"I think he's serious now," the other one called with a chuckle. "You'd better be careful!"

"This one is full of surprises, Morin," Var told his companion. "He moves like the wind, but there's a strength behind that fur that's not natural. His arms don't buckle or move when they deflect my sword. He's much stronger than he looks."

Oh, he was very good. Not many would have picked up on that. Now Var knew that Tarrin was much stronger than he looked, and that meant that trying a quick power move may not be his best option at the moment. But Var didn't quite know just how strong Tarrin was. A quick power move was out, but a feint into a power move would be more useful in this situation.

"Then maybe you shouldn't give him the chance to roll up his sleeves!" Morin laughed.

"To attack an undefending foe is dishonorable!" Var said in shock to his friend. "I'd never do such a thing!"

"I was just kidding, Var," Morin said seriously. "I know you'd never do such a thing. You are an honorable man."

"Then there is nothing for me to challenge in your words," Var grinned at Morin.

Woah. Var had just told Morin that he just avoided a fight to the death with Var. Honor was a very serious matter among the Selani.

Done rolling up his sleeves, leaving everything bare to the elbows, Tarrin widened his feet and settled into his slouching stance, then laid his ears back and fixed Var with an unholy stare.

"He's serious all right!" Morin laughed loudly.

It was the same, yet it was different. Var came after him again with that same fast fury, moving with a swiftness that was impossible for a human, and Tarrin could pause long enough to appreciate his ability. Var was an outstanding pupil of the Dance. His forms were flawless, perfect, and he had the strength and dexterity to make them look like pure art. Var was a poet of motion, a whirlwind of steely death that held a terrible beauty. Tarrin ignored several opportunities to take Var down to test him, push him, to see how skilled he really was. He was impressed by the Selani, very impressed, though the Selani's expression was one of intense concentration. Seconds dragged into moments as the chiming ring of manacle and sword filled the air, as Tarrin allowed Var to dance and weave and flow before him and play out his full knowledge of the Dance. Var's sword didn't so much as get inside his manacles again, despite several very clever tricks and feints to lure Tarrin out of position. Now that he knew Var was a trickster, he was giving the fight all of his attention, and Tarrin was much better trained than Var. Var seemed to sense that Tarrin was holding back, wasn't fighting with the same intensity, and it worried him. He was trying to take Tarrin down quickly, before he did start fighting back. Tarrin could feel it in the blows against his bracers, could see it in the narrow-footed stances Var used when moving through his forms.

He wouldn't disappoint.

In a heartbeat, things changed completely. Tarrin stopped parrying, stopped evading, and was all over the smaller Selani. The wicked sword was deflected by his manacles or simply slapped aside contemptuously by an open paw as Tarrin turned on Var, claws slashing the air as he sought to strip the Selani bare. The Selani retreated furiously to avoid those flashing claws, claws that shredded plant-fiber clothing with every swipe, drew blood without doing true harm. The more he tried to stop those claws, the more they found him, slapping the sword away, slicing cloth and skin with every stroke, coming at him from every direction in rapid succession in a flurry that confused the smaller Selani. Trying to slash the arms holding those clawed paws seemed to elude the Selani as he simply tried to get away from him. Hooded head covering flying to the side, Var dove away from the Were-cat when an overhanded swipe threatened, to the Selani at least, to rip out his ribs. He managed to get away, but not before losing his shirt to Tarrin's snagging claws.

When he stood up, he was a sight. Brown skin striped here and there by Tarrin's claws, some of them bleeding enough for it to ooze down his chest and back slowly. He still had his sword, but a disbelieving look was stamped onto his face.

" Ande no adu bai," Tarrin said in perfect mimicry of Var's own voice, then he crooked a clawed finger at him. "Now, little man, let's dance," he said in Arakite. He bent down more, spreading his stance and then drew his great sword in a slow, deliberate motion. The sound of steel sliding over leather and iron was a grating, rasping sound, and he could see from there that it made the hair on Var's arms stand up.

"He's playing with you, Var!" Morin called urgently. "Be careful! I don't want to tell Suji you lost a challenge of honor!"

In seconds, it was all over. The Selani came in bravely, refusing to back down, and that was his biggest mistake. The first stroke of his sword sheared the majority of the Selani's blade off, blasting his arm to the side and knocking him out of position. The second stroke, with the flat, caught the Selani just under the sword arm, hitting chest, and sent him flying to the side. The Selani soared through the air and landed in a heap about ten spans from where he started, right in the mud, wheezing for breath and trying to rise up onto his hands and knees.

"Mother's blood!" Morin called in shock.

Rising up, Tarrin sheathed his sword with a practiced familiarity that made it look natural. He crossed his arms patiently, tail slashing side to side as the Selani Var tried to find his breath. Morin gawked at him for a moment, then rushed over to Var and knelt beside him. "Var! Are you injured?"

"N-No," he wheezed. "The man-cat was counting coup! I think if he wished me dead, I would be dead!"

"Truly, there is no dishonor in losing to such a warrior," Morin consoled him. "You fought well."

Snorting, Tarrin turned and started walking away from the pair. He'd sampled a taste of what he could expect from the Selani. Var had been a very worthy foe, but his unfamiliarity with Tarrin's nature had been his downfall. He had lost himself when Tarrin turned on him with his claws, when he could have used his sword to make the Were-cat back off. He had forgotten Tarrin's strength, and when he came at him, Tarrin used it against him.

Even a Selani could be intimidated.

"Hold, stranger!" the one Morin called in Arakite. "To venture into our lands is death! Your victory has earned you a day of protection, but no more! I say to you now, as a warrior of honor, return to Saranam! It would be a great loss to have to kill you!"

Tarrin stopped, turning just enough to look back over his shoulder at the two of them. "I spared him out of respect for the Selani," he bluffed. "I won't be so gentle next time. Remember that before you decide to chase me down."

He looked down, and saw the Selani's spear laying by his foot. Impulsively, he snaked his tail around the shaft, and pulled it up into his paw. He hefted it once, then turned enough to lob it harmlessly in their direction. Both of them stared at it for a long moment, then looked to him again.

"Answer me one thing, stranger," Morin called. "Where did you learn the Dance? I saw its roots in your movements."

"From the best," he answered honestly. He wouldn't dishonor Allia, no matter what. He looked right into their eyes. "From the best."

Tarrin turned and started walking away, but Morin called again. "Show me the brands!"

That stopped him in his tracks. He turned and regarded Morin and Var calmly. "What makes you think I have brands?"

"You know the Dance. No Selani would teach you the Dance unless you were deshida. Which clan calls you brother?"

"No clan," he replied bluntly. He wouldn't dishonor Allia, but he wasn't about to get her in trouble either. Allia's clan didn't know about Tarrin. "My brands were for the sake of one, not for the sake of a clan. Hers is the only honor I carry. As far as you or any other Selani are concerned, I am kaiji, an invader."