As Serans drove the wagon through the sunny desert, he couldn't help but think that things seemed so calm when actually they weren't. To say that Serans was an unhappy fur was to underestimate the depth of his worry. It had all started as a relatively simple venture- simply going out into the desert to the town of Trevor, instead of going between their usual two towns on the edge of it. After all, Trevor needed the merchandise they carried, and they would get higher prices there. Then, there were the alkali salts that he would be able to buy and carry back for another nice profit.

He finally decided that the whole trouble had been started when his new guides had shown up. Not that he could blame them- they'd caused it simply by being there. And not like they wouldn't have caused trouble even if they weren't magicians, he thought gloomily. That had definitely made things worse- although it had provided him with a good reason to shut his son up when he objected to their presence. Threatening everyone in the caravan with death if Turins didn't behave himself was a dramatic way to make the point at the time. Now he wondered if he hadn't made a mistake. Over the last day or so, he'd heard the rumbling among the other members, and knew that Turins had turned that possibility to his own advantage. He'd found himself in the rather unusual position of defending the good intentions of magicians when others questioned it.

He knew the fear they had, in part because he shared it. Recently, though, it had begun to recede. He knew from experience now that these magicians were professionals, and that they didn't let their temper get the better of them simply because they felt snubbed. That was more than he could say for certain furs in his own family. The older adept was relatively cool, although polite. But he had to admit the younger one was really nothing more than a girl- and she seemed almost like a lost one at that. A lost guide? He thought wryly. Not likely. But there's more than one way of being lost. He tried to keep himself from feeling protective of her with the stern reminder that no matter what she seemed like personally, she still had more powers and knowledge than he or anyone else in the caravan could ever counter. But his heart wasn't in it. He knew that he liked her, almost as if she were his own flesh and blood. A favorite niece, perhaps. He mused. Certainly not a daughter, though!

His confused and distressing thoughts were interrupted as an older vixen walked up to the front of the wagon and climbed onto the seat beside him. Scandran moved over on the other side and helped him make room as she sat down. Not that she needed that much room, Seran thought fondly. His wife hadn't gained any weight since the day they'd been married, and they'd had four cubs together. She sighed and leaned into his shoulder as he put his arm around her while he drove with the other hand.

After a few minutes, he detected her tenseness and unhappiness over something. He didn't really have to ask what it was, but knew that he needed to in order to discuss it- not that he wanted to. But, if she was going to come up front to talk to him, then they better talk.

"Arneth, dear, is there something wrong?"

"I heard Turins talking this morning."

"Oh? What about?"

"He's not happy, dear. Not happy at all. You wounded his pride the other day, and I don't think he's going to forget it soon."

Seran snorted. "His pride is bigger than a wagon, and as solid as a soap bubble. Sometimes I wonder where I went wrong in raising him, to let him get so conceited."

"Perhaps it was when you kept insisting to him that if he didn't push himself forward, no one would."

"Making sure you don't get unfairly slighted is one thing," Serans said, shaking his head almost in disbelief. "But he is substituting pride for reality. If he really were able to do all that he claims, I wouldn't mind as much. But he insists he can do far more than he can, then gets insulted when I firmly remind him that he can't."

"You can hardly blame him for that, can you, dear?"

"Actually, I can," Serans' tone hardened. "I've been taken down myself plenty of times. It can make you a better fur if you use it to learn, or it can make you worse if you try to continue to puff yourself up with your own importance. It was my choice to puncture that bubble of his, but it was his choice to refuse to learn from it."

Arneth sighed. "Maybe so," she murmured, and was quiet.

Serans cleared his throat. "Oh, Mother, have you spoken with our new apprentice guide?" When Arneth shook her head silently, he continued. "I talked to her some the other day. She seems almost lost at times."

Arneth smiled. "Not a good thing for a guide to be, is it?"

Serans laughed. "I already thought of that. But I didn't mean physically, I meant emotionally. Did you know she's only fourteen?"

Arneth pulled against his arm as she sat up to stare at him. "You're serious!"

"Yes, I am. She told me that magicians almost always become ummm- 'active'- when their moon times start. She's been that way a little over a year now."

"Well! And what do you know about 'moon times', old fox?" she pinched him lightly and they shared a good laugh. "So, " she sighed afterwards. "A young vixen that is a magician and a guide. I see now why she is the apprentice."

Serans nodded. "Actually, I have wondered how much she knows yet, but I don't want to ask-- she might be offended, and then there's no telling what she can do."

Arneth detected the hollowness of this 'fear'. "You mean she might have her feelings hurt, more like. I know you, foolish fox. You would break your own heart if it meant some pretty young thing didn't have to have her innocence bruised."

Serans squirmed a bit under his wife's mock reproof. "I don't know how much innocence any fox in her position can have, " he remarked in a casual way. "But she does seem like a nice little thing."

"Oh-ho! It's a 'little thing' now! That settles it. You are not to speak to her again!" Arneth laid a forefinger claw on the tip of Serans' nose, but couldn't hold her pose as he went cross-eyed looking at it. She burst out laughing again, while he grinned ruefully.

"So, " she remarked, settling back into the comfort of his arm, "is our other guide a 'little thing' as well?"

"Her? Not likely. That one makes a steel blade look soft. She's polite, and I suppose even likeable in her own way, but you can practically feel the air popping with magic, or whatever it does when a magician is around. She's a professional to the core, I think. I don't really have too much worries about what she would do to us, although I admit it can be a bit nerve-wracking when she settles that red-eyed gaze of hers on you."

"Shoy has red eyes too, you know."

"Yes, and he sort of makes my point. If you look at him, his eyes just make it look like he's been on an all-night drunk, or that he's crying blood maybe. Sadder expression I never saw on a fox. But this one makes those red eyes look more like a threat to take your own blood than hers. I sometimes think it just comes so natural to her that she never notices it."

"She's a dark-side Adept, isn't she."

"She should be. The guildmaster never mentioned it at our last meeting when he brought them out, but I told him I wanted protection as well as a guide. That almost certainly means dark side."

"I suppose she might have cultivated that stare, then, to help her career," Arneth mused.

Seran chuckled. "If so, it's become a part of her now. No need to cultivate it anymore, it just is."

Arneth smiled and changed the subject. As they started talking about lighter things, Serans realized gratefully that she had decided to drop his worries for now. He decided that he loved her for that.

Meanwhile, the red eyes they had been discussing were doing a sweep of the caravan. Lilith had left Xenith ahead of the caravan. Since it was late morning, they had managed to find the area that would be good for the midday rest, and she had left Xenith the job of guiding everyone in while she went back to check them for herself. What she hadn't told Xenith was what she was checking for. As she rode slowly towards the rear of the caravan, paralleling it about fifty yards away, she was taking a note on just how the members of the caravan felt about her. Fifty yards was the best point for that sort of thing. It was far enough away that they wouldn't think she could see their expressions, so they wouldn't be guarding their feelings. At the same time, it was close enough so that they would be unlikely to miss seeing her, thus thinking about her and triggering what she wanted to know.

Lilith sighed as she reached the end of the caravan and mentally tallied the results. Thirty members. Ten definite anti-s, four likely anti-s, six mostly neutral, and ten pro. Not good. If a crisis were to happen now, she'd be as likely to have a fight among the caravan on her hands as to get the cooperation she'd need to save their skins. She rode behind the string of spare horses in the rear, carefully noting that their own pack animal was safe and his burden undisturbed. At the rate things were going that was a concern, as little as she liked to admit it. She rode back up the other side as she considered the situation. She usually made it a policy to not interfere within a caravan that she was guiding, but then the caravans she usually guided knew what a magician guide would and wouldn't do, and trusted her enough to do her job. Many of them had even become friends, after several trips of service together. It was obvious that this was the first time the Racens caravan had had a guide like her. Somehow, she'd have to show them they could trust her and Xenith.

About halfway up the caravan, she slowed the horse a bit so that she steadily paced the caravan opposite of where Turins was guiding a wagon. She could feel the hatred and bitterness wash towards her, but pretended to ignore it as she surveyed the surrounding countryside, looking almost anywhere but where the object of her attentions sat.

Carefully, she let the webs of her attention settle about his mind. This was a tricky business, and even a light-side Adept would want a quiet room and a co-operative subject before even getting close to this sort of thing. Fortunately for both Lilith and her subject, she knew this type of thing much better than the average light-side Adept. The fact that as a dark-side Adept she wasn't expected to know a thing about it- or almost nothing- had become totally irrelevant to her years ago. It had saved her life several times before, and if it had once led to the death of thousands of others, well, that was their trouble.

She let her attention seep in, and after filtering through the emotions- fortunately dulled from their earlier peak, now that she was simply a continuing irritant rather than an unwelcome newcomer- she began the arduous task of sorting out likely paths that indicated normal tendencies, moods, and motivations in handling things. The result wasn't pleasant. A large ego was being fed on thin straws of reality, and the usual hatred and bitterness was beginning to pool as it hungered for more justification. A weak personality aggravated the situation, while making expression of it more difficult. This is the type who will bite you in the ankle when your back is turned, Lilith realized. If he doesn't have someone else to back him up, either morale-wise or muscle-wise, to carry out his desires for him, then he can be rendered impotent. His most potent weapon is his mouth, and his best friend right now is going to be time for him to sink his poison in. Hmmm.....

She began to continue her scan in a more detailed fashion as she rode towards the front of the caravan, tallying possibilities as she went. The right kind of fright there will cow that one, perhaps a stroke of ego here, ahhh, good, this one simply needs reassurance..... As she probed, the plan of action began to form. It would have to be soon, but if she did this right....

She slowly urged her horse on and drew away from the caravan. As she rode out front, she spotted Xenith, and came up behind her. "Still following the correct trail, Apprentice?" she inquired.

Xenith was totally unsurprised at the sudden voice- as well she should be, Lilith thought approvingly. Her attention had not wandered from covering her rear, even though she hadn't been looking with her eyes. And even beyond the normal life energy senses, there was the bond between them to let her know. As it was, she siimply replied, "I believe so, Adept. It was three horse chips to the left, then straight down the far line of ox-chips, right?"

Lilith stared for a couple of seconds before she burst out laughing. Jokes, already, little one? It certainly doesn't take long to recover, given the proper treatment, does it. Ah, the resilience of youth. Still, those other wounds are still there, no matter the laughs on the outside. "Be thankful for those chips, Apprentice, or you'd be chilly at night, and even chillier eating a cold meal."

Xenith shook her head ruefully. "When you told me this morning that you'd show me how to follow the correct trail, I never expected your next words to be 'it's the area that's paved in feces.'"

"Well, it is, isn't it?" Xenith had to nod. "I know, it's rather amusing, to think that our fires and livelihood depend on a waste product that way. Earlier caravans leave it for free, and we reap the benefits."

"It would be interesting to see them trying to charge for it," Xenith observed.

Lilith confined her laugh to an appreciative chuckle, and she continued on a more serious note. "Xenith, when we reach the midday rest stop, I'm going to be talking to some of the caravan members. I don't want you around when I do. It's something I'll have to handle by myself. Promise me to either stay away from the caravan, or be only with Sarens, Arneth, or Royth. Ok?"

Xenith's aura flashed surprise, a bit of hurt, and plenty of bafflement, but as she faced Lilith's deliberately impassive expression at the end, she became resigned. "I understand, Adept."

"Thank you, even though I know you don't understand what I'm doing." Lilith sighed.

They rode together, keeping an eye out both ahead and behind, until Xenith broke the silence with the question Lilith had been waiting for. "Can I.... well, that is... what are you going to be doing?"

"I think you understand there are furs back there who don't like us." Xenith's wince was all the affirmation Lilith needed. "Normally, I like to ignore this sort of thing, but it's getting to be too big. I don't want a rebellion on my hands if we have to take charge in an emergency and believe me, it's that bad."

Xenith mulled that over for a bit in gloomy silence. Then she frowned a bit and said, "so... you're going to try and gain support?" Lilith smiled and nodded. "But how?"

"Someday maybe I can tell you. Right now, though, you're simply going to have to be a spectator like everyone else. Well, not quite everyone else. At least you're going to know there's a show going on, and what the point of it is. A lot of them won't even know that until it's too late-- hopefully, anyway."

That ended the conversation until the midday rest. As the wagons groaned to a halt, their drivers climbed down stiffly and began the usual process of taking the horses and oxen out of their harnesses, checking them over for problems, making sure the harnesses were ok, as well as the yokes and other items, while the cooks fixed a midday meal.

Yarins was venting his frustration on a balky buckle in the harness of his oxen. It wasn't enough that his older brother was being the usual pain in the neck, even if he was probably right about it. They were playing with fire out here, and no one who was sensible would treat such a thing lightly. He could feel his flesh almost creeping as he fought with the faulty piece of metal.

The ox shifted in discomfort as it had its side dug into, and Yarins let out a muttered curse, but then it calmed down when a soft voice soothed it, and told Yarins calmly, "don't worry, I have her. Just take your time with that, it's not going to go anywhere."

For some reason, he almost had to laugh as the mental image of the buckle developing legs and crawling off flashed into his mind. As if the loosening of his own concentration were all it needed, the buckle slipped loose, and the ox was free to move. His new helper lead it out to one side, and he walked past her to get the other one. As he did so, something odd struck him, and he turned back to see their guide watering his ox with no sign of worry or impatience at all. His mouth almost dropped open as she glanced up, smiled at him, and continued with her job as if it were her only care in the world.

Shaking his head, he freed the other ox and lead it over to the water barrel. Lilith was silent as he took care of the second animal, but her helpful presence made him somehow feel almost ashamed of himself. He finally pulled his ox back, and as he took the rope of the first one from her, he felt he had to say something.

"Thanks for your help back there. I don't know what came over me. I guess I'm just not used to this heat."

"It is hot, at that. You need to make sure you get plenty of water yourself in weather like this, or just being too dry will make you lose your temper."

Yarins' lips curled back in a grin. "Now you sound like my mother."

Lilith laughed. "She's a nice lady, Yarins, don't ever underappreciate her."

"Oh, I don't, believe me!" Lilith smiled, and looked to be ready to go on. As she did, Yarins blurted out, "thanks again."

"You're very welcome, " was the warm reply. "I saw she was getting restless, and I figured you were having trouble, so...." Lilith shrugged.

Yarins stared a bit. "You really cared about how she felt, didn't you?" he said softly.

Lilith looked surprised. "Of course. Being an adept like I am, I can sense how people, or any living thing, feels. It makes you really appreciate what is going on if you simply remain receptive to what you're seeing."

"Wow. I thought dark-side adepts just sort of, oh, I don't know...."

Lilith grinned as she replied, "went around shooting off fireballs and blowing furs to pieces when they got mad?"

Yarins squirmed a bit as he admitted, "yeah, something like that."

Lilith nodded understandingly. "I don't blame you. I could give you the names of plenty of adepts who would do just that. " Her face darkened. "I've been known to leave a few of their bodies in my wake as well, when they got too out of hand."

Yarins shivered a bit at her tone, but had to admire the sentiment behind it. "I guess I should thank you for that. I'd hate to think there were more of that type around than there had to be."

Lilith smiled and touched his shoulder lightly with her right hand. "Don't worry about it. I understand how you feel. It's not easy thinking you're an ant powerless before the horse that's about to step on it. But believe me," she continued sincerely, "magicians are furs just like anyone else. All the gift means is that you are blessed- or cursed- with the ability to see and do more than others. Seeing more can be fun, but it also means you've got more responsibility and fewer excuses when you see something wrong and don't do something about it."

Yarins looked appreciative as she gave him a last smile, a rather firm clasp on his shoulder, and left.

The draft animals were watered, and food was served. Similar scenes occured all around as Lilith gave a bit of help here or there, along with a few words that did the appropriate reassuring or stroking of egos. A couple were left looking a bit shocked and thoughtful after the quiet, intense warning they recieved. It usually ran along the theme of "I've committed myself to get this caravan where it needs to go, and it's getting there no matter who or what gets in its way. If that means someone winds up on the road to nowhere or worse, then it's too bad for them, but the caravan will get through!"

As the caravan pulled itself back together and began the afternoon half of its daily journey, Lilith looked at her results and was very satisfied. A dozen or so conversations, strategically placed, and the anti-magician sentiment had been damped down considerably. She now calculated that instead of ten anti-s and four probables, she was now facing perhaps three or four hard-core anti's and another couple of probables. She had carefully avoided Turins' awareness, and she doubted he even realized what had happened yet. It would take a bit of time to see the full results of her work, but she had no doubt that things were well on their way to being resolved the way they ought to be.

As she rode out ahead of the caravan again, she realized that instead of letting the problem go, her subconscious mind was still puzzling over the problem of Turins. The word ostracism floated through her mind and she realized regretfully that Turins, and perhaps a couple of his close friends, were going to be in for a very hard time indeed before this was all over. She didn't know whether she was more regretful over that fact, or over the fact that a considerable part of her was relishing the idea of the contest ahead.