But the night revealed to him the outline of the Sandshield, sitting on the western horizon. The end of the desert was now within sight, and it made him reflect on what had happened to him while within its boundaries. He had sank to the very depths of his own self-loathing out here in the desert, but had also risen to the very pinnacle of his magical power. He had climbed the unclimbable Cloud Spire and discovered the wonders that existed there, and had seen the incredible cost that power could exact in the shape of a wasted Aeradalla, enthralled by the power of a magical artifact. He had faced his own personal demons, and allowed the blowing sands of the desert to scour his shame and guilt away, leaving behind the trapped soul imprisoned within the dungeon of its own fear. A soul that had found its way to freedom.
If anything else, the realization that his fear did not rule him was the most important thing he would be taking from the Desert of Swirling Sands, ten times more important, more precious, than any amount of magical power. To know that he was not a prisoner of himself meant more to him than being the king of the world. The manacles on his wrists were a constant reminder of the cost of trust, but they had also imprisoned him within his own fear, a fear that fed off itself and grew stronger and stronger over time. He had become so afraid of losing his freedom that he did indeed lose it. But he didn't lose it to a stranger or a betrayer, he lost it to his own fear. And that had been worse than being collared, because they were chains that he almost could not break. Just as it had been done to Mist, Tarrin very nearly found himself being imprisoned by his own fear for centuries, but he thanked the Goddess that he had found the strength to save himself before his fear had come to completely dominate him. As it had done to Mist.
Triana was right. Meeting Mist was probably the best thing that could have happened to him. It showed him what lay at the end of the road he'd been travelling, and it had given him the ability to turn himself around.
Tarrin held up his arms, looking at the manacles. Realizing what they had done to him made him see them in a new light. They weren't only the reminders of the price he'd paid for trusting someone, they came to also represent the chains in which he had wrapped himself, chains every bit as powerful as the collar that had once controlled him, chains imprisoning him from within instead of without. It was only fitting that the manacles were just that, manacles, symbols of enslavement to the will of another.
But reflection wasn't the only thing heavy on his mind that night. It was time to talk to Jenna. He just hoped that she would be ready. Sarraya took the first watch, and as Denai slept and the Faerie kept an eye on things, Tarrin sat down within a small strand and sent his consciousness out into the Weave.
Finding himself within the endless boundaries of the Heart, Tarrin bent about the task before him with only a cursory genefluction and period of adoration for the brilliant light that was the Goddess. There would be time enough for proper adoration later, but at that moment he had a job to do. He cast out his senses into the thousands and thousands of stars that represented all the Sorcerers, seeking out the star that was his sister. And he found it easy to locate, for it was fundamentally different from all the other stars, outshining with a brilliance that made it unmistakable. Jenna's familiar sense of presence radiated from her star, proving to him that this was indeed hers. He sent his consciousness past the star, using it as a signpost to locate Jenna's physical presence in relation to the Weave. That too turned out to be easy, for Jenna's presence had a powerful effect on the Weave, the same effect he had. His very presence was enough to warp it, and that same warping effect made such a distinctive mark on the Weave that he sensed its location in a matter of minutes. Only two beings other than himself could have produced that kind of an effect, and he knew that it wasn't Spyder. It wasn't strong enough to be her.
Weaving together an Illusion of himself, Tarrin cast it from the Weave, and then pushed his consciousness into the Illusion.
He opened his spectral eyes to find himself in a very narrow, very cramped cabin, obviously a cabin on a ship. The low beams had tar splattered on them. There was nothing in the cabin but a small cot, a desk of sorts built into the wall beside it, a stool nailed to the deck before it, and Jenna herself, sitting on the bed reading a book by the light of a lanturn. His sister looked a little thin, and there was still a heavyness about her expression that told him that she hadn't completely recovered from her ordeal yet.
"Jenna," Tarrin called. His dark-haired sister jumped in surprise, then looked up hastily. When she did, her surprised expression turned to joy and amazement.
"Tarrin!" she cried, throwing the book aside and jumping to her feet. Tarrin held out his arms to stop her from trying to embrace him; he remembered what happened with Keritanima.
"This is an Illusion, Jenna!" he warned quickly. "You can't touch me."
"Tarrin, mother said you did this!" Jenna called happily. "Are you alright?"
"What's more important is how you are," he countered.
"I'm still a little tired, but I'm alright," she told him. "I've lost my powers. Mother said you said it was just temporary, but-"
"I know, it still worries you," he interrupted. "It is only temporary, Jenna. Your body is readjusting itself to the Weave, because what happened to you changed your body. Since the body is what makes us able to touch the Weave, that means that you have to wait until your body reestablishes its connection to the Weave before you can use your powers." He looked down at her as she sat back down on the bed, and he sat his Illusion on the stool before her. "I see you're on Grandfather's ship," he noted. "Where are you headed?"
"Suld," she replied. "Mother figured that it would be the best place to go, with what's happened to me and what you said to her."
Tarrin grunted. "I'd have preferred you not go there, but in a way, it may be for the best," he told her. "Have you noticed that you have a different sense of the Weave?"
"Oh, yes!" she said quickly. "I can almost see it sometimes, and I can feel it all around me. Sometimes I can almost hear something, like the beating of a heart, and the strands all quiver in time with it."
"Good, then you're already starting to adjust," he told her. "You'll regain your powers soon. Exactly how long, I have no idea. It took me about two rides or so to get my powers back, and since you're so close to me, I figure you'll regain yours at about the same time."
"That's a relief," Jenna sighed.
"It won't be the same, Jenna," he warned. "You'll have to relearn how to touch Sorcery all over again. It's different for you now."
"Can you teach me?" she asked immediately.
"Well, there's not much to teach," he said. "I can help you avoid the stumbling block that tripped me up. I kept trying to touch the Weave, and kept failing. I didn't realize that we don't have to do that anymore."
"We don't? Then what do we do?"
"Nothing," he told her. "It's all willpower now, Jenna. You just have to will it, and if you have your powers back, it'll happen. You just have to will it hard enough. The Weave will fight against you, in a way that's alot different than Sorcery, so when you do manage to get the Weave to respond, you'll have to be ready for it to try to resist you."