Soft Spring Thunder

"You are going to Tabbia!" Both leaders of the mystic council leapt to their feet, and simultaneously slammed their hands down on the large table. Sri'rin added a growl worthy of a deranged mountain tiger; Te'sara glared like a predator who had missed one meal too many. Both reared back, and folded their arms. Their blue robes rippled with their displeasure.

Startled, Tir'shan marveled that the two older mystics had expressed such ire. Early on in the long conversation about his melancholy, the ri'sar'ri had raised a mental barrier to the squabbling voices of the three other white tigers in the room. It was a vain hope that they would simply cease their tirade if he displayed indifference to their concerns.

"Better acknowledge them, Tir'shan, or we will never get out of here," Casaphi snarled, the glint off of his four gold incisors adding to his menace. "Your elders desire horses for travel, and also wish to establish a presence in Tabbia, with or without your cooperation. If you journey with me, you can assist me greatly. You can select a building, while I judge the horses." The weaver pulled a short pipe out of a pocket in his trousers in defiance of the general disdain of mystics for tobacco. One snort from Sri'rin made Talitha's father set it down on the table.

Tir'shan rose slowly from his chair, allowing himself the thought that his formidable stature might intimidate his audience. Three pairs of eyes in various shades of blue were not frightened by his pathetic ploy. The giant sighed, a sound that ached with a sadness that finally softened the harsh stares of his elders.

The days of spring should have lightened his heart, but the absence of Ayasha kept it heavy with grief born of his doubt and guilt. His wild dance still tormented him with embarrassment, but more importantly, fear. He had lost control of himself as if possessed by another. Since that day, strange music and twisting forms had sporadically invaded his dreams, and had deprived him of rest.

He considered the suggestion before him. I have seen the sea, but never Tabbia. Such freedom offered to a ri'sar'ri is a great gift. Maybe I can forget my troubles for a few days. But will my absence be too traumatic for Ameera? Tir'shan rubbed his chin pensively. Tabbia is not that far, and we will not be away for very long, he decided, not admitting to the increasing uncertainties of life which had colored his days. My daughter won't forget me.

Tir'shan opened his hands in a gesture of surrender.

*****

The kalends of Juin dawned with a hint of jasmine in the air, a sure sign of summer's approach. Tir'shan sat on the edge of the largest fountain in Lion-o's City, running his hand through the cool water, not caring if he got the sleeves of his robe wet. He wondered what had delayed the usually prompt Casaphi, as he kicked his pack with the tip of his soft boots.

Under the increasingly warm breezes, his thoughts finally drifted away from the weaver. He had just finished pondering whether the king's architect had ever considered the possibility of adding a pool with din'ya to one of the city's many gardens, when, as if summoned by magic, Tygra suddenly rounded a corner and approached him. That the Chi'ris'rin wore a sour expression, did not bode well. That he had donned a worn tunic and trousers suitable for working in the fields seemed odd.

Much as it irked him, Tir'shan placed his hand over his heart, and offered a slight bow. "Is it not a fine morning, my Lord Tygra," he said smoothly. "How fares your family?"

Tygra put his hands on his hips, and glowered. "Casaphi waits at the city gates," he hissed.

Tir'shan smirked, somewhat pleased that the weaver had ordered his daughter's teniri to deliver the message personally. Where is your noble lineage now, Tygra, he thought with unmitigated glee, that your ta's'vi can send you on errands. "Thank you," he drawled. "No need for you to convey a reply. I will go directly to the gates."

Tygra's dark amber eyes filled with scorn. "We go together, Ri'sar'ri," the tiger declared.

"Oh, no need to leave your work...in the fields."

"Should I expect days of this verbal nonsense from you!"

"What do you--"

The architect turned away, and waved his hand in disdain. Moving in the direction of the city gates, he shouted over his shoulder, "Try not to keep Casaphi, the Li'am'ra and myself waiting any longer than is necessary!" "Ryndi and you as well!" Tir'shan exclaimed, unprepared for the presence of additional travelling companions. The mystic grabbed his pack, and muttered to himself about the affronts he had endured as he strove to catch up with the architect.

*****

Sitting on a blanket thrown across the dry ground, Tir'shan stared at the campfire. The long yellow flames licked the darkness greedily in anticipation of destruction. He flicked a twig into the fire. It crackled and twisted under the intense heat until it slowly turned into ash. My heart knows well your work, flame, he thought sullenly.

A figure sat down beside him. The scent of tobacco told him it was Casaphi, who puffed on his short pipe. "Do you plan to stay up all night?" the weaver asked.

"Do you?"

"I have the first watch."

"Who decided that?" Tir'shan spat.

Casaphi took a long drag on his pipe. With great skill, he blew an almost perfect ring of smoke. The ephemeral shape rose then dissipated. "I decided the watches, as neither you, nor the other two, were much for talking today," the elder replied. "This is the quietest travelling party I have ever journeyed with to Tabbia! I thought young folk would be more lively. I feel as if I am on a funeral procession!"

A snore sounded. The two horses tethered to a wooden caravan that the weaver owned neighed in low tones in response. The vehicle could sleep one. It also held their supplies, and goods to be traded from several of the city's merchants. Ryndi had swiftly claimed the interior for sleeping. Without complaint, Tygra had chivalrously laid his blanket on the ground nearby.

Casaphi chuckled. "That sound could penetrate metal. I wonder that the Li'am'ra can sleep through that noise."

Tir'shan smiled despite his mood. "Ryndi drops very quickly into sleep when tired.

"Then you have been with the Li'am'ra."

Heat rushed to the mystic's face. "No!" he answered vehemently. "But Ryndi drove the caravan all day. He must be exhausted."

The light sparkled off the weaver's gold ear cuffs as he tilted his head quizzically. "It is not like you offered her any assistance," Casaphi said, his perception of the Li'am'ra's gender differing from his own. "At least Lord Tygra looked to the horses for her when we camped, but you did nothing. I wondered if you wished to punish her for wanting to have a little adventure in her life."

"Never!"

"I can understand your uneasiness with Tygra, but what quarrel can you have with the Li'am'ra?"

It was hard to hold back the truth from Casaphi, whose stormy eyes had always regarded him in a fatherly way. "I pulled the Li'am'ra into my disgrace."

"You both got overwhelmed by the power of the tiger drums. You're young. It happens." He blew two smoke rings that somehow joined together. "Whatever is really bothering you about that day, you must settle it with her." Casaphi stretched. "Remember, Tir'shan, you may be the most potent ri'sar'ri ever to walk among the Felinari, but everything does not revolve around you. Ryndi came on this journey because Te'sara and Sri'rin asked her to come. The place of healing your leaders wish to establish in Tabbia will also have room for the priests dedicated to the purifying power of love. It is a good match."

The weaver emptied the contents of his pipe over the flames, then set it back in his trouser pocket. "I have reconsidered. Why don't you take the first watch, mystic." Without waiting for a reply, Casaphi moved away from the fire, and vanished into the shadows near Tygra to prepare for sleep. The rustling in the darkness soon quieted, but two sets of snores soon annoyed the horses, who occasionally stamped their hooves in retaliation.

The wind picked up slightly, but the rock outcropping they had chosen for a camp site helped shelter them from the elements, and the beasts that roamed the plains. Tir'shan lay on his blanket, and wondered how far the bright stars would turn in their courses before he stumbled onto a way to once again be comfortable in Ryndi's presence.

*****

Because he simply could not quiet the conflicting thoughts infesting his mind, Tir'shan had never awakened Casaphi during the night. That he used his pent-up emotions to ready breakfast and the horses had surprised his well-rested travelling companion. He also earned approving nods from the weaver as he launched into small talk while they broke camp. Once on the road, he drew the others into relaxed conversation, making their journey speed by with growing camaraderie. But in the late afternoon of the second day, Tir'shan found himself struggling to stay awake, as the party moved away from the safety of the rocky foothills, and instead traversed the monotonous plain of long grasses and scrubby trees.

Perhaps sensing his distress, Casaphi raised his hand to signal a stop. Ryndi jumped down from the driver's seat on the caravan. The o'lathi quickly opened a side panel in the vehicle, and brought forth some refreshment of dried meat from the stores. Tygra closed his eyes and let a cooling breeze wash over him as he drank deeply from a water skin. Casaphi casually lit his pipe.

If I dare to sit, I will go straight to sleep, Tir'shan decided as he leaned against the caravan, and wiped the sweat from his brow. What I would not offer for a bath, he thought distractedly.

Ryndi began to hum a jaunty tune, which brought a chuckle from Casaphi, and cemented his suspicion that the lyrics might be lewd. The snow leopard gave him a wide smile as if reading his thoughts. Despite the heat, the priest appeared comfortably cool in his light tunic and trousers the color of sand. On a whim, the Li'am'ra had also donned a bright red sash after the midday meal. It was now pulled tight enough to accent the slight swell of the priest's breasts and hips.

Ryndi sensed his appraisal. Twirling about, the Li'am'ra said curtly, "Don't like the fiery accent or the tune, mystic?"

He had known the younger Thunderan for some seasons, but in that instant, he saw the priest for the first time as female, not male. Raising a thin, black eyebrow, the snow leopard gave a languid wave of her hand which oozed dismissive femininity. The harmless movement caused an unexpected stirring in his loins.

"Something wrong, mystic?" Casaphi asked, lightly touching his arm.

"What!" Tir'shan exclaimed, his heart racing with the ambivalence of his drastically changed perception.

The weaver frowned, then pointed to the caravan, his intention clear.

Tir'shan brushed past the elder. "I am too tall to sleep comfortably in the wagon. I will rest when we make camp for the evening."

"Perhaps you should at least sit by the Li'am'ra once we start to walk again," Tygra stated calmly. "You might be able to doze if you need some rest now. Gods know, it is a wearisome enough trek over the plains."

Only when we are not concerned about fearsome am'ral'im hiding in the grass waiting to devour us! Tir'shan thought, the cutting rejoinder almost forming on his lips. Not wishing to bury the goodwill he had carefully fostered during the day, he turned to Ryndi, who eyed him quizzically. "Mind if I take the reins for awhile?"

"You always do," the snow leopard commented dryly, which only stoked his desire.

With a silent prayer to Mrísena, he began to hum mentally the notes used to track different pulses of mystic power in the hopes that boring repetition would douse his desire.

"Let's continue," Casaphi remarked. "I'd like to cover some more miles before dark.

"The horses are yours," Ryndi said. "I think I will walk for a time."

As they resumed their expedition, the mystic kept his eyes to the rumps of the horses, for if he glanced at the Li'am'ra's swaying hips, his discomfort resumed.

"Mrísena deliver me!" he muttered to himself.

Perhaps being a ri'sar'ri had its merits in the ledger of the gods. His desire waned under the tedium of travel. The tawny am'ral'im apparently preferred the taste of gazelle, and did not trouble them. The companions settled into an ennui that even Casaphi's racy tales of his misspent youth could not mitigate.

On twilight of the sixth day, they thankfully reached the gates of Tabbia before they closed.

*****

Three gold coins dropped onto the cobblestones. "Favor us with a blessing, Holy One!" the little tabbot squeaked. "I have yet to farrow, and am much disgraced."

Ryndi placed her hands on the rotund sow's head. A yellow silk cap favored by the merchant class hid her natural baldness, and the fine embroidery on her green gown attested to her wealth. "May you find your heart's desire," the Li'am'ra intoned. After speaking, the snow leopard retrieved the gold, and gave it back to her. "Help those who do not have riches," she said with a smile. The tabbot gave a respectful curtsey, and vanished into the crowds clogging the market.

The mystic eyed the o'lathi, who wore a pensive expression. "Our first full morning in Tabbia, and that is the third tabbot to hurl gold at you. I have given up trying to figure it out, so I have to ask, Li'am'ra: Why?"

Ryndi chuckled. "You have kept your silence about the matter far longer than I expected, my friend." She angled her head coyly. "You have heard the requests: They all involve love or fertility."

He swept the air with his hand. "But what about you makes them ask? You are garbed as plainly as any farmer."

Ryndi put her fingers to her chest. "You wound me, son of Mrísena!" she said before dissolving into laughter.

Tir'shan growled, for her delightful manner once again caused the rising of desire he had thought he had locked away. Why can I not perceive you again as male! he fumed to himself.

"Oh, do be pleasant," Ryndi chided. She pointed to a café. "Let take some refreshment."

He had expected stares and whispers, but he found the relentless, rolling commentary by the locals about his height tiresome. Inside the establishment, he eyed two chairs set around a circular table, and wondered if the furniture could hold his weight.

A tabbot sidled up to them. Unlike the noble boars of Tabbia, the horn that protruded from his brow was not inlaid with turquoise, but he said with a shopkeeper's authority, "No need to worry, master. Just give us a moment." He gave a shout, and his three assistants moved chairs large enough for humans into place.

Tir'shan lowered himself onto the seat, which creaked, but held. "Thank you, " he said to the owner, who beamed with satisfaction.

"Two cups of tea, and perhaps some pastry," Ryndi ordered before he could protest. "Maybe a little confection will sweeten your sour mood," she sniped in response to his frown.

The fare was delicious. The owner's pink face reddened under Ryndi's compliments concerning the tea. He easily provided the information she required to procure some to take back home, while he sheepishly twisted his white apron. When he left to assist other customers, Ryndi answered the mystic's earlier question, "It is in the nature of the Li'am'ra to put people at ease."

Dissatisfied with the response, Tir'shan replied, "And that gives them leave to throw gold at you?"

She casually untied a new red ribbon that had held her long mane away from face. Her pleasing tresses of grey-white, made dramatic with splashes of black rosettes, framed her face perfectly.

His desire firmed once more under his robes to his annoyance and embarrassment.

Her sage eyes regarded him carefully. "Are you well?"

Before he could respond through gritted teeth, he caught a flash of orange and black. Tygra raised his right hand in greeting, while in his left, he held a scroll.

The three tabbots quickly slid another large chair to their table. "Beer, meat, and some bread" Tygra commanded as he sat. The formation of tabbots broke to fulfill his order.

"Early for alcohol, is it not," Tir'shan rebuked.

"It is just past noon, mystic, and I have been looking at buildings all morning, not sauntering around the city like a vagabond," Tygra said in retaliation, slamming the scroll on the table. "Te'sara and Sri'rin asked me at the last minute to come on this journey because they valued my opinion and expertise. I have made a list of properties that might serve for a mystic outpost within the walls of the city, but they are still subject to your approval."

"Well done, my Lord!" Ryndi quickly interjected.

"Any other complaints?" Tygra grumbled, ignoring the o'lathi's comment.

"He has none, I am sure," Ryndi added with a side-long glance at Tir'shan that suggested he'd better behave.

"I had not realized the time, architect," the white tiger said to mollify his friend. And that is all the apology you will get, architect! he thought hotly to himself.

The three tabbots brought the food and drink requested, as Tygra unrolled the scroll, and began to recite the list of properties, giving a brief review of each. When he finished, he drank deeply from his mug of beer.

"Quite impressive," Ryndi remarked. "Any stand out?"

Tygra thought for a moment, then said, "Three." The architect suddenly snapped his fingers. "I forgot." He slipped his hand into his trouser pocket, and removed a slip of paper and a gold coin. "A sow asked me to give this to you, Li'am'ra."

Ryndi studied the paper and the coin, then placed both into the plain brown purse that hung from her braided belt. "This request will require more than a blessing," she said, her expression serious. "Did she give an address, my lord?"

Tygra shrugged his shoulders. "She just gave me the coin and the paper."

"Well, then all I can do is pray, and pass along the gold to a needy individual," she said with a sigh.

Still smarting from Tygra's scolding, Tir'shan snapped, "Will you never explain this to me, Ryndi!"

"How can you not know," Tygra said as if addressing someone of limited intelligence.

Ryndi slipped her hand over the white tiger's long fingers. The exquisite torment of her touch silenced him. "Peace, my friend."

It is the one thing I do not possess! Tir'shan thought with anguish. Mrísena has held it from me for my offenses.

"It is because the Li'am'ra is an o'lathi," Tygra said. "Such are considered both lucky and heavenly by many of the folk between Tabbia and our city." He paused, and absently scratched the part of his jaw covered by his silky, white ruff.

"Excellent answer, Tygra," Ryndi said.

"At least that is what the historians say," Tygra added.

Any historian or Cheetara? Tir'shan wondered. He knew from the reports of other mystics that Tygra had made little effort to speak with his double from another reality, except for the usual exchange of pleasantries when he allowed his son, Altair, and his brother, Marcus, to stay with their cheetah mother. Tygra'a had entered Matrix of History as a severely wounded Thunderan of middle-age; because of Cenatua's intercession, he had returned with an age to match Tygra's. However, without a ruff, the historian's new lover now clearly appeared younger than the architect. Tir'shan wondered if a serpent of jealousy had ever wrapped itself around Tygra's heart as it did his. The ri'sar'ri clenched his fist in frustration. He had to admit the simplest of truths: Unlike himself, Tygra had made the best of his life.

Mrísena forgive my indulgences, he prayed, his thoughts tumbling with weariness. He signalled for a tabbot, then ordered a beer.

*****

Dagen ran his shop with the skill of a musical conductor. With a purr or a dismissive snort, the white tiger wove a score of words around each customer until they left the shop thrilled with a purchase of fine weavings or other consigned items. Mid-morning of their third day in Tabbia, he shuttered the store early having done business brisk enough for two days. Dagen is the crashing wave, while Dabir is the deep, still lake, Tir'shan thought as he compared Talitha's two remaining brothers. They both have found their place in the world, and are happy in it.

Would that Danior and Kalinda had found their way to Third Earth too, he thought, considering Casaphi's lost son and s'vi'a.

"They love it when the new merchandise arrives," Dagen said with glee as he flipped the sign that indicated that the store was now closed. His broad smile showed that he had already acquired one gold incisor, which only made him look more like a younger version of his father. Having heard of the white tiger's rowdy ways, the mystic had no doubt that he would eventually match his father in adding more gold to his smile. How both empaths withstood the wide range of emotions drenching the city without going mad amazed him. Despite the burden, their sensitivities at least added to their income as both were also dowsers of some repute.

Casaphi slapped his middle son on his muscular back. "Briz'bazim favors you!"

"Luck had nothing to do with it," Tygra commented wryly. "You son has a gift for selling."

"His own weaving is also excellent," said his father proudly. "When he sets out to do it, that is. By all the gods, when is the last time you strung your loom? The dust on it is appalling!"

Dagen shrugged in response, then gave a sweeping bow. "I had good helpers in my shop this day," he said deflecting his father's question with charm.

"Helps us work off our lodging with you," Ryndi joked as she folded several blankets.

"That is why the third level of this abode easily sleeps five. If I need help or lodgers, I have the rooms, while keeping the second level all for myself...or those I have chosen to entertain." It was rumored that he had cut a broad swath through the female population of humans and Thunderans who had migrated to Tabbia.

Tygra fingered a support beam. "Your home of wood and stone is solid on every level, functional, and spacious. The overall plan of the building in the placement of the doors and staircases makes it accessible to the public, but secure. The high fence protects your additional outbuildings and property in general."

"Praise from an architect as renowned as yourself, I will gladly take," Dagen said with a chuckle. "The three houses you are considering for the mystics are equally well planned. When you finally decide which one you wish to acquire, let me bargain for you. My commission is small."

Tygra gave an appreciative nod.

"However, today is a day for horses. With my father's eyes and my tongue, the mystics will be well served in that regard too. The horse traders come at noon, so we'd best be on our way."

The sights and smells of the city hit them full as soon as they left the property. The fact that Dagen's shop stood at the intersection of the taverns and cafes, and the start of the merchants' row, favored bustling traffic. Carried along by the throng, they followed the street that led down to the waterfront.

A cacophony of languages buffeted the air. Cargo from tall ships rolled down ramps into the hands of tabbots and humans. The whinnying of horses soon joined the noises of the busy port. In the broad plaza, people examined several herds, each group sequestered in its own paddock.

Dagen narrowed his dark blue eyes, and clicked his tongue in approval. "We are in luck. See that man, the one with the hair as black as a raven. Aquila has the best stock, and fare prices," he said pointing to a paddock where a human groomed a brown horse. "It has been awhile since he has come to Tabbia." The white tiger shouted in greeting. The man stopped his labors, and beckoned them over.

"Your family, then, you scoundrel?" Aquila asked, as they entered the enclosure. The cadence of his words in the common tongue was almost musical in its rhythm. The young man sported a wide brimmed hat with a long white plume that made a stark contrast to his dull, brown work clothes

"Some," Casaphi's son answered. "But we don't run to spots," he added, indicating the Li'am'ra.

"A bella," he said. "A la mia altezza. La pensate dormirete con me?"

"Portreste essere sorpreso," Dagen replied with a suggestive grin.

Ryndi winked, obviously sensing a layer to the conversation that her lack of knowledge of the language did not preclude. A faint blush tinted the man's olive skin.

"Not often one sees a giant," Aquila remarked, quickly shifting his attention to the mystic.

Dagen wisely did not give the mystic a chance to respond, for he grabbed Aquila's arm, and pulled him off to one side of the paddock. "Let's get down to business, my friend. Then, you can tell me all about your latest travels."

While Dagen and Aquila bartered in low tones, the mystic studied the horses with his companions. All the beasts were sound, and possessed the virtue of being neither too large nor too small, ideal horses for travelling healers. But there is not one large enough for me, Tir'shan thought with disappointment. No matter. That Te'sara allowed me to travel at all is a rare blessing. I have no need of a horse.

Ryndi clapped her hands. "That one is mine!" she squealed. "Her eyes are so green!" The mare was a pale grey, but her thick mane and tail were black, and her demeanor friendly.

"I hope you bought enough to pay for her," the mystic teased, enjoying the snow leopard's innocent pleasure.

A cry suddenly rose up from a paddock at the far end of the waterfront. "Damn them that they do this in public to entertain the masses!" Aquila shouted as Dagen fell back against his friend, and Casaphi doubled over in equal empathic shock.

"The stallion fights for his life," Tygra said, pointing to an enormous horse that strained the ropes brought to bear upon him. "Let's get you and Dagen out of here," he said firmly, assisting his ta's'vi. "There is no need for either of you to endure this."

Tir'shan did not wait for further explanation from Aquila as he raced toward the bound stallion. "Stop!" he cried, approaching the group of men who held the ropes.

"That demon is ours to butcher as we please," rumbled a tall, broad man with bright red hair twisted into a long braid. "He is a spoil of war, and not breakable. But his flesh will be profitable to us." He rested the handle of a two-handed axe casually on his bare shoulder, and glared defiantly at the mystic.

"I will pay for this beast," Tir'shan said, his mind calculating how he could gather enough gold as he looked into the animal's tortured blue eyes. He crossed into the paddock, while the men laughed along with the people, who had gathered to watch the spectacle. The horse shook his head, his flying white mane a bold contrast to his strong black body.

The leader leered, then gestured. On his signal, the men dropped their ropes. Free of bondage, the stallion cried out, then reared, hooves flailing. Shouting bystanders swiftly made bets as to the outcome of the contest that loomed before them.

Tir'shan found himself under the horse's chest. Violet light poured from his hands to calm the beast, as he put all his physical strength into keeping the horse from trampling him. Unusual warmth flooded him, a second vibration that augmented his own. The noisy crowd, along with the terror and rage generated by the animal, disappeared.

Tir'shan stood on a meadow under an azure summer sky. The young woman before him was petite. Her white gown pooled around her as she sat on the grass, and observed the prancing of a large black and white foal. The wind gently played with the loose strands of brown hair that had escaped the cover of her grey mantle. A blush of color tinted her light olive cheeks, but her dark eyes moistened with tears. *He will serve you well, my Khandar,* she stated to his mind. *He has earned peace.*

Reality roared back, along with the strain in his shoulders. The stallion puffed with exhaustion. Tir'shan released the horse slowly, so that he could easily settle back on his hooves.

To his astonishment, his own breath was as steady as if nothing monumental had happened at all. He quietly thanked Mrísena for Her blessings. Back at Dagen's home, he would deal with his aches and the mystery surrounding the animal.

Someone directly behind him proclaimed in a breathy alto, "I believe that went rather well." Tir'shan spun about to see the Li'am'ra by his side. Ryndi's grey-green eyes reflected rapidly shifting emotions. The strands of hair fanning forward from her unbound mane gave her a comical look. "Now we just have to secure enough gold to buy this titan."

The executioner lowered his axe. "I give him to you, Holy Man." Without fanfare, all the men left the paddock.

"They will make songs of this," Ryndi said softly as she retied her mane with the red ribbon.

*****

Tir'shan lowered his hands from their position over his heart. Wisps of violet light tinted with gold and silver danced on his fingertips, and matched the flickering of the candlelight in the dark room in which he had sought retreat. After his third attempt at taking inventory of his own health, he had to accept the conclusion that the impossible had become possible: He no longer detected the unsteady vibration that marked the shortened lifespan of a ri'sar'ri. "Yet, ri'sar'ri, I remain," he whispered to himself. A great, internal silence had also quelled the anguish he had suffered in recent suns, and although he felt better than he had in many seasons, he clearly did not feel as himself.

Is peace of mind such a nuisance, Ri'sar'ri? his conscience chided.

Gentle taps sounded on the door. "Will you not take some food, or at least some tea?" Ryndi implored from the other side of the portal.

The mystic's stomach gurgled in assent, but his mind still struggled with a single question: What had Ryndi done to him?

"We are all worried about you! Although I must say, Lord Tygra has made some rather interesting comparisons to you and great actors of the stage."

The mention of the tiger lord and his poor opinion of him spurred him into action. "In the name of all the gods, enter, Ryndi," he said, yielding to the persuasions of the Li'am'ra, though vexed by her obstinacy.

The o'lathi crossed the room, tray balanced on one hand. She set her burden down on a small table, then proceeded to open the windows to let the remaining daylight into the chamber. "Too early for a candle," she said, snuffing the single source of illumination that had comforted him. She removed the lid from a covered dish. "Good meats, sweet bread." She poured wine into two goblets. "Tabbia's finest," she said offering him the vessel. She put one hand on her hip, raised her goblet high, then drained it in a single gulp in the most masculine fashion. "I believe I could use another," she chirped.

Laughter bubbled up from within his being to a degree that he had not experienced since before the death of Thundera. The Li'am'ra said approvingly, "Thank you, mystic. Now Dagen owes me a gold piece."

Irritated at being the subject of a wager, he hurled a seat cushion at the o'lathi, who caught it with ease. "Care to tussle?" she purred. "You would find me a worthy challenge."

He briefly considered the idea, and found it devoid of both guilt and ambiguity. However, the strange feeling passed like a fleet bird.

Ryndi seated herself on another chair, her eyes rife with mischief. Framed by the golden tones of the setting sun, his resolved weakened, but did not collapse. He would join in the performance of his duties as a ri'sar'ri, but he would not offer sex to another until he fully understood his relationship with Ayasha.

The mysteries of the day gained prominence once more. "What did you do to me, Ryndi?" he asked.

The snow leopard's eyes deepened in green. "I only bathed you and the beast in the Light of the Li'am'ra to give you both peace through love. Was I wrong to do so? I would have taken the time to ask permission were you not about to be pummeled by those great hooves," she said hotly.

The rhythmic beats of drums sounded in the distance marking the changing of the guards at the gates of the king of Tabbia's marble palace. The Li'am'ra put her fist to her mouth, and squeezed her eyes shut. He knew then what she had neglected to tell him: That she had also wielded her power on the day the tiger drums had seduced him.

Two unsolicited invasions of his being had occurred. He should have been furious with the o'lathi, but his heart melted with concern for the clearly distressed priest. Curiosity also overcame pride. "You saved me another time, did you not?" he asked, giving her the opportunity to enlighten him.

Ryndi nodded, her face now wet with tears. "I am sorry, but I was afraid for you both times."

She met his gaze, and he beheld the turmoil she had suffered. He would not force the telling. One day, she will speak to me of the day of the tiger drums, he decided. I can wait. Tir'shan murmured, "Thank you," and effectively indicated that particular matter could rest until another time.

Ryndi grinned, and clapped her hands once in relief.

"I do have a favor to ask you, though," he said.

"You have only to name it, my friend."

Tir'shan stood. He leaned against the window, and looked to the bustling street below where people rushed about like a colony of ants unaware of the brevity of life. "I need you to help me figure out how we can help Cori."

"I do not understand. What kind of trouble can she be in?"

"Simply being a ri'sar'ri."

Ryndi opened her arms wide, baffled.

"The shorter lifespan that comes with the gift."

"You think you can ameliorate that? You have such power, and yet you have been unable to remove the stigma from yourself."

"Indeed, it was one of the first things I tried when I reached my new levels of power, but it was for naught," he said.

"So what changed?"

"You entered with a heart that could pour love on all the pain of the earth and transform it into happiness," he replied, not able to stop the wide grin that crossed his face.

Ryndi remarked, "I will take the compliment, but I do not understand it."

"When I calmed Khandar today--"

"The horse has a name?"

"Your light must have interacted with my own--"

Ryndi shot up from her chair. "And healed the wound that afflicts all ri'sar'ri's!"

Tir'shan folded his arms, and nodded his head in acknowledgment. "Indeed!"

Ryndi dropped back down onto the chair. In all the seasons, he had known the o'lathi, it was the first time he had known her to be too stunned to speak.

*****

One box of zebra wood had an inlaid abalone rose, the other a lily. Tir'shan could tell from the brightness of her brown eyes that the sow knew she had a sale. He handed the small boxes back to the tabbot merchant, and said, "Yes, both. Wrap the rose in red silk, and the lily in violet, please."

"Excellent choices, my tall master," she said happily. The green silk veil covering her head lifted slightly in the breeze that came off the wharf, but the flags on her tent poles fluttered like agitated sparrows.

As the sow worked, the mystic savored the relative calm of the morning, having snuck out of Dagen's house to wander the city at his leisure. Judging from the position of the sun in the sky, he knew his respite would soon be ending. Who will find me first? he wondered.

A shout of greeting in Thunderan told him soon enough. Tygra approached carrying a pink orchid in a porcelain pot. "I see you had the same idea, mystic."

Tir'shan pointed to the flower. "A gift for Talitha, certainly."

Tygra nodded. "Now, I must search for my cubs."

Tir'shan pointed down the lane. "There is a maker of wooden toys, that way. I am going to get a little pull horse for Ameera."

"Excellent, but it has to wait. We must go back to Dagen's dwelling. It is time to go and bargain for a house."

"Please tell me that you will negotiate for the one with the beautiful garden."

"There was never really any contest," the tiger said.

Laughter suddenly rang out. Across the plaza Tir'shan spied Ryndi and Aquila. The o'lathi gestured broadly, obviously telling the man an exciting story. Even Tygra's usually stern demeanor softened as he watched the snow leopard's display with amusement. No one could feel sad in the presence of the Li'am'ra of V'sri'sar. Somewhere down the lane, the notes of a flute and a drum mingled with several sweet voices rising in song. An image of Ayasha playing with Ameera kindled a longing in Tir'shan's heart for the familiar and comfortable household he had enjoyed. He had no idea how far along the former Guardian was on her journey with Dah'ri to find the desert cats of Oasis. His thoughts might touch her if he reached out psychically across the miles, but he quickly shelved the notion. He would not intrude with her quest for self discovery. But I can pray for her, he thought. And for now, that is all I can do.

Tygra tugged his sleeve. "Look. Ryndi comes. Wherever your mind is, bring it back. We must go."

"You are so insistent that you would think that you are going to live in this dwelling!"

"Am I not a mystic too!" Tygra snapped. "I think we both will be spending time at this outpost. Or had the idea not occurred to you."

With everything that had happened to him, the assessment by the architect had indeed escaped him.

"You are every bit a mystic, Tygra," Ryndi said, as she grabbed his right wrist. "And you, Tir'shan, mighty force that you are, could be a great teacher to him," she added, securing his left wrist. She threw back her head and laughed heartily. "Look at me. Now if only I had two tigers by the--"

"Don't say it!" Tir'shan and Tygra shouted in unison.

Although shorter and more slender than both tigers, the snow leopard squeezed their wrists with enough strength to make them wince. "Comportatevi bene," she said with a pout, surprising them with her smooth command of a different tongue. "Now you two concentrate on the house, and I will consider the appointments." Before he disappeared down an alleyway, Aquila made a subtle gesture of approval toward the Li'am'ra, obviously having overheard the exchange.

Ryndi dragged them down the lane, chattering all the way about the importance of just the right fabrics, furniture and cushions to a proper dwelling. Tir'shan thought with despair, We are all in trouble now.