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Deep within myself, I winced. I had sought some type of devine knowledge that I might have a chance against Sharidia. She was no longer the half-trained Warrioress of the Veil that I competed against in my youth. She was fully-trained now, a Warrioress that had seen numerous battles, and won just as many. The only advantage I had was eight years in the Outlands, learning the ways of the Outsiders. I hung my head, but I suddenly felt a hand on my shoulder."Katja," Bast said, softly, "I have watched you grow from a small Tyb-kit to the strong, willful cat-woman you are today. You have a great strength in you. I have never doubted you. Nor should you doubt yourself."
I looked at him, "You are difficult at times, Bright One."
He smiled, "Not difficult, merely elusive in deliverance of straight answers."
I couldn't help but smile and shake my head. Together, my god and I walked the garden paths towards the Palace. We entered through a side door, our booted feet ringing against the cold stone of the floor. The sound echoed down the empty halls. As we entered I noted that it was well past sunset, the moon and stars already beginning their nightly vigil over the world. Momentarily, I wondered where Krolaun had vanished to, how he was; for Tybis was not a kind city to Outsiders.
Bast and I walked the halls of the Palace mostly in silence. It was only occasionally broken by Bast commenting on the state of the Tyberan world as a whole. I paid scant attention until something he said drew me.
"...and the Outsiders themselves are not as dangerous to our kind as some would make them. I think it is, perhaps, ancient paranoia. Back in bygone days, the Tyberan did have to fear for their lives, for they were just as hunted as any other animal. The fur of a Tyberan was a desired commodity. It was not until the Tyberan united under a single King, back in the days of old, that they became strong. However, even I could not foresee that they would become what they are today. Ruthless, they are. Unforgiving. Many of them carry supressed memories of things that occured to their long-dead ancestors. That, itself forms the hatred, the overwhelming loathing of Outsiders."
I glanced at him, and I was forced to wonder why I did not carry such supressed memories, such hatred, as did most of my Kin. Why am I different? I have never shared the Outsider-hating views of my people. The Outsiders are no different than we. They are just as mortal, suffer fear, hurt, sorrow, just as we do. The Outsiders are able to show mercy, where we do not. Or, very rarely do we. Why can I not think as all other Tyberan?
"I tried to turn some of them to the Light of Wisdom; to show them that the Outsiders were useful allies..."
Useful allies? I thought distantly, They are not merely "useful allies"; they are our equals in many things. The elves with their agility and night-sight. The dwarves with their strength. The humans with their unpredictability. Why is it He cannot see this?
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© 1999 E. Angeli Mansfield