Tarrin didn't scoff at this most important beneficial side effect, but it made him just a little bit curious. If things not fitted for the new form went into the elsewhere, then why didn't his clothes go too? After all, they were fitted for his natural form. When he changed into his human form, they were baggy and loose, and now he had to cinch up his pants to keep them from fallling off, and the shredded cuffs of the pants dragged the ground. But they didn't. This intrigued him, and it annoyed him just a little bit. It seemed strange that the amulet would somehow distinguish between clothing and manacles, shoes and backpacks. That it would pick and choose what it sent into the elsewhere. After all, it should have been all or nothing. It should either send everything, or send nothing at all. Why only this item or that item?

But he didn't have all that much time to wonder about that. After they got the wagon fixed and Sarraya used her magic to summon horses to pull it, Tarrin got busy setting it up to look like he was a solitary trader, coming to the desert border to sell his food. Sarraya used her magic to conjure up some dye for his hair, and Tarrin cut off his braid. Then he dyed his hair and eyebrows black, and Sarraya used her magic to darken his visible skin, to make him look more like an Arakite. There was nothing she could do about his eyes, but she solved that by making another visor, this one a smoky grayish color that hid his eyes behind a dark veil. His ageless face made it hard to pin a nationality on him, so that helped even more. Then she conjured up the material for a simple robe, he fashioned a turban from a torn cotton shirt he found in the debris of the wagon, and he was ready to go.

After it was all done, Tarrin had to be impressed with how thoroughly different he looked. There was no way anyone who knew him would be able to recognize him. He looked like an Arakite, though a tall one with sharp features. He looked just like what he pretended to be, a solitary merchant with a load of food. With the Book of Ages in the elsewhere and Sarraya hiding invisibly, there was nothing to give him away but his eyes and his amulet, and both of them were concealed.

That had been eight days ago. Tarrin had been ambling along at a lazy pace for those eight days, getting progressively more and more uncomfortable in his human form. He'd never held it for so long before, and he was starting to ache in all sorts of bad places, and his muscles were prone to cramping if he sat in one place too long. Allia's trick to ignore the pain was the only thing keeping him from changing back, but changing back was no option now. If he did, he'd tell everyone just where he was, and it would put his disguise in danger. He didn't know how close he was to the border of the desert, but it couldn't be very far. He'd yet to see any Trolls-or anyone, for that matter-but they couldn't be very far away.

The weather had held as they travelled west. There had been no more sandstorms, and the sky had even been a little cloudy a few days. The thin, high clouds couldn't possibly deliver any rain, but they kept the brutal sun off of him. But there had been other things in the sky as well. At least once a day, he saw at least one trio of large flying objects in the sky. None of them had been very close to his position, but they had passed at intervals that told him that they were looking for something. Probably looking for him. The fact that they weren't flying right over him told him that at least it looked like the disguise was effective.

The disguise had been the second choice. Sarraya had wanted to go with the most simple approach to getting past the Trolls, and that was to think small. In cat form, Tarrin would be able to easily slip past their picket line in the night. Or, if there proved to be too many, to wait for a sandstorm to hide their passing. But ever since the pain he'd felt in cat form, he'd been… afraid, to return to that form. He was afraid of the hollow emptiness he'd suffered while trapped in cat form, afraid of what it may do to him now. He wouldn't be afraid of cat form forever, but for now, for a while at least, he wanted to be free of the anxiety of knowing what would await him when he took that form.

But as second choices went, it was an excellent one. The disguise was clever and complete, and it would allow him to get within spitting distance of the border, able to change form and run over it if needs be, before an organized attempt to stop him could materialize. He knew that there were trading posts on the border. Allia had told him that. The woman showed him that it was normal for merchants to come and go from those trading posts, and the road would lead him directly to one of them. All he had to do was misdirect whoever was there to prevent his passing long enough to get close enough to the border to get across. Once he was in Selani lands, under the dominion of Fara'Nae, he doubted that they would pursue.

Only a maniac entered the Desert of Swiling Sands unescorted by Selani.

But Tarrin wasn't known for his sanity. Kravon had seen to that, and his own nature had aggravated it. Doing insane things was his meat and drink, often before he realized just how crazy his actions really were. It was the impulsive streak in him, brought by the Cat. The Cat was a creature grounded in the moment, and often had trouble planning for the future. That caused his plans to only look a little bit into the future, and caused him to go by the seat of his pants once his brief plans ran out of steam. That was why he was so thankful that Sarraya was with him. He didn't want another repeat of the half-plans he'd used to get the Book of Ages from Shiika. It nearly got him killed. Sarraya was just as erratic as him, but at least she could look into the future better than him.

Scratching at his forearm again in irritation, he looked over the flat expanses of the plains of Saranam, but they were growing less flat. Gentle ridges and rolling irregularities in that flatness had begun to appear, and on the horizon, lit by the morning sun at his back, was the strange stone formations that Allia had described to him. Sashaida Krinazar, the Mother's Fingers. They were colums of rock that dotted the entire desert, irregularly shaped pillars, sculpted by the wind into all sorts of exotic shapes and colors. Allia had told him that some were barely more than twice a Selani's height, and some were so tall that they had never been climbed. Some were as thin as a sapling, some were so thick that a village could be placed atop it, with plenty of room to spare. One, called the Sose Imune, or the Cloud Spire, stood in the exact center of the desert, and had a continuous cloud concealing its top. If anything, the appearance of the Sashaida Krinazar told him that he could not be more than a day's amble from the desert. He was getting close.

"Why did I listen to you?" Tarrin complained in irritation. "I feel like I'm being dragged through a bristle patch."

"It's all part of the plan," Sarraya said from her seat on the top of his head. "We had to be consistent. We couldn't just appear on the road."

"I could have hid under a robe. I'm so sore and stiff that I can't even walk straight."

"That's another part or the disguise," she said. "They're looking for a young and trained Were-cat. Not a stiff-jointed Arakite merchant with a bad attitude. You move like a panther, even in human form. I had to make sure you didn't have that warrior's swagger by the time we got to the border."

"You could have just told me to walk different," he said sourly.

"It wouldn't have mattered. You can't take the swagger out of your walk any more than you can walk on your ears. At least this way, you won't be faking anything."

"You could have explained that to me days ago."

"Then where would the fun be?" she said impishly.