The best that Renoit had managed was a small, spontaneous performance in the market square that afternoon, with only ten of his forty performers. Dancing, juggling, and entertaining market goers for whatever coins they would scatter. Renoit had found it humiliating, saying that it was like being a gypsy all over again, but his performers, itchy after so much time off season and on board ship, had jumped at the chance. Now they would travel to Shoran's Fork, the westernmost port city of Arkis, some ten days travel east. The music and dancing was the troupe's way to prepare for ten more days of sailing and practice, and hopes that the next stop would be better than this one. It was also a time to remember the two men killed by the Zakkites, to honor their memories and remember their lives. Tarrin had never seen anything quite like it before, he didn't even know their names, but his distance from the others had caused that. The only names he could match to people aboard ship were Renoit, Phandebrass, and Henri. He'd heard other names, but he didn't know who owned which name, and he really didn't much care to know. The less he knew about them, the better, as far as he was concerned.

He looked back out over the city, his human eyes making everything look dark and mysterious. Only the lights of lamps and torches were discernable along the slope on which the city stood. He never felt quite right in his human body anymore, despite the pain that it caused. It just seemed to confining. He didn't have his senses, and that left him feeling curiously vulnerable. Not being able to scent or hear people as they approached made him wary and nervous when he was alone.

The lights from behind were blocked, and Tarrin looked back to see Sisska approaching him. The massive Vendari came up and stood by him at the rail quietly, her massive tail swishing behind her absently. In human form, Tarrin barely came up to Sisska's chest, and he could appreciate how intimidated people were by the Vendari. She and Binter both almost seemed mute sometimes. They almost never talked, and their activity always centered around their charges. But nobody ever failed to notice them when they were in sight.

"Tarrin," she said in her deep voice. Even when they spoke, it wasn't for very long. Directness was a Vendari trait, almost as if it were a competition to see who could say the most with the fewest words.

"Sisska. Is Miranda alright?"

"Fine," she assured him.

"I'm, sorry I got her in trouble," he apologized. "I should have done things differently."

"If I did not trust you, I would not allow you to watch her," she said directly. "That means that I trust her life to you. You are more than capable of defending her."

"I should have ran," he sighed. "I shouldn't have tried to fight."

"There is no honor in cowardice," Sisska said.

"But there's no honor in fighting when you're responsible for more than your own life."

"Wise. Binter has been teaching you our ways."

"No, it's just common sense, Sisska," he sighed. "Something I seem to be lacking here lately."

"You underestimate yourself," she said, looking down at him. She put her hand on his shoulder, and his shoulder was too small to accommodate it. "Did you do as you saw best at the time?"

He stared up at her, at her boxy muzzle and her dead-black eyes, and blew out his breath. "At the time, yes," he admitted.

"Then there is no fault," she declared. "The greatest fault comes when you do not believe in yourself, and trust in your own decisions."

He looked up at Sisska again. Her words were powerful, and he had no doubt that she believed them. Vendari were absolutely incapable of lying. Tarrin had been challenging his own self-confidence, and her words took him to task for it.

"I must go. Binter will be angry with me if I stay up too long. He still believes me to be weak from my injury."

"There's no need for that," Tarrin said, her words still whirling in his mind. "You're fully recovered."

"Tell that to a worried mate," she said, looking down at him with a rather frightening Vendari smile. It was all teeth. "Binter coddles me too much."

"I think it's called love, Sisska."

"Sometimes it can be a nuisance," she said in a level voice. Tarrin looked up at her, and then he realized she was making a joke. Sisska, making a joke! He was quite bowled over by it.

"Kerri would agree with you, but Allia says that a person is richer to have known love than one who hasn't."

"Which do you believe?" she asked.

"Sometimes I don't know," he answered honestly. "I guess in my position, it's both a blessing and a curse."

"Do not give much weight to the Princess. Much of the time, it is her childhood talking. She treasures you and Allia as the family she could never have, and her devotion to Miranda is unquestioned."

"I know. We don't pay much attention to her when she's ranting, Sisska. We know she's just putting up fronts."

"I have never thanked you for that, Tarrin," she said. "Keritanima was a lonely girl before she came to the Tower. All she had was Miranda and us. Now she is happy."

"No need for thanks, Sisska," he replied. "I should be thanking you for helping to keep her alive so she could come into my life."

"It is our duty."

"I'd hope it would also be a privilege."