He was whole.
Conjuring a new vest-he was rather fond of vests now-he put it on over the shirt, and then realized what he'd just done. Obviously, his Druidic powers hadn't been damaged by the trauma of losing and then regaining his Were nature. Then again, he didn't remember thinking about Conjuring it either. It had just happened. He remembered Jenna's gifts, and went over to the night table and picked up the Cat's Claws. They were too small for his wrists now, but that was no problem. Picking through the weaving of their magic, he worked out how to enlarge the bracers without disrupting the impressively complicated spells that Jenna had woven into them. He tended to that little task, and after taking on human hands to let him get them on without making the bracers grotesquely large, he slid them into place.
That was an idea. It had been a month or more since he'd talked to the Goddess, and he felt that she may tell him some of the things he wanted to know. Besides, a month in human form meant a month without talking to him-though why she stayed away was beyond him-meant that there were things going on out there that she may need him to know.
"Mother," he called in a grim tone.
And then she was there. It was not the voice, it was not an image or projection of her, it was her. His new memory told him that this was her material form, and using it brought along very real danger. It was her icon, the very one that usually stood out in the hedge maze, animated and breathed into life. It was still stone, but it was living stone, and a stone made to feel and act as flesh. Infused with the power of the Goddess, it acted as her direct agent in the material world while the rest of her power remained out wherever it was gods were. Even his newfound knowledge didn't contain that information. She looked exactly as he remembered from the two times he'd seen this before, the tall, stately, breathtakingly beautiful woman with glowing white eyes and hair striped in the seven colors of the rainbow, the seven colors that represented the Spheres of Sorcery. She wore that same dress that looked to be made out of captured starlight, shimmering with her every movement, and now he understood why the Sha'Kar wore those shimmering fabric gowns. Not to be ostentatious, but to honor the Godess by wearing clothes similar to those she preferred to give to her icon. Many of the things the Sha'Kar did were honors to the Goddess, even the smallest trivial customs. He had never realized how devout they were.
"Mother," he said with calm devotion, reaching out his paws to her. She stepped up and took them, looking fondly up into his eyes, then she took one of his paws between her hands and stroked the black fur gently.
"My sweet kitten," she said in her choral voice, as if so much power lay within it that no one voice could contain it. He had to fight the urge to kneel before her; he knew she hated that.
"Who did it?"
"I'm not going to tell you," she said bluntly. "If you want to find out, then you're on your own."
That was a disappointment, but he bit back a waspish retort. She wanted him to treat her like a friend but he still knew there was a line that he would not cross.
"Why did I get back my height?"
"Because the person used your own blood," she answered. "That changed things considerably. When you changed back, you changed into what you wanted to be, not what the transformation would force upon you. Probably for the first time ever, a Were-kin had total control over his own transformation. Had it been another female's blood, even Jesmind's blood, your turning would have been as if it happened the first time. Your physical abilities may have been different, your Druidic aptitude would certainly have been different, and you may even have had different color fur. That's not set, you know. It depends on the one that turns you."
"I didn't know that."
"Since it only happens once, it's not the kind of thing even the Were-cats ever managed to find out," she said with an impish smile.
Tarrin realized what she'd said. "They used my blood?" he asked in surprise. "How could they get that?"
"From the stores of it the Tower still holds," she answered simply.
"Then it could have been anyone!" he said with a groan.
"That's right. It could have been anyone," she said calmly. "So you don't have to be nasty to the females. I'm not saying one of them didn't do it, but you shouldn't blame them all before finding out for yourself."
"I guess, but Jesmind is really going to hear it from me," he warned. "I'm still mad about how she treated me when I was human. It's not all just going to be alright now that I'm Were again."
"That's your choice, kitten," she said evenly, betraying no hint of her personal feelings in the matter.
"You've given me a place to start, at least," he grunted. "Not everyone knows about that blood, and it shouldn't be too hard to find out who's been there in the last few days."
"Just don't let it consume you, kitten. You have other things to do."
"I know, Mother," he said, leading her over to the bed and helping her sit down. He, on the other hand, remained standing before her, still with his paws between her hands. "I'm giving myself three days, then I'm leaving. Whether I find my answers or not."
"I don't object to that," she smiled. "I know you know where you're going to go." He nodded, but she cut him off before he could speak. "I know where it is," she said in a cautioning tone, shifting her gaze to the door, and the two Knights that stood beyond it.
"It was the best place I could think of," he explained.
"I agree with you," she smiled.
"Mother, what happened to me when I was turned again?" he asked. "With the potion and all. I feel a little different now than I did before."
"That's to be expected," she said calmly. "Your Druidic powers are stronger now than they were before, because of the irregularity of your turning. You may be a warrior, but your soul is that of a magic-user, and that caused you to strengthen your ties to the All with the second turning. Since you knew it was there, you reached out for it this time much more willingly than the last, and it responded to you. You've reached a level of ability that's going to make it a little more complicated to use. You'll need Triana's instruction, and I suggest you don't use your Druidic talents unless absolutely necessary."
He nodded in understanding, a little surprised. He had managed to strengthen his own Druidic ability? He wondered how that happened, because he certainly didn't remember reaching out to the All… and he could remember every excruciating moment of the process of being turned. Maybe it happened on a level beyone his senses, or maybe the pain had blinded him to what was going on. Either was a reasonable explanation.
"I think I told you once before, kitten, that the Weave and the All are connected. I won't bore you with an exhaustive explanation of what happened, so I'll sum it up for you. Part of what makes you so powerful is that fact that you're both a Druid and a Sorcerer. Each feeds off the other in a way that you can't understand, and your ability to use both forms of magic makes both of them stronger. Without your Sorcery, your Druidic powers would have been only slightly stronger than Thean's, and without your Druidic ability, you would have been only marginally stronger than Jenna in Sorcery. When your Drudic abilities increased, it caused a proportional increase in your powers of Sorcery."
"The Weave is part of the All," he reasoned immediately. "A body attuned to Sorcery would be more receptive to the power of the All, and a person capable of touching the All would have more power to use against the Weave."
"Very well done, my kitten," she said with sincere delight, smiling gloriously at him.
"That's why Jasana is so much stronger than I am," he concluded with a slap of his tail against the floor. "She's a strong Druid!"