Strange.
Tarrin lounged underneath a discarded old blanket in the twisted alleyways of the lower city, Sarraya curled up asleep up against his side. They'd been there since getting down from the spire, and while Sarraya slept, he had been pondering the reawakening of his power.
It felt… right. There wasn't any words he could use to describe it. This new way to use Sorcery felt right to him, as if the way he'd been doing it before were clunky and inefficient. Primitive, in a way. Weavespinner magic was more pure, simpler, and in a way, easier. The flows resisted him, but then again, Sorcery always did that. Be it a first time novice or a master Sorcerer, the weave always sought to resist any attempt to cause it to come from the strands. But the way he had learned to do it now didn't require a period of drawing in, a charging phase in order to exert force against the magic. Now he could exert the force of his own will against it, very akin to Druidic magic. All he had to do was will it to happen, and provided he didn't lose his concentration, it would happen.
The use of the magic had also taught him a few things. Weavespinner ways carried with them the same limitation that Sorcery had in any form; there was only so much that could be done without High Sorcery. Weavespinner magic wasn't any stronger than standard Sorcery, the only real difference between them laid in the fact that Weavespinner magic exacted a much lighter toll on its use than regular Sorcery. Since it required much less effort on his part, it would allow him to use Weavespinner magic a great deal longer than regular Sorcery. The only limit-up to High Sorcery-that existed was the strength of his own will and the innate magical ability that had awakened within him. But then again, anyone who could reach the level of Weavespinner already had a powerful will, since they had already mastered Sorcery in its standard form. Curious, though, was the fact that the basic ability to contain magic didn't change. Then again, it didn't seem to matter to a Weavespinner, since they didn't hold that power inside. Without that indicator, what marked the limits of a Weavespinner's ability to manage flows? Strength of will? Or did that old threshold hold true for a Weavespinner, the same as it did for a Sorcerer? Did the Sorcerer's natural limit hold true even when dealing with Weavespinner magic? He'd have to experiment to find out.
That absence of internal magic marked another pointed difference between Sorcery and Weavespinner magic. Weavespinner magic could be used on one's self, since there was no magic inside to interfere with the flows forming the spell. There would be no fusing of flows and fizzling of spells. It was how the Sha'Kar woman floated in the air; she had used weaves of Air on herself, and since there was nothing in her aside from High Sorcery, which transcended the limitation of using magic on one's self, there was no disruption of her magic.
Strange that Druidic magic and Weavespinner magic seemed to be related. Sarraya had said that the Weave was part of the All. Was there more of a connection between Sorcery and Druidic magic than that?
A curious question. He'd never find the answer, he suspected, because he was already a Druid. He'd been contaminated by the fact that he could use Druidic magic. If there was more of a connection between them, it wouldn't be him to find it, since he already had the ability to connect with both forms of magic.
The sun was beginning to rise, and with it appeared the first of the silhouettes of the Aeradalla against the steely sky. He hadn't thought much about what he was going to do to try to attract Ariana's attention, but like just about everything he'd done up here so far, he was certain that he'd think of something that looked good, then not consider anything past the next few moments. He'd already painted himself into a corner twice with his short-sightedness, and the sad part was that no matter how fully well he knew that he didn't plan very well, he went right on ahead with the first idea that seemed to solve the problem at hand. Without considering the implications of his actions further down the road. The Cat was a very impulsive creature, and he was faithful to his own instincts.
Well, the easiest way, he saw, was to simply change form and stand on a rooftop for a moment, then hide again. If Ariana herself didn't see her, he didn't doubt that word of him would spread through the city like wildfire. Somehow, he got the idea that visitors up here weren't exactly commonplace, seeing as how the spire's architecture went to such lengths to discourage visitation. The bad side of that idea was that it could possibly spawn an intense hunt for the intruder, and he may get caught in cat form by some zealous crossbow-wielding sentry.
Another idea was to let himself be seen by only a few. They would spread the rumors, and that would bring Ariana to him. The good side of that was that since only a few would see him, it probably wouldn't spawn a frenzied hunt for the invader. The bad side was that it would most likely take Ariana a long time to hear the rumor and then come to investigate. And he couldn't hang around and wait for her to get wind of the rumor.
Those seemed to be the only two options available to him. One would bring Ariana immediately, but it was very dangerous. The other may bring her in days, maybe rides, but it was much safer. Neither seemed very palatable to him, because his reaction to crossbow-wielding strangers would probably be violent. He wanted to avoid putting himself in the position where he may have to kill. The only way to do that was to get stuck up here for days on end, when he didn't have the time to waste.
There is always another option, a voice echoed in his mind, and what got his tail twisted was that it was not the Goddess. It was female, but the voice was heavier, huskier, more rugged. It contained the same power as the voice of the Goddess, but it wasn't as strong.
"Who's there?" he demanded in the manner of the Cat. For a second, he thought that the voice had come from outside of him.
You know who I am, koshida, the voice called. It took him a second to realize that the voice was speaking Selani. And it called him koshida, which loosely translated to dear family friend, such as one would address the best friend of a child.
It was Fara'Nae!
Holy Mother! he thought in his mind, then he bowed his head. He had no idea how he was supposed to act towards Fara'Nae. He was used to the very informal ways in which his Goddess demanded he act towards her. "Please forgive my outburst, Holy Mother," he said contritely in the manner of the Cat. "Allia never taught me the proper way to address you."
I'll have to speak to her about that, the voice echoed within him, slightly amused. You have done well, my son. I am proud of you.
"What do you mean?"
I have sent the trials of the desert against you, to try to break you, and you have stood strong. You have even conquered the demons within you that seek to make you heartless. When you healed the enspelled Cloudracer, for no reason other than you felt it wrong to leave him unwhole, you proved yourself to me. Gladly I now call you my son, my child, and deserving of my love and guidance.
Tarrin didn't know what to say to that. He simply closed his eyes and bowed his head.
Your humility becomes you, my son. You are one of the most powerful beings in this world, and yet you see yourself as nothing more than any other. That is a very healthy view on life. My brands are honored that you wear them.
That made him feel even more foolish.
Fara'Nae chuckled within his mind. You have done well, my son, and it is time you reaped the rewards of your labor. Stand up. Follow my words, and I will guide you to the one you seek. There will be no danger or waiting for you today.
"As you command, Holy Mother," he said immediately, displacing Sarraya as he stood.
"Mmmph," Sarraya groaned. "Tarrin, what's wrong? Where are you going?"
"To find Ariana," he told her. "Come along."
Sarraya caught up with him as he followed the voice of Fara'Nae, who guided him along the twisted alleyways, telling in when to turn and which fork to take. It felt, odd, taking commands from another god than his own, but he had accepted long ago that the brands on his shoulders meant that he had vowed to obey Fara'Nae. Tarrin didn't take vows lightly. He had vowed to obey her, and he would do exactly that, no matter that she was not his goddess. He walked among Aeradalla who walked along the streets rather than flew, and they didn't seem to pay him very much attention. The encounter with the drake had showed him that the Aeradalla kept pets, and the black metal collar on his neck probably made him look like a pet someone had flown up to the city. He picked his way through them carefully, trying not to attract attention to himself, but that didn't seem to matter. It seemed that he wasn't worth their attention… and that suited him just fine.