"Henri, that is unseemly," Renoit said in common. "You disrespect those who are not blessed to know the True Tongue."
"I do not see why I must abase myself to speak such a filthy language," the man said arrogantly. Tarrin developed an immediate and intense dislike for the young man. From the look of her, so did Allia.
"You will do it to accommodate those unlucky enough to not know it," Renoit said patiently. "Not everyone is lucky enough to be Shacean. Now, show our two newcomers the ropes. It is up to you as lead acrobat to work them into the act."
Henri, the man, said something under his breath in Shacean, which made a few of his companions giggle behind their hands. "Alright then, what can you do? You look too tall and gangly to be any good," he said to them.
"I can do anything you can do," Allia said in a neutral tone. She did dislike him. Tarrin had to supress a smile. He'd better keep his tongue in line, or Allia would tie it in a knot for him.
"What about you, mongrel?"
"I can do anything you need me to do," he said in a tight voice. "And if you call me that again, I'll break both your arms and tie them in a knot."
"I am the lead acrobat and third in command on this ship," he sneered. "You will treat me with the respect due to my station."
"You won't have much use for your title once I rip off both your legs," Tarrin told him in a hostile voice, narrowing his eyes and extending the claws on both his paws.
"Tarrin," Allia's voice cracked, holding up an arm across his chest to hold him back. "He is young and foolish. Give him a chance." She looked right at him, her expression sober and serious. "You tread very close to losing your legs, young human. We will treat you with respect, but we demand respect given in return. It is the Selani way. Insult my brother again, and I will show you how the Selani deal with insults. That is also the Selani way."
If the boy was frightened by Allia's declaration, he didn't show it very much. "Whatever," he snorted. "We will begin with a test. Show me why I should allow you to perform with my troupe."
"Let's cut this short," Tarrin said. "Show us the hardest move you perform, and we'll do it."
"It's not that easy," a young girl said, a girl with hair the color of eggshells, a curious beige color that wasn't quite blond, not exactly light brown, yet not quite white. "Our hardest maneuvers are done while working together. It's when we're doing the vaulting pyramid."
"We are not up to that yet," Henri said. "Prove you can move without injuring yourself first. A good acrobat is flexible and limber."
Without batting an eye, Allia reached down and grabbed the bottom of her foot, then pulled it out to the side. And kept pulling, and kept pulling, until her leg was sticking straight up, held by the ankle. It looked like she'd dislocated her hip to do that, but she was obviously not in any pain. Allia was probably the most limber person he'd ever seen outside of himself. His cat-augmented skeleton gave him a range of motion impossible for humans to duplicate. He proved that by arcing his leg back and up while he hunched down slightly, until the heel of his foot was sitting on the top of his head, right between his ears. He then wiggled his toes at Henri.
"Wow," one of the young men breathed.
"We are warriors, young human," Allia told him simply, putting her leg down. "Both me and my brother are much more conditioned than you are. A conditioned body is a paving stone on the path to victory."
The beginnings of animosity appeared in Henri's expression. He stepped back a pace and motioned at the deck. "That is not proof of ability," he said. "Show me you can perform without embarassing the rest of us."
"I am finding you tiresome, human," Allia said, removing her dagger from her belt and placing it on the deck. She stretched herself a few times, then stepped out onto the open deck and performed a complicated series of handsprings, then vaulted into the air and spun several times with enough speed to make her look like a little ball, then her feet landed lightly on the deck as solidly as if she were stepping over a rock.
"I'd say that's good enough," one of the girls said, which earned her a hot look from Henri.
"What about you? Can you at least do that?" Henri asked, pointing at Allia.
Tarrin looked up into the rigging. It was high enough, he wouldn't be getting himself tangled into those ugly ropes. He stepped into the open deck, bent down, then launched himself into the air. He tucked into a ball and rotated with enough speed to make the deck and rigging-blocked sky trade place dizzyingly, but his cat instincts allowed him to know at all times where the deck was in relation to his position and facing. He rose impossibly high, ten spans into the air, then dropped down and snapped into an extended position with perfect timing to put his feet on the deck solidly.
Exactly where they had been before he left it.
"I can do it again if you want," he said to Henri's flabbergasted expression, crossing his arms and looking down at the dark-haired youth.
The look of surprise didn't last long. It was quickly replaced with open hostility. "I do not know what witchcraft you worked to let yourself do that, but I will not be party to it," he sneered. "I will not shame this fine circus by displaying a freak!"
He didn't say anything else after that. Tarrin's manacled wrist struck him squarely in the temple, and he went down in a twitching heap. Tarrin whipped his paw around, flinging a little blood that was on the manacle onto the stunned performers, pointing at them. "Anyone else want to call me a freak?" he demanded with glowing eyes, ignited from within with the greenish radiance that marked his anger.
"I-Is he dead?" one of the girls asked in fear.
"If I wanted him dead, he'd be laying in two different places," Tarrin said in disgust. This was a monumentally bad idea. He turned and walked away, leaving Henri to bleed on the deck as the acrobats, and most of the ship's passengers, looked on in silence.
There was going to be fallout, he was sure of it.
Tarrin laid on his narrow bunk in cat form in the darkness, a darkness that was not dark to him, staring at the blank wall. From their viewpoint, a total stranger comes aboard, then whacks a respected member of the circus for what most would perceive to be no provocation. Nobody would talk to him now, not that he really wanted it, but what was worse, the accusation would be there in everyone's eyes as he moved around. He could tolerate the silence, but not the fear. That had been what had driven him so crazy in the Tower, the fact that everyone walked around in utter terror of him. He had been aboard the ship for less than a day, and already he had given them something about him to fear.
And the part that would get him into the most trouble with the performers was that he had no remorse at all. He'd do it again in a heartbeat. That little punk had openly insulted him, even after he'd been so blatantly warned what it would cause. But he did it anyway. All the blame sat on Henri as far as he was concerned.
And it hurt. Tarrin could tolerate many things, but not being called a freak. He would probably feel different if he'd been born Were, but he hadn't. More often than not, he felt the freak, and to hear someone say it so openly had stung him more deeply than even he realized. Henri's statement had struck at Tarrin on a level that most verbal abuse couldn't reach, and it was a miracle that he didn't take the little arrogant ass's head right off after he said it. He had no idea what had held him back, but something certainly had. He had no explanation for it.