He had also seen Jenna three times, taking time to join with the Weave and meet with her in the Heart. It was there that he learned what was really going on, for Keritanima told Jenna, and Jenna told him. Jenna hadn't managed to regain her powers yet, but he had already begun teaching her the broad generalities involved with using Weavespinner magic, and had also given her some instruction on how to use High Sorcery. He didn't like having to pause to do that, but Jenna's instruction was nearly as important as his reaching Suld. If he couldn't make it in time, Jenna's power may be the only thing standing between the ki'zadun and the Goddess. He wasn't going to let her enter a battle like that without preparing her for it. It was a great deal to ask of a fourteen year old-fifteen next month-but he had every confidence that Jenna would do the Goddess proud.

Jenna would be ready. She'd have her powers back in time. He was certain of it.

Tarrin looked up the road, then down the road, then up the road again. It seemed… travelled. Too travelled. The road usually didn't see a traveller a ride, but the muddy road had wagon ruts, hoofprints, and bootprints churned into its surface. Some of those bootprints were too large to be human. So it was true; Aldreth was under occupation. That made him a bit wary and fearful, and he was worried at what he might find there.

But showing up like this was not the smart thing to do. Absently, Tarrin shifted into his human form, sending his clothes and his sword into the elsewhere, then reached within and Conjured forth suitable plain, nondescript clothing for his human body, in the style common in Aldreth. The itch of holding the human shape had already started, but it wasn't anything that would become a problem any time soon. It would be best to drift in looking like a nearby farmer. Pulling the hood of his cloak over his head, feeling a bit weird that it wasn't pressing down on cat ears, Tarrin turned northwest, towards the village that had been his home for seventeen years.

The rain fizzled out as he turned a slight bend and found himself looking at the village he considered to be home, the village of Aldreth. A strange tumult of emotions rose up in him, seeing the familiar buildings and houses of his home village, but he did see changes. Some of the buildings were new, having been built on the foundations of old homes, but two houses that had once been there were gone, with only bare patches of soggy, muddy earth to mark their locations. One of them was the herbalist's shop and home, the other was the home of Darl Millen and his family, the village wheelright. The Road's End Inn still stood at the foot of the bridge over Cold Water Creek, but what worried Tarrin was the new, rather large log building that had been built beside it, a building who flew the flag of Daltochan.

It was a barracks. Two men stood flanking that door, wrapped in wet cloaks and looking miserable. Both men were unshaven and slovenly, and their pikes were in bad condition. Aside from those two men, there was nobody else to be seen, anywhere. It was almost eerie.

Tarrin came over the bridge and approached the Road's End Inn. The door was closed, but there was smoke wafting from the chimney to show him that it was indeed open. He opened the door and stepped inside, looking into the place and seeing that it had not changed in the slightest since the last time he'd seen it. It was still an open, bright room with a hearth and fire crackling, and candles hanging from an iron chandelier hanging from the ceiling. There were six tables spread on the floor of the common room, and a low bar with casks of ale and wine behind it on the far wall, beside the door to the kitchen. Most of those tables were occupied by burly, unkempt men with black hair and bristling beards, wearing rusty chain jacks and splotched tunics under them. They had the look of Karn Rocksplitter; they were all Dal soldiers. About twelve of them, and they all looked hung over and unfriendly.

Wylan Ren was standing behind the bar, a slightly annoyed look on his face. He looked much thinner than Tarrin remembered, with dark circles under his eyes, and a very pinched mouth that looked out of place on the usually friendly, jovial fellow. Tarrin couldn't suppress a smile when he saw the man, who had been a friend to the Kael family for as long as Tarrin could remember, and he quickly made his way through the drinking soldiers to come stand in front of the bar.

"Can I help you, goodman?" Wylan asked in a hollow tone. Had the occupation taken that much out of the energetic man?

"I'm sure you could," Tarrin said to him, and that made Wylan's eyes pick up immediately. Though Tarrin looked more mature than Wylan probably remembered, Tarrin's voice hadn't changed.

"Tarrin?" he asked in a strangled, low tone. "Tarrin, is that you?"

"I'm afraid so," Tarrin grinned at him.

Wylan grasped his hand strongly and warmly, then reached over the bar and clapped the taller man on the back. "It's good to see you, my boy!" he said exuberantly, but still in a low tone. "But-" he looked around. "But I heard that you were, well, different looking."

Tarrin smiled ruefully. Father's letters, he had little doubt. Father had told the villagers some of what had happened. "It's true, Wylan," he admitted. "But I have a few tricks that let me move around without attracting much attention."

"Regardless of that, it's just so good to see you!" he said happily, motioning for Tarrin to sit at a stool by the bar. Wylan pulled up a tankard and filled it with ale, then set it in front of him before pulling up the stool he kept behind the bar and sitting down across from him. "How are your parents?"

"They're fine, and so is my sister," he replied. "But what is all this? What's happened here, Wylan?"

"What you see, I'm afraid," he sighed. "We don't have an army, my boy, so when the Dals came, we simply accepted it. Darl Millen and Lars the herbalist were killed during a nasty confrontation after they took over, and the Goblinoids burned down the houses of the Yeats, the Mikels, and the Longbranches. Jak is hiding in the forest now because he killed a Dal soldier after they burned down his house, and they retaliated by killing the rest of the family."

That made Tarrin wince. The Longbranches were good people. Myra and Stef Longbranch, the parents, were good-hearted people, and Lili Longbranch was a very cute little girl with a love of butterflies. Jak was one of Tarrin's few friends, and it hurt him that his friend had had to suffer through the deaths of his family members. "I'm sorry to hear that, Wylan," Tarrin said sincerely. "The Longbranches were good people."

"I know. Well, they had a large garrison here, but after the Goblinoids started to die off, they moved them out and left about twenty or so men here to enforce their law. I think the Forest Folk in the Frontier didn't like the beasts so close to their homes, so they came out and killed them off."

"Probably," Tarrin agreed. "The Forest Folk really hate Goblinoids."

"Outside of that, things have been pretty calm," he continued. "We don't give the soldiers much reason to do anything, and they leave us alone." He leaned in and whispered. "I suggest you don't raise too much attention. You look like a villager, but if these men realize you came from somewhere else, they'll arrest you."

"They'll try," Tarrin said in a grim tone that made Wylan's eyebrow raise. "I'm debating what to do about those soldiers before I leave."

"Just don't cause a scene, lad!" Wylan whispered. "Any you kill will just be replaced by others, and we'll be the ones to pay for it!"

"I wouldn't put you in danger, Wylan," Tarrin said calmly.

"Barkeep! More ale!" one of the Dal soldiers burst out.

Wylan gave Tarrin a roll of his eyes, then poured a tankard of ale and scurried out to the Dal soldier and handed it to him. The man took a drink of it, then spat half of it out onto the table. "This is swill!" the man said harshly to Wylan.