I quickly gathered my mind together. I’d suddenly been granted the feline powers I’d wanted all my life, and now maybe, just maybe, I might stand a chance of beating Lord Morren and winning my freedom, and Amelia’s too. But any second he’d be coming down those stairs, and when he did I needed to be ready. I ran a quick mental inventory of the new abilities at my command. Landing on my feet, obviously, but in addition I should have a better sense of smell now, better hearing, be able to see in the dark, have slightly faster reflexes, and the ability to slip into a kind of hibernation when needed. That last one gave me an idea. It would be risky, but it just might work. A straight-out fight was still out of the question. I might have a physical advantage now, but Lord Morren still had his magic, and the rest of his slaves as well. But if he thought he didn’t need them… I dropped to the floor on my back, trying to simulate the natural sprawl I might have landed in had I not landed on my feet. Then I turned my mind back to the long hours I’d spent as a child trying to master any of my feline powers. Father had taken me through the exercise meant to drop me into a suspended animation trance dozens of times, always hoping that this time it would happen, this time I’d show him that I really was his son… I dismissed the bitter thoughts that usually accompanied the memory. Father hadn’t meant to hurt me with his disappointment, and right now it was the process that was important. I relaxed, gradually slowing my breath. At first my body insisted it wanted to continue to breathe normally, but soon the trance state began to take hold. Now my breathing was becoming shallower and my pulse slowed. I kept my eyes open, wanting to see what was going on. Once in the trance state I would cease to blink or respond to any physical stimulus. At last my breathing became so shallow it was almost stilled, and my heartbeat slowed to the point where I effectively had no pulse.

Just in time, for Lord Morren’s face appeared at the top of the stairs and peered down at me. A sound to my left told me that some other servant had come into the tower on the ground floor. When he came into my field of vision I saw that it was Jascin. His fingers touched my neck on the scarred spot where Lord Morren had taken my blood so many times. I could feel his touch, but it was curiously distant and detached.

“Well?” Lord Morren’s voice, sounding irritable and angry, floated down from above.

“He’s dead, master,” said Jascin.

A colorful array of curses better suited to one of the slaver pirates than a supposedly cultured lord like Lord Morren descended from the top of the stair. Lord Morren’s physical presence soon followed his voice and a moment later he was bending over my still body. He felt for a pulse as well, as if he didn’t believe his henchman’s report. “Now what am I going to do? Where am I going to get another power source?” His irritated words sent a momentary chill through me, though I didn’t move. Had he killed Amelia already then? But his next words reassured me. “I can’t finish my spell without killing the girl, but without him I need her power.”

Jascin didn’t reply. Lord Morren shot me one last irritated look and said, “Better take him out to the courtyard for now. We’ll worry about burying him tomorrow. I have too may other things to do.”

His face vanished from my field of vision and I heard his footsteps ascending the stairs. Jascin’s face disappeared as well. I wasn’t alone for long though, for Jascin soon returned with another slave. They picked me up between them and carried me out of the tower. I was dumped on the ground in the courtyard that lay behind the tower. If I hadn’t been in a trance I would have winced at their rough treatment, but as it was everything still seemed distant. I heard their footsteps recede and I was completely alone.

When I was certain they were gone I focused my attention. Slowly my heartbeat strengthened and my breathing increased. I blinked once, then again, and I was fully awake. I didn’t want to wait, I wanted to catch Lord Morren now, while his reserves were still low and while the shock value of my being alive would be greater, since he’d just barely seen me “die.” I surveyed the tower that rose above me. It was built of wood rather than stone, though very solidly constructed. For all the time I’d been here I still didn’t know exactly what occupied the lower levels, but I knew that the windows on the third and highest floor led into Lord Morren’s workroom. I approached the base of the tower and extended my claws in preparation for climbing. I took a brief moment to look at them. They were bloodied, both from clawing Lord Morren and from breaking through the skin to emerge. A full-blooded Ritah would have channels that the claws retracted into. A part-blood like myself did too, but the ends were sealed with a thin layer of flesh and skin. The claws had to cut their way out through it the first time they emerged. So long as I kept them extended for the next week or so my fingers would heal properly and I’d be able to extend and sheath them without any difficulty.

But now wasn’t the time to worry about that. I had bigger things on my mind. I kicked off my shoes, wishing I had claws on my feet as well, but though my toes lacked toenails, I’d never heard of any Kestral having foot claws, and I doubted I’d be the first. Still, bare feet would give me better purchase than shoes. I dug my claws into the wood and began to haul myself upward. It was hard work, and tiring, but I kept at it. Little by little I mounted higher. It seemed to take forever before I reached the narrow ledge that lay between the first floor and the second. I pulled myself up onto it and stopped there for a moment to rest. I had effectively reached the halfway point. One more story and I would be on the ledge just below the third floor windows. I resumed my climb. My arms burned with fatigue. This was like doing an endless series of partial chin-ups, and I’d never been big on chin-ups. Still I finally made it to the next ledge. I rested there for a moment, then got to my feet and crept up to the nearest window. I stood just to one side of it and held very still, listening. My hearing now was keener than it had ever been, and I could make out what was going on in the room quite well.

The first sound that registered was the sound of Amelia crying. I almost didn’t recognize it for what it was at first, I hadn’t heard her cry since that first night almost a year ago, but there wasn’t anything else the soft sobbing noise could be. Then next thing I heard was Lord Morren’s voice.

“Cease that noise, girl! No amount of wailing is going to change your fate, and that nuisance Ashen wasn’t worth crying over. If he hadn’t forced me to waste my own power blasting him out of this life, I wouldn’t need to drain my staff in order to finish this cursed revenge spell.”

He’d decided to go ahead with his spell then. He probably thought he could find another latent slave to drain of power. Well, not if I have anything to say about it, I thought with a fierceness that startled me. I called up the floor plan of his workroom in my mind. The door would be over there, the window I was at here, and the stone altar where he would be standing would be right about… there. I leaned over cautiously and dug my claws into the window frame. I raised it slowly, trying to remain silent. Lord Morren was turned slightly away from me as I’d thought he would be, and his attention was all on Amelia. I’d gotten the window open and was inside the room when she caught sight of me. Her eyes widened. Heaven knows what she thought of my appearance, since I was supposed to be dead. Lord Morren must have seen her expression, for even as I flung myself at him he was turning around and raising his staff. The expression of complete and utter shock that crossed his face as he caught sight of me was almost comical. Still, he managed to get the staff between us, and I was forced to grab onto it or risk having it slammed into me. All magic aside, it was a solid piece of wood and could do quite a bit of damage.

Then magic couldn’t be set aside, for Lord Morren was trying to use the power of the staff against me. He didn’t take the time to string together an actual spell; he just pulled power out and threw it at me, as he had done before. But this time there was one big difference; the power he was using wasn’t his, it was mine. For months he’d been charging his staff on a regular basis with my energy. So when that power was flung back at me, it didn’t hit me with a physical impact as Lord Morren’s pervious power bolts had. It was simply absorbed. I could feel it rushing back into me. It was an intoxicating feeling, and I wanted more. I could sense the reservoir of power pulsing in the staff, and without really thinking I reached for it. And I got it. It flowed up freely through my hands, which still gripped the polished wood.