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Subject: {ASSM} The Tails of Rabelaisia 5/8 Miscellaneous Work (furry) TBD
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Date: Sun, 08 Apr 2012 07:10:03 -0400
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The Tails of Rabelaisia 5/6 Miscellaneous Work
---

Tipsi's Tale
Tipsi and Farrel
---

"Go, Tipsi," someone murmured, from the ground.

Tipsi looked down and grinned at the small crowd that watched her.
Despite her precarious position, she managed a little wave before she
continued her ascent.

Little by little, she scaled the turret of the Library Tower. To most,
it would have been a virtual impossibility. To her, it was a breeze.

Finally, she reached the turret's peak. Glancing down, she could see
that others had joined her crowd of friends, and there were almost
twice as many people as she had started with.

'Well, best get on with it,' she thought to herself, gripping the
tower with one hand while the other reached into her pocket. With
effortless agility, she brought out a number of ribbons, and tied them
one by one to the weathervane that perched at the top of the tower.

She could hear the cheers and laughter from the crowd below. Again,
she turned with a grin, and treated them to a cheeky wave.

The trip down was easy enough. No problem with that. She was greeted
by her friends, who laughed and congratulated her on fulfilling her
'dare'.

"I should know better than to challenge Tipsi to go climbing," said
Callum, looking at her ruefully. Tipsi looked at the fox triumphantly.
He had been trying for months to catch her out on a dare, and he
hadn't succeeded yet.

"Better luck next time, Callum," she said breezily. "I've gotta go
home now."

She walked jauntily off, towards her family's house.

As she turned the corner and got out of sight, she sagged and sighed.
Tears brimmed and threatened to swim forth from her eyes. Angrily, she
shrugged them away.

Trapped by lies! Was this what she was doomed to for the rest of her
life?

Damn them! Damn the whole world! How come she could have all the
popularity, all the friendship and fun in the world, and yet *still*
feel so much like an outsider?

As she trudged wearily along, she cursed her heritage. Her shape had
determined the life that she was going to lead. Everyone *knew* that
monkeys were cheeky, funny creatures. Exuberant, happy, hyperactive.
Agile, daring.... *cute*!

How Tipsi *hated* that word. Hated the prison sentence that it had
consigned her to. Even her name! *Tipsi*! What sort of name was that
for anyone who wanted to be taken seriously?

Aggrieved, she wondered what people would think of her if they knew
that she enjoyed reading an exciting book *far* more than clowning
about with her friends.

No doubt they would all be astounded to know that her brain was as
agile as her limbs and tail. She certainly never dared to show it in
her tutoring. After all, what sort of future could a scholarly monkey
look forward to?

Again she sighed. Of course nobody had asked her what she had wanted
to do with her life. Everyone had assumed that she would go for the
stuff that most monkeys went for. Border-guards and runners.

As for her moments of insight and introspection, she had to keep those
firmly to herself. Any words of wisdom that she dared to utter were
either ignored, or - even worse - laughed at and called 'funny' or
'cute'.

What place did an adult have in a child's race? 'None', she thought,
gloomily. 'There's no room for Tipsi if she doesn't climb buildings
and turn somersaults, and put salt in peoples' drinks instead of
sugar.'

Drearily, she wondered if anyone could *possibly* understand how
wearisome it could become to be a clown all the time, without respite.
It was an old thought, and one that she shrugged off as she reached
the front gate of her home. Like it or not, she was what she had to
be. There was no point in fighting destiny.

* * *

Tipsy ate her meal with barely any appetite. Her parents and siblings
chattered among themselves, and she was barely noticed. As usual.

As the quietest member of the family, she was used to this. In fact,
she almost welcomed it. There was no-one to question her and find out
who she *really* was. She could get away with quietly disappearing to
be by herself. At least *then* she would get the chance to relax and
do what *she* wanted to do for a change.

Soon after supper, she did exactly that. Smuggling a book out of the
house with her, she set off through town, towards her usual meadow.

Of course it didn't belong to her. Tipsi always thought of it as her
own though. It was a blessed place of sanctuary, where she could be
sure of no interruption.

There, she could quietly sit and read. Escape for a few brief hours
before the sun disappeared completely from the skies. Sometimes she
didn't read at all. Just sat there and dreamed, in a world where she
was who she wanted to be.

Tonight, however, she was destined not to have her pleasure.

She reached the edge of the meadow and stopped short in shock.

Someone was sitting there! In *her* spot! They had even set up and lit
a campfire - something that she had always longed to do, but never
dared.

Brief anger fluttered in her chest, followed by resignation. However,
something within her made her resignation disappear.

Curiosity tugged at her. Who *was* it? What were they doing in *her*
meadow?

A stubborn look formed on her face. If she were to be denied her
pleasure, at least she would know who was responsible for it!

Slowly and quietly, she crept around the stranger, climbing over the
fence and using the cover to sneak ever closer. Although she was more
agile in the air than on the ground, she still managed to stay silent
and out of sight.

Mere feet away now, she hid behind a hay-bale and started to gather
the courage to look out from her cover. Before she could do so, a mild
voice jolted her.

"No need to be shy, young lady. Come out and join me by the fire."

For a moment, her body was frozen in shock. Mentally, she whirled
through, and rejected, a dozen options. In the end though, all she
could do was step out to meet the mysterious stranger.

"How did you know?" she stammered, still confused.

The figure turned around to face her. Tipsi stared in surprise.

A *rat*? There weren't any rats around this area! They tended to be
bad settlers, and loners to boot. It was rare to see them, even in
passing. Yet she had just received a warm invitation to sit and talk
with one.

Confused and slightly nervous, Tipsi walked forward and sat down.

The stranger's whiskers twitched as he smiled at her.

"Good book?" he asked pleasantly, gazing at the bulge in her pocket.

"Book? Oh...ummm... *this* book? I don't... I mean... it's not...."

"Relax, young monkey. You don't need to excuse yourself to me."

Tipsi felt that she was rapidly losing her grip on this conversation.

"But... but who *are* you?" she asked plaintively.

"Me?" he asked with a chuckle. "Name's Farrel. I'm just a wandering
entertainer. A simple traveler and teller of tales. Maybe you'd better
introduce yourself. I like to know who my guests are."

'Guests?' thought Tipsi, dizzily. Then she realized what he meant, as
he passed her a mug of something warm. She had taken her first sip of
it before she realized that two mugs had been ready before she had sat
down.

'He was expecting me,' she thought to herself, and somehow the notion
failed to surprise her. There was something *about* this rat....

"I'm...", she winced, ".... Tipsi."

She waited for one of two reactions. One: grinning laughter, or two:
immediate condescension.

She got neither. Farrel merely nodded gravely.

"An unusual name, young one. Interesting one though.

"Derives from archaic Rabelaisian. Tipse-stralis."

He smiled, and the monkey got the sudden feeling that Farrel knew a
great deal about a lot of things - her included.

"It means 'strength in adversity'. Suits you."

She reeled in confusion.

"How do you know so much about me, rat?"

Looking at her, he shrugged gravely.

"I know about you because you've made this spot your own.

"Tipsi, everything that we do affects everything around us. The world
is one massive interlocking puzzle, to which we all contribute. If we
know how to look properly, we can see the patterns clearly around us,
and interpret them so that they make sense."

As her brows furrowed at the strangeness of his speech, he continued.

"We can even learn to alter that puzzle, so that it fits around us
better.

"In answer to your question, young lady, I know about you, because you
have left a small part of your soul in this meadow. You couldn't help
it. Your love and respect for this place has left its mark.

"I know how to read those patterns, and so I could sense a lot about
you before I'd ever met you. I also knew you'd be back here before
long. This place is too special for you to leave it for any length of
time."

He tipped his head and gazed into her puzzled eyes.

"I also know that you're very unhappy. Care to tell me about it?"

Suddenly, Tipsi felt very weary. Nobody had ever talked to her this
way before. It was as if he felt that she was intelligent enough, not
only to understand him, but to contribute her own measure to the
conversation. More than that, he seemed to know so much already. How
could it hurt to tell him the truth?

"I'm not a *real* monkey," she said, in a low quavering voice. Her
eyes brimmed with tears at the admission. "I can't *be* like them!"

Farrel's eyes regarded her with compassion.

"Tipsi? Who's asked you to be like everyone else?"

She looked up, startled.

"*Asked* me? Everyone *expects* me to do exactly whatever other
monkeys do." Finally the tears came. "I'm so *sick* of playing the
part of a grinning, idiotic *clown*!"

There was a long silence, broken only by her grieved sobs. Only when
some measure of her self-control had returned did he speak again. His
response was as mild as it was unexpected.

"Would you care for some bread, young one?"

Tipsi stared at him in astonishment. This was, without doubt, the
strangest person she had ever met! The conversation twisted and turned
like a mad snake in her grasp. She found herself wondering if he was
completely sane.

Still, as he took some bread from his pack, she felt her mouth water.
She hadn't eaten much at the supper table, and the open air was giving
her an appetite now.

"Ummm.... yes please," she said, uncertainly.

"I've got some honey too. Would you like some?" he asked with a smile.

She nodded eagerly. Tipsi had a sweet tooth, and the idea of bread and
honey seemed like a banquet to her, right now.

Silently, he got a small pot from his pack and spread one of the
chunks of bread with its contents. Then, astonishingly, he handed her
the unhoneyed chunk of bread, and took a large, grinning bite out of
the other piece.

Tipsi gaped at him. Now she was *sure* that he was a maniac rat. The
whole night began to seem like some strange dream.

Abruptly, she felt anger. This stranger - this infuriating *rodent*! -
had taken the one place where she felt safe and comfortable. He had
stolen it and never offered a word of apology. Since they had met, he
had spoken in nothing but riddles, and now he seemed to be
deliberately baiting her.

She had taken enough abuse for one night. She thrust the piece of
bread back towards him, furiously.

"You offered me honey," she said tightly. "Not *just* bread."

He chuckled. "So I did. Then I decided that you'd probably put up with
whatever you were given."

"What?" Again, Tipsi was lost. "What do you mean, rat?"

He shrugged and began to spread the honey over her piece of bread.

"You seem resigned to taking whatever is offered to you, Tipsi. No,
I'm not talking about the bread now. I'm talking about *you*. The life
that you have chosen to lead.

"There are two ways of dealing with the world, my dear monkey. You can
be driven, like the ox who pulls the plough. Or, you can be the
driver, like the farmer who sits behind the plough.

"So far, you have chosen to be the ox. You have let others determine
who you are to be, and what you have to do. Yet can you blame them?
Really?

"Think about it, Tipsi. Have you *ever* told them what *you* want?
Have you ever *demanded* your share of the honey?"

He laughed gently, as his wise eyes regarded her.

Tipsi stared at the campfire, frowning. She *wanted* to tell Farrel
that he was wrong... but she couldn't. For once, she wished that she
was a normal monkey, happy in her stupidity. That way, Farrel's words
would have made no sense to her.

As it was, her hated intelligence forced her to consider his words.

Had she been fooling herself all of her life? Was it all down to *her*
that she was so unhappy?

Grimly, she remembered the first time that she had dared to speak her
thoughts aloud to her family. Two of her siblings had stared at her
uncomprehendingly, while another had crept up behind her and mashed a
freshly-made pie into her fur.

She sighed. "You don't understand. I *have* tried. It's just that...
well, monkeys are *never* taken seriously. That's just the way it is."

She glanced at him, but his eyes were distant now.

"Just the way it is," he repeated softly. "I remember hearing the same
thing many years ago."

He gazed piercingly at her. "Rats can't use power, you know. Oh,
they're intelligent enough, in their own way, but their brains just
aren't built for power-wielding."

Now his voice had a hint of laughter in it. "They're better off
sticking to the things that they're good at. Like running, sneaking
around and staying hidden. Organizing raids and finding things that
have been hidden or lost.

"Sound familiar, Tipsi? The world sets us limits, because of the way
we look, or the family that we come from, or the friends that we have.
Like it or not, I had to accept that I could never become a Tracker or
a Bard, like I wanted to be."

Now he laughed out loud.

"Except....."

He held his paw out and opened it quickly. Suddenly a dozen fireflies
were swirling up from his palm and dancing in the dim light of the
evening.

Stunned and entranced, she watched the patterns of the little glowing
insects. They rose up into the air and her gaze followed them. When
she looked back at Farrel however, he had disappeared.

"Looking for me, young one?" came a voice at her shoulder. Jumping in
shock, she whirled around, to find the rat grinning at her.

"Except... that I *didn't* accept it," he finished, with a twinkle in
his eyes.

"I fought for what everyone else denied me. It wasn't easy. My family
jeered at me. My friends didn't understand. My tutors thought I was
*crazy*."

He sat back down, grinning at the bewildered monkey.

"The point is, when something is important to you, you've either got
to fight for it, or resign yourself to doing without it for the rest
of your life.

"That's a long time, Tipsi. All your life, and it's the only one
you've got. Think about it."

She stared at him, fascinated. What he'd just done was *incredible*.
Tipsi had *never* seen anyone able to cast spells and make it seem so
effortless!

Yet people had told him he would never be able to do that. Just as
they'd told *her* that she was limited to climbing, watching and
running.

All of a sudden, she doubted their collective wisdom. More than that,
she knew what she wanted to do with her life. For the first time ever,
she could plan what she *did* want to be, instead of helplessly raging
against what she *didn't*.

She spoke hesitantly, looking at Farrel with timid eyes.

"Do you think *I* could learn to do that?" she asked, glancing up at
the fireflies.

He raised his eyebrows. "What I think isn't important, monkey. Do
*you* believe you can do it?"

A long thoughtful pause. Then, a nod.

He smiled at her.

"Then why don't we find out? Apprentice."
====

Courlus and The Bard
Illya and Courlus
---

A young Hound strides confidently along a shadowed forest path. Pack
on his back and staff in hand and wearing non-descript clothing, an
observer would wonder at his relaxed air.

A second look would tell a wise observer the reason for his
confidence. He is Illya the Bard. More importantly, this is his home
territory. He knows this forest and its perils as well as he knows the
tales that he spins.

Actually, there is such an observer ahead. Courlus the Brigand awaits
him. He plans a small 'entertainment' for the Bard. Although, we will
soon see that Courlus was not as wise as he could have been.

Illya already knows what lies ahead. He has long since sensed his
adversary. His smile is not for the fine day but for the fate in store
for Courlus.

Ahh... But the game must be played out. One does *not* attempt to
'entertain' a Bard and then get off lightly for his presumption. There
will be lessons taught this day. Lessons his 'student' will not soon
forget.

When he reaches the small clearing, he pauses and studies it
carefully. As any traveler would.

Nodding his head in satisfaction, he strides confidently across it and
starts down the path again.

At which point he 'hears' the muffled oaths start spewing from the
lips of a very irritated Courlus. For some reason, his trap failed
him.

Once out of sight of the clearing, Illya steps off the path and waits.

Sure enough, he hears the sounds of a galloping horse as Courlus rides
back to check his trap.

A sudden neigh of fright and a startled shout tell him *his* trap did
not fail.

Singing tunelessly Illya casually strolls back to the clearing.

"Ho, Courlus!

"Made a slight misstep did we? One must watch where one rides these
days. Brigands about you know."

Illya's smile is broad as he calmly ignores Courlus' spewing
profanity.

He tilts his head to one side. "No. Sorry, that won't do. I know who
both my parents are and they were paired when they conceived me."

He smiles. "What a pleasant day and clearing. I think I'll have some
lunch. Would you care to join me?"

"You sorry excuse for a wandering Hound! You well know that I would
rather be down there than caught in my own trap!

"At least free my horse before he hurts himself." Courlus's voice is
soft. "I may have earned this fate but he deserves better from you."

"You are right. He does. I've enjoyed the jest and it is time to
relent."

While Illya is making preparations for his meal, horse and rider are
gently gripped by an unseen force and held suspended while the net is
pulled from around them. Once free, they are lowered to the ground.

Illya turns to them and smiles. "Be welcome Courlus. I'm not done with
you but share my meager provisions in the meantime.

"I'm afraid I must insist. Your next meal may be sometime off. One of
the hazards of your life. As I'm sure you know." He grins.

A now sheepish Courlus gingerly steps near the fire and settles
opposite Illya.

"How?"

"Ah Courlus. You made one little mistake. You never stopped to figure
out how come Bards never get bothered when traveling.

"You see, we're 'Wielders of Power'."

"Damn!" Courlus' oath is instant. "I saw no gestures from you. No
words."

Illya chuckles. "Of course you didn't. We are trained so that we never
use them. The lack of the delay caused by gesturing has saved many a
Bard's life in times of trouble.

"Caused many an otherwise well laid trap to fail." He grins.

"For the excellent entertainment you provided before my mid-day meal,
I will only make you *wish* I had killed you." Illya smiles and
chuckles softly.

Courlus winces slightly. He has heard that chuckle before. It has
always preceded Illya's more 'interesting' punishments.

Illya breaks off and gives Courlus a genuine smile of friendship as he
speaks again.

"Let us relax and eat. The food is ready"

Suiting actions to words, the two eat in silence. These two are old
friends and while Courlus knows he has earned Illya's 'punishment', he
also realizes that it will be fair. Even if not to his liking.

"So, how goes your life my friend?" Illya's question is soft and
serious.

"About the same. Rich merchants and Lords still sometimes leave the
forest a bit poorer or lacking some small piece of equipment.

"Sleeping villagers still wake to a new day with a basket of food or
some needed farming implement on their doorstep.

"All in all, life stays the same here."

Courlus chuckles. "Once in a while a Brigand's trap fails him and he
must deal with the consequences of *that*." He grins tightly. "I'm not
referring to my trap either. The King's jails have had some
interesting *guests* recently.

"I'm not the only Brigand who has had his trap catch the wrong quarry.

"Or, in other words Illya, there is no need for other than your usual
stories these days. I expect there will soon be a new tale in this
area but I can live with it. I have many worse ones being told about
me. At least this one will be truer than most. I doubt if you'll have
to repeat your lesson anytime soon."

They share grins.

"Courlus my friend. I promise you that someday people will have the
entire story. Only the Bards and Trackers know that 'Courlus the
Brigand' is actually Prince Karlus and a King's Messenger besides.

"I'll carry your greetings to your father. He'll be overjoyed to hear
you have survived your lessons. I'm sure the story of our most recent
meeting will give him great entertainment." Illya grins.

"But now, we both must be about our ways."

Courlus' chestnut stallion enters the clearing as though being led by
an invisible person. Courlus feels himself gripped tightly and then
all of his clothes are removed, folded and placed in his saddlebags.

Both are laughing as he finds himself suspended beneath his horse and
invisible hands tie him there.

As Illya turns the stallion to face down the path towards the village,
he chuckles and speaks.

"Be well my friend. I'll make sure your journey to the village is
brief and otherwise safe."

Still chuckling, he raises a paw and slaps the stallion on his rump to
send them on their way. As the horse gallops off, he can hear Courlus'
shouted oaths resounding through the forest.

So softly that only the wind hears him, Illya speaks again.

"Yes, my Liege. He does well at his lessons. When the time comes, he
will make a fine steward for our land."

A smiling Bard reaches for his pack and staff and once again strides
off down the path of his life. 
====

A Hare-y Cat's Tale
Sabrina and Stefan
---

On Rabelaisia, mates can meet in many strange ways.

When they are both wielders of power...

Here is one such meeting. 

* * *

The young hare smiles as he comes awake. Being caretaker at Bard Hall
is usually boring duty for one used to living as a wanderer.

Not many are foolish enough to try and gain entry without an
invitation.

However... Such a one is even now working at one of the seemingly
unguarded windows.

As he enters the room she has chosen, he settles himself into a
comfortable stance and patiently awaits her arrival.

'This could become interesting', he thinks to himself. 'She feels like
a Mage.'

* * *

Slowly, a lithe feline form works its way through the now opened
window. Stefan can hear her soft whisper and sense her slight gestures
as she begins to use power to explore the room and then the rest of
the building.

Staying alert, he reaches out to subtly enfold her and restrain her in
this room....

'Trapped!!'

Her mind shrieks as he accidentally triggers *her* defenses.

He himself is almost completely frozen in place by her defense
compulsion.

Still, he has his power available. He restrains her fully and a silent
battle ensues.

He lights the torches placed on the wall and smiles at his captive.

"Well?" He allows himself a grin.

She is still trying to escape but now, he holds her easily.

Body heaving from her exertions, she glares at him. Her single word
conveys her chagrin and anger at being caught.

"How?" It is a sibilant hiss and filled with dire promises.

"I'm Stefan. I'm afraid we're mutually trapped.

"To answer your question..." He smiles slowly and then laughs at her.

"Bards don't need words or gestures to use power. Plus, we are trained
to be reactive. So, I can easily counteract anything you try.

"Our code forbids me to do more than react to anything you do.

"Ethically, I may restrain you but not attack you directly.

"I give you my word that if you release me, all I will do is release
you in turn.

"What happens next is up to you. You needn't worry about getting a
'Bard's lesson'."

He chuckles as she glares at him... "You've already had it."

With that he falls silent and waits.

* * *

Vicious thoughts pass through the mind of the trapped feline.

That grinning, *infuriating* hare!

Boiled hare, spit-roasted hare, *raw* hare, still warm and fresh. Yes,
the last option sounds alluring enough.

If she can just get free......

She struggles with him again. As ineffectually as before.

At last, she realizes that she is simply tiring herself out, whilst he
is virtually unaffected by their battle.

With difficulty, she swallows her anger. For now. Forcing a coolness
into her voice, she speaks to the young bard.

"I thought that bards were simple tricksters. Capable of diverting and
amusing magic, nothing more."

Stefan chuckles.

"Now you know better."

She smiles grimly.

"That I do."

She stares at her captor thoughtfully. If bards really *are* true
power-wielders, then the other rumors might be based on fact as well.

Sneaking into the guild-hall, she was seeking to satisfy her curiosity
on a few matters. Not for a moment had she expected to be challenged
or caught.

Now though......

If she can just handle this skillfully enough, things could just have
become a lot easier. Instead of a long and difficult search for the
truth, she may just find it in conversation with this young hare.

First, though, the formalities.

"Release me," she demands.

Stefan smiles again.

"After you." His tone is mild.

She glares at the bard and speaks with a mixture of frustration and
embarrassment.

"I need my gestures to release my defenses. Unless you free me, you
will be spending a very uncomfortable night as a statue."

Seeing his momentary look of indecision, she breaks into a slow,
toothy smile.

"It seems the next move is yours, bard."

* * *

'So *that's* her game...' Stefan smiles again. In a mild tone he
continues.

"I'm rather surprised they let you loose while so untrained. Nooo....
Maybe not. Now that I think about it Shiratha never would have let you
out into the world unless she felt you were ready.

"I detect the 'conspiracy of silence' at work here my beautiful
captive.

"I begin to see what Julius and Shiratha were talking about when they
told me duty here wouldn't be boring all the time."

"Does it surprise you that our masters would jointly brief a caretaker
on his duties at a Guild Hall? It shouldn't. There is much power here.
One has to know what he is guarding in order to guard it effectively.

He chuckles softly. "So, Sabrina. Are you ready for your advanced
training?"

With a slight pause to let her know the game has begun in earnest, he
finishes.

"Very well then. Since it's logic chopping you prefer. *We* are
trapped here in this building.

"However, I never said I couldn't move myself. I'll be laying on the
couch in the entry when you're ready.

"In the meantime, explore the hall all you wish...

"However, *you* can't leave the building until I let you.

With that, Stefan smiles at her and moves himself out of the room.

All that's left behind is his ghostly chuckle in her mind as he
'speaks' one last time.

"Done then. *You* are released. Enjoy yourself.

"*I* am going back to the nap you interrupted."

* * *

'Training? What *is* he talking about?'

Sabrina stares at the hare as he uses his magic to float gently out of
the room.

She shrugs. No matter. Let him think what he likes. She knows what
brought her here, and now she has the freedom - more than that, the
bard's own *permission* - to explore and find what she needs.

Using her newfound freedom, she quickly gestures and releases Stefan's
paralysis. One thing that she has learned in her years of training -
never go out of your way to irritate another power-wielder.

Only then does she realize that Stefan somehow knew her name!

Is *that* part of a bard's magic? Or could he have been expecting her?

No. Impossible. Nobody knew she was coming here except herself. It had
been an impulsive decision, born of the sudden curiosity about all
those rumours. He *couldn't* have known in advance.

She shakes herself suddenly. She has been given the opportunity to
discover all the secrets of the Bard's Guild, and instead, she merely
stands here dreaming? Time may be limited. Best to get going
immediately.

Quickly, she picks up one of the torches and makes her way out of the
room.

What follows is both fascinating and frustrating. As she journeys
through the massive building, there is plenty to catch her attention
and tweak her curiosity.

Strange items, ancient documents, whole worlds of discovery......

Not what she is looking for, though.

She soon learns not to touch anything in the guild. It isn't dangerous
to pick an item up. It's worse than dangerous.

She finds this out as her curiosity makes her examine a jeweled dagger
more closely. Her hand closes around the hilt, and suddenly she is
frozen into place. Frozen and forced to listen to a disembodied voice,
telling her the story of the dagger and its wielder.

Heroic tales, no doubt. Ones she would gladly listen to at another
time. Now, though, it is merely irritating, because it delays her
quest.

Finally, the tale is over, and she continues to search. It *has* to be
here.

At length, she enters a room at the end of a long corridor. She gasps.

"At last," she breathes. "It *does* exist!"

A massive library spreads out before her. Thousands and thousands of
books. She forces herself forward, and begins to skim through the
titles.

This isn't right! They aren't the right books! There's nothing here
but history!

Quickly waving her hands and murmuring a spell, she checks for the
presence of magic in the room. Nothing! Just books. More than that,
her magic has set the voice off again. She is held and forced to
listen to an informative commentary and list of regulations on the use
of the library.

As it comes to an end, she is released. Hissing with frustration, she
leaves the room, slamming the door behind her.

The rest of her search is no more fruitful. The legendary Mage's
Library is simply not here! No rare and powerful spells, not even so
much as a hint of magical documentation, nothing!

Finally, there is only one room left to explore. The door is set way
back into the wall, on the ground floor. So unobtrusive that she
missed it on her first search.

It is also locked. A small sign on the door says: Danger - no entry.

Sabrina smiles in satisfaction. This *has* to be it.

The lock is not a problem to a trained mage. A few words, a small
gesture, and it is open. As she completes the spell, she suddenly
wonders whether she will be forced to listen to another lecture about
breaking the rules. None is forthcoming and she steps into the room
with a smile.

A set of steps lead down and, looking around her in hungry
anticipation she starts her descent.

She realizes too late that she should have kept looking where she was
going. A couple of the steps are missing, and her paw steps
confidently into nothingness.

Screeching out an involuntary yowl, she finds herself falling to the
floor. Her mind skids through spell options in the few seconds that
seem like an eternity.

Useless. Even if she had thought of an appropriate spell instantly,
she doesn't have time to cast it.

Luckily, she is a cat. Her inbuilt agility allows her body to take
over where her mind has failed her. She lands on her feet, shaken but
not otherwise hurt. The torch lies beside her, still burning feebly.
She picks it up and looks around her.

Again, she hisses in frustration. This is an empty cellar, nothing
more. A few barrels stand in the corners of the darkened room, and
junk is piled high in places. It is instantly obvious, however, that
this is no Mage's Library.

Then where *is* it? This time, she knows that she has searched
everywhere!

Reluctantly, the idea takes hold. Perhaps the rumors are just
make-believe. Maybe there is no library.

Come to think of it, she has only heard the rumors lately. From one of
Shiratha's ex-pupils, who had been visiting the area for a while.

Another striking thought. Looking back on the events, it seems that he
went out of his way to mention the bard's guild and the hidden Mage's
Library to her. Not just a single, casual mention either. He made sure
she was good and interested before he left on his travels again.

Which could only mean one thing......

Someone had *wanted* her to end up at the Bard's Hall.

But why? There is nothing of interest here. Just a thinly-disguised
museum and historical library, and one irritating caretaker.

Her mind worries at the problem, but she can see no answers.
Presently, the torch begins to burn out, and she rouses herself from
her reverie. Time to get herself out of this place.

Another spell suffices. Floating gently up to the doorway, she steps
lightly on the top stair and walks out into the main building again.

Now what should she do? Wander around aimlessly? Think some more? Try
and leave?

In the end, she decides to talk to the hare. He might know why she was
lured here. Or he might at least be able to come up with a guess.

Moving swiftly to the hall, she encounters Stefan again. He is lying
on the couch, and he opens a single eye as she enters.

Slowly, a smug smile spreads across his face. Then he chuckles.

"My dear apprentice - when bards put up a notice that tells you not to
enter a place...... there is generally a good reason for doing so. Did
you enjoy your little trip?"

Sabrina stares at the hare for a few seconds, then growling in fury,
she turns on her heel and stalks away with all the dignity that she
can muster.

He is laughing at her! That *insufferable* hare!

Now she no longer cares *why* she is supposed to be in the guild. All
she knows is that, despite Stefan's interference, she will find her
way out of this building......

She'll show him what a Mage can *really* do!

* * *

"Sabrina." His voice takes on a note of command. "Stop."

The words are quiet but she freezes.

She turns and faces a different person. The humor is gone. Stefan is
sitting up and watching her.

"What is one of the first lessons you learned about your emotions?"

"That she who loses her emotional balance first, usually loses the
battle." As she hears her words, she is shocked. *She* has lost her
emotional balance.

This hare has done something her Master had difficulty doing. And
seemingly done it without effort on his part!

Stefan nods at her grudging gesture of respect.

"What of words?" His voice is gentle.

She examines this one for a hidden trap. Reluctantly, she gives the
answer. "Words are power."

He smiles. "Very good."

A familiar jeweled dagger floats into the room and settles in his
hand. He continues.

"This dagger..." He smiles as she realizes he can speak while holding
it. "Was once thrown at a King while a Bard was present. I won't bore
you with the tale. You've already heard it." He smiles with some of
his old humor.

"Words.

"You were in a room full of books. More words."

"I felt no Magic! No Power!" The words are jerked from her in her
frustration.

"Did it never occur to you that there might be more than one type of
power associated with words?"

"It is well known that Mages and Casters use the 'power' of 'Magic'.

He sets the dagger down beside him and raises his hand with palm
upturned.

"Words to focus one's thoughts.

"Let there be light." A glowing ball appears in his palm. "A simple
and basic focusing of power.

"Or, to stress a point, a Bard, for example, can be talking of
something and doing something else." As he was talking, the ball had
left his hand and started circling Sabrina.

He nods. "You see, we walk a different path in the use of *that* form
of power.

"However, words have yet another power. As you learned but seem to
have forgotten.

"The power to move people's souls. A Bard's use. Far more lasting than
any spell, the working of that kind of power is far more dangerous
than mere 'magic'."

Crisply he continues.

"Very well then. All paths out of here are open to you.

"The choice, once again, is yours. Leave now and stay as you are. A
skilled Mage of some power. Or, we may continue down this new path."

He smiles with all his previous humor. "It may be that you will
discover what you were seeking. Although, it may not be in the form
you thought.

"Isn't it generally accepted that a Bard will know what's going on
around him? 'A Bard knows everything.' I believe is the saying... Or,
'A Bard often knows more than people want them to know'.

"Or did Shiratha neglect to teach you that one should always learn the
names of those around you?

"As part of appearing wiser than one may really be?

"As for a Mage's power, you held much in your hands and set it aside.
If you stay, if you can find the entrance, I suggest you visit the
cellar again. I'm afraid I moved it.

"Or did you think the knowledge would be left where any could find it?

"I am not what I seemed at first. Do you really think this building
would be *just* what it appears to be?

"I think I'll go put this back." With that, he picks up the dagger and
walks toward and *through* a seemingly solid wall.

As she looks around, Sabrina realizes that the only door visible is
the exit to the outside. The one she entered by is gone. Not a trace
remains of it or that maddening hare.

'Damn that Hare!' Her mumbled comment is heartfelt. All the time he'd
been talking about power, he'd been *using* it!'

He'd even *told* her he could use it without any outward signs.
Several times. And *still* she hadn't heeded his warnings...

Sabrina stares at the walls around her in frustration.

More damned trickery!

No - not trickery - just a different kind of magic than she is used
to.

She smiles as her former exasperation fades to nothing. *Now* she
knows why she was lured to this place. Shiratha wanted her to learn
things that she could not (or would not) learn from a Mage.

Very well then. She will learn.

Sitting down on the couch, she focuses her thoughts.

All right. What do her senses tell her? There's a way out, but no way
in. It will be easier to leave than to stay.

She dismisses the thought with a shrug. She is determined not to leave
now.

What does her logic tell her? There has to be a way in. Stefan used
it.

What does her magic tell her? She quickly casts the appropriate spell
and searches for the presence of magic or illusion.

Nothing. Not that she expected anything different. She has an
instinctive feeling that all her comfortable Mage-like solutions will
be useless here.

Nevertheless she goes through the routine, eliminating the most
obvious options.

Teleporting back into the building? No effect.

Creating a doorway in the wall? Nothing happens.

On a thoughtless whim, she even tries a force spell, trying to crash a
hole through the wall. On reflection, she is grateful that there was
no result. She could have ended up with the building falling down
around her furry ears.

She gets the message loud and clear at this point. Whoever set up this
little scenario has very definite aims in mind.

What aims? What has she learned so far?

That a Bard is not a simple trickster. A Bard is full wielder in his
or her own right, merely using power in a different way than Mages do.

A Bard is reactive. Will not outwardly attack, only respond. Anything
she can use to her advantage there? Sabrina shakes her head. She can
think of nothing.

Onwards then. What else does she know?

"Words are power."

She smiles grimly. Mages use the power of words directly. Their
intentions are obvious. Bards seem to rely on misdirection and
storytelling to wield their powers to the full.

Anything there? No. Wait. Maybe.

Words are power. Stories are words. Stories are power?

What are a Bard's stories made up of? Some are pure fiction. True. But
many are taken from history.

What is history? Just events. Real life events. Everything that
everybody does is a potential story.

Maybe it is time for Sabrina to use a little Bardic magic. She is,
after all, in the hall of Bards.

She looks around the room. This place is deeply magical. Stefan told
her that much. If she knows anything from her Mage training, it is
that magic is a living power, independent of all its users.

The Guild Hall is just like a huge, simple-minded creature, alive with
magic. It wants what all living things want. Satisfaction.

Sabrina smiles and speaks softly.

"I know you can hear me.

"You're listening. Waiting. There's a story here, isn't there?

"At least there *could* be.

"That really depends on you. And me."

There is silence all around her. Expectant silence, she feels.

"I could walk out of the door. That would end the story.

"Pretty unsatisfactory though. You want a better ending than that,
don't you?"

She waits, quietly confident. There is a pause, and then, with a
subtle merging of colours and textures, the outside door disappears
into the wall again, leaving nothing.

"I could sit here until morning," she continues. "Very dull, and no
real conclusion. An unfulfilled tale."

Is it her imagination, or does the couch suddenly become prickly and
uncomfortable? Trying to ignore the sensations, she continues.

"Or..... I could finish the story properly. From *inside* the
building. That's really up to you. I can wait....."

Unconsciously, she holds her breath, waiting......

A long moment passes. Then, too quickly for the eye to detect, a door
leads inwards. Just where she remembers it being.

Grinning in satisfaction, she gets up and walks to it. It opens easily
before her, and she comes face to face with Stefan. He gazes at her
appraisingly, and she speaks first.

"It appears that the Guild Hall is with *me* on this matter. Shall we
go to the cellars, Bard?"

* * *

"With you?" He chuckles softly. "Once you started, how could it be
otherwise?

"Tales unfinished have their own form of power. The more potential
they have, the more they insist on being finished.

"In some cases, should you delay too long, a story will finish itself
in a manner not to your liking.

"Especially here. Where so many tales have been completed.

"You started this tale, you have to finish it.

"You've learned more lessons. Power can sometimes hide within power.
Or, there is power in being reactive. And, words by themselves have
their own power.

"Power is everywhere if you look for it properly."

"Bards often start as Mages. Power wielded by gesture or words is all
most people ever see. If we are discovered early enough, we are
trained out of using visible 'props'. Even at that stage, it can take
years.

"Power *is* and Bards have to learn to respond to its movement rather
than making it move. I'm not saying we don't initiate. Just that
usually, A Bard's purposes are best served by other means.

"Slight nudges at the right moment rather than direct pushes."

He smiles. "Not many Mages discover that. Most, given the chance, turn
away from this path.

"All are given the opportunity. Few follow through.

"Very well then, the cellar.

"Mine? Or yours?

"Or," and he reaches out to touch her between her eyes. "Is this the
cellar you wish to visit?

"The one in your mind that needs to be cleaned and examined?

"The Hall *is* with you now. Ask *it* for what you seek.

"But, I warn you, this is Bards' Hall. Unless you prepare properly, it
will, like the stairs, often catch the unwary.

"Think like a thief. Or...." He grins at her and tosses her own words
at her. "Like a 'trickster'.

"I'm going to my cellar."

Two doors appear in the wall at their side. Both have stairways
visible. One leads up, one down. Confidently, he strides through the
door and starts up the stairs.

He disappears but the doors remain.

Then, Sabrina hears a voice at her shoulder.

"Well. What an interesting place. I'd forgotten what it looked like.
What do you think of *my* cellar?

"Or is it yours as well? After all, you are in it."

* * *

Sabrina glances back to find the hare just behind her again. The room,
however, remains unchanged.

This whole building is just a giant box of tricks!

She smiles ruefully. Well, what else could she expect? This is the
home of all trickery and misdirection. She must think like a thief, to
get what she wants from this place.

Is this her cellar? What does he mean by that?

Does she need to revisit the cellar at all, or is that merely another
one of the Bard's tricks?

Forcing herself to slow down and think, she wanders thoughtfully
around the room.

'Forget the game. Forget everything else. What did *you* come here to
find, Sabrina?'

The Mage's Library, of course! No - too specific. She already knows
that there is no library - at least not in the sense that *she* seeks
it.

What then? She came here to learn. To become a better Mage.

She chuckles as the solution to the problem becomes apparent.

"This whole place is *my* cellar, Bard. Wherever I go, and whatever I
do, I will learn more. That's the whole purpose of Bard's Hall, after
all."

The hare smiles wordlessly as she picks a door at random and walks
through it. She is a quick learner. He nods and settles down to wait.

Sabrina walks up the steps this time. She is hardly surprised when she
ends up in the middle of the room that she initially thought of as the
cellar.

This time, she has cast her own magical light, and the building has
allowed her to do it.

A bare room. Barrels. Junk. There *is* something else though. The hare
would not lie to her, although he might misdirect a little. Just like
the trickster that he is.

She must force herself to think like a Bard in order to be able to
find it.

Is there something that she isn't seeing? She uses her magic again,
searching for the presence of power or hidden doorways. If there *are*
any secrets here, they are not the type that her magic can pick up.

Very well then. Nothing hidden. There is only the room itself, the
barrels, and the junk.

She examines the walls, the floor and the ceiling, using all of her
senses to try and find what her magic has failed to locate.
Regretfully, she comes to the conclusion that any secret doorways out
of here are beyond her ability to find.

The barrels? Cautiously, she turns the tap on one of them. As she
suspected. Wine. Good quality, by the taste of it, but still just
wine. She tests out a couple more just to be sure that she is missing
nothing and finds only more of the same.

The junk? Merely scraps of metal, ragged cloth, and wood. Nothing
special there. Nevertheless, Sabrina makes her way over to the closest
pile and examines it carefully. Slowly she picks up a moth-eaten old
velvet cloak.....

.....and finds herself transported into a different world. Dimly, she
is aware that her body is still standing in the 'cellar', holding the
cloak. Her mind, however, is engaged in a voyage through history.

In the time that she now looks in upon, the cloak is owned by a
powerful old Mage. He is alone. The whole world stands against him. It
does not matter. He is prepared to destroy the whole world in order to
survive and conquer.

It is a past that Sabrina vaguely remembers being taught about as part
of her training. The wars of the Mages. Every Mage against every other
Mage. Alliances formed, then broken by treachery and betrayal.

The terrible past that was wreaked when Mages controlled the world.
When individuals fought over the right to territory and possessions.

The aftermath of that greed-based destruction that nearly brought an
end to their world. The emergence of a new style of magic.

Bards. Their novel combination of teaching, magic and pacifism.

As Sabrina picks up item after item, she is taken on a journey through
history. There is a dawning realization that *this* is the Mage's
Library that she seeks.

She is learning. Not pleasant lessons, but necessary ones. It is more
clear to her than ever why Shiratha would want her to come here and
find this knowledge for herself.

Mages still exist. After all, they are necessary. But, they must never
be allowed to forget the mistakes of the past, lest they repeat them.
*That* is the Mage's Library, and it explains why the Bards keep it in
their Hall. Some stories are not meant to be told to the outside
world. Just to those that need to know. Like the Mages. Like her.

Finally, she leaves the cellar. As she wanders back to the place where
Stefan waits for her, she is surprised to hear the birdsong of dawn
from the outside of the building. She has been in the cellar for
hours!

Stefan smiles.

"Well, Sabrina, are you enjoying our little game?"

She gives a tired, answering smile.

"Parts of it."

He chuckles. "I told you that you needn't fear receiving another
Bard's lesson. In truth, I have not been your 'teacher'. Nor have you
been my 'apprentice'.

"And now..... Shall we go another round?"

He gives a mocking little bow, and Sabrina looks at him, startled. The
night is over, isn't it? There is a moment of confusion. Then a sudden
discovery hits her like a rock to the side of the head.

"The ultimate trickster," she says, wonderingly. "All this time,
you've been encouraging me to mislead myself. Even now you're doing
it.

"First of all, you pitted me against yourself. You called it a game. A
challenge. Then you set me against the Guild Hall. Then Bards in
general.

"Oh, *I* helped too. I joined in, even adding Shiratha to the list of
opponents.

"It's been obvious all along that the rules were slanted against me.
It was an unfair competition. My Mage abilities have been stunted or
canceled out altogether. Little of my training in magic has been of
any practical worth.

"Then I found out that I could change the rules so that I wasn't at
such a disadvantage. All I had to do was work out how to do it.

"Still, the challenge was unfair. A Mage cannot be expected to match
up to a Bard in his own territory.

"Unless......

"Unless the only person that I am competing against is myself."

She laughs throatily.

"Who else do I have to prove myself to? Why should we play another
round, hare? I have already won.

"I came here to learn, and I have learned. I came here to find the
Mage's Library, and I found it.

"I came here to gain new depths of experiences and to grow from that.

"Everything that I wanted, I already have.

"The two of us have been playing solitaire all along. In a game like
that, there doesn't need to be a winner and a loser. Both can win, or
both can lose."

Now she looks at Stefan curiously.

"Which is it with you, hare? What have *you* gained out of tonight?

"Are you a winner? Or a loser?"

* * *

Stefan smiles a bit ruefully.

"Well, I lost my first battle with a Mage. But, I won a great deal by
learning a Bard can be defeated by one person. Call it a lesson you
taught me.

"I also learned that I could turn seeming defeat into success for both
parties.

"After all, I didn't say who was teaching whom did I?" He chuckles as
she realizes what he is talking about.

"At this point, I'd have to say you are ahead on winning."

Suddenly, they are outside. Bathed in the light of the new day, they
stand in a sun dappled clearing.

None of the manner of the trickster remains as he looks at her
thoughtfully.

"You tell me if I am a winner or loser...

"Or if it's a tie."

Eyes questioning, he smiles and holds up his paws in the ritual
greeting of mates.

* * *

Sabrina gapes, truly taken-aback by this unexpected twist.

For a moment, she is silent as she adapts. Then a slow smile spreads
across her face.

"Is that a Bard's way of turning defeat into victory?

"It reminds me of two things that I have been taught.

"The first thing I learned as a kitten. My mother told me this:

"'Never trust a hare, for they are without doubt the trickiest and
most untrustworthy creatures in Rabelaisia.'"

Stefan perks his long ears a little and gazes at her, his head cocked
slightly over to one side.

"And the second thing?" he asks, gently.

She breaks into a grin.

"The second thing I learned when I was a little older. Shiratha taught
me this:

"'Never blindly follow any generalization.'"

The hare smiles in satisfaction as Sabrina's right paw raises to meet
his own.

She continues to speak, her gaze far-away and thoughtful.

"I wonder if Shiratha had more than one purpose in luring me to the
Bard's Hall? Undoubtedly she wanted me to find the Mage's Library.
Perhaps she also wanted me to meet you? So that fate could take its
course......"

Looking at Stefan again, she chuckles.

"She'll never tell me, of course. Shiratha never explains her motives.

"I can live with that. After all, we're both winners in this little
game."

They share a knowing smile, and, paws intertwined, return to the Hall
to await Stefan's replacement.

* * *

In Julius' home, two paws are similarly intertwined. Those of the
Master Mage and the Master Bard.

Shiratha and Julius let out a mutual breath of satisfaction. The image
of Stefan and Sabrina fades from the wall, where they have been
watching it intently.

Their two most promising pupils have just passed yet another test.

Together, they will do great things.....
====

Mastering a crisis
Stefan, Sabrina, Julius and Shiratha
---

Sabrina sighs.

Stefan looks at her and questions her with his eyes.

Without looking at him, she speaks.

"This last week has been wonderful Stefan. I never thought I'd learn
what I have now. Talking with you has given me the answers to a great
many questions I never thought to ask.

"Odd how in spite of having met Julius, I never thought of Bards as
power wielders in their own right. You are very skilled at hiding your
abilities when in public and I begin to see the reasons for that.

"I especially didn't expect to met someone such as yourself. 'Mind
mate'."

"But?..." He mildly prompts her.

She pulls back in their embrace to look him in the eyes finally.

"It's obvious someone wanted us to meet. Most likely, it was Shiratha
and Julius who set things up.

"We're both senior journeymen.

"I don't know about you - but what happened in the Hall now feels like
it was some sort of test aimed specifically at us.

"I can't help wondering what's in store for us."

Stefan looks at her thoughtfully. To give himself time to think, he
takes her paw in his and brings it to his lips.

Before it reaches them, her bracelet shimmers and they both sense
power being used.

"Well, there's part of our answer." He smiles. It's seems you've
become a Master. I expect I have become one as well."

Then, he visibly sags back. "For whatever reason it has happened, the
situation *must* be serious.

"We've been made Masters well before our time."

Sabrina is confused at his despondency. They've become Masters.
Reached the goals they've spent years trudging towards...

Then she shivers in her own realization. *She* has expected to spend
still more years before she became a Master. Obviously, for all his
skill, Stefan has felt the same way.

That couldn't be the whole reason he's upset could it?

She turns it over in her mind. Her predator's instincts are screaming
that there is a reason for what has happened and that she knows it.

"Stefan? Do you have any idea what would make them do this?"

He shakes his head 'no'. "Only that they would not have done it unless
there was something very, very wrong. Something we will be asked to
see if we can deal with.

"I can't think of what we could do that they can't."

'We'. The word nags at her. As mind-mates, they will have advantages
in many situations. They will be able to co-ordinate their actions
much more quickly than an ordinary team.

Still, Shiratha and Julius are mated as well. For many years. She,
like Stefan, sees nothing that they could do better than their
Masters.

Unless...

Could it be?...

For some reason, Shiratha and Julius are constrained from acting? So
they need another team to act in their stead?

Sabrina's thoughts skitter around the problem. That feels closer...

OK, when would a Mage/Bard team of Masters be required? A mind-mated
team?

"Noooooo..." The word is drug out of her as a quiet, despairing, howl.

Stefan looks at her and she lets herself fall forward into his
embrace.

She sobs quietly for many minutes before she speaks.

"I didn't think it could happen." Her voice is stunned and shaking.

"Yet, my feelings tell me it has.

"It's misuse of power.

"Bardic power.

"It *has* to be." Her voice is trembling but certain as she utters
those final words.

* * *

Stefan ponders her statement.

Misuse of a Bard's skills? It doesn't seem possible.

Yet, in the short time he has known her, he knows she is a highly
skilled Mage. She has learned to listen to her 'feelings' and trust
them when making decisions.

A small part of him hopes she is proven wrong but the rest of him
agrees with her.

OK, who then? Further - what possible situation would preclude Julius
and Shiratha taking any action in the matter?

Suddenly, he tenses. A few seconds later, Sabrina tenses as well.

Someone is approaching and not bothering to hide their actions.

They look at each other. Slowly, they smile wryly. They both know the
ones entering their clearing.

"Well, I think we are about to get some answers." Stefan's voice is
normal and loud enough to cause the other two to chuckle softly.

"May we?" Julius' question is mild. It is as if he feels they are
intruding and must ask permission to join them.

Sabrina notices Stefan's ears twitch at the innocent sounding request
but she simply nods and gestures in response.

"Thank you young Masters." Shiratha settles with her mate and the four
of them share several minutes of silence.

Unable to restrain herself , Sabrina starts to speak her questions.
Before she may utter them, Stefan places a paw on her arm to tell her
to wait.

Julius finally breaks the silence by sighing softly and looking at
them.

"I haven't felt this tranquil for - far to long.

"You win Stefan."

'Win?' Sabrina turns to see a slight smile on Stefan's face as he nods
at Julius. 'A contest of wills then,' she thinks to herself. 'Stefan
was seeking any advantage we could get.'

Immediately after that thought comes the realization that Masters such
as Shiratha and Julius would not willingly seek them out unless things
were indeed, very, very seriously wrong.

"Hares can be very patient when they have to be." Stefan's voice is
light and contains some of his normal laughter. "After all, I *am*
derived of a prey species.

"Not a predator species as you are. Or Shiratha."

Stefan helps Sabrina move to his side and resettle next to him.

"I have a feeling we aren't going to like what we hear from our former
teachers.

"Further - if I am anywhere close to figuring things out - The
'problem' we are going to be asked to solve has resulted from a
mistake Julius made and is unable to step in and fix.

"There is also the simple fact that as one of his senior journeymen,
*I* should have been aware as well. So we share responsibility for
this.

"I will relent and ask one question though." He faces Julius and
Shiratha.

"I'm intensely curious about the reasoning you used to select *us* to
try and solve *your* problem."

His emphasis is slight and yet Sabrina is shocked at the looks of pain
shared by the two across from them.

As Julius sags and rests his head back in Shiratha's lap, she gently
wipes tears from his face and begins to explain.

"You two are the best we've ever trained. Not the most senior, the
best.

"As you've probably already realized, someone is misusing Bardic
powers.

"If it were one of his students, he would have seen the signals early
and taken steps."

Stefan suddenly stiffens in shock. Then, to Sabrina's surprise, he
groans and sags back.

"Maxus' sister. A wolverine. I was right, we *should* have seen it
earlier."

He looks at Sabrina and explains.

"Maxus was close to making journeyman about half a year ago.

"Then, with no explanation, he never showed up for more instruction.
We assumed he had decided to stop his training and try a different
field.

"He was - highly skilled.

"At his level of training... Misuse of the power is basically
inconceivable. Those who might misuse power have been screened out or
subtly taught what could happen.

"They are also quietly tracked for the rest of their lives.

"Maxus was not such a person.

"His sister however, is impetuous in nature. Max must have been
indiscreet about things and she put it all together. I've met and
worked with Maxus but never seen her. I've been a Wandering Bard
during most of Maxus' apprenticeship.

"She might recognize me but she wouldn't know I've been given Master's
rank and access to the extra knowledge available to them.

"Anyone facing her will have to assume she knows at least as much as
Max did."

Sabrina studies him as she ponders what he has told her.

"OK. Whoever faces her will have to treat her as they would a full
Bard.

"That still doesn't explain *us* being teamed together."

"We may be, as they say, the best they have trained.

"However, we are local talent so to speak. Surely by now, other
Masters, far more skilled, could have been called in.

She looks back at Julius and Shiratha.

Julius turns on his side to face them.

"All we found in the records is that on the few occasions when there
was a misuse of Bardic skills, a team such as yourselves was required
to defeat the person.

"Always, it has been a Mage from a pure predator species teamed with a
Bard from a purely prey one. Further, although it is not specifically
stated, the ones involved were also mind-mates.

"That's all we know other than the fact that all the teams make no
mention of how they defeated their opponents.

"We did consult with others. The decision was made to listen to the
records. Sabrina, you and Stefan are not the only ones who meet the
requirements.

"The others are not as advanced in their training.

"So we forced the issue and now hope we did the right thing.

"We're hoping the two of you will take on this task. She has already
used her powers to kill and we expect she will do so again if she
feels threatened.

"It would take months of intense training before anyone else could be
teamed. They wouldn't be settled into their skills as you two are.
Under pressure, there is the risk they would not react properly

"They only thing we can give you as a possible advantage is that she
has yet to face another power handler. We've been warning all of them
away from that area."

Sabrina is stunned by that admission. "None?"

Shiratha nods back.

She turns back to Stefan and sees the agony he feels.

Tentatively, she reaches to his forehead and pauses a moment.

Finally, he gives her a slight nod and reaches to help her finish the
motion.

Their communication is brief. Given the conditions, they don't really
have a choice in the matter. Not taking it on or delaying are
considered and discarded.

Finally, she breaks contact and waits for Stefan to give their answer.

"Yes."

Julius looks at them and nods. "We'll give you what reports we do
have.

"Thank you Stefan. Sabrina."

They are gone and a stack of reports appears where they were.

As Sabrina starts to reach for the papers she is startled to note that
Stefan makes no effort of his own. Instead he reaches to gently force
her to pause.

"Wait." His voice is thoughtful.

"Let's see what we know already. Before we get mired in the details."

"Don't you want to know who and what we face?" His indifference
puzzles her.

His answer is a shrug. "We already know a lot. More than is usual when
one first starts hunting a renegade.

"Just as you, I sometimes get feelings.

"In this case, I think it's more important we look at the overall
picture first.

"We know the problem. A Bard is misusing power. True?"

Her answer is to settle back against him.

"Very true. So you are saying that who is not important.

"Let me think." She sighs and muses on what she knows of Bards.

"Bards react. You seldom initiate any actions. Is that because a
Bard's powers are only capable of being used reactively?"

"No. We use the same power that Mages do.

"The one notable difference is that by not acting, we are more aware
of nuances. Also, we nudge rather than attempt to control. A matter of
outlook.

"To put it simply, if one is busy acting, they cannot be as aware of
subtle changes. So we react in order to retain that awareness of small
things."

She made a slight gesture as if to brush away his comment.

"Granted. I already know that Bards react to changes a Mage would
never feel.

"Logic tells me that a Mage could never hope to defeat a Bard who was
expecting battle.

"So that leaves us with the fact that your records speak of mind-mated
pairs. Mage who is a predator, Bard who is prey.

"Very specific." This was a muted snarl.

"I know." His voice was filled with his own puzzlement.

"A Mage cannot defeat a Bard... What reason to have one there?

"Could it be so the Mage may rescue the Bard? That both are rendered
helpless and someone is needed to save them?"

"Stefan, that makes no sense. A Bard would be far better at being able
to 'rescue' one of their own.

"A mind-mate would be quicker to react. That's all. In that case a
mated pair of Bards would be the answer.

"OK." Stefan interrupts her. "That isn't getting us anywhere.

"Let's look at this. Mages act. Bards react. Predators act. Prey
reacts.

"Is there a possible reason for those to be combined? Reinforcement of
basic traits maybe?"

"Stefan... Wait." Her voice is a mere whisper.

"Think.

"Listen to what you just said. We both know that isn't always the
case. Mages are capable of reacting and Bards do act at times."

"Granted. I was referring to the generally accepted perceptions....."
His voice trails off.

Sabrina turns her head to stare into his eyes. Together, they whisper
a single word.

"Perceptions."

Sabrina's next words are filled with her inner turmoil.

"I could wish we had never taken this on.

"Layers within layers on top of layers.

"Is this what you live with daily as a Bard?"

Stefan's smile is slight but at last genuine. "Not as many layers -
usually.

"You do realize we will have to keep this discovery to ourselves?

"Any hint and we risk a return to the times of Rhianna.

"Except this time, the Mages would win.

"You would win."

" *I*?? I would win?

"You *infuriating* - *totally blind* and *arrogant* hare...

"I can't possibly win. I would never be able to act against my
mind-mate! A mate who is also a Bard."

Her outburst is rewarded by his wrapping his arms around her and
hugging her.

"Thank you Sabrina. Now we both know that you need not fear your ever
abusing your new knowledge."

She reaches to grasp his hands and gives him a snorted one word
answer. " *Bards!* "

Then they settle together to ponder their realization.

As they do so, it is Stefan who jerks as if stung.

"Sabrina. Shield us. We have been careless in our discussion. I never
thought we would find a solution this quickly."

Her answer is a series of emphatic gestures. "I hope no one was
watching. Knowing our former Masters, I can almost guarantee they have
been following this discussion."

"I can only hope we did not give them enough clues so they may reach
the same conclusions."

In a room not far away, two people sigh in frustration as the scene
fades from view.

It is Shiratha who speaks first. "No Master Sabrina. Whatever it was
you discovered. rest assured *we* have not found it.

"Star pupils indeed Julius." Her smile is wry.

"Indeed." His response is mild.

"In a matter of hours, knowing only that someone is misusing Bardic
Power, they found the solution we have not seen in over a month.

"Did you also notice that they both realized what we did not? That who
is misusing power is not a factor? Not even how it is being misused.

"Yet both, without any real discussion, reached the same solution. One
which lets them state that a Mage may defeat a Bard.

"We knew it is possible for a Bard to be defeated.. But not how. Part
of *that* must have something to do with the pairing involved." His
voice is filled with his frustration.

"Agreed." Now it is Shiratha's turn vent some of *her* frustration.

"It's obvious that the mated Bard acts as a restraint on the Mage.

"But what else? How do they team to actually defeat a renegade?

Now she smiles and nods her head in the direction of the two new
Masters.

"However they do it, I for one will be happy to have an end to this
problem.

"I do wish that the solution wasn't so 'obvious' that they felt no
need to discuss it!"

His answering shrug is eloquent.

"At least we know there will be an end. Quickly too.

"Let's accept and be content with the knowledge we made the right
choice when we decided to promote them.

* * *

As the gentle touch of a new day awakens Stefan and Sabrina, they each
stretch and then settle into what has become a customary embrace.

After their morning greeting, they both pull back to look at the other
and question the other with their eyes.

"Stefan?

"I know what *my* problem is.

"Yours?" She reaches to lightly stroke his ears.

Nearly flat rather than upright, she has already learned they are
windows into his feelings of the moment.

"Unless you see a solution where I do not. She has to die."

He touches a paw to lips to silence her before she may begin.

"Let me explain.

"She will be defeated. That much is inevitable.

"What happens next? I see three choices.

"She is allowed to live but is stripped of her powers.

"You kill her as part of stopping her. Or you defeat her and we take
her before the King and he decides to have her killed. Same result.

"She is allowed to live and agrees to train as a Bard."

Her eyes glitter slightly. "After what she has *already* done, I could
kill her. Easily. Mages have their own reasons to desire quick justice
when power is misused.

"To look at it cold-bloodedly, she has already killed at least once.
Not by accident but deliberately. For that alone, the sentence is
almost always death.

"Further, if I understand what happened, she has somehow subverted a
'true Bard'. Justice again demands she be punished.

"As a side issue. If he is still alive... Will it be possible for
Maxus to continue his training?

"He may not have done anything wrong except to practice and not be
aware of his sister watching him. If we assume she already had some
skills, then she may have been able to conceal herself from him and
others.

"We may never know. "

Her eyes widen in sudden realization. "Stefan. If he felt Maxus were
alive, wouldn't Julius have mentioned it? In the hope that we could
save him?"

"Are you sure you aren't a Bard?" His gentle words are filled with
pain. "I have been trying to ignore that idea.

"As you learned, Bards say more by not saying things at times.

"She has not faced a power handler yet in battle. Maxus was about to
become a journeyman. Maxus was a power handler of some skill yet she
never faced him in combat even though she is his sister.

"One final and very telling detail. No power handlers in the area. The
area where Maxus lived.

Sabrina whispers it for both of them. "She killed Maxus. She had to.
Or he would have either tried to stop her or sent word out.

"Did he send word and then she killed him?

"Either way, Maxus is dead. Murdered."

Stefan nods his agreement and then his ears droop and he begins to
cry. "If he were still alive, others would sense it. Power users stand
out against the background. He could hide himself but a compulsion to
do so would stand out.

"In the unlikely event that Max joined her willingly, Julius would
have known and told us.

"He never corrected me when I assumed it was Max's sister only.

"If Max were alive, Julius would have told us."

Suddenly he relaxes and chuckles quietly. "You do realize that solves
what we do with her. I don't like having to make the 'decision' even
though she has made it for us."

"It also solves my third possibility. If she were to live and need
training...

"There is only one Bard who would be able to train her as she should
be trained."

Sabrina's gasp of shock tells him she knows. "You.

"The one who 'defeated' her.

"As you say though. There has always been only one sentence for those
who deliberately kill a power wielder.

"Death." Her voice is cold now and filled with resolve.

"Remember something you told me?

" 'Bards speak for the people of Rabelaisia.'

"It also explains the reasoning behind the pairing.

"A Bard descended of a prey species who is also a herbivore is
fundamentally unable to kill. Right?"

"In my case, yes. I cannot kill even to save my own life. I have
nearly starved at times because of that inability. All my defense
reactions are designed to disable my attacker with minimum effort and
damage to them. It would take years to change that. If I could.

He continues for them. "So if I decide someone *must* die. It is after
all known possibilities are explored. The person is given every chance
to live. A predator would be more pragmatic. More willing to kill.
Thus, a possible solution that allows the renegade to live might be
overlooked.

"Once the decision is made..." He stops.

"A predator Mage will carry out the action without the trauma and
regrets that would plague a Bard." Sabrina finishes it.

"It will hurt for a long time." His voice is already filled with the
tones of regret.

"My mind-mate will help me live through it and finally accept that the
decision was the right one. Because we reached the decision jointly,
you will be able to remind me of that.

"Thus, we have the solution to our problem." Sabrina's voice is
gentle.

"We face her together.

"She will *know* that I, as a Mage can never defeat her.

"She will attack your mind-mate because she will again 'know' that you
as a Bard will act in my defense.

He continues it. "So by drawing me into acting first, she will be able
to defeat me because I acted and then you at her leisure..

"She will never know that *you* are the one she should fear.

"It will happen so quickly that nobody will ever suspect that it will
be you alone who defeats her.

"If she attacks me first...

"Senior Journeymen do learn to set defense spells. Even though they
are crafted to disable and restrain, they are every bit as effective
as a Mage's.

Once again, Sabrina takes over. "There is the reason for a Predator
Mage who is also mind-mated to the Bard.

"I will *know* you are alive and well even if unable to respond
normally. I am also pragmatic enough to finish it by killing her and
then seeing to you. Her death will also release you from any spells
she may have cast."

"She may be unable to be killed by power. Physical means are another
matter. I will be able to keep her from using power to heal herself.
Or, I will be able to inflict so much damage that she is unable to
deal with all of it.

"No matter who acts first. No matter who acts against who, the end
result is the same.

"We live.

"She dies."

* * *

As Stefan finishes the ceremony at the gravesites of the fallen,
Sabrina looks around and studies the faces of those attending.

She touches him and forms a link.

"Is this what it's like to be a Master? We don't choose our duties so
much as they choose us?

Before he can reply, she continues. "Follow my lead.

"Forgive me my love. What I do next, I must." She removes her fingers
and walks to where the elders are standing.

"Elders.

"I and my mind-mate wish to ask a favor of you.

"We only recently discovered we are mind-mates. Because of the crisis,
we have not made formal vows to each other.

"Also, as Masters, we may choose where our duties lie.

"Already, we are deeply bonded to this area.

"So that you may never feel abandoned again, we wish to settle here.
Myself as a settled Mage."

Stefan steps forward and continues. "Myself as a Wandering Bard. For
now. Most of my Journeyman years were spent as such. Even though
mated, I desire to continue as one.

"Further, as part of our vows...

"We wish to pledge that here is where our lives will be spent.

"Here is where, until we die, our duty to Rabelaisia will keep us.

As he finishes, he kneels before them and bows his head.

"In the hectic times of the recent past, Decisions were made by Bards
and Mages.

"Those decisions, while right, were not fair.

"You deserve to know that Wielders were deliberately warned away from
this area so that the least amount of damage would be done while we
sought a solution to what is, after all, a very rare problem.

Sabrina touches his arm to stop him.

"We may not speak of all that went into making those decisions.

"If you will have us, we wish to tie our lives to yours.

"Because of what we have already done, it is part of our duty to help
you recover from what has happened.

"It is also our desire."
====

The Lost Mage
Anika and Ryan
---

Anika put her pen down wearily. She stared at the page in front of her
and considered continuing her notes.

'What's the point?' she asked herself, despondently. 'I'll probably be
dead by the end of the day.'

She cursed her failing abilities yet again. There had been a time when
prophesy had been her strongest talent. Now the long years of not
using her skills finally seemed to be taking their toll.

For several days now, Anika had been aware of an approaching presence.
She had tried several times to find out more about it. Each time, her
readings had been cloudy and ambiguous. She knew only two things
beyond doubt. The first was that there was little or nothing she could
do to avoid the coming visitation. The second was that the signs
pointed both to a major event and an ending.

There was one obvious conclusion to be reached from the available
clues. Anika had come to believe that she was feeling the approaching
spectre of death.

She repeatedly told herself that she didn't care. She had nothing and
nobody to live for. Life had become monotonous and wearisome to her.
Still, she could not entirely quell the little pangs of regret
and..... fear? There was a nagging feeling within her that she was too
young to die just yet. Life had passed her by and moved on without
her. Still she clung on, stubbornly believing that there could be
something more in the future.

She shook her head impatiently, trying to clear the uncomfortable
thoughts from her mind. She half-heartedly picked up the pen again and
refocused on her notes.

Just as she was about to dip the pen in the ink, she was startled to
hear a knock at her door. Her mind swam with shock. How long had it
been since someone had visited her? Six years? Even then it had only
been a lost traveler.

She walked towards the door in a daze. Suddenly, she had no doubts
that this was the call that she had been expecting. Her original
guesses seemed comical in the face of this realization. It seemed
unlikely that Death took a physical form. Even more impossible to
conceive was the idea that he would knock before entering.

Her paw trembled slightly as she drew back the latch. Standing before
her was a badger. He smiled at her with not a hint of unease.

For a moment she was absolutely at a loss. Finally she stammered out:

"What.... *who*.... are you?"

His smile became wider, a hint of amusement touching at the edges of
it.

"My name is Ryan. At your service, Anika."

She gasped in realization. Immediately, her eyes narrowed, full of
suspicion.

"You're a Bard!"

"May I come in? I've traveled a long way to meet you, stoat."

Ryan's voice was calm and deep. Pleasant, with the trace of laughter
that was characteristic of all Bards. Anika found his unruffled air
all the more irritating because she was at a loss in his presence.
Unwilling, reluctantly, she gestured him into her cluttered parlour.

She addressed him, brusque in her nervousness.

"Well Bard - since you're here, you might as well sit down. Now...
what is your purpose here? What do you want from me?"

Ryan chuckled. "Truly, you have the charms of a thoroughbred stoat."

His tone became serious and he continued before she had the chance to
become offended.

"I am here to persuade you to rejoin the world. Come back with me
Anika. There is a life for you out there. You and I both know that you
are wasted here."

Anika laughed bitterly as her eyes grew bright with anger.

"The world turned me away. I have no use for it. What is it to you,
anyway? Why should *you* care whether I live or die?"

Ryan spoke gently.

"The world never turned you away, Anika. You ran away from it. As for
what it means to me...."

"I would like you to be my mate - if you choose to accept."

Anika gasped as the badger raised both paws in the traditional request
for life-mates.

"I.... I don't.... understand." Her words sounded distant in her ears.

He smiled and gently lowered his paws, making certain that she knew
the offer still stood.

"For years, I have been searching for the right mate." He smiled
disparagingly. "Badgers are notoriously selective. You probably knew
that already.

"I have no use for a physical mate without the mind bond. Neither do I
want a mind-partner only. I seek a stronger and more complete bond
than most are content with.

"Finally my dear stoat, all my questions and explorations led me to
your doorstep. Now I ask you once again to rejoin life with me at your
side. This is no place for a Mage of your talents."

"My talents?" Anika sneered. "My talents were unwanted even at their
peak. They called me 'evil eye' and 'witch'. I was regarded with
suspicion and treated with derision by those that I tried to help.

"Now my powers are weak and faded. My skills are such that I did not
even recognize the approach of a Bard. I am wasted. Useless. What
would my welcome be now?"

Again, Ryan spoke softly.

"You were not aware of me because I chose to approach in that way.
From what I knew of you, you would have chosen to avoid me or any
other visitor."

He shrugged. "I wanted a fair hearing. I won't use Bard's tricks on a
Mage - especially one that I hope will become my mate. All I can do is
point out the truth to you. I can only hope that you are able to
accept it and stop being consumed by fear. If you are a fraction of
the person I believe you to be, it will be enough."

"Fear?" She barked out a mirthless laugh. "Is it fear to make the
choices I did? I chose to live away from those who wished and did me
ill. I chose not to stay around while rumour-mongers made up their
lies about me. while others chose to believe it. What other paths lay
open to me?"

The badger replied gravely.

"Only the path that lies before you now. To turn and fight instead of
running away.

"If you had chosen to face your difficulties all those years ago, you
were more than strong enough to change the villagers' opinions of you.
True, it would have taken time and patience. Prejudice *is*
conquerable though. Especially for one with talents and powers as
potent as yours are."

He stood up.

"I think you already know that you face a choice, Anika. You can stay
here and continue with life as if I never visited. Only problem is,
you'll always be nagged by the knowledge that you let them -" he
indicated expansively at the outside world with his paws "- win.

"Or you can view this as a chance to rectify old mistakes. You can
accept my offer and journey with me. A harder path, but it could be
*so* much more rewarding. Please - consider it?"

Anika was torn. On the one hand, the badger's offer was appealing.
Excitement welled in her as she thought of what she could become. A
Bard and a Mage together. Always a powerful and well-respected
combination. It offered her the path of acceptance that she had always
dreamed of.

On the other hand, the comfort and security of her home beckoned her.
Dangers lay outside. She was too old and set in her ways to uproot and
change her life like this. Wasn't she?

Yes. She was. It was an insane notion! Going off with this crazy
badger? What an idea! With a curt wave of her hand she dismissed the
whole proposal.

"I don't intend to change my life on the whim of a Bard," she declared
haughtily. "Now, please leave me."

For a moment, Ryan simply stared at her. Then he walked wordlessly to
the door, opened it and left her house.

Anika sighed with relief. At least, she tried to. Somehow the sigh was
hollow and feigned.

She should be feeling relief at the departure of the Bard. She was
sure of it!

So..... how come it felt as if the walls of her cottage were closing
in around her? As if she were caught in a snare, fighting for her
breath and her life?

Ryan was no longer hiding his presence from her. She felt him growing
more distant as the minutes ticked by. His presence was fading from
her mind.

Muttering, she tried to shrug off the growing panic that was needling
her mind. She firmly resisted the temptation to chase after the
badger, only to have the urge return seconds later. Again and again it
returned.....

'I can't leave all this behind!' she thought desperately to herself.

Another part of her mind answered with a sneaky insidiousness.

'All of what? All of what, Anika? What's keeping you here?'

"Damn all Bards!" She cursed aloud, as she scrambled for the latch and
opened the door. To her utter shock, Ryan was leaning on the wall
outside. A wry smile lingered on his face.

"Well, maybe just *one* Bardic trick." He shrugged apologetically. "I
had a feeling you might change your mind."

Cocking his head in silent appeal, he raised his paws again.

For a moment, Anika regarded him with a trace of anger. Then she broke
into a smile of pure relief. It broadened as she offered her paws in
return.

Happiness and anticipation stirred in her heart. Newly awakened
emotions. Welcome feelings that she barely remembered. There was a
whole world out there, and she intended to see all of it.

'Better late than never,' she thought to herself. The two of them
began to walk away, paw in paw. Facing the world together.

* * *

Ryan stopped her just before they were out of sight of her house.

"Aren't you forgetting something?" His voice was mild as he turned her
around and gestured at the open door.

Anika smiled as the long unused spell rose to the surface of her mind.
She raised a paw and slowly closed it while speaking a single word
aloud. "Goodbye."

There was a final puff of smoke from the chimney and the door and
windows closed themselves.

"Shall we be off then? Ryan?" Reaching, she once again grasped his paw
and they turned and strode off. This time, there was no looking back.
Only forward.
====

Runaway
Mak and Lara
---

Before starting down the long road to freedom, Mak took one angry look
back at his house.

His thoughts were bitter and full of righteous rage.

He'd show them! They'd be sorry now that he wasn't around for them to
push about any more! He'd be miles away by the time his parents and
the rest of his family got home. He wasn't going to come back either!
No, not ever!

Hitching his single bag of belongings further up onto his shoulder, he
trudged along, fuming silently. The minutes passed, becoming miles
under his rebellious stride. He was so engrossed in his thoughts of
wounded melancholy that he didn't notice the fellow traveler. Her call
startled him and stopped him in his tracks.

"Hello, young traveler."

He looked around and there, settled on the ground with her back
against a tree and regarding him with a quizzical look was a female
feline. She was a lot older than he was but he rather benevolently
decided she was pretty in spite of her age.

"Umm.... hullo."

"Care to sit with me a while?" she asked pleasantly enough. "I'll be
traveling your way soon. We can keep company with each other. The
miles travel faster when you share them with someone else."

He heard the smile in her words, she looked friendly enough *but* he
instinctively remembered his mother's warnings about talking to
strangers.

Then he realized what he was doing. Still taking *their* orders! Not
any more - he'd talk to whoever he liked now. He didn't belong to them
any longer.

"Okay." He walked over to where she was resting, sat alongside her,
and regarded her thoughtfully. The feline was dusty from travel but
her clothes were well made despite that. A pack (considerably larger
than his own) was slung down by her side. She had light grey fur and
sparkling green eyes, and she was quite small, even for a feline.
However, Mak took note of the throwing daggers at her belt and decided
that she could probably take care of herself very easily.

She cut into his thoughts with a mellow voice.

"What brings you along this path, traveler?"

"Mak," he returned automatically, and then wished he hadn't.

"Lara," she replied, with a grave smile and a nod.

He shrugged moodily. "I'm going to sea."

Her eyebrows raised. "That's a long journey from here, Mak."

"I know it." His voice was breezy and indifferent now. "I'm going
anyway."

Lara chuckled. "The sea's in your blood, young one?"

"Dunno." He sagged wearily. "I just know I've got to get away. The
sea's as good a place as any."

She nodded. "If you have to run away, then it might as well be to sea
as anywhere else. *Do* you have to run away, Mak?"

"How did you know....?" he asked, indignantly. Then he cursed himself
again. He had just *admitted* that he was running away. He ought to
learn to control his tongue a little more. "I never said I was running
away," he amended.

The feline smiled. "Relax, Mak. I recognize the signs, that's all. You
know, I ran away once....."

He looked at her suspiciously. "I'll bet you got caught and sent
home."

She chuckled. "Do you think that's what's going to happen to you,
little fox? I have no intention of making you do anything that you
don't want to."

"That *I* want?" He laughed bitterly. "Nobody else cares what my wants
are. Nobody listens. That's why I'm leaving."

Her glance was amused. "That's part of the reason why I left. To
answer your question, no I didn't get sent back. I'll tell you
*exactly* what happened, if you like."

Mak gazed at her speculatively. She seemed like a nice enough cat,
even if he got the uncomfortable feeling that she was secretly
laughing at him. What harm could it do to listen to a story? It would
while the time away.

"Go on then," he said, leaning back on his elbows and relaxing a
little.

Lara laughed. "I couldn't *begin* to tell you all of it. Still, let's
start at the beginning and see where our tale takes us, shall we?"

She began. "It was a long time ago. I was not much older than you are
now.

"I'd been accused of stealing something, and I knew that I hadn't.
People didn't know whether to believe me or not, though. It stung me
that my word wasn't good enough for my family and friends, so I left
to find somewhere better.

"That was the main reason, although there were others. I was sick of
taking orders and being unappreciated."

Mak nodded in silent empathy. Hadn't his own parents done similar
things to him? Every time there was a fight between him and the other
fox cubs, *he* was always the one to blame. Angrily, he shrugged off
the knowledge that his parents were usually right to blame him. That
wasn't the point! The point was..... the point *was* that they didn't
even bother to check first!

She smiled as she watched his face. "If you're expecting me to tell
you how I changed my mind and went back to them, you're going to be
disappointed. I was one runaway who made it on her own.

"It's a marvelous life, you know," she continued, her eyes misting
over dreamily. "Once you're out on your own, there's so many things
you don't have to put up with any more.

"Having to be clean all the time, for example. Times were when I would
be wandering around with dozens of fleas and bites from the bed-lice
all over me. That's what freedom's all about, Mak. Even when you're
itching, you know it's an itch that *you've* earned, all by yourself.

"Of course, there was the occasional infection, but you soon get used
to that."

Mak shifted uncomfortably at the mention of itches. Still, it was
better than having to wash inside his ears every morning, wasn't it?
Maybe?

"The family meals around the dinner table," interrupted Lara, swapping
smoothly onto a new subject. "I'll bet you're glad to be shut of
those, hey? No more squabbling.... no more incessant chatter and
laughter.... no more having to put up with someone else's cooking.
Just yourself, solitude, a stick and a hot chunk of fresh meat.

"You can cook, can't you?" she added, kindly.

Mak's gaze faltered. "I....um, I...."

"Ah well, no matter," she continued breezily. "You'll soon learn.
Hunting too. When you get hungry enough, you'll probably find that
you'll be able to catch *something*. Plus, you know what they say -
practice makes perfect.

"Then too, food cooked over an open fire just seems to taste better."

He looked around uncertainly. Cooking and hunting couldn't be that
difficult, surely? Anyway, he could always buy food at the settlements
as he passed them. For a while, anyway, until his money ran out.

"You soon learn what's important and what isn't when you're out on
your own," she smiled merrily at him. "Look at those poor people
you've left behind. So concerned about their little comforts. A soft
bed, books to read, good wine to drink, a building to store their
little possessions in, friends surrounding them to share their
experiences.

"We're the lucky ones, young fox. Not them. All our possessions in one
little backpack, traveling light. Through rain and hail and snow
alike. Free spirits."

Mak acknowledged this last remark with silence. Suddenly, images of
the friends he was leaving behind were assailing him. Also, pleasant
images like the nice hot tub he enjoyed soaking in at night. His own
comfortable bed. The pile of books that he'd had to leave behind.

Angrily, he tried to push the thoughts to the back of his mind. He was
going, and that was that! He'd make new friends. There'd be plenty of
opportunity for having his own bed and books once he was employed at
sea.

"I thought you were going to tell me a story," he told the cat curtly.
"Not ramble on about how lucky we are."

She chuckled good-naturedly.

"Ah, the impatience of youth," she remarked. "All right, Mak. On to
more practical matters.

"What story would you like to hear? I have plenty to tell."

Again, her eyes sparkled with the excitement of her memories.

"How about the time when I was hunting a unicorn in the forests of
Elladane? I was trying to track it to its resting place. You know they
say that there's a nest of gold wherever the unicorn lays its head for
the night?"

Mak leaned forward in interest. This was just like one of his
adventure books!

She sighed and gazed into the distance. "I never did find out whether
that legend was true or not. I got lost in the forest. Now *that* was
an exciting adventure! No food or drink for over two days. Living in
constant fear that I was walking around in circles and I'd never find
my way out of there. Jumping at every peculiar noise and shadowed
movement around me. Ah, those were the days....."

Mak watched her incredulously as she tapered off into silent
nostalgia. That didn't sound like any fun at all! Surely she couldn't
be serious? Yet she was obviously enjoying the memories..... maybe
things like that were fun to remember, but not so much fun at the
time, thought Mak in bewilderment.

"Then there was the time that I was being chased and hunted by an
entire regiment of Lord Baryan's army. I'd been passing through his
lands, and he decided that I would be his next wife," remarked the
cat, watching him out of the corner of her eye.

"A tactful refusal wasn't what he had in mind. Bull in body, bull in
mind. He decreed that I was to be found, brought back and forcefully
married to him. If I resisted, I was to be 'incapacitated'.

"I found the idea of hiding in a tree a lot more preferable to being
Baryan's wife. Imagine the excitement of that, fox! Stuck in the
topmost branches of a tall tree, watching dozens of guards search for
you below. Hardly daring to breathe, let alone move, because once they
found you, there would be no chance for you to escape. Couldn't go to
sleep either. To be high enough so that I wouldn't be seen, I had to
balance very precariously in lightweight branches.

"That sort of thing really teaches you to be tough, in a way you can
never get from a family and a home. Soft living destroys all of the
adventure of life."

She patted his knee reassuringly. "Never worry young fox. You get used
to which regions are dangerous and which aren't. Of course, you have
to travel through them to find that out, but you learn quickly enough
after the trouble erupts."

Mak smiled as a sudden thought occurred to him.

"I won't need to worry about things like that. I'm getting a career as
a sailor. Not a traveler like yourself."

She nodded. "True. True. Still, I've done a bit of sailing as well, in
my time. Maybe you'd like to hear about that instead?"

Mak looked at her warily. Truth to tell, her tales were disturbing him
a little, but he didn't want to appear rude. Or worse, frightened and
childish.

"Well...." he muttered uneasily. "I don't know... maybe we ought to be
moving on our way now?"

Lara chuckled. "You're the first young male I've met who didn't want
to hear a story about pirates," she said easily.

Mak couldn't help himself.

"Pirates?" he asked. "Did your ship get attacked by them? What did you
do?"

"Do?" she asked, raising her eyebrows. "There wasn't much we *could*
do. The pirate ship was twice as big as our own. They were all armed,
and we only had half a dozen weapons on the entire ship.

"We were captured and kept for future sale as slaves. Meanwhile, they
helped themselves to all of our possessions.

"Luckily, there was a power-wielder on board the ship. She dealt with
the pirates in her own time, and made them sorry that they'd ever
bothered to attack the little 'defenseless' vessel.

"We were very fortunate. You know how rare proper power-wielders are.
Nineteen out of twenty sea voyages won't even have so much as a
peddler of magic aboard them."

She shrugged. "If she hadn't been along, that entire crew would now be
doing service on the Western coast for the fat, greedy slave barons
who amass there."

Mak shuddered. Was this how the rest of his life would be? Running
from one piece of danger and misfortune into the next? Hanging onto
his life by a thread?

All of a sudden, his comfortable little house, his friends, his
brothers and even his tutor, seemed a lot more appealing than the
prospects that lay before him.

Lara continued before he could say anything.

"Of course, even a life of adventures can become jaded after a while.
As one year passed, and then another, I found myself thinking about my
home and my family. I finally decided that I'd go back and stay around
for a while. It would be good to see the folks again.

"There was only one problem." She sighed and her smile faded a little.
"I returned to find that they had moved on. My family weren't there
any more. Sometimes you just can't go back. We can potentially set our
future with every little action that we take. Things can be so final."

Mak listened to her, in a trance. No going back? A *lifetime* without
his past? How would that feel? He didn't know if he could bear that
happening to him!

His attention suddenly came back to the present. Lara was gathering
her pack and standing up.

"Well, little traveler.... should we be on our way?" she asked kindly.

"Ummm..... well....." Mak played for time as he tried to sort out his
jumbled feelings.

She smiled knowingly. "Which way are we traveling, fox?"

He looked at her, astonished. "You.... you said you were going that
way," he pointed in the direction that he had been headed.

"No," she replied gently. "I said I was traveling your way. I still
am. Now, which way would that be?"

Mak smiled ruefully. He pointed back the way he came. "I'm going that
way," he replied.

She raised her eyebrows. "Then that's the way I'm headed as well. We'd
better get started. Miles to go before the sun sets...."

They traveled a little way in silence. Then Mak asked the question
that had been forming in his brain for a while.

"Were all those stories really true, Lara? Or were they just tales to
get me to go home?"

She grinned. "Oh, they were true all right. I experienced every one of
those discomforts. Even the bit about the pirates and the
power-wielder were true. The only thing I didn't mention was that *I*
was the wielder. A Bard can make a group of pirates wish that they'd
never been born, especially on an extended sea voyage."

He hesitated. "You're a bard? Oh." She was a Bard and she had *still*
gone through dangers like that? What chance would he have stood if he
had carried on towards the coast?

Sometimes it was better to just be happy with what you had, he
reflected as they covered the miles back towards his home.
====

First Step
Jasper, Chel, Blade and Sarah
---

Well, I have to go." The young wolf speaks softly.

"We'll miss you, son"

With hugs all around, Jasper walks out the door.

Smiling sadly, he walks to the gate and pauses to look back at the
house he is leaving behind. It isn't much as homes go but it has been
*home* for all his short life.

Love, warmth, care. A safe place to lick his wounds as he learned
about life and survival.

But now, apprenticeship over, he is leaving it all behind in search of
a new home. Someplace where he can build a new tomorrow for himself.

"Bye Dad, Mom..." His voice is the barest of whispers. Waving a final
time, he turns away and strides off.

Strange. He's been building to this day for years. Yet, he can't help
feeling a bit sad now that he is finally leaving.

There's no doubt he'll find a new place for himself. Wolves are
welcome in almost all villages and towns. He has already had offers
from people who he hunted for while learning his tracking skills. As a
journeyman Tracker, his natural abilities honed by years of training,
he will be welcome almost everywhere he goes.

With that in mind, he remembers an offer made by his last instructor.
The one who ranked him 'journeyman'.

* * *

"Jasper, if you want to check it out, there is an isolated valley
still recovering from being a center of slavery many years ago.

"My youngest son and his mate would welcome help such as yours.

"They aren't there very often anymore but it and our house are their
homes when they aren't working."

Jasper couldn't help but listen to that news. Whisper was well known
and liked by everyone who trained under her.

"Wait... Are you talking about Blade and Chel?" Even he had heard of
Blade's first job as a bounty hunter.

Whisper nodded. "Every so often, they stop in and make sure things are
ok there. They've been waiting for a Hunter to settle and help provide
for the people. Your being a Tracker would make you doubly welcome.
The people there have ample reasons to welcome power users.

"Chel and Blade make it a point to take care of them any time they are
in the area or resting at home."

* * *

Jasper had forgotten that conversation, but now, as he tries to decide
what to do, he thinks it will be worth checking on.

With that in mind, his steps firm and his stride lengthens. He has a
goal for now and many miles to travel to reach it.

Several weeks later, he knows he is getting close to his goal and he
starts to worry. He is only a journeyman Tracker. Will the people in
the valley accept his offer of help? Chel and Blade have skills honed
by years as bounty hunters. Plus, they are already known to the people
there. Chel has ties that run especially deep.

What if Chel or Blade decide he isn't suitable? Will they speak out
against him?

Finally, he stands at the beginning to a mountain pass and knows in a
few miles his questions will be answered.

"Hello young wolf. Welcome to Kaine's Valley."

Startled, he turns his head and sees two people. One is a snow-wolf
who carries herself with assurance. She radiates self-confidence and a
well maintained fitness. The hound at her side is slender but he too
radiates a certain hardness that belies his seeming youthfulness.

The snow-wolf is holding up a hand in greeting. The other arm is
wrapped around her mate.

"Thanks. I didn't know I was already there. I'm Jasper."

The hound laughs quietly. "We figured you might be. Mother warned us
you might be headed this way. We've been taking a break and waiting
for you."

"Mother? Oh!

"Then you must be Blade and Chel."

They nod and smile.

"She was right, you *are* quick." This from the wolf. "Come, we'll
walk the rest of the way with you."

As they walk the last few miles, Jasper is amazed at how much they
learn about him. Try as he might, he knows little more than when he
first met them. Their refusals aren't rude or seemingly evasive, yet
they display an easy skill at saying much while telling little.

Blade answers for both of them when he confronts them about it.

"We're bounty-hunters. Our jobs and lives depend on how well we
interact with others. More than Trackers, we have to keep a low
profile. A bounty hunter whose personal life is well known is out of
work very quickly in that area.

"Yet we still have to find out all we can. So, it's a skill honed by
years of using it."

"And, we wanted to find out what kind of person you are." Chel says
this with a smile.

"While we aren't after you, we still wanted to know how you deal with
people. It's important to me that my people get the type of person
they have earned.

"Whisper was right. If you want to stay, you'll be welcome.

"There's our house ahead. The elders are waiting to meet you and it's
yours as long as you want it. We've held off on leaving so we could
welcome you.

"Be yourself and relax. Remember, you were confirmed as a journeyman
by Whisper, mate to Nikkolai. That carries a lot of weight here."

With that, the two of them are headed back along the path out of the
valley.

* * *

Jasper frowns as they walk away.

Being confirmed by Whisper makes him special? That doesn't make any
sense.

Just because he trained under Whisper shouldn't affect how they view
*him* and his abilities.

Should it?

He slowly starts towards the meeting with the elders. At *his* house.

Then he realizes what was meant. Nikkolai played a major part in
freeing many of these people. He, his mate and even his family would
be viewed as unofficial yet highly respected village elders.

Of course these people would have a high regard for Nikkolai's or
Whisper's professional judgments of someone's capabilities. It wasn't
the favoritism he feared but simply senior power-wielders making a
judgment as to his fitness for a task.

That comforting thought firms his steps and he walks up and steps into
his new house to have his first meeting with the elders of his new
village.

He stands in the middle of the room and smiles at each in turn.

"Hello. I'm Jasper. I'm planning to stay here a while and if you are
willing, I'd like to help in any way my skills permit.

"I'm a journeyman Hunter/Tracker who has been judged by his masters to
be ready to move out into the world and make use of his skills in the
aid of others."

And with that, the thrill of bargaining begins.

"We understand you trained under Whisper for a while." This from an
old wolf who is strangely scarred.

Jasper nods. "Yes, she was my most recent instructor in the arts of
tracking. She also decided to give me my journeyman rank." There, it
was all out in the open now.

The wolf and several others nod as though confirming something. She
looks at him intently. "So, brother wolf, you call yourself a Hunter
first. Then a Tracker. Have you 'hunted' before?"

"Bluntly, can we expect you to do your best to find food for us?"

Jasper eases his stance slightly. This he can deal with. He is well
versed in the rituals used by Hunters among the wolves.

"Yes, elder sister. I have hunted for others. I have searched and
worked both alone and with others. Not only that, I have hunted that
which is not fit to eat but had to be brought down because it
threatened the people I was responsible for."

He turns and bows to her.

She nods slightly. "Good. It would seem that you have lived among
those who think as we do.

"Should we ask you to help, it will not always be as a Hunter or
Tracker to find food. I'm pleased that you have dealt with *all* types
of dangerous game."

She looks at him and smiles a bit grimly.

Jasper conceals his internal shivering. Suddenly, he is sure that she
means he will be called to deal with slavers. That clue lets him
finally realize that her scars are whip marks. Some of them recent by
the look of them.

"Sister. Some game, I will hunt for free. My guild would not let me
take payment for such. It falls under our own code that we each deal
with such as required. Further, I have no expectation of payment or
thanks for the lending of my skills in such matters.

"That sort of job is a duty my guild requires of me.

"However..." He shrugs slightly. "There will be times when I must
purchase what I need rather than barter for it.

"I saw an excellent garden outside but I'm afraid food isn't all I
will need. All I own, I carried here in my pack. Blade and Chel have
given me their house to use but I would rather not deprive them of
their own home. I wish to have a place of my own as soon as possible.

A feline chuckles at this admission.

"So, Jasper, already you seek to put down roots here. I'm pleased this
is so. A person with a home and ties will work harder than someone who
is just passing through."

He smiles at Jasper. "Your attitude speaks well for you.

"There are several hundred people scattered throughout this valley."

He looks around at the others and Jasper can see that they are taking
a silent vote.

The wolf speaks finally. "We are a poor people here. As you noted,
barter is the most frequent form of payment.

"Wander the valley and learn it. While you do so, find out what people
need and provide what help you can. Any reasonable request you make
will be met.

"There are many places one may build his own home. Should you find one
in your travels, all here will join in and help you build a home for
yourself."

Jasper can't contain his gasp of shock.

She smiles at him. "Know this Jasper. Your presence means a great deal
to us. Chel and Blade have done what they can but they are not here
all the time and some take advantage of that.

"We plan to make it well known that a Hunter with Tracking skills has
taken up residence in our valley. We will benefit far more than we can
ever easily repay.

"That we choose to not make an issue of your status of 'journeyman' is
our decision. Not yours. Henceforth, you will be known as our Hunter
and Tracker in residence.

"I think you are already aware that Whisper does not hand out the
title of journeyman unless you really are qualified and able to
perform as people would expect you to."

She and the others stand up. Each in turn bows and embraces him.

"Welcome 'brother-wolf'."

She smiles slightly. "I'm Sarah." She can't hide the twinkle in her
eyes. "It may be hoped that you find a mate amongst those who live in
*your* valley."

Jasper is filled with sudden awe at the responsibilities he faces.
These people have placed the future of several hundred people squarely
in his mostly untried paws.

Recovering, he smiles tentatively at them all as he ushers them to his
door.

As he watches them leave, his voice is a trembling whisper as he makes
them and himself a quiet promise.

"I'll do my best.

"Neighbors." 
====

Jasper's Apprentice
Jasper and Ellen
---

The stag is watching him closely.

Suddenly, the stag raises his head and bolts for cover. A fleet young
feline is close on his heels. She reaches and manages to touch the
stag's flank and then he vanishes in a sudden burst of speed as she
vainly tries to follow.

Jasper chuckles softly to himself.

Patiently, he stays where he is and waits for her to return.

Hours later, a dejected and very tired feline enters the clearing and
trudges over to sit next to him.

"So. You're getting better Ellen." He ruffles her fur a bit. "He let
you touch him."

"He was playing with you though. Letting you touch him means he trusts
you now."

She stares at him in surprise. "Playing with me?"

Jasper can hear the offended tone in her voice.

"He and I are old friends now. You aren't the first apprentice he and
I have taught.

"He knew you were there long before you made your move."

"I thought he was just another stag!" Her voice is plaintive. "That
wasn't fair!"

"Think Ellen. Someday, you may have people whose lives *depend* on you
making a successful hunt. If you've never failed... Well, failure in
such a task could destroy your self-confidence. People will sense that
lack and have trouble believing in you. After a while, it all feeds on
itself and you lose your edge.

"Today's lessons are some of the most important you will ever learn.

"Wait here." His voice is gentle.

"Ho 'Friend'." Jasper is up and calmly walking across the clearing.
The stag has come out and they share a greeting as Jasper gently rubs
Friend's sides.

Ellen barely hears his soft 'Thanks Friend.' as the two of them part
company.

As he settles next to her, she finally finds her voice again.

"Master?... You never wanted me to catch him did you? And he trusted
you enough to let me try. Didn't he?

"How did the two of you first meet?"

Then her eyes get wide as she realizes something. "The wind swirls in
this clearing. He tensed when he caught my scent and I thought he was
worried about you because he was watching you so closely..."

Jasper nods. "That's one lesson. Never assume anything when hunting.

"He was looking at me but his ears were directed to where you were.
Watch *all* of your chosen prey's body. A stag doesn't get as old as
Friend unless he is very, very cautious and alert.

"As for how we met....

* * *

Jasper was playing in his forest.

His play had a purpose though.

Even a skilled Hunter needs to practice.

He'd lived in Kaine's Valley for three years now. He knew all of the
people there and almost all of the animals and their habits.

Today, while checking to see how the local deer were doing, he had
stumbled on a stag's trail. One he didn't know.

So, he had decided to track him.

The stag was canny in his movements. Several times Jasper had been
following the trail only to realize he'd been fooled.

Finally, he had caught a glimpse of his quarry and settled into a more
serious game. He wanted to see if he could get close enough to touch
the wanderer.

Now, gazing out of his place of concealment, he knew he'd never hunt
him for food. Sleek, powerful, alert, the stag was handsome in his
completeness. He would enrich the herds here. Better to let him live
so they would all benefit in the future.

Jasper knew he could easily catch him and yet he hesitated. Something
wasn't quite right.

Then he had it. The stag had been very slowly, and seemingly randomly,
getting closer to him.

'So.' He chuckled to himself. 'You've been hunting me as much as I've
been hunting you. Have you?'

'Let's finish the game then.' With that thought, he burst into the
clearing in pursuit.

He was so intent on his target that he never realized the stag hadn't
moved until he collided with him and they both tumbled to the ground.

Stunned, he tried to ward off the hooves he thought were ready to kill
him and then he realized the stag was only getting to his feet.

Jasper rolled to get out of the way and then got to his knees and
stared at his 'victim'.

Still slightly winded from his sprint, he started laughing.

"So that's how you've survived this long. I wonder how many other
hunters found themselves in my position?"

Even though he knew the stag couldn't understand his words, he made
the bow of respect to him. "I thank you Master for your valuable
lesson."

* * *

"Ellen, that was twelve years ago.

"I've never regretted letting him live.

"He and I have continued our games over the years. Sometimes I win.
Sometimes he does. The herds and our valley prosper. The game is
harder to catch now but that's a good sign.

"You see, by having to earn our way, we won't be complacent about our
lives.

"Every time I have an apprentice who is getting too confident, I bring
them to meet him.

"You see, he taught me to not be over-confident. In the only way
possible.

"By making me fail and then staying and trusting that I would not take
out my frustrations on him."

Jasper's voice turns gentle again. "Yes, he truly is my friend."

* * *

Ellen studies her Master's face. His respect for 'Friend' is obvious.

Something else is there though. Part of it is love... But... She
senses he is not done with his lessons today.

She studies the day's events in her mind. He had set her a task he had
*known* she would fail at. A test? It didn't feel like one. He is too
relaxed about things.

She knows Hunters sometimes fail in their tasks. She wants to be one
anyway. She wants to make sure they all can eat and survive...

'Survive?' The word tugs at her. Then she remembers his earlier words.

"I've never regretted letting him live."

"The herds and our valley prosper."

*and*! Of course! Without the animals for food, none of them survive.

She starts shaking in her excitement...

"Master?

"Is that really a Hunter's primary duty? To know when *not* to kill?

"To take care of not only the people but the animals as well?"

His answer is mildly spoken but sincere.

"Of course.

"Journeywoman."

Ellen is shocked. 'Journeywoman'? Her? For *failing* to catch a stag
in his prime?

In the ten years since he became a Master, she is only his third
apprentice to earn journeyman status.

When pestered about what tests they had passed to earn their rank, the
other two always got evasive and then shared a look and laughed. "It
wasn't the same one for each of us but... We did wind up *knowing* we
had earned the title when it was over."

As if reading her thoughts, Jasper speaks again.

"'Hunter's Duty' Ellen. Each of us has to find it on our own. A Hunter
has to *feel* that concept. It's the core of what we are.

"Once learned though... It's what makes the difference between
Apprentice and Journeyman.

"Let's go home."
====

Contact!
Beth, Charles and Nikkolai
---

"Don't ask me, Charles." Beth's voice was filled with frustration.

"Tasmin wasn't kidding when she 'said' that they'd be waiting for us
whenever we got here."

They were studying their screens.

Charles, the Captain, was, if possible, even more frustrated than his
navigator and communications officer.

"The finest shielding that we ever produced. *We* can't even penetrate
it yet. We're still thousands of miles in orbit."

He was studying the latest 'person' they had scanned remotely from
orbit.

The being was female and obviously of some feline stock. That didn't
irritate him. What did was her pause in her activities as soon as they
had locked on her. Then, she had looked up and seemingly right at
them. A short pause again and she had unmistakably smiled and waved.
Then, she had simply pointed off in a seemingly random direction as
though telling them to seek there.

Now, she just looked up at them and waited.

This had been repeated several times. After the fourth time, they
figured out they were being pointed to some destination.

As they got closer, each person was obviously waiting for them.

Beth had added up the directions and was scanning a new clearing. It
was the first group of people they had seen who were obviously waiting
for them.

They were seated in a grassy clearing and all looked up and smiled as
the scanner locked on.

"Still no contacts?" Charles sighed. Ever since Tasmin and then
Cynthia had died, there had been no further mental contact. Over the
intervening 65 years, that it had happened had slowly faded into
semi-legendary status.

All six smiled and as one pointed in a new direction. Then the oldest
male stood and after embracing the older female started off at an easy
run in the direction indicated. The others looked at each other and
then what might have been grins appeared on their faces as they too
started in the same direction but at a slower pace.

"Lock on that male and track him!

"Extrapolate where he's headed. See if anywhere on that line matches
what we know about where Tasmin said her people would be waiting for
us."

Beth nodded. "Already done. It does.

"Locking the auto-tracker... Now."

"What the hell?! What happened?" Charles was in shock. As soon as Beth
locked the scanner, the hound (he was obviously that) had changed from
his easy lope to a dead run.

Beth was stunned as well. Before, he had been maintaining a steady
pace of around 60 kilometers per hour. Now, he was seemingly flat out
at around 100.

As they realized that they were still tracking him, he looked up and
his grin was unmistakable. Without appearing to strain, he refocused
on his running, sped up again for a ways and then slowed down and kept
on.

"Nothing can run that fast..." Beth was awed. He had touched just over
160 kph in that brief sprint and was now obviously *cruising* at 125
kph.

"How long can he maintain that speed?"

Charles brought her back. "How about the others?"

Beth looked and then blinked. "I can't find them."

"What?!"

"As a mater of fact, I can't find *any* of the others we scanned..."

Charles stopped and looked thoughtful. "I see. No technology to speak
of and yet we have a planet unifying culture...

"Humor me. Scan the valley where we plan to land."

Beth shrugged. Charles was obviously seeing something she wasn't. It
was the reason he was captain and not her. His often proven ability to
see things others could not.

She couldn't suppress her gasp of shock. "I..." She swallowed and
started over.

"I'm putting the image on the main screen now."

And the alarms went off.

"Silence those!" Charles had to shout to be heard over them.

What had happened was obvious to him. He had still been watching the
running figure when it vanished and then reappeared in the view on the
main screen.

All of the people gathered were obviously laughing at some joke and
Charles knew what it was.

They were gathered around an area obviously designed for his ship to
land in.

Without any words, they had told him they welcomed the ship and did
not fear anything he might do. And incidentally reminded anyone that
while pacifists, they were not helpless in the face of 'superior'
technology. The male's actions also carried the unmistakable hint that
what was seen was not all that they could do.

Charles smiled to himself. That last message had been unmistakably
delivered to him alone. The grin had been the grin used by someone who
knew when no words were needed to get a point across.

Charles wondered if he was one of these 'Bards' such as Tasmin had
been. If so, he was far more skilled than anyone had assumed possible
from what little they knew.

The bridge crew looked at each other and someone finally put it into
words.

"I think I'm going to like these people. Now I know just what made
Cynthia call them 'Rabelaisians'."
====

Rabel-Rouser
Spartacus (The Laughing Bard) and Gloria (The Dancing Bard)
---

 As my partner and I begin the last part of our 'act' with our
customary 'tying' of our tails while we hover over the crowd of
laughing people, I am reminded once again of how effective the new
style of power-handling is at crossing cultural and species
boundaries.

She is a shape-shifting human and I am a shape-shifting male canine.
After years of flowing from one form to another as needed, we both
have trouble remembering what we once were.

It doesn't matter. That we each found our way to a solution that works
for us does.

Laughing as we 'struggle' to untangle ourselves, we exchange a look of
amusement for what has happened to us.

As the announcer continues his narration, we melt into each other and
'skate' our finish on an invisible surface above the crowd.

Terrans have an art form that transcends words. We had nothing like it
until the cultural exchanges after our worlds first met.

Ice-dancing.

That it is.

As we finish up by landing on the small stage, I silently thank the
circumstances that let me meet Gloria and realize that here at last
was an art form that could become an expression of power at it's
happiest.

* * *

Spartacus was a 'rebel' Rabel and proud of it.

After reading about Terran history, he had deliberately renamed
himself.

When the call went out for Bards willing to travel to Terra as
'Ambassadors of Power' he had quickly volunteered.

For, unlike almost all other Bards, he found the quiet acceptance of
duty and teaching boring.

Boring, boring, BORING!

So when he wasn't doing anything else important, he danced.

Danced as no other Bard had ever danced.

Because he openly used power to aid his dancing.

Worse in some minds, he openly appeared to court disaster as he did
so.

He invited, no, *encouraged* his audience to join in his amusement at
himself and the open fun he poked at the normal things in life.

His open use of power was a scandal.

Oh, he was true to his training. True enough that he was a recognized
Master.

That was another problem. There wasn't a Bard on Rabelaisia who could
match him in his ability to make complex movements and still use power
with any sort of reliability.

The people of two worlds loved him.

'The Laughing Bard.'

Oh yes. Even more frustrating, to the chagrin of every other
power-handler on the planet, his methods worked.

He had earned his Master's rating by single-handedly stopping a riot
in the capitol.

A riot that had threatened to destroy the entire city.

How?

By floating above the angry people and dancing his mockery and
contempt for their foolishness. His mocking laughter at their and his
own actions had stunned everyone into silence and then nervous
chuckles and finally tension relieving, *roaring* laughter that had
led to people straining to touch him as he danced over and though the
crowds.

Weeks later, as he was quietly attending a joint planning session with
the Terrans, a woman had taken him aside and asked him if he had heard
of ice dancing.

The name was a lure. Dancing on ice? How?

Gloria had explained it to him.

Sensing he was in the presence of a life changing event, he had found
the courage to ask her the reasons she has asked him if he had heard
of ice dancing.

For his people, ice was a convenience in the hot season and a bother
later in the year.

Most avoided contact with it unless they had reason to deal with it.

His movements had reminded her of the graceful flowing motions of
people skating on ice.

She had been a member of a championship team until a training fall had
crippled her partner.

Unable to bear remaining on Earth, she had decided to become part of
the next cultural exchange. She had seen Bards and been fascinated by
the possibilities of using power while skating.

They never made it back to the second part of the meeting.

Entranced as they discussed possibilities, Spartacus had convinced her
to join him at a nearby lake.

An open clearing large enough to suit Gloria and a touch link to find
out what 'ice-skates' were and the rest was easy.

He brought in enough water to cover the clearing and froze it to a
glistening smoothness and kept it that way for her as she lost herself
in her memories for him.

Awed that someone with no power could seem to move so effortlessly, he
created a pair of skates for himself and joined her.

He quickly discovered that ice-dancing was just as much a story of
control as being a Bard.

Abandoning his normal use of power, he allowed her to steady him and
teach him how to move on ice.

As his confidence grew, he started adding simple gestures and
movements to his gliding across the ice.

Eventually, he and Gloria were doing a few basic moves as a team.

Only when she finally collapsed and he had to transfer energy to
revive her did they realize they had forgotten the meeting.

"My god. I had forgotten how *good* it felt to lose myself like that.

"And you, you are a natural at it."

Eyes met and they knew.

Here at last was something both could live for.

At long last, 'The Laughing Bard' had a mate and a purpose.

* * *

Months later, after Spartacus and I had begun performing publicly as a
team, I asked the questions that led to us forming a new chapter of
the Bard's Guild.

"Spar?

"I've never seen you do it but is it true Bards can shape-shift?"

Then, wistfully, I had softly asked him a question that I had been too
afraid to ask until then.

"Do you think I can learn how to handle power like you do?"

He had stared at me in stunned surprise.

"Glory?

"Do you realize what you just asked?

"The possibilities are..."

He finally unglazed and returned to the world.

"I used to shape-shift when I was alone. As part of my dancing.

"I never tried it publicly.

"To do that as part of a dance...

"I don't know if I could deal with the energy drain involved.

"Shifting takes time. Not long but any dance would have to allow for
that and work it in.

"I'm good at controlling power.

"That good? I don't know."

I knew Bards were quick at seeing things but Spar still managed to
amaze me at times. I had been thinking of him shifting in private to
enhance our time together. Shifting to explore nuances to our
relationship.

To shift as part of our dancing...

I was reeling from the images in my mind.

To *be* the person or animal we were portraying.

A long abandoned dream suddenly handed to me again.

"As for teaching you how to handle power, to become a Bard, that's up
to you"

He sighed and settled next to me. As he wrapped an arm around me, he
explained. The change in him stunned me. Suddenly, my relaxed and
gentle Spar had become stern and mature far beyond what I had known he
was capable of.

For the first time, he had become a Master of his craft in my
presence.

I learned of how power had almost destroyed Rabelaisia. The Bardic Way
had been the solution.

In spite of his seeming indifference to his responsibilities,
Spartacus *was* a Bard. As all Bards had done before him, he had found
a solution to the problem of finding inner peace and still fulfilling
his duties.

Awed, I discovered that Bards were not just 'entertainers'. They were
teachers and 'bringers of justice' as well.

I had often wondered how come people would come up to him and ask him
to arbitrate disputes. His unhesitating compliance to such requests
even in the middle of practice or during a show.

Sometimes he would listen as he danced and work his answer into our
routine. I had wondered at this.

'Bardic Lesson.' He called it. It was another way of reaching people
and reminding them of their responsibilities.

I had been amazed that people never complained when he stopped to deal
with such requests.

Surely they didn't *enjoy* having their fun interrupted?

Often people had shouted their problems at him and laughed along with
the crowd when Spar shouted his answers back.

The easy camaraderie had puzzled me.

Ordinary people and entertainers just didn't act that way towards each
other. As equals. Did they?

Well, on Rabelaisia, they were equals and they did treat each other
that way.

Now I knew that for all the surface similarities, his and my culture's
foundations were radically different.

Rabelaisia embraced personal responsibility not as a concept but as a
normal part of everyday life.

What I had seen was the expression of that.

It was not the unquestioning blindness I had assumed. It was the
recognition that each person had duties that resulted from choices
made.

Spar's choosing to become a Bard meant he must remain open to the
people around him.

In my terms, it was simply part of his job. 'Entertainers' here were
far different than on Terra.

Rabel was far more complex a culture than I had realized.

I returned from my musing to find him watching me. As he saw me become
aware again, he continued.

"So you see, there is much more to being a Bard than the ability to
handle power and entertain.

"We are agents of stability but we have to also encourage or impose
change so our world does not stagnate.

"Are you prepared to accept that burden? Not for one world but all
worlds?

"You already have the skill at concentrating. The focus and skill you
have learned as a dancer are much like those a Bard has to learn.

'Inward focus while always remaining aware of the external world.

"Bardic power handling is not a world of gestures and words.

"Gestures or words are limiting. A Bard cannot afford that. Many have
spent years training themselves out of those habits. Some never
succeed and quit or become Mages.

"I will accept you as my apprentice if you truly desire to do this. No
judgment if you decide otherwise at any time.

"Rabelaisia is a living testament to our commitment to the idea of
'personal choice'."

Now, for the first time, I realized how much control I had had over
other people's lives when I skated. That even off the ice, I had been
an agent of change.

Spar's simple words and quiet explanation had opened my eyes to how
much power there was in actions and words.

Did I have a choice?

Yes.

Wait. Was it a choice?

I got up and went to stand on the balcony.

Absently I returned the greetings and shouted banter of passerby.

'So this is the reason Terrans who have spent time on Rabelaisia
always want to return.'

"How many others know?"

"Not many. Most are living here. Few who have returned to Terra 'know'
how different we really are." His words were calm and filled with
layers of meanings.

"I am already mated to a Bard. Don't I already have the
responsibilities? On my world, it would be taken for granted that I
do."

Spar walked over and joined me. He leaned on the railing and gazed off
before answering.

"No.

"You are my mate and partner in our entertaining.

"You don't have the responsibilities. Nor do you have to take up the
burden.

"Haven't you noticed people always greet you as 'Gloria' or 'Glory'?

"Never as Spar's mate?

"Certainly, you are acknowledged to be mated with me.

"My people don't expect you to take up my burdens or act in any way
other than you choose.

"Should you announce you are training to become a Bard they will still
treat you as Gloria.

"We are a patient people for the most part. When you announce you are
ready to be known as a Bard, they will treat you as one. But you will
still have to earn their respect as yourself.

"We honor the title and duties. Not the person unless they have earned
our respect.

"Gloria the person and Gloria the Bard will be treated as two
different people unless you tell people otherwise.

"People do expect Bards to be available at a moment's notice and at
awkward times. Give and take. They do not trouble a non-working Bard
lightly. For that, we accept it when they do.

"Each of us chooses how we interact with everyone else. My way is not
yours. Nor is it the way of others.

"I long ago decided to become a 'Wandering Bard'. Someday I expect I
will be a 'Settled Bard'. Each has their place. I will know when it is
time to change.

"Any mistakes you make will be forgiven. That is also our way.

"There will be some who do not accept or forget but that too is
normal. We share that much between our cultures."

I gazed out at the people and buildings around us.

No, for the new Gloria, it was not a choice. I would become a Bard. It
was the natural thing to do.

I couldn't help it.

When I realized I would accept his offer and train to become a Bard, I
stood up and shouted my acceptance to the world.

"Yes!! I will train and become a Bard!!"

Startled, Spar turned to look at me even as the passerby stopped to
stare upwards.

"Who? Who wants to be a Bard??!" Was a shouted response.

One of the passerby recognized us and shouted back. "It's Glory the
Ice-Dancer!"

"It is??! A Terran Bard??"" A short pause.

"Well, She'll be a good one!!"

Suddenly the street was a bedlam of shouted comments and
congratulations.

"Glory! The Dancing Bard!"

I nearly choked on my sudden laughter. The image evoked as I realized
the similarity to something called 'A Dancing Bear' on Terra had me
convulsed.

Between my gasps, I explained the image to Spartacus.

"Glory!"

"Congratulations!"

Suddenly I was looking out at what could only be called an impromptu
block party that was rapidly spreading. People would hear what had
started it and then shout greetings to us as we stood there.

"Hey Glory!

"Join us!

"A dance! Dance Glory, dance!"

I was stunned. The random shout had become a chant that echoed off the
buildings.

Then someone changed it.

"Danc - Ing Bard!" and repeated it. Quickly, it was picked up by the
rest of the crowd.

Awed, I turned to Spartacus.

"But I haven't even started!"

"They know that." Was his calm yet amused reply.

"And even if you decide later to abandon the training, they will just
as easily accept that you weren't meant to become one.

"However, I'm afraid the name will stick for the rest of your life.
The duties won't but the name will.

"I think it's time you joined your party."

He grabbed me and tossed me over the railing. Even before I could
stifle the involuntary scream, I felt him catch me with his power and
lower me to the waiting hands.

As the people cleared the street for me, I saw my skates appear in
front of my now dazed eyes.

I turned to look up at Spar. He nodded and the entire street was
covered in ice.

Bemused, I stared at the ice. Then at my skates hanging invitingly.
Finally I looked at Spar. Only after his slight nod and gesture at the
now silent crowd did I dare to look at the hundreds of people around
me.

I could *feel* their expectant joy.

I had no choice. I had to dance and express that for all of us.

Bemused, I reached for my skates. After I sat and put them on, I
looked around at the waiting crowd and touched my head in the gesture
that meant I wanted a mind link with Spar while I danced.

I struck a bold pose and felt myself lifted and deposited in the
center of the street.

A pregnant pause and then I danced.

Filled with joy and power, I danced for myself and these people.

There, alone in the sunlight, I danced my commitment to my worlds.

For six hours - non stop - I danced. I still don't believe it.

Yet, I've relived it through Spar's eyes.

I've also seen the tapes several tourists made.

I am awed.

For six glorious hours, I was perfection.

A lifetime of training and Spar's power combined to create something
people have since tried to copy but have never mastered.

The Dancing Bard's - 'Commitment to Joy'.

Oh yes. Spar and I have since created a version of it for two people.

It is complicated and never stays the same in the details.

Each 'Rabel-Rouser' as we call ourselves has their own version.

The name is a deliberate mixing of our worlds. A reference to how we
strive to arouse people to an appreciation of life. Layers of meanings
in each expression. The Bardic Way.

Ours involves so many uses of power and such rapid shape-shifting that
it can only be fully appreciated when seen on tape later and slowed so
people can see the changes.

Of course, there *are* two people who can appreciate it live.

Spar and I.

It's how we close each show. 
====

While going through my archives, I rediscovered this parody I did.

It's a parody that combines characters from the 'Challenge Universe'
series with characters from 'Tails of Rabelaisia'.

Doubled quotes are a convention I use to indicate telepathic speech.
It dates back to when I started posting to the net.  A lot of the
browsers and other software couldn't do italics.

parody M/furry+/wolfess cons caution
---

A Rabelaisian Family Vacation
---

""Jowly, get your fat, furry ass out of the way.""

The ragged looking wolf looks at Weird and then at the holo-x
platform.

""Hmmph!""  She snorts.  ""Is that all you can think about?  *Human*
females?

""You certainly haven't had any interest in me lately.""

""Why should I, you antique bitch.  After fucking you for the last
thousand years, I'm bored.""

As they resume an argument that has been going on for 500 years, both
settle in for some serious insults.

Briiinnnnggg!!!!

"Damn!"  Weird's comment is heartfelt.  The woman on the stage was
just starting to screw her human partner and the ship-landing alarm
has gone off.

"Pause, you sorry excuse for a show."

"Yes oh high and mighty master..."

Weird mumbles to himself...  "Got to get that reprogrammed too.
Anything female in my house has an attitude these days..."

"Gimme the damn landing channel."

"Open master."

Jowly has padded over next to him.  Who knows, there may be someone on
this ship with new ideas about screwing.  After 100,000 times each,
even the most exotic position gets boring.

Right now, she feels like anything with a penis that isn't human would
be a nice change.

"Inbound ship...  What the hell do you want?"

"Greetings Weird.  Is that any way to talk to old friends?"

Weird grins. "Nukem!  You sorry hound!  How's that horny wife of
yours?"

Weird slams at the toggle to enable vision.

"Why Weird...  I didn't think you'd remember me.  But I see you have
after all."

Shrill is looking down at his raging hardon.

"Jowly!"  Nukem's smile is huge.  "Ready to be serviced by a real
tool?"

""As soon as you get here Nuke!""  She turns around and displays her
dripping vulva.  ""Looks like you're ready!""  She is staring avidly
at the huge bulge in his sheath.

Suddenly, Weird and Jowly vanish only to reappear in the embraces of
their old friends.

"Chemicals."  The house computer mumbles.  "Only one thing on their
minds.  Still, at least I can talk to the ship's computer.  500 years
of sex talk has been boring."

The house shuts down and all is silent.

* * *

The four on board...  No, wait.  Eight on board the ship never notice
when it lands.

"What the?...  You didn't!"  Weird's anger is evident.  For once,
Jowly agrees with him.  They brought the kids.

Bladder, Pipsqueak, Dull, and Yew.

Nukem grins.  "Sure did.  Thought they might go on vacation with
yours."

Pipsqueak staggers into the room followed by her three exhausted
brothers.

"Weird..  "  Her voice is sultry as she walks over and plants a kiss
in his crotch.  "I've been wanting to meet you for years.

"Mother has told me so much about you."

Jowly looks at the boys.  ""You kids into foursomes?  Three of you and
one of me?""

The four of them share grins.

Dull speaks first.  "Ask Pip."  He smiles lewdly and points at the
trail of semen that dripped from her as she entered the room.

Then they all reach down and strip themselves out of their sheaths.

Jowly nearly passes out in shock. She walks over to stare at each of
them.  They're bigger than their father!

""Boys, it might be a while before you meet our kids.  I have to be
sure you're good enough for the girls.""

* * *

Pipsqueak smiles at Weird.  "You look so...  Incomplete.  I think I'll
do something about that."  She smiles at Weird and he realizes he has
changed subtly.

He looks down at himself.  Sure enough, he now has a slight bulge at
the base of his penis.

"Well, well.  I suppose I should try this out to see if it works
right."

He reaches for Pipsqueak and slides himself home.  Lip-locked and with
his penis expanding to tie them together, they fall to the padded
floor in a passionate embrace.

Nukem grins at Shrill.  "I think I'll join Weird."  With that, he
falls on top of the pile and slams himself home in Weird's ass.  His
own knot expands and ties him to Weird as he wraps his arms around his
friend and daughter.

"Ahhh!!"  Weird screams in joy as Nuke's penis and knot massage his
prostate and drive him to a sudden climax.

With Nuke solidly planted, Weird stays locked in Pip as she starts to
moan and writhe in her own orgasms.

Nuke, with skill born of many years of such fucking, makes slight
movements that tug and pull at Weird's sphincter.  Weird moans at the
mingled pain and pleasure.

Pipsqueak's convulsions around Weird's penis only serve to keep him
excited and locked within her as he continues to spurt.  It is with
pleased cries that he realizes she also made some internal changes as
well.  As long as he is stimulated and tied, he is lost in an ongoing
orgasm.

Shrill watches for a few minutes and then lays down with them and
begins to french kiss Weird.  Her tongue digs deeply into every nook
of his gasping mouth.

She is slightly upset with herself because she never thought to make
the changes to Weird that her daughter did.  Still, once presented
with the fact, she won't hesitate to take advantage of Weird's new
capabilities.

Finally satiated, Pipsqueak pulls free of Weird's softening penis with
an audible squishing sound. Their mingled juices start to drain from
her.

Nuke, still tied, continues his rocking motions and keeps spurting his
seed in Weird's now dripping ass.

"Wait!  Slow down!."  Shrill hurries to position herself on Weird's
penis as it starts to expand again.

As she slams herself home and her and Weird's pubes meet, she and her
mate share a look and he quickly works to expand Weird inside her.

Now it is Shrill's turn to writhe in ecstasy as she feels Weird's
huge, throbbing member expand and begin to spurt his hot seed inside
her.

Finally, inevitably, she begins the high keening wail that earned her
her name those many years ago.  Everyone else in the room winces and
covers their ears in agony as instrument glass on the ship's control
panel starts to shatter.

Nukem, on automatic, keeps himself tied to Weird and thus keeps Weird
tied in Shrill.

Lost in their continuing orgasms, all three spasm for over an hour
before they finally pass out.

The only noise that remains is that of flesh bouncing against flesh as
Jowly and the boys dance their own dance of lust.
---

There was more to this parody but I no longer have it.
---

The cast:         Based on:        Series:

Weird             Ward              Challenge
Jowly             Julie             Challenge
Nukem             Nikkolai          Rabelaisia
Shrill            Whisper           Rabelaisia
Pipsqueak         Pippa             Rabelaisia
Bladder           Blade             Rabelaisia
Dull              Dale              Rabelaisia
Yew               Ash               Rabelaisia
====

End: The Tails of Rabelaisia 5/6 Miscellaneous Work

-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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