Past Lives

Talitha massaged the tips of her fingers with an oval pebble. She regarded the green spiral that she had constructed on a rectangle of black silk. The loose coil of stones swung toward the west: the problem, for which she had sought an answer, rested within herself. The single color, which she had randomly selected from a box filled with many differently shaded stones, advised her to look within her heart for the solution.

The young tigress shifted on the plump cushions which she had carefully arranged on the floor, and lay back with a sigh. The meditative exercise with the questing silk and the stones had validated her initial feelings. A desire to uphold Servalla's privacy still fought, however, with the need to protect Tygra.

Through healing and rest, the architect had recovered completely from the arrow wound that had brought him madness. During her first encounter with him, she had learned that Tygra had shared an intimate connection with her mentor. The claim of silence that she had requested had allowed her time to think and the opportunity to conceal the name of Servalla from him until the day of the funeral. The sun had risen fifteen times since her friend's death. The mystic knew that she had delayed the rites too long; she needed to confront Tygra, inform him of Servalla's passing, and settle the matter.

Talitha looked across the sunlit room. Against the western windows sat the three chests that held Servalla's possessions. In her heart, she had always known that the journals belonging to her mentor contained the information that she required.

Her prayers to Mrísena for enlightenment had born no fruit. The nagging doubt that her actions might be misguided had finally driven her to use silk and stone. The guidance that she had received from this method had been clear, but in all her life, Talitha had never felt so tested and so alone.

The mystic walked toward the windows. She pressed the cover latch on the largest of the three chests and lifted the lid. Which book to choose? Goddess point the way, she thought, as she plunged her hand into the box and drew the first volume that she encountered. The embossed inscription on the binding indicated that it was not the earliest work, but it was here that she would begin.

*****

The mystic stood alone on the steps of Cats' Lair and waited for Lord Tygra's return. Before dawn, the architect had gone hunting on the plains.

Since Talitha had entered the lives of the other Thunderans, they had increased the frequency of their hunts in order to provide an adequate supply of the fresh meat required in their diet. It was more efficient to hunt than to waste precious resources on manufacturing an artificial supplement. Fishing, as well as hunting, were a normal part of a lair routine that included everyone. The ancient snarf, whose diet consisted solely of vegetable matter, was exempt from the hunt; however, the little reptilian mammal prepared all the meals. The fact that he was by far the best cook in the Lair was an added benefit that all enjoyed.

Talitha noted a movement in the tall grass. The early morning fog made it difficult to see, but she finally discerned the figure of Lord Tygra on the southern plain. The architect wore an orange ak'ti. The strip of cloth covered his genitals, but snaked between his buttocks to allow him full movement of his legs.

The tiger suddenly halted and set down the horned animal that he had draped over his shoulders. He vanished into the long grass. Although there was no logical reason to worry, Talitha sensed that something was amiss. She ran down the steps and across the bridge, which spanned the river canyon running parallel to the Lair. She wondered whether anyone in the control room watched her movements, or planned to follow.

*****

It took the tigress several minutes to reach the area where she had last seen Tygra. As she approached, she called his name.

"Here!" The cry flew up from the sheltering grass before her. The mystic stumbled back in surprise, but Tygra caught her before she fell. "I'm sorry, White, I did not intend to scare you," he said as he released her. The tiger turned toward his prey. Talitha marked the slight limp in his gait.

"You are hurt!"

"It is nothing, white one. I tripped when I brought the beast down, that is all," he replied nonchalantly.

"I'm surprised that it ever saw you!" she sputtered. "Your coloration blends in so completely with the grass."

His pleasant laughter rose to the sky. "With your white fur, I spotted you well before you called to me, but I should have--" A sharp intake of breath cut his reply.

Talitha pushed aside the grass between them and moved forward. Tygra rested his hands against his knees and bent over. His face conveyed the pain that he felt. She touched his shoulder and asked gently, "What else is wrong?"

"That--ah--misstep--I think I have a bruised rib," he said meekly.

"Don't move." The mystic ran her fingers along the line of his ribs until she found the injury.

"Seven hells!"

"Easy, Tygra. It will take but a minute for me to mend this--longer if you don't cooperate." He shook his head to indicate that he understood. "Fine. Now, just try to relax."

Talitha slowed her breathing and tapped into her power. Tendrils of blue light flowed from her hands and circled his torso. The minor injury healed quickly. She pulled away from Tygra and said with satisfaction, "That should be better."

Tygra straightened without pain. He placed his hands on his hips and studied the tigress. Uncomfortable under his scrutiny, Talitha broke the quiet between them. "Would you like me to fix your ankle as well?"

Tygra lowered himself to the ground and stretched out his left leg. "Please. It is foolish not to accept your help," he admitted.

She repeated her healing on the swollen ankle. When the mystic finished, she said, "The tear is mended, but like the rib, your ankle will be stiff for a few days as natural healing proceeds. I suggest that you try to keep off your feet for the rest of today, my lord. If the injury becomes bothersome, I can treat it more deeply."

"Actually feels considerably better, White. Besides, you have given me the perfect excuse to catch up on my reading."

Talitha helped the architect to his feet. For the first time, she marked his pendant. A black crystal cut into an open spiral form hung on a chain of silver and rested against the hollow of his neck. "How exquisite!" she exclaimed while pointing to the delicate object.

Tygra touched the smooth crystal. "Yes," he said softly. "It belonged to my father, Siberan. I had thought that it had been lost in battle, but when I reached awakening, a priest of Savar presented it to me."

"Was your father a warrior of Savar?"

"Yes. He died at the battle of Star Vale when I was but 14 seasons old."

"And are you such a warrior?"

Astonishment flickered across his face. "Jaga, no! The priest named me an open spiral, like my father, despite my protests, but I am not a consecrated warrior. My father's life consisted of many battles, but my life has taken a very different path." Reflecting on the past, the tiger grew quiet.

Talitha interrupted his brooding. "Elder, I must speak with you on the matter of my sister mystic's funeral."

As Tygra bent down to retrieve his kill, he said, "After I have dressed this carcass, I will meet with you. I hope that you realize that I will gladly provide any assistance that you need in this."

"Thank you, elder," Talitha replied quietly. She wondered if the tiger would feel so generous or amiable after he learned the truth that she had discovered.

*****

Silver mists coiled about the mystic. Her resistance only tightened their grasp. Paralyzing fear placed her at the mercy of her enemies.

An arc of light suddenly blazed and dispelled the vaporous serpents. Servalla illuminated the darkness that held her. The elder spoke to her mind. *Dear one, my Tygra has great strength, like his father. He must learn the truth. Cast aside your fears; help him in this.*

*Servalla! Don't leave me!* The elder faded into the void.

"Servalla!" Talitha snapped awake. Her heart still pounding, she slowly became aware of the soft taps on her door that changed to more insistent knocks.

She glanced at the windows. Night had descended. Her afternoon nap had consumed the day. Flustered, she croaked to the hidden person, "Wait, please. I'm coming."

The tigress vaulted from the bed. She pushed the lock release on the wall. The door slide open with a slight hiss to reveal Lord Tygra. Consternation marred his fine features. "Are you all right, Talitha? I thought that I had heard a shout."

"My lord, do not concern yourself," she said quickly. "It was a bad dream invading an otherwise peaceful rest. That injured balkin that I helped this afternoon--the healing sapped my energy, but I didn't plan to sleep away the day."

"Or dinner."

"Dinner? Goddess, is it that late?"

The hint of a smile touched his face. "Yes. I was concerned when you did not appear. Snarf said that you were resting, but...well, I just felt that you should have something to eat." He handed her the covered plate that he held. The aroma of cooked and seasoned meat filled the space between them.

"Is this some of that beast, the one you called a gazelle?" she asked. Talitha lifted the lid and peeked inside.

"Yes...quite tasty too." Tygra added politely, "I'll leave you to your meal, mystic. I can see that you are fatigued. We can talk tomorrow." The architect turned to leave.

"Wait!" Talitha called. "Please come in...sit with me. I--I really need to speak with you, or I will not know peace."

The mystic moved to the cushions placed by the low wooden table. Tygra entered the room and leaned casually against the dresser.

"Why don't you come and sit, elder?" she asked nervously.

"Mystic, if I sit or recline, I will most assuredly fall asleep." He patted his abdomen and said, "My belly is too full of this rich fare. I'm afraid that I ate far more than my fill thanks to Snarf's cooking expertise."

The blue body stocking that he wore accentuated every line. The hard flatness of his abdominal muscles refuted his claim. The more Talitha regarded Tygra, the more she became aware of the physical beauty of his tall, lean body. She shifted her gaze to the plate before her to break the spell that the architect unknowingly cast.

The resonant timbre of his voice focused her attention once more. "Please tell me, Talitha, what troubles you so."

Despite her hunger the mystic set aside her dinner. Her long fingers tapped the binding of the book which lay to her right. "Elder," she murmured, "please tell me again of your father and the battle at Star Vale."

Tygra replied calmly, "Mystic, surely you must have learned all; your people were involved. As for my father, what remains to be said?"

"Elder, why did your father, whose estates were far to the south, fight a battle on the distant northern borders?"

A glint in Tygra's eyes warned her that she tread on painful memories. "Because he was a warrior sworn to Savar. Isn't that enough?"

"No, elder." Talitha carefully framed her next question to bring the truth forth. "Who accompanied your father to battle?"

"His eldest brother, Tiren, the chief of all the red clans. My father was the youngest of three sons. His other brother, Trel, refused to journey north, and tried unsuccessfully to stop Tiren."

"Why did Tiren fight? Did he not appreciate his position as leader, and why did your father insist on his aid?"

Anger clouded his face. Tygra snapped, "No one forced Tiren's hand. He and Siberan considered the matter one that concerned the red clans."

"And why is that, elder?"

Talitha held his gaze until his resolve broke. Tygra hissed, "The people of Star Vale needed their assistance as did the mystics who ventured there." Tygra wandered toward the windows. He silently viewed the starlit plain, and ignored the mystic behind him. When he finally spoke again, he kept his back to the tigress. His voice softened. "Talitha, my father had a special friend...a mystic named Servalla. She used to visit in the spring, sometimes alone, often with another female mystic. At those times, my father was happy.

"Talitha...I never knew my mother. Although I was Siberan's acknowledged son, it was a subject he refused to discuss, the one barrier between us. I--I loved him dearly...his great strength...his quiet courage. I had hoped that he and Servalla might...she never stayed long. She was dedicated to her calling.

"My father received word that she was in the group of mystics who traveled to Star Vale to help the people who suffered from the Mutant created pestilence that ravaged the villages. When news of the Mutant ambush surfaced, Siberan swore to find Servalla, or avenge her."

"Elder...you speak as if this were an embarrassment."

"Talitha, Trel never approved of father's dealings with the white tiger clans or Servalla. I have never understood the root of his hostility, but his difficulties were soon alleviated. Servalla died at Star Vale, as did all the mystics who made that journey, just as the Mutants had planned from the first. My father and his brother died in the battle to eradicate the remaining Mutants."

"Elder," Talitha said, "I am sorry to have caused you such pain, but I needed to discover what you knew about Servalla."

"What are you trying to say, mystic?" The cool measure of his voice betrayed the anger that he repressed as he turned to face her.

"Tygra, it is Servalla's body that needs the purification of flame," she whispered.

"What!" Shock changed to fury. "You lie! Servalla died at Star Vale as did my father. How could you say such a hurtful thing, you, a daughter of Mrísena?"

Talitha replied firmly, "My lord, you cannot alter the truth: Servalla survived Star Vale. She told me herself that she spent many seasons with the northern tiger clan that found her wandering in the mountains beyond the valley. For a long time, she did not remember who she was. You know that no white tigers were permitted to live among Sartren's people. Were it not for her healing abilities, she would have been slain outright. As it happened, she was kept as a slave in the court of King Sartren who, as you also know, desired the downfall of Claudus. He had fought many battles to place a tiger on the throne of Thundera.

"When Servalla's memory returned, she devised an escape, but she almost died in the severe cold of the northern peaks. One of the northern tiger clans loyal to the house of Claudus found her, and bargained with Lord Jaga, who finally brought her home. In all her life, her memories of Star Vale, and what happened there, never returned."

Hostility shaded the silence in the room. Talitha watched as Tygra tried to maintain control of his emotions and failed. He smashed his fist against the window ledge with such force as to dislodge a piece of stone. Tygra growled, "So, mystic, was this the problem that upset you? Well then, what of me! How dare you ask my help to construct a pyre for one who never cared to find me and tell me the truth, one for whom my father sacrificed his life."

Tygra stormed toward the door. Talitha grabbed the book that rested on the table. Although frightened by his rage, she blocked his path. The architect drew an angry, surprised breath and halted. In his eyes she read the imperious command that demanded that she step aside.

"No, my lord," she answered boldly, "you are not free to leave; I have not yet finished." Respect momentarily replaced the anger on his countenance, but he remained immobile and silent. She presented the book to him. "This is but one of Servalla's journals, the earliest that she kept. I have skimmed some of the others. The last volume ends on the day before she left for Star Vale. Why she never kept such writings in her later years is unknown to me.

"Tygra, when a wound becomes infected, the cure is often more painful than the injury. However, the wound does not begin to heal until all of the poison has been destroyed.

"I do not know why Servalla never contacted you after her return, but the writings within this book may offer you some insight into the burdens that she carried.

"I know that my revelation has hurt you because it has renewed the grief that you still feel for your father. This book will put that grief to rest, so that you can know healing, but it will be purchased with pain.

"Your name means 'truth', Tygra. Are you brave enough to seek it?"

Perhaps, she thought, her last words had been too strong. Without comment, the tiger wrenched the volume from her slender hand. His amber eyes coolly regarded her until she let him pass. Talitha watched the tall, proud tiger march stiffly toward the door. He did not look back.

Alone once more, the tigress abandoned all thought of dinner. She extinguished the light and crept into bed. Her concern for Tygra's welfare only enhanced the exhaustion that she already felt. She studied the shadows that the night cast on her wall.

I will make sure to check on him tonight. I will just rest a little for now, she decided. Almost before she had completed the thought, Talitha drifted into sleep.

*****

The wind cried, "Help him, help him, help him!" The mystic awoke with the last sigh of the zephyr still echoing in her mind.

The chronometer set on her dresser indicated that it was only several hours until dawn. Fool! You were supposed to check on him! Now what are you going to do? Do you wake him, or do you worry away the hours, and wait for the rising of the sun? With her anger vented, Talitha called upon her mystic training. After a few careful breaths, she calmly considered her choices. Moonlight illuminated the wooden box perched on her dresser. Excellent, she thought. I will let the stones decide.

She moved the box to the table. Opening the container, she removed the top layers of multicolored silks and placed them aside in a small pile. She unlatched the inner lid, which sheltered the stones. Talitha closed her eyes and ran her hand along the different compartments within which sorted the tiny rocks into their many colors. Warmth touched her fingers.

Ah! This one then. The moonlight revealed her selection. It was the only one of its kind in the box, and one whose position she constantly changed. Unlike the others, the smooth oval was not a stone, but a clear crystal, which, in light, reflected all colors. The summoning stone fell from her hand as she ran from the room.

*****

Tygra is not in his room. Where do I look? Talitha wondered as she roamed the darkened corridors of Cats' Lair. She weighed a possible alternative. Tygra does not have the night watch, but he might be in the control room keeping Cheetara company. She dismissed the notion. The more distressed any tiger became, the greater the need for privacy.

The mystic suddenly realized that her distracted wanderings had taken her to the recreation hall. A sign from Mrísena? He must be within, she decided. Goddess, let the door be unlocked. Talitha gave the panel set by the portal a tap. The way opened.

Except for the clouded moonlight that spilt through the observation windows, the chamber was dark. Talitha padded across the room. Tygra sat quietly on a chair by the windows. Is he asleep? Perhaps, she thought, I will cause harm with my prying. Maybe I should leave.

"Can you sit with me awhile, Talitha?" Tygra murmured.

The mystic approached him, and set herself down on the stone floor. Leaning against his chair, she rested her hand on his knee. When Tygra placed his hand over hers, pleasure burgeoned in her heart, and she knew the rightness of her action. Talitha watched the sky with him until the stars began to fade in the transition of night to day.

The architect broke the long silence first. "You were correct, Talitha," he said. "The journal was the key. In discovering that Servalla was my mother, I have experienced a sorrow that will walk with me forever, for in this life, we will never know each other as mother and son. However, my kinship with her has restored a part of myself that was missing, and this has given me great joy.

"I only wish that I had learned the reason for the secrecy that Jaga imposed on all those who knew of my parentage. Did he never plan to reveal the truth to me? Was I so unimportant that my feelings were never considered?"

Perhaps, Tygra, you are too important, Talitha mused. She said to the pensive architect, "It was clear from the journal that Lord Jaga brought the paths of your mother and father together. The attraction that they felt was immediate; the love that grew was blessed. You know Tygra that although no law prohibited it, the mating of white tiger with red for the purpose of reproduction was usually not sanctioned by the clan councils, especially when the nobility were involved. Only Jaga possessed the power to force the councils of red and white to permit the secret mating at the time of Servalla's fertility without the shadow of disgrace falling on her or Siberan. Why Jaga did not allow Servalla to speak to you after Siberan's death--well, Tygra, that is a question that will never be answered."

Tygra said thoughtfully, "I understand now the actions that my uncle took. After father's death, Trel convened a meeting of the clan leaders to invest Tiren's eldest son, Su'ti, as the chief of the red tigers. I have always felt that it was Trel who poisoned Su'ti's heart against me and instigated the order for my removal from the clan."

"Removal?" Talitha asked. "Tygra, you are no outcast."

He explained, "Not technically, no, but the payment for Tiren's death was extracted from Siberan's legacy. My father was disgraced. His estates and possessions were reabsorbed into Su'ti's. By law, I could not be cast out for my father's 'crime', but no one in all the clans would foster me.

"That is when Lord Jaga interceded. I was sent with only the clothing that I could carry to the palace of King Claudus to reside under his protection."

"How cruel to separate you so from your people, Tygra!"

The architect rose from his chair. The light of the rising sun transformed his orange fur into the color of flame. He continued, "Trel had his final vengeance on father and me. You see, Talitha, there was also a chain of hate that bound me to Trel. He blamed me for the death of his son. When Ash'i'ri and I were but 6 seasons old, our households journeyed to the ocean. Father's estates were close to the great waters. Ash'i'ri and I were excellent swimmers, but one day, a strong current dragged us out to a deadly depth. In the rough waters, my cousin began to drown. I tried to help him...but my courage failed. I was also in serious trouble. I--I saved myself, Talitha. By the time the adults reached Ash'i'ri...the spring currents were the most dangerous of all."

The tiger quickly brushed away a tear with his left hand. He rasped, "Talitha, it all makes so much sense now. Please...accept my apology. I unjustly blamed you for having the courage to show me the truth, when I should have thanked you for the gift of my past."

The tigress moved toward him, but the architect raised his hand to object. "No, please, I will be fine. I just need to rest."

The mystic respected the tiger's wish and stepped back. Why does he reject me so? she wondered sadly. I am only trying to help. Unable to answer the question that she had posed, and satisfied that she had done all that she could for the present, Talitha replied, "Elder, I will leave you to yourself for now. If it is your wish, come to me later, and we will speak of this matter. Now, if you will excuse me, I must give thought to the preparations for Servalla's funeral."

As she turned to leave, Tygra said solemnly, "Perhaps, Talitha, you and I should discuss her funeral together. It truly concerns both of us now."

Despite his great stature, the tiger seemed small and lost. Talitha dismissed the illusion and marked the tiger's inner strength in the set of his jaw and the controlled tension of his body. She replied warmly, "A fine idea, Tygra, but I won't consider such weighty matters without a decent breakfast. Care to accompany me?"

His broad smile added to the growing light in the room. "After you," he said taking a courtly bow.

As they left the chamber, Talitha said impulsively, "Tygra...the dispossession of Servalla's things now rests with you, her heir." Although Tygra halted, the mystic continued forward and made no attempt to wait for the stunned architect. By the time he catches up with me, she thought, perhaps I will have the correct rebuffs to all of his logical arguments.

*****

It had taken five days to complete the rituals and preparations for Servalla's funeral. Everyone in the Lair had helped in the construction of the pyre. Talitha stood alongside the tower of wood. She glanced at the top and marked the linen bundle that rested there. At dawn, Tygra had retrieved the body of his mother from the cold storage units hidden deep within the fortress, and had carried her out to the plain. They had lifted Servalla together to the upper tier by scaling the sides of the wooden structure.

A sharp click broke the warm stillness of morning. Talitha shifted her gaze to the small metal sphere that floated above the gathering and recorded all that it saw. Its accounting of the event would be without fault, but devoid of emotion. That honor fell to Cheetara. In her function as historian, she remembered fact and feeling. To wear the green sash as Cheetara did, Talitha thought, required strength, for most of Thunderan history consisted of great sorrow.

A movement from Tygra focused her attention on the small firepit before her. The architect selected a burning branch. As with everyone present, he wore an o'ba'ti, the warm season kirtle that draped from hip to foot. A sash of rank encircled his waist. Tied at a point just below his navel, the black cloth accentuated the sky blue of his o'ba'ti. He quietly handed his branch to her, and chose another for himself.

With a nod from Tygra as permission to speak, Talitha said to Cheetara, "Be it so recorded: in the Halls of Healing, this mystic was known as Servalla." Tygra added immediately, "Be it also recorded: this mystic was the mate of Siberan, a lord of the Silver Waters clan, and the mother of his son, Tygra."

Surprised gasps rose from the assembly, but respect for custom prevented anyone from questioning the architect. After a brief silence, Cheetara gave the traditional reply: "It is so recorded for the generations to come."

Talitha set her torch to the lowest branches of the pyre as did Tygra. The dry grass woven into the framework caught fire easily. In minutes, flames licked the upper tier. When the blaze began to consume the body of Servalla, Tygra and Talitha roared her spirit free.

As the great column of fire raged, the tigress moved to a spot away from the intense heat. It was her responsibility, as well as Tygra's, to watch the fire until all that remained had become ashes. They would then cool and spread the residue on the cleansed earth.

The other Thunderans said little as they drifted back toward Cats' Lair. Talitha reclined on the soft grass and observed Tygra. After selecting a place for his vigil, he knelt. The architect placed his hands on his knees and stared at the inferno.

With the passage of time, Talitha marveled at his ability to maintain a rigid pose. He had become a stone sentinel in the long grass, for no emotion moved his face or form.

The rising heat of the midday sun slowly drained energy from the mystic. Talitha tried to fight the drowsiness brought on by hard work and grief, but she no longer had the will to resist. She watched peacefully as her somber guardian disappeared behind the dark veil that sleep drew across her vision.

*****

The sound of splashing water revived the tigress. Talitha rubbed the dreams from her eyes, and looked to the place where the pyre had once stood. Tygra, dressed only in his ak'ti, emptied one of three large earthenware vessels. Using a branch, he coaxed the liquid over the ashes, and spread the mixture across the damp earth.

The sun sat lower on the western horizon. Brushing the dust off her blue o'ba'ti, Talitha rose. A chill breeze, the sign of a cool night to come, had risen. She shivered slightly as the air blew across her uncovered breasts.

Her action attracted the tiger. He set his hand against her neck. "You are cold," he murmured. "Let me get my o'ba'ti. You can cover your shoulders. It would not do for our healer to acquire a cold."

As he moved away, she said, "No, please, I'm fine. Although the night may turn cool, the hunt will keep me warm." Tygra turned abruptly. She followed the change in his eyes from surprise to regret.

"Talitha...I am sorry. The hunt...falls not to you."

"Tygra, I understand that it is your duty, but I expected that you would ask me to accompany you in this. After all, I am the only representative of the white tigers and the mystics that remains."

"Talitha...." Tygra sighed, then stopped. He glanced at Cats' Lair in the hazy distance. A rising cloud of dust heralded Cheetara's approach. He kept his gaze from the mystic and said, "Talitha...I respect your offer, but you have forgotten that the hunt--"

"Is no mere hunt," she replied suddenly. Her own stupidity surprised her. "Elder," she mumbled, "forgive my indiscretion. My responsibility here has ended."

Talitha ran toward the Lair. She ignored Tygra's shouts. When ak'ti-clad Cheetara passed her, she disregarded the older female's greeting.

Tears of shame mingled with her grief. How could she have forgotten that the couple who performed the funeral hunt, not only feasted on the kill together, but coupled afterward to celebrate the triumph of life over death.

"Youngling fool!" she shouted at herself, "How could you have given Lord Tygra such embarrassment! You know that you cannot join with a male until you are made ready by first fertility. Talitha, what were you thinking when you made that offer!"

Perhaps it will come soon, if I can feel this way. The insight made her halt. She quickly examined her feelings for the quiet architect, and found that she had indeed developed a strong fascination toward him. Only with Tir'shan have I ever felt anything similar to this, and that came from friendship alone, she thought as she recalled the one other male who had stirred her feelings. With a shake of her white mane, Talitha dismissed her emotion for Tygra as one born of the unique circumstance of her first meeting with him, and not as one that indicated the advent of fertility. Having convinced herself that adulthood lay comfortably in the future, Talitha continued her self-tirade to the marbled steps of Cats' Lair.

*****

The mystic read again the short message that she had discovered under her door:

Your assistance is welcome in sorting through the objects that belonged to Servalla.

At your convenience, please come to my quarters. You are invaluable in this matter.

-- Tygra

Although the architect had resisted her idea at first, she had stood firm on the matter of Servalla's possessions. Tygra finally moved the three chests to his room, but declared that he would not examine them until after his mother's funeral. Was it only yesterday that they had performed the rite? It already seemed that many days had passed.

Before her somber mood could deepen, the mystic found herself in front of Tygra's room. It is well past noon, she thought. Hopefully, he has had enough time to recover from the hunt.

She was about to knock when the tiger rumbled, "Enter," from the opposite side of the door. Once more, Talitha wondered how he had detected her presence without a cue from her.

The spacious bedroom, although sparsely furnished, revealed the character of its occupant in subtle ways. A small wooden flute lay on the blue cloth that covered his night stand. Its placement next to the spiral crystal indicated that the tiny instrument merited the same level of respect. The dark wood of the furnishings and the neutral fabrics suggested a quiet, sensitive soul. Shell and rock filled a clay bowl set on the low table that was a darker twin to her own. The tiger clearly had an affinity for natural beauty. The only testimony to his vanity existed in a tall mirror with an intricately carved frame that stood in one corner.

As in her own room, the seams that indicated the doors to the closet and the adjoining bathroom were barely noticeable in the smooth metal of the wall directly opposite the windows. Only the chests disrupted the serenity that the environment conveyed. A whirlwind had emptied their contents. Scattered piles dotted the area by the eastern-placed windows.

Tygra wasted no time on pleasantries. He pointed to a stack of objects and said, "Let's start with those and catalog what we find. You take notes. There is paper on the dresser."

As he plucked a small rectangular box from the heap, he added firmly, "And you have as much right to these things as I do. After all, you spent far more time with Servalla than I ever did. She was your friend and your teacher. Speak up if you desire something, or if you feel that a certain item would best serve another in this household. Understood?"

"But, Tygra--"

"I am insisting, little one."

"Oh, very well!" She had not intended to speak sharply, but his remark about her height grated. That he knew her well enough to realize that such a reference would fluster her made Talitha angrier.

Oblivious to the effect of his words, Tygra chatted amicably. "I told Cheetara that you would see reason. Now she has this night's duty, not I."

Before the mystic could frame a blistering reply, the tiger opened the container that he held, and said, "Ah! Now this is interesting--image crystals!" He looked to her for an explanation.

It is no good being angry, she decided. Why make this more difficult for him than it has to be. Surely, he must hurt, although he has kept his feelings hidden from everyone. She surrendered. "Yes, elder, they have been primed for teaching." Talitha eyed the twelve crystals nestled in their velvet pockets and suddenly realized that there were four additional ones placed in a haphazard fashion.

The tiger gave voice to her observation. "Talitha, why do these four rest among the twelve like this? Clearly, they don't belong here. Are they blank?"

"Unlikely, elder," she answered. "An image crystal has but one purpose. It takes a sorcerer of great power to make one and charge it with information. Your mother, my lord, was quite meticulous, like you. She would have only stored them here if the original case had been destroyed."

The spheres had intrigued the curious tiger. "How are they activated?" he asked innocently.

"You hold one in your hand, then speak the activator word. See the label on each pocket. It lists the appropriate word. The crystal will deactivate after its information is displayed, or if touched during play."

"Fascinating! I have heard of these, but I have not seen one until now. A cousin of my father was a sorcerer, but I doubt that he ever tried to craft such magic as this. Shall we try one?"

Talitha reached for the crystal labeled 'Breathing'. "No, no," the tiger snapped. "This one!" He handed her one of the four unlabeled spheres.

Talitha sighed. There was no stopping the tiger once his mind fixed on a problem, but in this instance, they simply did not possess the key word for the crystal he had chosen. "Elder," she explained, "the activator is unknown."

Tygra took the crystal back and set it in the palm of his hand. The tiger seemed entranced as he gently poked the sphere to examine it. He said after several minutes had passed, "Perhaps one of the healing records that Servalla--" At the mention of the elder mystic's name, the crystal flared with multicolored light. "By Jaga! What do I do now, White!" he shouted.

Secretly pleased with his discomfort, Talitha pointed to the table, and said calmly, "Set it down, elder. It takes a moment to lock into the image after activation."

Tygra gingerly placed the sphere on the table as instructed. He continued to stare at the playful lights. A faint hum emanated from the object. "Ah, elder, listen. Soon it will be ready to show us its secret." The crystal's mysteries now intrigued the mystic as well.

The gem flashed a brilliant blue. A three-dimensional image hovered above the table. The pacing red tiger was a tall, powerfully built figure dressed in the light robes of the warm season. His right arm cradled a small bundle. The pathetic wail of a hungry cub rose from deep within the blanket. "Now, now," the handsome male purred, "you will eat soon." The elder playfully waved his fingers over the bundle. A small hand appeared from the linen and tried to grab the great hand above it.

The angles of the face. The strong nose. The resemblance to Tygra was irrefutable. By the Goddess, Talitha thought with dismay, Siberan!

The father of Tygra, who appeared to be still in the prime of his adulthood, looked up from the linens. He spoke to someone unseen. "Servalla, give welcome to my son, Tygra. Only 100 suns old, and already he has endured a long and dangerous journey to reach his home." Siberan inclined the blanket. "As you can see, the young one has grown quite plump." The infant yawned as if bored by its father's assessment, then sucked its left fist contentedly. The sleepy cub's eyes had the color of fine amber.

Before the image could finish its discourse, Tygra roared and scooped up the crystal. Siberan vanished back into the past. Talitha grabbed Tygra's wrist and kept him from hurling the gem through a window. She quickly turned his own weight against him, and knocked him off balance. The tiger tried unsuccessfully to stay upright. He fell onto his bed. The crystal flew from his hand. It struck the stone floor with a sharp ring. Before he could regain his footing, Talitha reclaimed the gem and secured the box that contained the others. She backed toward the door. The mystic refused to let Tygra destroy a link to his past so casually.

The noble pulled himself up and sat at the edge of his bed. Not giving chase? she thought with surprise. A moment before, he was irrational.

The architect rested his elbows on his knees and lowered his face onto his palms. Talitha had expected him to protest her action, or to retrieve the crystals by force. That he would weep was a possibility that she had not considered.

Proud Tygra had cast away his shroud of calm and had surrendered to the grief that he had denied. His breaths came in sobbing gulps that shook his body.

Talitha sank to the cold stone floor. The tears that slid down her face dropped from her chin onto all that she guarded.

A shadow passed over her hands. Tygra knelt beside her. Despite his tears and his grim countenance, he radiated compassion. Comforted by his concern, she rested her hand against his broad chest. The architect closed his eyes as if her touch had caused him pain. Overcoming his anguish, he covered her hand with his.

"Thank you, elder."

"Of thanks, there is no need, little one. You have brought me a great gift."

"Peace, elder," she whispered as she wiped his tears away with her hands. "Peace."

Tygra pulled back and took the deep breath that ended tears. "Talitha," he uttered wearily, "you knew her best. Tell me why she did not mention these crystals in her first journal."

"Elder, especially in that volume, Servalla recorded her most secret thoughts concerning Siberan," she answered carefully. "She knew that no one in the Halls of Healing would dare to breech her privacy. If she feared exposure she could have easily burned her writings, but it takes some effort and some magic to destroy one of these gems. To leave any clue as to their existence might have endangered Siberan. Although we know that many in power knew of their union, perhaps even the mystic council, it was the will of Jaga that it be kept from the majority of tigers of the red and the white clans."

He waved his hand and said, "Talitha, I don't think that I will ever understand this. I cannot withstand another shock such as this."

"But elder, you must find your courage. These special crystals are one of the few remembrances that you have from your father. You should view them all; it is your duty. Siberan took a dangerous chance when he had these made. I am sure that Lord Jaga would have been furious to have discovered his rebellion."

From the tiger's face, Talitha saw that he accepted her logic, but that he was not happy with the result. His back stiffened as he re-established control of his emotions. "You are right, Talitha," he barked. "Let us proceed."

"No," she replied coolly, "not at this moment." She returned his legacy to him. "We have something more important to tend."

Tygra placed the lone crystal with the others, and rested the box on the table. As he secured the lid, he declared, "I do not understand what we need to do."

"Tygra, don't you think that it is time that your parents were thanked for carrying their burden so honorably?"

Tygra looked to the floor, and nodded quietly. Talitha offered her hand, and said, "There is a peaceful glade near the unicorn forest. Let us go there, and build a circle of stones wherein we can burn incense. The smoke will carry our gratitude to the lands beyond the silence."

Tygra stood slowly, then helped Talitha to her feet. "How did one so young become so wise?"

The mystic squeezed his hand and replied truthfully, "Your mother was the finest of teachers, Tygra."

The smile that softened his face did not linger. His voice carried the weight of his sorrow. "I feel the lack of her teaching, Talitha. As her student, would you consider sharing her wisdom with me?"

"My lord, you surprise me by asking," she chided gently. "From the day we first met, the way of Servalla has touched you."

As he accompanied her to the door, he whispered reverently, "Then, Talitha, may the Goddess grant that together we will explore her teaching over the many seasons of our lives."

The mystic silently agreed.