But, in his own defense, he still found it hard to believe that he could use Priest magic. It seemed… alien. Sorcery came from the Weave, but partially came from within, and Druidic power from the land. Those were close things, intimate things, things that didn't seem so distant or unusual. But Priest magic came directly from the Goddess, and it required him to chant magical words just like a Wizard. That seemed so inefficient, so clumsy compared to the art of weaving spells, or the simplicity of Druidic magic.
Magic. The Firestaff had revealed itself to the world, just as the Goddess had said it would. It was out there right now, waiting for someone to find it, to pick it up. And he was positive that the seas were already populated with a large number of ships sailing off towards the direction of the Firestaff. He had taken too long to get the Book of Ages, he had dawdled too long in the desert. He had gotten himself shot like some untrained fool in Shoran's Fork, which delayed him even more. The Goddess was disappointed that he wasn't closer to it when it revealed itself, and Tarrin took that to mean that she was disappointed in him. He had blundered three times that day, just another three in a long series of mistakes, mishaps, and downright disobedient standoffs that had put him far behind where the Goddess wanted him to be. He felt that he'd failed her, and that left him feeling humiliated and deeply ashamed.
Shame or not, he wasn't about to quit, however. He would find the Firestaff first, and he'd keep it. He'd protect it from being used, and he'd make the Goddess proud of him again.
"Kitten, sometimes you amaze me in how badly you see everything you do," a voice came from behind him, an audible, physical voice. He turned to look, and saw that it emanated from the center of the fountain. But there was no marble statue of a nude woman there. This was a flesh and blood person, a real being, but her features were absolutely identical to the features of the statue that had been there when he came in. The woman was nude, as the statue had been, but a mere gesture caused a garment of iridescent, shimmering material to garb the figure, almost like stars spun into silk. It twinkled and shone every time she moved, stepping out onto the surface of the water as if it were solid ground. The physical face of the Goddess was just as beautiful as the statue, but now the alabaster granite was replaced by a young, rosy-cheeked face, her complexion light, and her hair a strange mixture of the seven colors of the Weave, hair seemingly made of a rainbow, long and thick and luxurious as it swayed with her movements and the wind. Her eyes were not real eyes, more like pools of amber energy, without whites or irises or pupils, like how Tarrin's eyes glowed green when he was angry, hers glowed with that amber radiance. She looked human, but there were features, like the eyes, that told any who looked upon her that she was much more than a mere human.
Tarrin stared at this flesh-and-blood woman in awe for a long moment, even as she waited imperiously at the edge of the fountain, tapping her foot on the surface of the water impatiently. He finally snapped out of staring at her and offered her his paw, which she took with a smile and stepped down onto the brick. Her hand felt like human flesh, but there was a heat within it that was not normal for a human, and her skin's contact with his pads made his pads burn and throb, but not in pain. More like an awareness of great power, like a tingling he sometimes got from the Weave or Druidic magic. She was shorter than him, about Allia's height, and that seemed so intolerably wrong to him. So he knelt down before her in awe and adulation, staring up at her with both love and reluctance.
She laughed at him. "Oh, my kitten, now you're going to start acting like that?" she teased, reaching down and putting her hands on either side of his face. "I thought you'd be pleased to see something like this. I did it just for you. Now stand up. I'm going to get a crick in my neck looking down at you like that." He obediently regained his feet, staring down at his deity with unease. "That's enough of that, kitten," she said firmly. "I may be disappointed that we're not further along, but that in no way means that I'm disappointed in you. Given everything that's happened, I feel that you've come a very long way. And we're not exactly falling behind, remember? We know where to go, when nobody else does. We have a distinct advantage, for the first time in this game we play."
Tarrin couldn't help but take her words to heart, and he felt some of his shame bleed away. "I-thank you, Mother," he said with a heavy sigh. "Your opinion of me matters more than anything."
"Oh, kitten, I'm always going to love you, no matter what you do," she laughed, walking away from him. She seated herself on the bench facing her fountain, and then patted the bench beside her meaningfully. He quickly obeyed her, sitting down beside her. The audacity of it struck him then, that he would be sitting beside the physical manifestation of a god, his Goddess, like she was any other person. But, he reminded himself, she preferred it when he treated her more as a friend and less as a deity. He put his paws between his knees and looked down at them, picking at one of his fetlocks nervously. "I'm sure you're waiting for the hammer to drop," she said with a teasing tone, but he wasn't looking at her face. "Here I've went and done something like this to talk to you, and now you're wondering what could be that important."
"It did sort of cross my mind, Mother," he admitted.
"I just wanted to sit and talk with my kitten," she told him gently. "To me, that's more important than anything else."
He had a guilty flush of pleasure to hear that. That she would go out of her way to talk to him! "I, I hope we did well. With the battle, I mean," he said hesitantly. "I'm sorry I didn't pick up on what you were trying to tell me sooner."
"I understand, kitten," she said gently. "It was something very new for you, so it wasn't easy to accept. I don't blame you for not thinking about it sooner, and I don't blame you for the men who died before you though to try to banish the marilith," she said firmly. "The truth is that the fault is mine. I should have realized that as tired and distracted as you were, your mind wouldn't consider something learned so recently. I should have told you what to do. So, kitten, don't blame yourself for that."
Though the words would have sounded empty from someone else, they came straight from the Goddess, and he found that he could accept her absolution. "I spoke your name out loud, Mother," he admitted sheepishly. "I didn't mean to do it, but when the spell was over, I realized that I'd broken my vow to you. I didn't have much choice, but I shouldn't have done it. I'm sorry."
"My name isn't a state secret, kitten," she chuckled. "Anyone with access to a library and a little patience can find it. So it's not like you revealed some great secret or anything." She put her hand on his shoulder. "And if you recall, I told you that those vows were meaningless. I gave you permission to break them any time you wished."
"I forgot about that," he admitted. "Mother, do I have to learn Priest magic now?"
She looked at him, then she laughed. "I'd say yes and no, kitten," she replied. "I think it would be good for you to learn about Priest magic, just so you have a better understanding of it. But you're already a Sorcerer, so I'm sure you won't be disappointed if I tell you that I won't grant you any magic that duplicates anything you can accomplish with Sorcery first. I will answer your prayers and grant you spells, but only things you can't do any other way but through Priest magic." She patted his shoulder. "So, kitten, I think you should go talk with Camara Tal. She can teach you all about Priest magic, and the spells they use."