But it was important. The Doomwalker wasn't just after him. It was also after his sister. But why? Why did they want him, Allia and Keritanima, and now Jenna, dead? It didn't make any sense. He had to figure out what was going on. Everyone around him knew something, and it was something that they wouldn't tell him. And without that information, he had no idea what was going on, or why he seemed to be so important.

The attention of half the world is set on your shoulders, he remembered the Goddess telling him. But why? Why?

"Well, she's a bit shaken up, but other than that she's fine," she told him. "She's in the Tower now, resting. She'll come see you later, when you feel better."

"I'd like that," he said, laying back into the pillow, his mind whirling. It was too much, too quickly.

"You just lay back and rest, my son," Elke said to him in a crooning voice. "I'm here now, and I'll watch over you."

He closed his eyes, letting his weariness sweep over him, taking comfort in the fact that his mother was there, watching, and that made him feel oddly safe and secure. He fell back asleep quickly.

A Sorcerer had repaired the damage to his body, and a night's rest had replenished his strength. By morning, Tarrin was up and about, feeling a bit tired, but otherwise whole. The trauma of the day before had faded in his concern for his father and family, so he was up and out of the room well before anyone from the Tower could stop in and check up on him. Although the memory of the pain had faded, other thoughts and worries had taken its place. And Tarrin was worried.

For some reason, he had the feeling that something very bad was going to happen soon. What had happened with the Conduit-Tarrin shuddered at that thought. But he knew that he had done something, or had something done to him. He could feel it inside him. The sense of everything had changed, ever-so-slightly, and the sense of the Weave was with him all the time now. Without even reaching out for it, he could sense the Weave all around him, and its power beckoned him, called out to him, sang to him, begging him to complete the circuit and become one with it. Almost like he had awakened a part of himself in the fiery gauntlet of the Conduit. But with that newfound sensation was a gnawing fear that it was not normal, that it was what set him apart from the others, that it was what made them so interested in him.

It wasn't a sensation of power, it was more like a clearer understanding of what was around him. The Weave was a part of the world, though it was invisible and intangible to the majority of the world's population. Tarrin felt more in tune with it, and though he couldn't see the strands, he could sense them around him, could almost feel the energy flowing through them. It was strange, unusual, and yet at the same time, he realized that he had always felt those things. They had just never been so clear to him before.

And again, as always, the fear of what was going on around him had resurfaced. Now more than ever, he had to find out what was going on, and why he was of such great interest to the Tower, and most likely many others. Things had changed, he knew. He could feel it. Things had changed, and he had the feeling that unless he found out what was going on, he was going to pay dearly for his failure.

Following the scent of his mother wasn't that difficult, and he managed to get to their door by dawn. As he expected, they were not alone. Two Sorcerers, one of them Jula, sat in the sitting room of the apartment, and Tarrin could hear his family moving around in the room beyond.

"Tarrin," Jula said in surprise. "How do you feel?"

"I'm well enough," he replied, crossing the room quickly and opening the door beyond. Inside was a well-appointed bedchamber, with a large bed, chest, armoire, and a writing desk. Bedtables held an oil lamp and a pitcher of water with washbasin, but Tarrin's attention was focused on the three figures on the bed. Eron Kael was laying in the bed with Elke sitting on one side and Jenna on the other. They turned to look when he came in through the door, and Tarrin found his sister buried in his arms only seconds later. She began to cry, clutching onto him tightly. He picked her up easily and carried her to the bed, then he sat down with Jenna clinging to him, putting his paw on his father's shoulder gently. "Good morning," Tarrin said with a slight smile.

"I'm getting too old for this," Eron said with a chuckle. "I see you're well, boy."

"You can't keep a good Were-cat down," Tarrin said with a shrug. "How is it?"

"The Sorcerers fixed it well enough, but you know how that healing takes it out of you." Tarrin nodded. His experience with being healed was intimate. "I'm starting to feel well enough to move around, but this taskmaster here won't let me out of bed."

"They said he wasn't to exert himself until noon, and that means that he doesn't get out of bed," Elke said fiercely.

"I don't think getting up and sitting in a chair counts as exertion," Eron said testily.

"Deal with it," she said in a flinty tone.

"What choice do I have?"

"None."

"Then why say it?" he asked in a sharp voice.

"I never said anything. You're the one that keeps trying to put words in my mouth."

Eron blew out his breath, and Tarrin had to surpress a grin. Jenna had gotten over her outburst, and she was giggling a bit. Tarrin squeezed her gently. "I heard that you had a scare yesterday, brat," Tarrin told her.

"Scary isn't the word," she said with a shiver. "That thing-"

"Don't dwell on it, dear," Elke cautioned in a gentle voice.

"Well don't worry about it," he told her. "From what they told me, I didn't leave enough of it to put into a jar. It won't be bothering you for a long while. If ever."

"That's my big brother," Jenna said in a quivering voice. "Always there to kill the boogey man."

Tarrin chuckled. "Well, I don't think I'll go that far," he said. "I see they gave you a nice room."

"I'd rather be home," Eron growled. "What's left of it, anyway."

"That bad?"

"The roof caved just as we got out," Elke told him. "The fight wasn't very good for the house. It will take some time to repair it."

Tarrin glanced at the door. "Have you made any other plans?"

"We were thinking of staying here," she said.

Tarrin shook his head. "This isn't a good place to be, mother," he warned. "You should find other arrangements."

"There are any number of inns-" Eron began, but Tarrin shook his head again. He reached over to the writing desk and picked up a piece of paper and a quill pen, inked the pen, then set it on the bed by his reclining father.

"You know the city pretty well?" Tarrin asked.

"Fairly," Elke replied.

Tarrin wrote a set of directions on the paper, using the Ungardt language. He slipped it to Elke, who read it quickly, reached it over to the lamp, and then burned it. "When you get there, tell the owner of the house that you're friends of Shadow," he told her in Ungardt. "He'll know what that means, and he won't turn you away." He closed his eyes, memories of Janette and the orderly house of Janine the wife flooding through him.

"I take it that they're friends of yours?"

"More than friends. If they remember me, anyway."

"Oh, you mean that they're them?"

He nodded. "Be nice to them, mother."

"Of course," she snorted. "Why shouldn't we stay here?"

"If you two don't stop that, I'm going to get surly," Eron said waspishly. Eron couldn't speak Ungardt.

"Hush," Elke commanded her husband absently.

He glared at her, but said nothing. "Something's going on here, you know that," Tarrin told her. "I don't know, but I get the feeling that what happened yesterday is going to make things tense here for a while. It would probably be a good idea for you to be somewhere where nobody knows your name, if you understand my meaning."