"No, I'm just not embarassed," she retorted, jabbing him in the ribs. "I heard you and Jesmind had quite the emphatic relationship. When you weren't trying to kill each other, you were-"
Tarrin poked her in the belly, just hard enough to make her cut her statement short. "What me and Jesmind did is no concern of yours," he said primly.
"True," she admitted, "but neither of us are the angels you want to make of us. I'll promise not to be shocked that you're not pristine, if you promise not to be shocked that I'm not either."
Tarrin looked at her, then he laughed helplessly. "I'm not used to this from you," he said.
"You've never asked before."
"You've just totally destroyed my vision of you," Tarrin teased.
"Sure I did," she said scathingly.
Tarrin laughed again. "Well, I guess I can agree to that. But I don't think I want to know any of the details."
"Come now, Tarrin, I'm not about to spend days going over my numerous affairs and conquests with you," she grinned. "I demand reciprocation when I do that, so you only have enough stock for one lurid tale. And I just gave that one to you."
"Lurid? There was nothing lurid in that."
"I'll just have to give you lurid, then," she winked. "A garment by garment account of the first time I seduced Jander."
"I think I'll pass."
"Too late," she teased. "Now you're going to hear it, whether you want to or not."
"Not today," he said, then he lunged forward and started running away from her.
"Tarrin!" she called in surprise, picking up her skirts and running after him. "This is not funny! My big sister will kill you if you leave me alone!"
That was about the only thing that reminded him of where they were and what their position was. He slowed to a stop and let her catch up to him. Being playful was all well and good, but they were in a town which was full of potential enemies. And what was worse, he just made Miranda shout out his name, which was probably heard by half the other people on the street. He berated himself for his carelessness as she reached him, giving her a pained look.
"I just messed up," he said with sincere chagrin. "I'm sorry."
"I did too," she said with a wince. "I called for you out of surprise. I know better than that. A first mission rookie wouldn't have made such a stupid blunder. Right now, we need to get back to the ship without attracting any attention to ourselves, and making damn good and sure nobody is following us."
"I think that's a really, really good idea," he said, taking her arm after she offered it to him.
Miranda didn't know the streets of Tor very well, and neither did Tarrin. They meandered almost aimlessly while keeping the docks in view, which sat at the bottom of the shallow depression in which the city sat and were visible from almost anywhere in the city, to mark their progress as they moved towards them in their roundabout pattern. Tarrin didn't really feel all that much fear or trepidation at what they were doing, but his mind was clearly focused on the task at hand, and his eyes searched the other pedestrians to see if they seemed hostile, or seemed to recognize the pair. Miranda was the one who kept watch for anyone that may be following them.
After nearly half an hour of zigzagging through the streets of Tor, Miranda pulled them into a narrow alley between two warehouses near the docks. The alley was strewn with empty wooden crates and other refuse, some of it not smelling very pleasant. "Come on, now we hide and see if someone comes looking for us," she whispered to him as they retreated down the alley. Miranda silently cursed as they reached a corner of it, and found a stone wall blocking the alley some paces away. The alley only had one entrance. "Hide," she said, ducking behind a stack of crates near that corner. The crates were old and rickety, and they had wide areas between the slats that would let someone look through them to see what was inside. In this case, they let Tarrin and Miranda look up the alley with them blocking anyone from seeing them, for the alley's gloom made the crates' interiors dark.
They waited in tense silence for nearly ten minutes, until a single lean man appeared at the end of the alley and stopped. He was thin and wiry, rather tall, with greasy black hair and olive-colored skin that marked him as Torian. He had a shortsword in his hand. Another man appeared, then another, then another, and they kept appearing at the end of the alley, until nearly twenty men, all armed, blocked off the entrance to the alleyway. From the lighting and the way the swords reflected it, Tarrin figured that they were either highly polished, or they were silvered. He doubted such ruffians would take such care of their weapons, so he decided grimly that the weapons were silvered.
Twenty men blocked off their escape, all of them holding weapons that could deal him real injury, and Tarrin was unarmed. But the alley was very narrow, only about eight spans wide, and it would prevent any more than two of them from threatening them at any one time. Tarrin weighed the options quickly. Sorcery was an option, but the Goddess' warning reminded him that he'd have to change form to try that. He may have his regeneration in human form, but not his Were-cat body's power and resistance. Just like when Sheba attacked, he thought if he could use it quickly, maintain contact for an absolute bare minimum of time, he may be able to get them out without endangering himself.
That seemed to be the best course of action. There were too many to fight, even for him. He may have his Were-cat speed and power, but those were silvered weapons, and he could take no chances that a lucky stroke would put him down. He had to protect Miranda. Stepping back from her, he closed his eyes and changed form, feeling the ache vanish as his body returned to its natural state. Staying behind the crates, as Miranda looked on, Tarrin reached out for the Weave-
– -and was suddenly assaulted by it! Power flooded into him at a rate that shocked him to the core, a rate that defied the magical balance of the area. There just weren't enough strands to support the amount of power he was drawing. He didn't have time to think about where it was coming from, because he was almost immediately struggling against it. It was too much, too fast! Control was out the window in a heartbeat, and Tarrin's mind floated within a realm of pure magical energy. But the Cat reacted where Tarrin's mind was incapable of doing so, beating back the magical onslaught to the point where his rational mind could respond to the crisis. He had to sever himself, and he had to do it now, or he was going to die.
It was the hardest thing he ever did in his life. It was like trying to chop down a tree with a butter knife. But he managed to turn the power flooding him against itself, using the power to choke off the rampaging inundation trying to fill him, until he cut the connection. The backlash defied description, a blasting wave of pain that started in his soul and lashed out through his body, extending past his body to generate a short blast wind that stirred up the dust around him, knocked Miranda from her feet, and toppled the stack of crates behind which they were crouching.
Panting, disoriented, Tarrin sagged towards the ground, trying to clear the cobwebs. What had just happened?
He recovered his wits just in time to see the point of a sword trying to stab him through the eye.
Moving with a speed that startled his attackers, Tarrin smacked the sword aside by hitting the flat of the blade with his paw. He felt the burning sting in that touch. The weapon was silvered. He was on his feet in an instant, hulking over the men filling the alley, eyes radiating that greenish aura that so clearly marked his anger. He struck again at the man that tried to kill him before he could recover, slashing his paw down with all five claws out. The savage blow hit the man in the forehead, claws shearing into bone as his inhuman power slammed down through the man's skull. Tarrin's claws literally ripped the man's face off as they travelled down through the face, then ripped huge lines in the man's chest before his claws came free of flesh just below the breastbone. The man went down, smashed down to the place where he had been standing. Tarrin shook the tatters of flesh, hair, and bits of bone out of the hooks of his claws and gave the remaining men an evil look, and that made the others hesitate a moment.