More than any, Adira and her accursed bodyguards, the Circle of Seven, had balked Johan at every step. And among the Circle had loomed Jaeger Ojanen, the mysterious tiger-man who'd crawled from the desert and eventually died attacking Johan, falling victim to a sand wurm.

So had fate served Johan. Fleeing the final battlefield, Jaeger's blood warm on his hands, Johan had flown west, following his karma, and had crashed almost into the maw of another sand wurm, only to be rescued by Jaeger's son. How the gods favored him, Johan thought smugly. True, his initial assault had failed, but only for lack of preparation. Huge losses had only hardened Johan's determination to punish his enemies and seat himself upon a throne of immovable granite, Emperor of All Jamuraa.

Yet, if the gods bestowed favors, so might they rescind them. Johan bore many thorns in his side, and the tigerfolk were the worst, though he didn't understand why.

Jaeger's final words had been, "Even if I fail, there will come another." Who but his son Jedit? While this young warrior was brash and inexperienced, he would learn. In addition, Johan was haunted by the prophecy of None, One, and Two, another mystery that vexed him sorely. Yet he knew these cat warriors were somehow key. To master the prophecy, Johan had to master these striped savages.

The she-cat Hestia spoke. "Why now, Minor Mage Johan? For months you've surveyed our land from root to branch. Why tell us this night of Jaeger's glory?"

"Because I'm afraid." Johan sounded so meek that, despite her suspicions, Hestia wanted to cuddle him for comfort. "I'm not a brave man. Tomorrow we enter your village. I fear for my life, or at least my liberty. If your tribe demands I remain a prisoner, or even be executed-"

"They won't." Jedit cut him off. "We're going west, you and I. No one will stop us."

The attack was cold, calculated, and effective.

One minute Jedit, Johan, and Hestia threaded a game trail descending a thicket, and the next, rope nets whisked to box them in. Striped bodies hurtled from bushes and dropped from trees. Jedit was slammed in the back by two tigers and driven muzzle-first into the quivering net. The warrior snarled and slung fangs and claws, but within seconds he was cocooned in layers of rope.

Johan was shoved hard by furry hands and dumped to the ground. Inwardly the tyrant seethed to be touched by commoners, and animals at that, but he was wary of their feral tempers, so sat meek and unmoving while they clumsily tied his hands and feet.

Hestia was left unbound, braced by two scouts, as Ruko ordered, "Stand fast, Hestia, daughter of Grapter! Interfere not in tribal justice!"

"Justice!" Jedit Ojanen raged and thrashed in the enveloping net, almost incoherent. "What kind of justice-Aargh!- do you call ambush!"

"Scream your lungs out, Jaeger's son." Ruko settled his blue turban and picked up his wurm-tooth spear. "Your mother also cast a vote to capture you."

That fact silenced the fighter. The two prisoners, with Hestia under guard, were toted back into the village slung on long poles like dead deer. The entire populace awaited them, scores of tigers waiting with the council before the scorched ruins of the common hut. Jedit and Johan were laid on the hardpack of the village square. Ruko and his scouts stood back respectfully but watched the prisoners.

Johan tucked his feet and sat up. He had no fear for his life and was curious to see this new interaction. Anything he could learn about these cats, especially their decision making, would aid him later.

"Mother," snarled Jedit, twists of net snagging his muzzle and whiskers, "why this betrayal?"

"No betrayal, my son." Musata's voice was calm and cold, a village elder fulfilling an unpleasant duty. Only the quaver of a mother's tears underlay her words. "We act for the good of the tribe. While you wandered with the manling Johan, we searched our hearts and beseeched Terrent Amese for an answer. I was granted a vision, a glimpse of prophecy-"

"None, One, and Two?" Despite himself, Johan blurted the question.

Glowing amber-green eyes fixed on the man. "Yes. 'When None, One, and Two clash, only Two shall remain to usher in a new age.' "

What? thought Johan, but kept his face blank. In his stronghold far away, he'd heard the prophecy differently, put more simply. Now, closer to the source, he learned additional information. Two shall clash? And Two usher in a new age? The same Two? How so? Stunned by the news, Johan's mind reeled, so he barely caught the next news, a threat.

"Little matter." The crowd stirred as Musata went on. "You shall not see that fabled day, manling. We sense your discontent. Eventually you would depart to tell other men of our secret homeland. We heed the warnings of ancient history, of law, even of prophecy. All tell how the workings of men bring evil to our people. Thus will you be executed at moonset. Neither my son nor Hestia will interfere."

Jedit's answer was a howl so horrific the elders jumped back. Some tigers glanced around, wondering if their representatives had made the right decision. Yet no one spoke up. Still raging, Jedit was hauled away.

Johan remained icy calm but again smoldered with anger as he was hoisted like a prize pig and lugged to his wooden cage perched on stilts. Stripped of his bonds, he was clapped inside. The lock was a stout green stick too strong for a man to pull free. Standing on wooden bars nine feet off the ground, Johan ground his teeth. Ever since arriving in this uncharted valley, he'd been treated like an animal. As Tyrant of Tirras, he had treated every living thing like an animal, as if they existed only to serve him, and he'd snuffed out anyone who opposed or displeased him. To be treated the same way galled him.

No matter. He knew almost everything about this valley, about its savage striped inhabitants, their exact numbers and weaponry and customs. He'd even gleaned more of the benighted prophecy. He had enough. Time to leave, so he might return and conquer. That the mage was imprisoned in a stout cage and watched by twin guards didn't matter.

The cage stood in a small clearing not far behind the common hut, which had somehow burned. Before, curious tigers had been allowed to gawk, but now two guards shooed them away, even piled slash and brush to hide the man from sight. Showing respect for a condemned criminal, no doubt. Two scouts paced in a curious rhythm, one circling thirty feet out, the other marching back and forth under Johan's feet. Other scouts had gone elsewhere, likely to patrol near the berserker Jedit.

All to the good, thought Johan. Rubbing his charming crystal against his forehead to appear humble and harmless, the mage struck.

"Guards."

Pacing tigers glanced upward.

"Both of you come close," said the magician evenly. "I have something to say."

Unworried, the scouts in blue headbands and loincloths and carrying wurm-toothed spears approached the wooden cage, their heads almost level with Johan's bare feet.

In that curious antique accent, one scout asked, "What say you, manling?"

Johan squatted as if to whisper. Tigers leaned closer. The mage flicked a hand as if brushing a fly. "Die."

The scouts recoiled too late. Johan could have killed them in a dozen ways, but this method both rendered them harmless and silenced them instantly. Both scouts clutched their throats and gargled a whimper. Their necks ceased to exist. Two heads were drawn into bodies like turtles until chins rested on chests. Too, the tigers' heads spread sideways, melting like candles. Clawed paws elongated and fused into two fingers that turned into dark spikes. Their bodies bloated, swelling like ticks full of blood, until their loincloths split off. Orange stripes on their sleek hides grew dark and merged with black stripes, then turned shiny and iridescent. Both guards gasped in pain and fell as their sides split to disgorge extra legs, while their existing limbs curled and withered and darkened like tree branches.