James Galloway - The Tower of Sorcery

"We should be married, with what I've let you touch," she told him in the Selani tongue. Unlike her stiff, formal way of speaking when she used the human language, her mode of speech in her native tongue was much more relaxed. Although he didn't have the accent quite down, and he didn't know all the words, he did speak enough of it to understand her when she used it.

"You asked for it," he shrugged.

"So I did," she acceded. "But you really should be careful of your claws. I had trouble sitting down for three days after that."

"I said I was sorry," he snorted.

"And you think I'll forgive you so quickly? I may need a favor someday," she teased.

"You could have asked to be healed."

"And how would I explain claw scratches there ?" she asked. "You know they'd start asking questions, Tarrin. What we do in private is our own affair, and they have no right prying."

"But we don't do anything."

"Precisely," she said.

"Sometimes I don't understand you at all," he said sourly, putting his head back down.

"Let's just say that I think that if they thought we were lovers, they would separate us. And I don't think either of us would permit that." He knew she wouldn't. He was all Allia had here. She almost clung to him and his friendship, surrounded by people who were either afraid of her or treated her like a laboratory experiment. Tarrin and Allia both had to endure endless interruptions from assorted Sorcerers, asking endless questions. One even asked to take a sample of their blood. The katzh-dashi's endless quest for knowledge was an admirable trait, but when that endless part was directed right at him, he found the whole matter to be very annoying. Tarrin was her only friend, the only person she felt comfortable enough to talk to. She was acquainted with the Knights on the field, but didn't really consider them to be friends. Faalken once confided that everyone thought that she considered herself better than everyone else.

Well, in a way, she did. She had an aire of superiority about her, that was true, but it was not arrogance, it was more like a knowledge that she could kick anyone's backside in the Tower without working up a sweat. Her own people were a very proud race, and they did consider themselves above the humans. But that was a natural trait; every race considered itself better than all the others. It was only basic nature. Tarrin caught himself sighing alot and saying "humans" in that same condescending tone that Jesmind had used. But she never acted that way to Tarrin. To her, he was an equal, a comrade, a good friend.

"I've been meaning to ask something," he said.

"What?"

"Why are there so many different ways to say 'friend' in Selani?" he asked.

"Well," she said, "that is because there are different levels of honor associated with each," she told him. "A visitor of another clan who is received with honor is a shih or shai , depending on if it is male or female." Selani had different forms of words when addressing women or men. It was the only language Tarrin had heard of that did that, and that made it very complicated. "A passing acquaintance in the clan is a shina or shaina . A friend is a shida or shaida . A very close, dear friend who is not of your own family is a bashid a or bashaida . The closest form of the word is the Brother in all but Blood, or Sister, depending. That is deshida or deshaida . It is a serious taboo to use the wrong form."

"Is that so?" he mused. "Well, if we have to use the term we feel in our hearts, then I must call you deshaida ," he said.

She was quiet a moment, then he heard her sniffle a bit. "Tarrin, I am honored," she said in a quiet, emotional voice. "But if you would be my brother, then you must accept the rites of my people," she warned in the human tongue, so there would be no mistake of translation.

He urged her to get off of him, and they sat down by the water's edge, their feet dangling in the hot water. Tarrin looked at her, and his eyes never really failed to go her shoulders. On each shoulder, she carried a single brand. On her uppermost left arm, it was a circle with a line through it and a crescent just inside the circle and over the line. She said that the circle and crescent were the symbol of her clan, and the line through it was the mark that denoted her status as the blood of a clan-chief. On her uppermost right, she carried a sword-on-spear symbol that she said was the holy symbol of her Goddess.

"Would you be willing to truly become my brother, a brother in all but blood?" she asked.

He didn't even have to think about it. "Of course I would," he told her. "You're very important to me, Allia. You and Dar are the only things that keep me from going crazy here."

"There is more to it than that," she warned. "You would be bound under the Oaths. For you, that would mean very little, for you have no true clan chief. But it would put you somewhat under the dominion of my Holy Mother Goddess, for you would have to swear an oath to obey her will."

"What would she want of me?" he asked curiously.

"I would have to ask her," she said.

Tarrin gaped at her a bit. "You've never told me you talk to your Goddess," he said.

"Don't you?" she asked, lapsing back into Selani.

"Not really," he said. "Karas is the God of the Sulasians, but he's never spoken to me."

"The Holy Mother has a more intimate relationship with her people that most Gods, deshida ," she told him. "If I pray, she will answer. I must pray and ask her guidance on this. She may not accept someone not of the Blood."

What startled him was that she clasped her hands together at her breast and closed her eyes. Obviously, she meant to do it that moment.

Tarrin wondered at her request while she was silent. Even though it hadn't even been a month, Tarrin already felt that he was that close to her. She was the older sister he didn't have; to his surprise, he found out that she was thirty-seven years old. Selani aged at a slower rate than humans. Among her people, thirty-seven was barely of marrying age. As long as it didn't mean consigning his soul to an unknown God, he was more than willing to make her happy by accepting the oaths of her people. Tarrin wasn't a overly religious person, since neither of his parents were very serious about it themselves, but he started getting edgy when his soul was in the balance of things.

After a while, she opened her eyes. "The Holy Mother will accept you," she said with a smile. "She likes you, actually," she said with a gentle smile. "She is very thankful to you for being so good to me. She also said that since I am violating my oaths in teaching you what you should not know, that you had best be made a brother of the Blood. She was quite put out with me over that," she said with a depressed look in her eyes.

"What would she demand of me?"

"Tarrin, the Holy Mother demands nothing of us," she said gently. "What we do with our lives is our own choice. That you acknowledge her is enough. The Holy Mother Goddess has no dominion outside the boundaries of our deserts, so there would be no demands set upon you. But also that means that she cannot help you."

"I've never had a God help me before," he shrugged.

From seemingly nowhere, Tarrin almost thought he heard the impetuous stamp of a foot.

"What was that?" Allia asked curiously.

"Maybe it was thunder," Tarrin said. "The storm's still going on outside."

"Ah. It is your decision, Tarrin."

"Allia, I've already made up my mind," he said. "You're already like a sister to me, and I love you as much as my own family. I would be honored to formalize the relationship."

She smiled broadly at him. "Maybe it was the Holy Mother's hand that guided me here," she said. "I am now glad beyond reason that I forced to come into the human lands, else I would never have met you."