They were leaving tomorrow. The Torians had absolutely refused to allow Renoit to set up the circus, even for one night. The best that Renoit had managed was a small, spontaneous performance in the market square that afternoon, with only ten of his forty performers. Dancing, juggling, and entertaining market goers for whatever coins they would scatter. Renoit had found it humiliating, saying that it was like being a gypsy all over again, but his performers, itchy after so much time off season and on board ship, had jumped at the chance. Now they would travel to Shoran's Fork, the westernmost port city of Arkis, some ten days travel east. The music and dancing was the troupe's way to prepare for ten more days of sailing and practice, and hopes that the next stop would be better than this one. It was also a time to remember the two men killed by the Zakkites, to honor their memories and remember their lives. Tarrin had never seen anything quite like it before, he didn't even know their names, but his distance from the others had caused that. The only names he could match to people aboard ship were Renoit, Phandebrass, and Henri. He'd heard other names, but he didn't know who owned which name, and he really didn't much care to know. The less he knew about them, the better, as far as he was concerned.
He looked back out over the city, his human eyes making everything look dark and mysterious. Only the lights of lamps and torches were discernable along the slope on which the city stood. He never felt quite right in his human body anymore, despite the pain that it caused. It just seemed to confining. He didn't have his senses, and that left him feeling curiously vulnerable. Not being able to scent or hear people as they approached made him wary and nervous when he was alone.
The lights from behind were blocked, and Tarrin looked back to see Sisska approaching him. The massive Vendari came up and stood by him at the rail quietly, her massive tail swishing behind her absently. In human form, Tarrin barely came up to Sisska's chest, and he could appreciate how intimidated people were by the Vendari. She and Binter both almost seemed mute sometimes. They almost never talked, and their activity always centered around their charges. But nobody ever failed to notice them when they were in sight.
"Tarrin," she said in her deep voice. Even when they spoke, it wasn't for very long. Directness was a Vendari trait, almost as if it were a competition to see who could say the most with the fewest words.
"Sisska. Is Miranda alright?"
"Fine," she assured him.
"I'm, sorry I got her in trouble," he apologized. "I should have done things differently."
"If I did not trust you, I would not allow you to watch her," she said directly. "That means that I trust her life to you. You are more than capable of defending her."
"I should have ran," he sighed. "I shouldn't have tried to fight."
"There is no honor in cowardice," Sisska said.
"But there's no honor in fighting when you're responsible for more than your own life."
"Wise. Binter has been teaching you our ways."
"No, it's just common sense, Sisska," he sighed. "Something I seem to be lacking here lately."
"You underestimate yourself," she said, looking down at him. She put her hand on his shoulder, and his shoulder was too small to accommodate it. "Did you do as you saw best at the time?"
He stared up at her, at her boxy muzzle and her dead-black eyes, and blew out his breath. "At the time, yes," he admitted.
"Then there is no fault," she declared. "The greatest fault comes when you do not believe in yourself, and trust in your own decisions."
He looked up at Sisska again. Her words were powerful, and he had no doubt that she believed them. Vendari were absolutely incapable of lying. Tarrin had been challenging his own self-confidence, and her words took him to task for it.
"I must go. Binter will be angry with me if I stay up too long. He still believes me to be weak from my injury."
"There's no need for that," Tarrin said, her words still whirling in his mind. "You're fully recovered."
"Tell that to a worried mate," she said, looking down at him with a rather frightening Vendari smile. It was all teeth. "Binter coddles me too much."
"I think it's called love, Sisska."
"Sometimes it can be a nuisance," she said in a level voice. Tarrin looked up at her, and then he realized she was making a joke. Sisska, making a joke! He was quite bowled over by it.
"Kerri would agree with you, but Allia says that a person is richer to have known love than one who hasn't."
"Which do you believe?" she asked.
"Sometimes I don't know," he answered honestly. "I guess in my position, it's both a blessing and a curse."
"Do not give much weight to the Princess. Much of the time, it is her childhood talking. She treasures you and Allia as the family she could never have, and her devotion to Miranda is unquestioned."
"I know. We don't pay much attention to her when she's ranting, Sisska. We know she's just putting up fronts."
"I have never thanked you for that, Tarrin," she said. "Keritanima was a lonely girl before she came to the Tower. All she had was Miranda and us. Now she is happy."
"No need for thanks, Sisska," he replied. "I should be thanking you for helping to keep her alive so she could come into my life."
"It is our duty."
"I'd hope it would also be a privilege."
Sisska looked down at him. "At times, yes. At times, it was a burden. Her Highness was not what you would not call an easy assignment when she was younger. She was filled with anger and hate, and that made her unmanagable."
"I know."
"I must go now, Tarrin. Be well."
"Be well, Sisska," he returned, and she quietly left him at the rail.
That was an interesting talk. Sisska was even more quiet than Binter, and people thought Binter was mute. But in just a few words, she proved she was much more than just a towering wall of intimidation. There was some profound wisdom lurking behind that monstrous facade.
There was a smell in the wind, wind that was blowing in from the city. Though his sense of smell in human form was nothing compared to his normal senses, it was nevertheless noticable. A strange smell of decay, like someone had left a body sitting out for a month. There was also a twinge of other smells wrapped up in it, like the dirt of an open grave. He had smelled that before, and his mind searched for exactly what it was that smelled like that, but it wasn't easy. The same thing smelled differently to him when he was human than it did when he was in his natural form, because of the differences in how his nose worked in the two forms.
A shiver ran up his back. Could it be another Doomwalker? That was how that Doomwalker, Jegojah, had smelled, and that ran a shock of fear through him. Jegojah had beaten him like a practice dummy the last time they fought. Mindless of the gasps behind him, Tarrin returned to his natural form and tested the wind with his more acute senses, sifting through the unpleasant smells of a human city to isolate the scents he had smelled in human form. And that made his ears go back. It wasn't just another Doomwalker. That was Jegojah. The scent was exactly the same, right down to the slightest texture or nuance.
How could he be back? Tarrin had reduced him to ash with Sorcery the last time they fought. He had no body left. But Tarrin's nose wasn't lying. That was Jegojah, and he was coming this way.
Memories of their first battle whirled up in him, making him rub his shoulder absently. It had been a brutal fight, with no mercy shown on either side. It had ended when Jegojah made the mistake of pushing him into the Heart, but before that, Jagojah had been clearly winning. Tarrin had given back some of what he had received, but Tarrin was the one in much worse shape when he got bulled into the Conduit.