Mage
By "Heck"



Comments to heck@heckster.co.uk

Chapter six

GENTLE ONSHORE BREEZES raised lively ripples as they blew against the ebbing
tide. Tiny wavelets whispered timidly on the shingle before hurriedly
retreating to the safety of the sea. Rocks, dressed in seaweed like an elderly
woman holding her skirts out of the water, waded in the shallows, and in the
rock pools small marine animals conducted their private business. Overhead,
gulls wheeled and screamed insults at each other as they scanned the water for
a welcome titbit.

Lon sat on the shingles, idly throwing flat stones into the water. Ostensibly,
he was trying to skip them over the waves, but he had never been able to throw
well and each one hit the surface and disappeared with a plop. His longish
mousy hair blew in the breeze as he gazed out to sea.

He knew, now, what he should do. He should confront his master with his
knowledge, and demand an explanation. But he felt strangely conflicted.
Drosklyn Chaithe had taught him much that was good, and he felt both disloyal
and guilty. Disloyal in that he was contemplating the old man being involved
in monstrous evil.Guilty in that he had overheard something that he obviously
should not have.

With a sigh, he rose to his feet and thrust his hands into the pockets of his
jerkin, walking along the strand, kicking at stones in his frustration.

This is serious stuff, he thought. Drosklyn Chaithe is a good teacher. An
excellent teacher, and I'm grateful for what he has taught me. But he's
putting himself at terrible risk by trying to invoke the dark powers to become
a Great Wizard.

Of course, I have no real proof that it was his voice I heard. I mean, it
sounded like him, or what I suppose he must have sounded like when he was a
young man. But who else's could it be? Not Quaff, that's for sure.

He stopped and ran his fingers through his hair, looking up at the clouds as
if seeking inspiration. No, it has to be Master Chaithe, his thoughts
continued. He is in danger of becoming a threat not only to himself, but the
whole world. I must talk to him. Confront him with it. Make him see sense.
Yes. That's it.

Pebbles crunched under his feet as he marched up the beach with a new resolve.
It was a five minute walk back to the house, and he talked to himself all the
way, steeling himself for the task ahead. But crossing the clearing to stand
in front of the house with his hand on the carved handle, he felt his
determination falter a little.

He swallowed hard, reminding himself of the importance of what he had to do.
Tugging down the hem of his jerkin, he drew himself to his full height and
pushed open the door.

"Master Chaithe?", he called. His voice echoed in the impossibly long
corridor.

"In here, lad". Chaithe's voice came from beyond a door Lon was nearly certain
led to the thaumaturgical laboratory. He went in.

Like all the rooms in this strange house, the laboratory was much larger than
expected. A long central bench supported a collection of strangely convoluted
and weirdly shaped glassware, in some of which garishly coloured oily liquids
swirled and slowly boiled. The walls were lined with shelves and cabinets
containing labelled jars of exotic herbs and biological specimens, and in a
corner a ceramic basin stood under a small pump where Chaithe himself,
voluminous sleeves rolled up, was filling a metal dish with water.

"There you are, lad. Eh? There you are". The old man moved aside some black
candles and placed the dish on top of a squat, pot-bellied stove. "I was just
about to make some tea. Care to, um, join me, what?"

Lon picked up a black handled dagger from among the clutter on the bench, and
toyed with it idly. "No, thanks". He shifted nervously from one foot to the
other. Chaithe watched him curiously.

"You look like a boy with something on his, um, mind. Yes. On his mind". He
wiped his hands on a piece of rag and came to stand opposite the apprentice.
"Out with it, what".

Lon's eyes were everywhere, except on those of his mentor. "It's just that
...", he began. "Er. I was just thinking ...you ...er, I was ...er ...oh,
nothing, I suppose", he ended with a sigh.

Chaithe gave a small chuckle. "It's obvious that it's not, um, 'nothing'. Eh?
No. It's clear that there's something, what shall I say, bothering you? Yes.
Bothering you, What?". He wandered to the other end of the room, hands clasped
behind his back, looking for something in the cabinets. "But if you're not,
um, comfortable with it just yet, not ready to talk about it, you'll, um, tell
me in your own time, what? Eh? In your own time".

He found a mug in one of the cabinets, wiped it on the hem of his robe, and
bustled off to finish making the tea, leaving Lon sitting on a high stool,
looking at his own feet, and cursing himself for his cowardice.

*************************************************

Riding high on the thermals over the lofty cliffs of the rocky highlands,
buzzards circled with harsh cries, sharp eyes searching for small prey among
the heather. Stunted trees clung tenaciously to the steep mountains, and a
narrow, stony path wound its twisting way around the hillsides, the ground
falling precipitously away on its left hand edge.

The horses picked their way sure-footedly along the path. One was a majestic
bay mare, tall and athletic, while the other was a heavy grey gelding, not
quite as tall as the mare but strong, and full of stamina. The mare was known
as Makaar, but the gelding had no name. His rider simply called him 'Horse'.

The riders contrasted with each other as sharply as their mounts. Brenhya was
wrapped in her warm travelling cloak as protection against the constant
blustery wind. Gurghan, as always, was clad in the furs he wore come rain or
shine. They were relaxed as they rode, chatting while they enjoyed the
dramatic and spectacular mountain scenery.

"Why doess King ...what's hiss name?"

"Pabloth", Brenhya replied. She sat bolt upright and lifted her nose regally
in the air, placing a hand on her chest. "His Serene Majesty King Pabloth the
third of Anusol".

"Yeah, him", Gurghan grinned. "Why doess he want to see you?"

"He sent a message requesting assistance. It seems that people have gone
missing, disease has struck, crops have failed. He thinks it's deliberate, and
seems to think I can help, for some reason".

"Why you?"

Brenhya gave a short laugh. "Beats me. Except that he says the only warriors
he has are untrustworthy mercenaries. Don't know why he specifically asked for
me, though".

"Anything supernatural about it?" Gurghan's voice was full of suspicion.
"Gurghan hates supernatural".

"You didn't mind Lon", Brenhya smiled. "He's a hedge-wizard. Apprentice
hedge-wizard that is".

"Hedge-wizards are OK in their place", Gurghan grudgingly accepted. "Do a lot
of good, healing and that. But I can't be having with all thiss other- world
stuff".

"Well, we'll find out when we get there, I suppose", Brenhya laughed. "Anusol
starts right after theses mountains".

"Hah! Gurghan would hardly call theese mountains! Where I come from, theese
would be foothills".

"Well, for want of a better word, then. Where do you come from, exactly?"

"Far to the north. It iss a hard country, but beautiful. And the women! The
loveliest in the world. Present company excepted, off course". Brenhya smiled
at his crude attempt at gallantry. "Have you ever been to Anusol before?",
Gurghan asked.

"Once", Brenhya admitted. "I passed through it less than a year ago. I took
Lon to a fishing harbour to meet his new master and catch a boat. Look. The
path widens quite a bit, just here. This would be as good a place as any to
camp for the night".

They dismounted and attended to their horses, tethering them to a sturdy tree
as far as possible from the edge, before unpacking their bedrolls and setting
up. Gurghan busied himself with building the fire, while Brenhya spitted some
meat and vegetables for their evening meal.

They talked companionably while they ate, but Gurghan's eyes kept straying to
the horses. He pointed to them with the knife he was using to eat with.
"What's the matter with them?"

Brenhya turned where she sat, and looked at the animals. Gurghan's horse was
nervous, shifting his feet and swinging round on his tether. Even the normally
unflappable Makaar had laid her ears back and was looking around her with
wide, staring eyes.

"Something has them spooked", Brenhya observed. "We'd better keep watch,
tonight".

"Yess. Gurghan will take the first watch".

Brenhya did not argue. They finished their meal in comfortable silence, and
Brenhya laid out her bedroll in the glow and warmth of the fire. "Keep the
fire going", she said. "And don't forget to wake me in four hours". She
snuggled down in her bedding and was instantly asleep.

The night was dark and eerily silent, except for the movement and occasional
soft whicker of the horses. There was a constant stiff breeze, which set
occasional showers of sparks adrift, and the watcher was careful to make sure
that they did not land on anything that might burn, but other than that,
Gurghan was having a quiet time as he sat on a boulder he had drawn close to
the fire.

He occasionally added more wood to the hearth, and remained watchful, but the
quiet and the warmth of the fire made him feel drowsy. After three hours, it
was difficult to keep his eyes open, so he got up to walk around, stretching
hugely.

A noise. A tiny noise, as small as one pebble clicking against another, but it
was sufficient to alert Gurghan. The horses became even more nervous, and even
Makaar fidgeted at the end of her tether. Gurghan picked a glowing brand from
the fire and cast about, hunting for the source of the noise. It could merely
be a small nocturnal creature, foraging among the scree, but judging from the
behaviour of the equines, he thought that unlikely.

With his improvised torch held high, Gurghan stepped toward the edge of the
circle of firelight, peering into the dark, watching for movement or shapes in
the shadow. But he saw nothing, and turned back to the hearth.

He did not know where it came from. He had not heard it approach, and to his
eyes it seemed to have just appeared from nowhere, standing between him and
the fire, silhouetted in sienna against the glow of the embers.

Catlike in shape, with black stripes along its tawny flanks, the beast was
huge and magnificent as it crouched. Ears laid back, its lips curled back in a
silent snarl, revealing canine teeth as long as Gurghan could span with his
big hand.

"Brenyar!". His summons was delivered in an urgent, loud whisper.

Brenhya came awake instantly, raising herself on an elbow, eyes wide as she
took in the sight of the great feline shape. Her hand reached carefully for
her sword. Her voice was as quiet but as urgent as her companion's. "Don't.
move, Gurghan!"

She slid smoothly out of her bedroll, unable to avoid a metallic slither as
she carefully drew the weapon from its well-oiled scabbard. The beast glared
at her and growled, showing its teeth menacingly.

She froze in the act of rising to her feet. The animal turned back to Gurghan,
advancing on silent pads. Gurghan backed up, waving his torch but, alarmingly,
the cat did not seem to be afraid of the fire. He swung the burning brand at
its head, and was amazed to see that it merely ducked out of the way and
continued to stalk him.

Brenhya was on her feet, now, and circled round to flank the beast. It glanced
at her briefly, but was intent on the man. It lunged at him, and he stepped
back hurriedly.

To find himself right on the edge of the precipice. He teetered and windmilled
his arms in an effort to save himself, but the edge was broken and friable and
crumbled under his feet. He tried to throw himself forward, but his feet
slipped over the side and he was gone without a cry.

Brenhya started forward. "Gurghan!"

She felt a moment of anguish, followed by a flash of anger. She wanted to rush
to help, but the big cat was in the way. It snarled at her, pawing the air and
displaying a vicious set of claws.

Brenhya had supreme confidence in her own combat skills, believing that she
could face up to and acquit herself against anyone living. Anyone human, that
is. But she had never come up against a big cat before.

This seemed to be no ordinary cat, either. There had been more than brutish
intelligence in the way it had driven Gurghan over the edge, and there was a
light of sharp cunning behind its dark eyes.

The animal was a splendid beast, great muscles rippling beneath its glossy,
orange and black striped hide. It stood waist high to Brenhya, and must have
been over twelve feet long from nose to tail. She would have thought it
beautiful, had she time to appreciate it.

She moved closer to the fire, but the heat did not deter the cat. It stalked
her, moving smoothly, shoulder blades rising and falling with every step.
Brenhya kept her broadsword between them, keeping her eyes glued to the
animal's shoulders, watching for the sudden tension that would precede a
spring.

"Steady, cat". She spoke in a low, soothing voice. "Easy, now".

When it came, the attack was sudden and shockingly swift. Only Brenhya's
training and superb reflexes saved her, as she swerved her body out of the
way, slashing with her sword as it passed.

But the cat's reflexes were as swift as her own, and her sword split the air
harmlessly. The cat spun to face her, rearing up on its hind legs to swat at
her with its huge paws, one blow from which would have carried the head from
her shoulders. Standing upright, it was a full head taller than the woman.

Brenhya lunged at the white fur of its exposed belly. The animal made an
expert body swerve, and parried her thrust with a mighty paw, ripping the
blade from her hand.

Brenhya was puzzled, now. This enormous cat seemed to be fighting with almost
human cunning and intelligence. There seemed to be more purpose to the attack
than she would have credited to mere hunting behaviour. She found a new
respect for it.

"There's more to you than meets the eye", she said, backing up, looking for an
opening.

Too late, she realised that the cat was actually herding her, forcing her back
until her back was against the cliff wall. She had nowhere to go, and the
beast eyed her with almost human satisfaction.

Mighty haunches bunching under it, the cat launched itself into a charge. With
no other option, the great arching muscles of Brenhya's thighs tensed and,
like steel springs, propelled her straight up in a stupendous leap, high above
the cat. The animal ran into the wall, narrowly avoiding a collision with the
rock.

Brenhya twisted in the air, landing astride the beat's muscular back. Her
tremendous thighs clamped about its ribcage with desperate strength, driving
the breath out of the cat with a 'whuff!'. It reared high, clawing at the air,
trying to dislodge its rider. But the strength of the woman's legs was such
that she was attached as if fixed in place, and once she got her fingers
gripped into the scruff of the animal's neck, there was no chance that she
would let go.

The cat twisted and bucked, and even rolled on top of her, but Brenhya was
never going to let go. It leapt high in the air, and tried to get it's claws
back to reach her, but all in vain. Brenhya simply tightened her legs around
it, forcing more air from its body.

One particularly desperate lunge threw her forward slightly, and she saw a
chance. Allowing herself to fall across its powerful shoulders, she slipped
her arms under its forelegs and up around its thick neck. She was only just
able to link the tips of her fingers, but that was enough for her. The cat
rolled again, trying to shift her, but she was clamped on like a limpet.

The great mounds of her biceps rose and turned granite hard as she began to
put pressure on its neck, forcing its big head down toward its chest. It
howled in sudden anguish as it realised, for the first time, that the tide of
battle had turned against it. Its scimitar claws tore up the earth as it
looked for purchase, but Brenhya's hold was as implacable as it was strong.

She forced its head down even further, so she was able to get an even stronger
grip on her own interlocked fingers. The beast was snorting, now, its
breathing becoming stertorous as its head was pushed inexorably downwards. It
fell over on its side, in an effort to dump Brenhya into the fire. They fell
into the embers in a shower of sparks and tongues of flame, but still the
woman held tight and, with a display of enormous strength, she heaved the six
hundred pound animal across her body, to roll out of the fire on the opposite
side. So briefly were they in the flames, that Brenhya's hair was not even
singed

She could feel the cat's muscles rippling under the grip of her steely arms
and legs, and sensed that its struggles were weakening. She gritted her teeth
and poured on the power, growling almost as loudly as her adversary. They
rolled over and over, coming close to the edge of the precipice, at times, but
Brenhya's stupendous strength was sufficient to roll them back again.

Her incredible grip on the animals ribs drove the last remnants of air out of
it, and she began to feel the bones starting to give. Likewise, a gristly
sound from the region of its neck vertebrae told her the battle was almost
over. She sustained her power, however, and held the cat as close as a lover,
locked in her deadly embrace.

Brenhya felt the huge body in her grip go slack, as its oxygen-starved brain
blacked out and it slipped into unconsciousness. She prepared herself to apply
the last reserves of her intense strength, to end the life of the splendid
animal.

In her powerful grasp, the beast appeared to shift subtly. Ripples flowed
through its body, but Brenhya could tell that it was still out cold. There
seemed to be a change in the contours of its body, grinding noises coming from
its very bones, and it felt to the warrior as if it was actually getting
smaller in her grip.

Curious, she very carefully relaxed her hold a little. Writhing and shifting,
the animal underwent a dramatic metamorphosis, changing before her startled
eyes into a human-like form.

Extremely cautious, in case the change reversed itself, Brenhya let the cat go
and rose to her feet, retrieving her fallen broadsword and positioning the
point ready to strike in an instant.

The shift in shape that had happened to the cat, resulted in a lithe,
athletic, female figure, well muscled and very beautiful, with a shock of
blonde hair streaked with darker stripes. Brenhya took no time to admire her
beauty, however. She rolled the woman onto her belly, and with a short length
of twine tied her thumbs together behind her back. She picked up a foot and
hooked the woman's bound hands over it, effectively rendering her captive
immobile with just a few inches of string.

Having dispensed with the danger, her thoughts turned to Gurghan, last seen
vanishing over the edge of the precipice. It seemed like a heavy weight
settled on her shoulders, and she slumped slightly as the first stirrings of
grief welled within her. She walked despondently to the edge and stared down
into the dark, the glow of the fire making it impossible to see into the
depths.

"Oh, Gurghan", she sighed. "Why did you get so close to the edge? Ahh, I'm
going to miss you, you big bear".

"You going to stand there all night?", came a gruff voice from below. "Or are
you going to give Gurghan a hand back up?"

Brenhya stepped back from the rim in surprise. "Gurghan? Where are you? I
thought you had been killed".

"Would've been", the big man agreed. "But there's a bit of a ledge down here,
about eight feet down. Gurghan managed to grab hold, and pull myself on to it.
There's not much room, but I'm safe".

Brenhya stood on the lip of the ravine, hands on hips, peering down. From
Gurghan's viewpoint, her magnificent body was silhouetted in black against the
faint glow of firelight. She was grinning widely, but he could not see the
smile. He could hear it in her relieved voice, though.

"Thank the Goddess. I can't see you, though. Where are you?"

"Just here", Gurghan answered, slapping his hands against the rock wall to
give her direction.

"I think I've got you", the woman announced, lying full length on the ground
and reaching her long, muscular arm into the dark. "Reach up, and see if you
can find my hand".

The man stretched up as high as he could and, in a little while, felt the tips
of his fingers brush against hers. "Can't quite catch hold", he told her.

"Hold on". She quickly removed her leather halter, and wrapped it around her
wrist. "Grab hold!", she called.

The extended reach afforded by the garment allowed Gurghan to gain a good
grip. No sooner had he grasped it securely, than he felt his feet leave the
ground as his strong companion began to haul him up. His feet scrabbled
against the rock face as he attempted to assist, but such was the power of the
steady pull that drew him up toward safety that such efforts on his part were
superfluous.

Lying flat on the ground, her firm and naked breasts flattened against the
dirt, Brenhya took the entire weight of the big man, as tall as she and many
pounds heavier, on one arm. The muscle of her upper arm swelled to a high,
round peak and turned hard as teak as she lifted him from the ledge and rose
to kneel on the brink. Bringing her powerful legs under her, the great muscles
of her thighs drove upwards with extraordinary strength, until Gurghan was
able to kneel safely on the edge, his eyes bugging from his head at the sight
of her bared chest as he breached the rim.

With a wry smile, she whipped her halter from his hand and covered herself
quickly. The man averted his gaze; for all his bluff persona, Gurghan was in
fact quite modest and easily embarrassed.

"What happened to the cat?" Gurghan asked, his back still turned.

"It turned into her". Brenhya indicated the trussed woman. "And you can turn
round, now".

Gurghan frowned as he inspected the bound figure. "Ach! This iss starting to
stink off supernatural". He made the sign of the horns, to ward against the
evil eye. "Gurghan hates supernatural".

A moan from the captive told them she was beginning to come round. She
strained against her bonds but, because of the expert way she was tied, was
unable to move at all. Her struggles caused excruciating pain in her stressed
thumbs, and she cried out. Brenhya approached her, and squatted on her
haunches.

"Hello". Her voice was relaxed and not unfriendly. The prone woman looked up
at her with yellow eyes. Her vertically slitted pupils contracted as she
focussed on the warrior. "You've got some explaining to do", Brenhya finished.

The woman frowned, puzzled, until realisation dawned. "Oh, Gods!", she
breathed. Her voice was soft, and she spoke with a peculiar drawl. "Did I hurt
anyone?"

"My friend fell over the cliff, but he's OK now. Are you telling me that you
didn't know what you were doing?"

"No. Well, yes, in a way. The beast knows what it's doing, and I recall it
later. But when the change comes on me I lose most of my identity".

"You have no control over the transformation?"

"Usually, yes. Except when I'm hungry. Then I have no choice other than to
change, and go hunting. That's why I stay up here in the mountains. Less
chance of hurting or killing anybody".

"What's your name?", Gurghan asked.

"Oudreya", the woman replied. "What's yours?"

"Gur...", he began.

"Not now", Brenhya interjected, holding up a quieting hand. "Perhaps later.
Tell us about your ...condition".

Oudreya did not seem reluctant to talk about it. "Felanthropy, it's called.
I'm a were-tiger. That's the more common name for what I am". She looked
slightly disgusted with herself. "My family was cursed, hundreds of years ago.
Nobody remembers why, now. Every seven generations, assuming there's a girl
child in that generation, a were-tiger is born into the family".

"What if there's no girl child?"

"It waits for the next seventh generation. My family has been fooled a few
times by that, into thinking the curse is over, but seven generations later,
back it comes. Such children were normally killed by their own parents, in the
past, but my mother would have none of it. She brought me up here, into the
mountains, where we were safe".

"Is there no cure for it?"

"No. Centuries ago, it is said, the Great Wizards could cure it". Oudreya
sighed deeply. "But there aren't any, any more. I just have to live with it.
It only happens when I'm hungry". She cast her eyes down. "Or, ahem, aroused.
So I try to keep from getting hungry. When I have to, I hunt mountain goats".

"Or any passing people", Gurghan sneered.

"Not usually", Oudreya explained. "When I change, I have all the instincts of
the tiger, but I retain my rationality and some ability to think. So I
normally keep out of the way of people".

"So why attack us?", Brenhya asked.

"I don't know. I wasn't even hungry. It just came over me that I had to hunt
you and kill you. I don't know why. But once the hunting urge comes over me, I
can't control the change".

Gurghan looked puzzled. "You mean, at other times, you can control whether you
become the tiger or not?"

"To a degree. Unless I'm hungry. That's what has me baffled. I wasn't hungry,
but I promise I had no choice". She winced as the twine cut painfully into her
thumbs. "Can you untie me now?"

"No", Brenhya said unequivocally. "But I'll unhook your foot, to ease the
pressure on your thumbs". She did so, and Oudreya stretched her cramped limbs
gratefully. "Stay sitting", Brenhya instructed. "So you're telling me that you
had a compulsion to hunt us down?"

Oudreya shook her head, causing her striped hair to shimmer in the firelight.
"No", she said emphatically. "Not both of you". She looked the warrior woman
in the eye. "Just you. And don't ask my why. I just had this strong feeling,
and the change came on me before I knew it. I just knew I had to come here to
hunt and kill a woman. You".

Gurghan leaned forward so his fierce face was close to hers, and fixed her
with a steely glare. "Do you still have the urge to kill Br ...my friend?"

The tigerish woman met his gaze unflinching. "No. It's completely gone. But I
have to warn you, I am getting hungry".

Brenhya rose smoothly to her feet. She produced her slim knife from its cache,
and cut the short length of twine that bound the captive. "Try anything, and
you die. Is that clear?" Oudreya nodded, wincing as the blood rushed back into
her starved thumbs. Brenhya gave her a slab of bread, some cheese, and fruit.
"Sorry we have no mountain goat". Oudreya gave her a filthy look, before
falling upon the food ravenously.

"Don't you have to have blood, or raw meat?", Gurghan wanted to know.

"Not in this form. I can eat anything you eat".

"We're straying from the point, here". Brenhya imposed her powerful
personality on the proceedings. "Let's see if I've got this right. You live up
here alone in the mountains, because you don't want to hunt people when you
change. Normally, you only change when you're hungry or ...in heat, for want
of a better word. But this time, you changed for no reason ..."

"That I know of", Oudreya put in.

"...that you know of", Brenhya conceded. "And you had a compulsion to hunt and
kill me. Not Gurghan. Just me. Have I got it right?"

"Yes. More or less".

Gurghan squatted down by the fire, eyes still fixed on the strange woman.
"This seems to confirm what we thought at the inn", he said to Brenhya.

"Confirms what?", Oudreya wanted to know. "And who are you people, anyway?"

Brenhya considered carefully, before speaking. "OK. I'm Brenhya. This is
Gurghan. We're on our way to Anusol, but it looks like somebody doesn't want
us to get there".

"Why?"

"Don't know", Brenhya admitted. "The king has asked us to help. Perhaps it's
something to do with that".

"I have hun ...I have visited Anusol often", Oudreya said. "I can guide you,
if you like. I'm as interested as you to find out who's manipulating me".

"Don't trust her", Gurghan cautioned.

"I don't", Brenhya agreed, combing back her rich chestnut hair with her
fingers. The action caused large, hard mounds of muscle to rise in her arms.
"But I'd rather have her where we can keep an eye on her, than have her
stalking us in the dark". She turned to Oudreya. "You can come. But we will
tie you up at night, and watch you like a hawk".

*********************************************

Lon crouched in the dusty dark beside the curtained wall, the musty smell of
the heavy cloth filling his nostrils. His ear was pressed hard against the
cold bricks, listening to the chilling voice beyond that was both Chaithe and
not Chaithe. It was addressing Chaithe, but it was Chaithe. He gripped his
arms as he realised he was actually shivering with alarm.

"Excellent", the voice was saying. "Both tests passed, and with little
difficulty. This will be perfect. If your next test is passed, then your plan
will be set to proceed".