After convincing the Amazon man that he needed food and a bath before starting, Tarrin got everything attended to as quickly as he could. He didn't want to leave the Council waiting too long. He arrived at their chamber not long after leaving Koran Dar, and found the room populated with the Council, the Keeper, and six men and women wearing white robes. Surprisingly, Brel was among them, and the old man's sour face and hard eyes hinted that it wasn't entirely by choice. The other five were pattern Sorcerers, they looked young or in their early middle age, yet their eyes made them appear older-
Tarrin blinked, and looked at Brel. He was old. In fact, he was the only Sorcerer he'd ever seen that looked old. Every other Sorcerer he'd ever seen looked much like Dolanna, or Jula, or Sevren. They appeared mature, but never old. The seven members of the Council, the most powerful and supposedly wisest of the katzh-dashi, all looked like they were Elke's age.
What made Brel different? Why was Brel the only Sorcerer Tarrin had seen that actually looked old? It was a puzzle. Could something stop the Sorcerers from aging? Maybe they'd discovered weaves that retarded aging, or perhaps only made them appear much younger than they actually were. Perhaps it was a weave that Brel couldn't accomplish, because of lack of contact or access to a certain Sphere.
Tarrin stopped, staring at Brel so hard that the man began to look uncomfortable. Why did Brel look old? What made him different from the other katzh-dashi? He was Master of Initiates, a very important position, so it couldn't be because he lacked access to certain Spheres, or even lacked training or experience. They wouldn't put someone like that in that position, because he may be called upon to deal with an Initiate who had a weave get away from him. No, Brel's experience or ability wasn't what made him different. It had to be something else.
Maybe the puzzle wasn't why Brel was old, but why everyone else was not. He found himself staring at a room full of young faces, or mature faces, and he had no doubt that not a single one of them was really as old as he or she looked. Why had he never noticed this before? Tarrin was usually a very observant young man, because he was raised in the forest and had a hunter's eye.
A fleeting memory of a conversation the day before seemed to answer that puzzle. A talk with the Goddess. Isn't it a rule that no mortal can access more than one order of magic? he had asked, and she had told him yes. But she had also told him that the katzh-dashi were granted certain limited priest powers in order for them to be capable of functioning as the priestly order of the Goddess, since she was forbidden to have priests when she sponsored the Sorcerers.
Isn't it curious that katzh-dashi are allowed to defy the rules? she had asked him. Kind of makes you wonder why.
It was a riddle for him to think about, but in all the confusion the day before, he'd honestly forgotten about it. But he thought he had the answer now.
The stricture stated that no mortal could access more than one order of magic. If the katzh-dashi didn't age and die like mortals, that made them something other than mortals.
And that allowed them to circumvent the stricture in a limited manner, reflecting their limited access to priest magic.
To give her children access to their limited priest magic, the Goddess altered the way they aged, or simply stopped it altogether, to raise them out of the category of mortal. It also had the added boon of keeping her small numbers of Sorcerer children alive.
Brel looked relieved when Tarrin stopped staring at him, and he turned his gaze on the others. Just how old were they? They weren't as young as they looked. They couldn't be. Their scents matched their appearance, so that was no indicator. Perhaps they were that old, but only physically. Scents couldn't lie.
"And what is the matter now, Tarrin?" the Keeper asked in a huffy voice.
"I was just wondering how old all of you really are," Tarrin said calmly, looking around the room. "I've never seen so many of you in one place before, and Master Brel there looks keenly out of place."
That caused a bit of light chuckling and some knowing looks passed between them. "It's not polite to ask a lady's age, Tarrin," the Keeper smiled.
"I'm not polite," Tarrin said bluntly.
That wiped the smile off of her face. "Why we look how we do is something that you'll learn at the last stage of your Inititate," she told him in a dismissing tone. "It's much too hard to explain, and we don't have time to waste on it."
"Make time," Tarrin said. "Because I don't think I'll get to the last stage of the Initiate."
That made the Council stare at him, then glance at each other nervously. "And what nonsense is this?" the Keeper asked.
"I don't have to stay," he told her bluntly. "The latter stages of the Initiate are for those who go on to become katzh-dashi. I have no intention of becoming katzh-dashi. After I'm taught how to control my power without hurting anyone, I'll be leaving. So I'll never reach that stage of the training."
It was technically true, anyway.
"Well, if you must know, when a katzh-dashi serves for a period of ten years, they take the Vows of the Goddess. When we do that, we simply stop aging," she said calmly. "It's one of the gifts given to us by the Goddess. Master Brel there came to us as a middle aged man when he began his Initiate. How he appears now is how he appeared when he took his Vows."
And that answered that. The Goddess stopped their aging, and when they were no longer technically mortal, she could bestow her blessings upon them. Making a katzh-dashi stop aging wasn't a gift, it was more like a change so they could receive their true gifts. It was just a change with beneficial side-effects. It explained why most of them looked mature, in their thirties or early fourties. Some took years to pass the Initiate, and that would make them middle-aged after their ten years of service.
"Now, enough silliness," the Keeper said. "Come sit on the table, Tarrin. We're going to try a few experiments to see what limit your power has. I promise you that you won't have to touch the Weave without being restricted in some way. And if you feel anything unusual while trying, you're free to stop and let us know. We don't want this to be painful for you."
"Alright," he said suspiciously.
That began a very curious morning, where the Council would cut him off from the Weave at varying strengths before he tried to make contact with it. And unlike the previous attempts, this time the Council could manage his power, if but for a few moments. By reducing his ability to touch the Weave, it lengthened the amount of time he had before the power that tried to flood him could wear away at the barrier they placed in front of it. They had tried stopping that flood while it was in progress the time before. This time they put obstructions in front of it before it could really get moving.
But it was still no solution. It took the combined might of the Council to slow the flood by a moment or two, but it did give Tarrin long enough to perform a few simple weaves, and it gave him time to let go of the Weave before that flood hit him and neutralized his ability to separate himself from his magic. He was very careful not to let it catch him; the pain of tearing himself away was enough to make it something to avoid if at all possible. And the Council, fully understanding that their circle was in very real danger should Tarrin get overwhelmed, were also very careful to be ready to break the instant Tarrin did get overwhelmed.
After a morning of such careful, delicate probing and experimentation, they had found that Tarrin's raw power could be briefly contained by a barrier. They had studied how his power worked, and the Keeper had promised him that the six Lorefinders in attendance, of whom Brel was part, would study that and try to come up with a new, more effective barrier that they could use for him to help him control that power.