James Galloway - The Tower of Sorcery

He had been doing this for three straight days. Despite doing nothing physical, he left the training room drained, and could think of nothing but sleep. Allia and Keritanima had been much the same. It wouldn't have been so bad if he'd actually managed to accomplish something. But for three days, he'd done nothing but flounder around aimlessly, reaching out in vain for something that simply was not there.

Blowing out his breath in frustration, he opened his eyes and stood up. His tail hooked on the back of the chair, picking it up. "Tarrin," Dolanna said calmly, putting her hands on his arms. "Relax."

"It's frustrating!" he growled in exasperation.

"It took me almost a month," she told him. "You have plenty of time. Now sit back down."

Growling in his throat, Tarrin righted the chair and sat back down. He closed his eyes and started all over again, reaching out. And he failed, over and over, as minutes stretched into an hour. Dolanna put her hands over his paws gently as his claws dug deeply into the table, and he relaxed. "I must seem silly," he said, but the frustration was evident in his voice.

"I would go back to my room and throw chairs," she confided with a smile. "I went through ten desk chairs over that month. It is not easy, Tarrin. Even after you succeed, you will struggle, both to touch the Weave, and then to let it go. But as most things, it requires practice. Even though you fail, you are learning. Eventually, your trial will not result in error, and you will succeed. Do not dwell on your failures, look towards your success."

"You're so optomistic it makes me sick," he said with a smile.

"That is my job," she said with a gentle smile, patting the backs of his paws. "Now, let us start again, from the beginning. Breathe deeply and calm yourself."

Tarrin left that day drained, tired, out of sorts, and aggravated. He had failed again. Tarrin was not used to failing. Not like that. His parents had always taught him that failure was not bad so long as one tried one's hardest. Tarrin was trying his hardest, but when he did do his best, he almost never failed so utterly has he had done so for the past four days. It seemed unnatural to him to fail so miserably, even after he'd put so much effort and dedication into his task. He stalked back to the main Tower to get something to eat and fret over his failure to produce results, and he could feel the weight of the sand pouring from the hourglass, and right over his head. He had to learn how to touch the Weave. He had to learn how to use Sorcery. He didn't have a choice. He needed to protect himself against whoever was trying to kill him. And, if his hunches were right, he'd need it to protect him from the katzh-dashi .

That was one good reason. Allia and Keritanima couldn't see it, but he could. The faint glow of the Ward that blocked magic from passing through it, and also worked to seal him inside the Tower grounds. It was as good as the bars on his cage. Tarrin had a hatred and irrational fear of being imprisoned-it was integral in his nature as a Were-cat-and just looking at the Ward caused the Cat to rise up in him and try to take control. The other good reason was slinking around the Tower grounds like a rat. Jesmind was inside the Tower grounds. She was trapped inside with him, and he knew that she had more plans for trying to take off his head. She would play all light and sunshine as long as the Keeper or Sorcerers were around, but he knew that she was just biding her time. She was still trying to kill him, and she wasn't about to stop now.

After a quick meal, he went out and sat in the garden for a while. The smell of flowers and growing things always soothed him, and the relative isolation let him forget for a while that he was trapped on the grounds. Tarrin was a creature of the forest. He couldn't deny that. He was born and raised in one, and his transformation into a Were-cat had only intensified his attachment to the woods. The gardens were no forest, but the green and the lighter human scents made it possible for him to imagine it. If only for a little while.

"You're getting soft."

Tarrin was up and whirled around in a flash, claws out and his eyes locked on the green eyes of Jesmind. She was standing not a paw's reach from him, paws behind her back, her stance and demeanor obviously nonthreatening. She had approached from downwind, which was why he hadn't scented her, and she was light enough on her feet to walk the crushed gravel path without making any noise.

"What do you want?" he demanded.

"To talk," she said mildly. He continued to glare at her, and she blew out her breath in exasperation. "By the moons, cub, if I wanted to fight, do you think I would have given myself away?"

"Don't call me that," he said, sheathing his claws.

"It's what you are," she said. "Sit down."

"I don't have-"

"I said sit!" she commanded in an imperious tone. Tarrin found himself obeying it before he even thought about what he was doing. "That's better," she said in a calm tone, sitting down on the stone bench beside him. Her scent was carefully neutral. She was keeping herself tightly under control, he could tell. She wasn't about to give anything away. "Now then, we have to talk."

"About what?" he asked gruffly.

"Put away the attitude, cub," she said frostily. "I see no reason why you can't be civil."

"Maybe because you're trying to kill me?"

"Let's not quibble over details," she said quickly. "I'm, leaving, Tarrin," she said quietly. "So consider yourself free. At least for now."

"What's wrong?"

"Do you really care?" she asked sharply. "I have to return to my den. I don't have any choice. But the offer stands still, my cub. Come with me, and we won't have any trouble."

"You know I can't do that," he said bluntly. "I'm even more dangerous to you now than I was a month ago. If the Sorcerers don't teach me how to control my power, I'll end up killing both of us by accident. I won't put you in that kind of risk." He glanced at her. "It's not that I don't want to," he added. "But this is something that I have to do."

"Why?" she demanded suddenly. "My mother is a Druid, Tarrin. She can teach you about magic."

"She could teach me about Druidic magic, but not Sorcery," he replied calmly. "It's oil and water, Jesmind. It won't do me any good."

"You!" she flared. "You you you! What about me? Do you have any idea how much I hate having to do what I do? I like you, Tarrin. A lot. But you make me-"

"Make you what?" he countered. "Where did you ever say that things had to be now ? I told you once before that if you would just wait, I'd be happy to go with you. This isn't about me, woman! This is about making sure I don't accidentally barbecue the both of us one day!"

"You have no idea what you're talking about!" she snapped. "My mother can control your power until you learn how to control it yourself! I know you need training, but my mother can help you! You don't have to be here!"

"There, you see?" he said, standing up. "You never told me that before."

"That's because you never gave me a chance!" she challenged, standing to face him. "If you were such a pig-faced stubborn mule-headed lump of dirt, you'd have given me a chance!"

"You never listened! You didn't care about what I needed, just what you wanted!"

"What I wanted? I did what I had to do! If you would have gone mad, it would have destroyed the reputation of our kind! We have laws , Tarrin! I was doing what I had to do!"

"You knew I was a Sorcerer, woman! You should have laid it out at the beginning! But no, you had to play your little game-"

"And you lied to me!" she said in sudden fury. "I still want to wring your little neck for that!"