"I’m not afraid of the consequences," Chert boomed. "Go on!"

"It will be just you two, and Lord Gellor, who stay behind," the warrior-wizard said. "Biff is going with us, for he must oversee my affairs in my absence and attend to his own further training as well."

Greenleaf nodded, adding, "As Melf must report to his liege, Mordenkainen, I too must inform superiors of events. It goes against my grain to leave you, but I must do so now. Let us say our farewells now. Gellor, Chert, Gord – friends and comrades all – be blessed! I'll leave word in Chendl, at the Royal Palace itself, as to my whereabouts. Until we meet again," the druid finished, embracing each of his friends warmly.

"You grow old and soft," Gellor said with a chuckle as he noted the tears in the druid's eyes. "This is not a permanent thing, merely an answer to a call of duty. All soldiers must do thus."

Gord found Melf standing beside him, hand extended. The halfling was there likewise. "I thank you, as does Biff, for our lives," he said, gripping the young thief hand. "Here is a token of my everlasting esteem, a small scroll of spells to replace the one you used. May you use them to their direct purpose!"

Everyone laughed at that, and, tension broken, the six said their final goodbyes and it was done. Melf, Greenleaf, and the halfling went off to the gray elfs chamber. They would leave from there, unseen. The three remaining men decided to move about the place and make themselves evident, attracting attention just in case.

They toured the huge mansion and strolled the gardens and parks in and around the place for the next two hours. All was quiet, and nothing untoward occurred. They gave wide berth to the numerous great cats, which were everywhere. Here a leopard lay on a tree limb, there a pair of cheetahs seemed to be racing for sheer sport. Lions, panthers, tigers, jaguars, pumas, smilodons with their sabre-teeth, and all the sorts of smaller felines as well, from bobcats to jaguarundi to domestic varieties. None so much as sniffed at them. It was as if the men were invisible.

"Come, Gord! Your friends too!" Tirrip called as they passed a green. She was with a handful of men and women – males and females, actually – who all appeared to be her brothers or sisters. "We are practicing our skills with human weapons and having all sorts of sport," the tiger-were called to them. "Come join us!"

The three men strolled over, and the others of Tirrip's kind greeted them in cool but polite fashion. There were two males and four other females all clad, as Tirrip was, in belted tunics of thick cotton. After introductions, the others returned to their contests – fencing, wrestling, jumping, and whatever else seemed to please them. One large male had defeated all his fellows at wrestling. Chert could not resist.

"I will try my skill against you," he said, stepping into the area of flattened grass and removing his jack and blouse as he did so. The tiger-were male was nearly as tall as the giant barbarian, and his whole body was a mass of corded, rippling muscles.

"Ha!" the fellow laughed, dropping into a crouch. "This will be a good lesson for you," he added – and then he sprang.

All the rest watched with fascination. Fast as the tiger-in-man-form was, Chert was ready. The huge hillman caught the tiger-were in a hold, heaved, and the surprised creature sailed through the air. Chert spun to observe his opponent's fall, but there was no thud and whoosh of breath from the force of the throw. The fellow landed on his feet, snarling!

"Come on, Raug! Show him!" shouted one of the females in totally human fashion. The tiger-were needed no encouragement, however, for he was now circling and ready to spring again.

The contest went on for some time without either combatant able to gain an advantage. Both Chert and Raug seemed to grow more angry and determined to break the impasse. From springing and circling the two went to grips, and after much twisting, breaking of holds, and straining, the massive barbarian finally managed to get his opponent in a vise from which Raug could not escape, nor break in any fashion. "Yield!" Chert demanded, applying leverage and squeezing with all his force.

"Beware, Chert!" Gord called suddenly. "He takes tiger form!"

Chert instantly loosed his hold and was on his feet, reaching for a nonexistent weapon – the axe, Brool, which was usually at his broad leathern girdle. Meanwhile, the enraged Raug was completing his transformation. From a two-hundred-fifty-pound man he had changed to a tiger of twice that weight, and there was murder in the great cat's baleful eyes. The other tiger-weres were hissing – whether in encouragement or some other emotion, Gord knew not. Without hesitation, the young thief snatched up Chert's mighty axe and sent it spinning toward his friend in one smooth motion.

"Chert!"

The barbarian caught the weapon without taking his eyes off the tiger, standing poised to bring the great blade arcing to meet any attack. Neither antagonist moved. Suddenly, Tirrip was between them.

"Stop this! Slaughter is not permitted by our Master – you know that, Raug. Shame! And you!" she spat at Chert. "As a guest, how dare you bare a weapon in such manner!"

Raug was growling curses but returning to man form. The barbarian was sheepishly lowering his weapon.

"Stupid cubs! Little boys! That's what you are," the angry female said, looking disdainfully from one to the other. "You, Raug, were arrogant and couldn't accept an honest defeat at the hands of a mere human, so you resorted to foul play."

Raug, now again appearing as a man, flushed and looked away, but there was no escape, for the others were still hissing at him, and the sound was clearly one of disapproval. Raug slunk out of the ring. Tirrip turned to Chert again.

"Would you kill another over a wrestling match? All were on your side, and simply stepping back would have sufficed to end the confrontation. No! You had to show your manliness and bravery, didn't you? Well, think on the result had you used that weapon – and be glad I stopped your stupidity."

Now it was Chert's turn to look elsewhere. He shuffled from the beaten circle and tossed Brool casually to rest on the grass again, pretending nothing had happened. "You two," Tirrip said flatly, "will shake hands and apologize to each other. You are going to behave properly and not spoil things for the rest of us. Do it now!"

Slowly the two brawny males approached. Then, grinning, they shook hands and began apologizing to each other, sharing the comradeship of males who had been scolded and bullied by a female, a feeling that cut across species to unite them, and the group relaxed and returned to easy mingling. In fact, the whole affair brought them together in better understanding, and soon the three humans and seven tiger-weres were engaged in all manner of tests to see who could out-excel the other.

After winning at every contest save racing, Gord began to be ostracized by the tigerfolk, and even his friends watched most strangely as he performed. He beat all at swordplay, moving with a speed none of the others could duplicate. He jumped higher and farther than all the others. Tirrip barely outdistanced him running. None could get a grip on him in wrestling. Although he could not throw Raug, Chert, or the other male, Yeeor, he managed to defeat them in wrestling through agility and what seemed like trickery to his opponents. Gellor, who had not engaged in the various trials, spoke up.

"It is time to see if you can best me, Gord. The others are not really skilled swordsmen – Chert's weapon is the axe. Will you use long or short blade?"

Grinning and feeling confident, Gord eyed the practice swords that were displayed near his comrade. He selected a small blade not too dissimilar from his own shortsword, hefted it, found its balance satisfactory, and stood on guard. "Ready," he said, his eyes locked on Gellor.