"What do you need, good sir?" she asked.
"The Tower is looking for something, madam," he said. "It's a black cat, just a bit larger than an average cat. He's wearing a black collar. Have you seen such a cat?"
It hung there for several seconds. "Whatever is the Tower doing looking for a cat?" Nanna the maid asked curiously.
"It belongs to the Wikuni Princess," he said ruefully. "If it's not found, there's going to be some very strained words passing over the Sea of Storms."
"Well, I'm sorry, good sir, but I've not seen this cat you seek."
"Ah, well," he sighed. "Should you spot him, there's quite a substantial reward for the one who brings him back. You can bring him to the Tower gate, and the guard there will direct you."
"I'll keep that in mind, good sir," she said. "I'm sorry, but I have work to do. Good day to you."
"A good day to you, madam," the man said, dipping his cap to her again. Then Nanna the maid shut the door. She shook her head, and then noticed Tarrin hunkered down under the hallstand. Nanna the maid didn't miss much of anything. "The Royal cat, eh?" she chuckled, beckoning to him. Tarrin approached her warily, an irrational thought that she meant to carry him after the Sorcerer crossing his mind. But she just cradled him in an arm, scratching him behind the ear. "Well, get that out of your system, Shadow," she smiled. "I saw how you acted when you got here. That royal brat was very mean to you, and I'll not give you back to be tortured. Besides, Janette would be devastated."
And that was that. Nanna the maid never made mention of the visit to the others, not even to Tomas the merchant, and it was simply dropped.
But it was important to Tarrin, and he brooded over it for several days after the visit. It was obvious that though he was done with the Tower, the Tower was nowhere near done with him. It also told him that they did want something from him, else they wouldn't be looking for him. And it told him that they knew he was still inside the city, else they wouldn't waste people's time by sending Sorcerers door to door looking for him. But, on another note, he realized that they couldn't find him with Sorcery, else they'd have been here the day after he fled. That was a very important bit of information, something that he filed neatly away in his memory. But he was a bit more careful after that, not going out into the areas of the garden that were visible from the street, and not laying in the windowsills looking out as he used to do.
But life inside did not change. He was still with his little mother most of the time, content to just be near her when she was busy with something else. And yet, as days passed, he found that his desire to be with his little mother faded from fanatical, to important, to merely being his wish. He was healing, he knew, coming to terms with the trauma that had put him in Janette's arms in the first place, and he was relying less and less on the little girl's calming love and affection.
It was probably then that he knew that, while he loved this house dearly and everyone in it, that it would not make him content to live out his life here. Eventually, he would leave, would have to leave, and find a life for himself elsewhere. Janette would grow up, and her life would become full with husband and children. And while he knew that, should he stay, he would be a part of that life, it seemed wrong to him to take away something from her just for his own selfish desires.
He knew it would be soon, but "soon" was a very vague concept to one that had trouble marking the passage of time.
He laid and thought about his eventual departure often, while Janette was busy with something else, but he had no idea how many days it had been since he had made that decision. The eternal now of the cat prevented him from simply counting the days, since the memories of the past days seemed to blur into one another in a jumble that made it impossible to discern one day from another. Janette's world was one of strictly regimented activity, for she performed the same lessons almost every day, did the same things every day, and there was nothing different from which Tarrin could refer to try to calculate the amount of time that had passed. All he had to go on was the seasons, and it was still hot outside during the day and warm in the night. It was still summer.
It had been a day, like any other. Janette had spent time with him between her lessons, playing with him, or taking a nap with him, or just petting him, as she always did. After dinner, she was sent to bed, and Tarrin stayed at the foot of her bed, as was his custom, until she was asleep. Once she was asleep, he would go down to the fireplace and lay on the hearthstones, soaking up the fire's warmth and listening to Tomas the merchant and Janine the wife talk. He was on his way there when a sound from the kitchen disturbed him. Thinking it was Deris the cook, Tarrin thought to beg a treat from the portly, jovial man before moving into the living room. Deris was a friendly man, and like the rest of the household, he rather liked Tarrin. He gave Tarrin scraps and treats whenever he was cooking, so Tarrin made a special point to be the man's friend.
But it was not Deris in the kitchen. It was empty, and the sound he heard was someone using a thin probe to unset the latch on the door. Tarrin's ears laid back as he realized it was an intruder, not Deris. The door opened, and a thin man dressed in dark clothes, and carrying a knife in his hand, stepped into the sacred confines of his little mother's house. Tarrin came around the corner ears laid back, back up, and growled at the man threateningly. He wouldn't get in without a fight.
"'Ere now," the man chuckled in an evil voice. "The mouse thinks 'e's a lion, 'e does."
The man took a step towards him, but he did not move. It occurred to Tarrin that if they made a racket, Tomas the merchant would investigate, and he would walk in unarmed against a man with a knife. His life would be in very real danger. And since he had been in the form of the cat for so long, simply changing form to deal with the bandit didn't occur to him; changing form was something he didn't even think of anymore without working himself up to it. Tarrin knew he was no match for a human, not as a cat, but he absolutely could not let the man get by him. The life of his little mother depended on it.
In desperation, Tarrin suddenly felt something drawing in, filling him with a seething life that almost set his blood on fire. A fuzzy image of fire came to him, fire roaring from the hands of a pretty brown-haired girl, even as the world around him seemed to be overlaid with impressions of glowing strings crisscrossing the room. The sensation of drawing in moved those strings, causing them to draw towards him, until little pieces of them flew out and entered him.
That image of fire seemed to weave itself from his imagination and into reality. A red-hot tongue of flame lashed from him, simply materializing in front of the defensive cat, and it roared at the man. It washed over him, singing his hair and setting small licks of fire to his clothes before flashing out of existence nearly as quickly as it appeared. The man cried out and dropped the knife, staggering back towards the door. Angry red welts were already forming on his face, and the skin on his hand had an almost liquid consistency from its immersion in Tarrin's fire. "It's a devil-cat!" he cried, then he turned and fled out the door.
Tarrin suddenly felt too weak to move. It was as if all his strength was sucked out of him with that fire. He wilted to the floor as a suddenly concerned Tomas charged around the corner, holding a rapier in his hand. Tarrin was surprised that Tomas held it with a cool familiarity that told him that the man knew how to use it.
"Shadow!" he called in sudden concern, kneeling by the exhausted Tarrin and putting a gentle hand on his back. "Are you hurt, boy?" he asked, his eyes staying on the door.
"What's the matter, Tomas?" Janine the wife called, coming up behind him.
"The kitchen door is open," he said. "I think someone tried to sneak in, but it looks like Shadow here startled them."