She awoke quickly after he did, and she sat him down and made him talk. Allia was the only person to whom he would share his darkest personal secrets, and they spilled out of him like a flood. He told her all about the battle from his perspective, about his rage, and about what Jegojah had said to him. He left nothing out. For the first time in a very long while, he felt an overpowering need to share himself with someone else, to expose his pain in the hope that Allia could make it better, to ease the heavy burden he felt. Allia understood him better than anyone, even Triana, and she listened quietly and calmly as he bared his soul to her. And when he was done, sitting on the bed and picking at the end of his tail nervously, she just looked at him and laughed.
That confused him more than a little bit. Why would she do that? He knew she wasn't being scornful or mean, it just wasn't her nature. She found sincere humor in something he said, or something he did. But what?
" Deshida," she said with a chuckle. "That is the worst case of self-blame I have ever heard."
He gave her a strange look.
"Think about it a moment," she told him, holding out her hand. "First off, what do you really think you could have done to help Faalken?" she asked. "At that time, Dolanna and Dar were incapable of using Sorcery, Camara Tal was down, I was too hurt to concentrate, and Sarraya was out. You were the only one of us left with any magical ability. If you'd have turned your back on that Doomwalker to help Faalken, it would have fried you in an instant. It wanted you to do exactly that, so it could get in a quick, easy kill. You may have had a choice, but if you would have tried to help Faalken, he would have smacked you himself for doing something so stupid."
"Allia!" he said in shock.
"You would have gotten both of you killed, brother," she explained. "Faalken was beyond your help. He was beyond anyone's help," she said gently. "That you didn't get yourself killed along with him was a good thing."
He considered her words for a long moment. The logical part of his mind had to agree with Allia. She was right. If he had tried to heal Faalken, Jegojah would have had a huge opening to come at him. He would have had to kill Jegojah first, and that was no easy task. He did the only thing he could do, try to take the Doomwalker down. Faalken would have probably agreed with Allia there. If he'd been conscious at that point, he would have waved Tarrin off.
But the emotional part of his mind wouldn't completely accept the argument. After the battle, after he severed himself from the Weave, he could have tried to heal Faalken. He had brought people back from the brink before, but he hadn't. He could have tried.
"Just accept it, deshida," she said, taking his paw in her hands. "If you would have helped Faalken, the Doomwalker would have killed you. And without you, it would have killed the rest of us soon after. Do you really think Faalken would have wanted that? To die knowing that he had gotten the rest of us killed as well?"
Tarrin averted his eyes from her guiltily. He didn't want to answer that.
"You did the only thing you could do. The only thing you should have done. You did what Faalken himself would have told you to do, Tarrin! He was a Knight. Dying wasn't something he feared. He faced it with bravery and honor, he faced it like a warrior. Don't dishonor that by beating yourself over it, brother. Faalken gave up his own life to save the rest of ours, and he did it with courage. That's something that I'll never forget, and I'll ask the Holy Mother to send my thanks to his spirit every time I pray to her."
"But I never made that choice, Allia," he said quietly. "I was in a rage. I responded out of anger. I never had the chance to choose, and that's what kills me over it. I did have the chance to save Faalken, but I never had the chance to make that choice. I was swept aside by my own rage, and he was killed because of it."
"Brother," she said chidingly. "How you were doesn't matter. It's the facts that speak here. The Cat in you did what was right, even if your mind and heart didn't agree. Dolanna and Triana both have told you to listen to that, to understand it."
"It just hurts, Allia," he admitted. "No matter how I try to rationalize it, I still feel like I could have done something."
"It's alright to feel that way," she said with a loving touch to his face. "But don't let it consume you. You have to mourn, and then to heal. In time, you'll realize that what I'm telling you is what your heart already knows. And until then, I'll always be here to help you look into your heart. It's much easier for me to see what is there than it is for you, because your heart is always open to me."
He gave her a wan smile. "What did I ever do to deserve a sister like you?" he asked her.
"You must have done something horrible," she said with a quirky smile, then she laughed and buried herself in his arms. "I love you, my brother," she said in a whisper. "No matter what happens, I'll always be here for you."
Sometimes Allia surprised him. She was always so quiet, so misunderstood, and even Tarrin underestimated her sometimes. She was so wise, and she had a knack for always knowing exactly what to say. Allia could with two words say more than some people could say with two speeches. He loved her, loved her so deeply that it defied rational explanation, and she had done exactly what he hoped she could do.
She had eased his pain, even convinced him that it was alright to feel the way he felt. She had done what only she could do.
He closed his eyes and silently thanked every god that was listening that Allia had come into his life. Without her, he'd feel lost.
"I love you, Allia," he said quietly, deeply, from the heart.
"And I love you, Tarrin," she replied immediately. "No matter what happens, we will always have each other. And I will always love you, no matter what."
He didn't come back out until morning.
Allia brought him his meal that night, and he stayed in his cabin. She was right, he needed time to mourn, time to think, time to himself in peace. Time spent other than staring blankly at a wall. And he had to move on. The others were depending on him, their lives hinged on how well he did what he was there to do. That sobered him, focused him, made him set aside Faalken's death and pay more attention to the tasks at hand. He'd lost one friend, he was determined not to lose another.
The next morning, he came up on deck. The ship was moving swiftly in front of a stiff wind, and the sky was cloudy. The smell of rain was heavy in the air. Seeing rain in such an arid, hot climate seemed strange to him, but he figured that it had to rain there eventually. The moisture in the air made it heavy, muggy, and sweltering in the tropical heat, but Tarrin didn't much mind heat. He guessed it was part of being a Were-cat, for the climate in Aldreth was much more temperate. It rarely got half as hot there as it did down in the southern regions.
Things looked normal, but there was also a tension in the air, and it had little to do with him. Allia had told him that morning that they were only one day from Dala Yar Arak. The city sat on the western edge of the vast empire, on a peninsula reaching out from the arid steppes that was more habitable than the dry grassy plains from which it was extended. From what Allia told him, the city took up the entire peninsula, transforming it into a sea of buildings and people corrupting the land. The tension going on around him had to do with preparedness. Acrobats refined their moves during their practice turns, jugglers stood close to each other and conferred in serious tones about which acts they were going to perform. Dancers finalized their dancing steps as Dar conjured forth his Illusions that would be his part of the show with the drakes and Phandebrass' Wizard magic. Strongmen prepared their props, Deward was polishing his throwing daggers, and the highwire performers were inspecting the ropes they walked upon during their performances. There were men down in the hold readying the tents to be pulled from storage, and parading costumes were being touched up. The performers wore special costumes as they paraded through town on the way to where they performed, trying to rouse interest in their circus and entertaining the spectators.