Autumn Soaring

The summer passes its rulership to autumn. The phase of warmth and growth completes its allotment of suns, and draws us closer to the end of another season. Cheetara watched a golden leaf peel itself from a tree. It fell and accepted the silence offered by the earth. The leaf will become one with the soil, she thought, completing its journey to the realm beyond. The withered remains will provide nutrients. With the spring comes birth. A new seedling will feast on the dead.

Reclining on the shadowed grass, the Thunderan ran her hand lightly over her flat belly. The firm muscles contracted in a manner that gave her an exquisite pleasure that she had not experienced for many seasons. She said with happiness, "Miritana, you have ended my time of waiting. My womb will no longer be barren. Many offerings of thanksgiving will I make to you."

The cheetah rolled onto her side. She gazed at her image in the thin stream. The waters reflected her pained face. To keep my vow, I must bring Tygra to my bed. His spirit son yearns for life. The green-eyed one invades my dreams and begs for release. Will the Goddess open Tygra's heart to our needs? she wondered. Will Talitha share her lover for one night as I trust that she will? Can she truly understand that my joining with him is a special healing? Cheetara dipped her finger in the water, and disrupted the smooth flow of the liquid with her claw. When I ask the question of Tygra, will chaos be the result?

The historian flicked the droplets of water from her hand. Rising, she reached for the kirtle that she had placed on a rock. Although the finely woven yellow o'ba'ti brushed lightly against her hips and legs, the increased sensitivity of her fertile body made her acutely aware of each movement.

"Will your loving be as I remember, Tygra?" Cheetara whispered. "You were as gentle as the wind, but as exhilarating as lightning. With you inside me, I touched the fire of life against which no evil can prevail." The cheetah gathered a stone, then tossed it into the stream. "What ripples will our creation make in the destiny of our people?"

She turned toward the north and home, and left her questions behind in the swirling water.

*****

Cheetara walked into the control room of Cats' Lair and into a maelstrom.

"Hold still! I can't get a good fit if you keep fidgeting."

"The fit is fine, Panthro!" Tygra growled, taking the wire-frame glasses off his face. Despite his annoyance, the architect gently set the lenses on the control board.

Panthro shook his fist at the tiger. "Next time you make another computer error because you can no longer read the letters, you'll regret your actions." Brushing past the cheetah, the grey warrior hissed, "He's a blasted fool!" She marked the tense knot of muscles that his broad back had become. His flowing, black o'ba'ti almost caught in the closing door. The angry mutterings of the grey warrior quickly faded down the unseen hallway.

Pointing to the spectacles, Cheetara remarked, "Are they so bad?" The tiger shook his head from side to side. She seated herself on a chair next to his. The historian asked, "Then why all the fuss?"

Tygra slipped the lenses into a pocket in his blue robe. "Vanity," he grunted. He ran his fingers along the edge of the panel. "Coming into my ruff early was demoralizing," he admitted. "Now, when I add the glasses, I will truly look middle-aged." He patted the patch of new white fur that grew from the corners of his jaw. To hide his nascent ruff, he had brushed it away from his face. The thick tuft meshed with the white fur of his mane, and together they completely occluded his ears.

The cheetah cooed, "I would wager that Talitha finds your increasing furriness very appealing." She refrained from adding: I know that I do.

The tiger snorted. He looked to his monitor, and resumed working. Tygra squinted at the figures on the screen. With a sigh, he pulled the glasses from his pocket, and put the device on his face.

"Very dignified," Cheetara teased.

"I've no time for idle chatter," Tygra complained. His fingers flew over the keyboard as he entered data. Numbers popped onto the monitor in rapid succession.

The cheetah straightened a fold in the red robe, which she had donned once she had returned to the Lair. "I've not come for idle talk, Tygra," she said softly.

The solemn tone of her voice caught his attention. The architect looked at her in puzzlement. "Whatever is wrong, swift one? Something is upsetting you, so you'd best tell me."

Cheetara gave him a weak smile. "Panthro hasn't noticed yet, but with your sensitive nose, you might," she replied. The cheetah extended her hand toward him.

The tiger raised his palms toward the ceiling. "Can't females ever be direct!" he howled.

Spurred by his words, Cheetara launched herself from her chair, and landed on the architect's lap. Before he could protest, she kissed him.

Pulling away, she watched his amber eyes widen in surprise. "By the gods!" he gasped. A combination of emotions played over his face, but the cheetah could not guess what he actually felt. She leaned against his chest. The tiger stiffened. His arms angled away from her.

His body confirmed what his expression could not. She moved away from him, and reclaimed her seat. "Am I so loathsome that you find my touch repellant?" she asked sadly.

"No-o." The reply had come quickly, but the tiger had choked on the word, and that had made his response seem less than truthful. He stood, then began to pace. His deep voice strained in explanation. "Many noble-born males have performed the service that you desire. My father was named a'tri'i by our clan leader for his role in the battle of Star Vale. For the most part, I was kept from interacting with others of my race through my isolation in the court of King Claudus. Therefore, this responsibility eluded me as the seasons passed. For that blessing, the only good to come out of my father's disgrace, I must admit to being thankful." The frustration in his voice swelled. "Cheetara, you must understand that I have never been comfortable with the concept of creating a cub on demand, and to do so with one of a race so very different from my own...." He paused but an instant before continuing with greater intensity. "Our differences and our diversity are our greatest strength, things that should be preserved, but I believe that a young one should be the physical manifestation of the love that its parents share, regardless of their race. We, Cheetara, are friends, not lovers who wish to build a life together."

His pain pierced her heart. He is in such torment. Can this truly be what the gods want? she wondered. The pleas of release from his spirit son resounded like war drums in her thoughts. Cheetara placed her hands over her ears. Nothing she could do could drive the phantom's cries from her mind.

Tygra approached her and wrapped his arms around her shoulders. "What in the seven hells...?" The unfinished question, rich in concern, silenced his demanding son.

In a corner of her soul, a hidden fortress, she forged the courage to speak. "But you were once my lover, Tygra, and although that is a role that you have not played for some time, you have still remained my friend. In the name of friendship, which rises above all laws and fears, I beg your help." She had expected telling him of her wish to be difficult, but she had not counted on the depth of his feeling. The promise she had hoped to bring forth faded into a time that would never be.

"Forgive me my selfishness," he answered to her astonishment. He clenched his fists, and struggled with his words, but his compassion opened a door for hope. "I must know: why me, and not Panthro?"

The reply spilt too quickly from her lips. "A prophecy!"

"By whom?" he asked with incredulity. "Despite the unique events Talitha and I have experienced, I cannot believe that my existence merits such note."

"Perhaps I have exaggerated, and have used the wrong term, but you will see that the ultimate result will be the same."

His eyes narrowed in confusion. Sitting back on his chair, he said firmly, "Tell me everything."

Really not much to tell, Cheetara thought, but I must try to win your confidence. She asked with hesitation deepening her voice, "Do you recall Tirselina?"

"Yes, and who would not? She was a seeress of great power. She was held in high esteem not only by the white tiger race to which she belonged, but by all the people on Thundera. Why, the summer that she spent at the palace was a remarkable one that I will never forget." He paused, his eyes glittering with remembrance. He added somberly, "But I had forgotten the reason for her visit until now. For you, the time must have been one of disappointment."

"Not completely."

"Despite Tirselina's attempts at training you to harness your precognitive ability, you never gained control of it. I was there when she told Jaga that you failed to see the future in any of the vessels of water that she offered to you. Any lesser being would have broken under such frustration and humiliation. To this day, that unpredictable power haunts you. It has become more curse than gift. How do you bear the pain!"

His caring removed any remaining doubt in her heart as to the rightness of her request. "I endure, in part, because of you," she answered calmly. "Despite the seasons that have fled and the passion that we have lost, you have remained the only person to understand completely what I have experienced." The tiger's mouth opened in genuine surprise. The historian was tempted to reach over and gently close it for him. "I suppose," she continued, "that I have endured for one other reason. At the very end of my training, I did have one vision, a seeing that I kept only to myself for all these many seasons."

The tiger slammed the control panel. "Name of the Gods, why didn't you tell someone! Tirselina would not have given up on you if you had shown one success!"

"From the very first moment, I wanted to believe in the vision's truth, but at the time, I lacked the maturity to understand what I had seen. I was so young then, just 13 seasons."

"How can you be convinced now of its truth?"

"As the seasons passed, what I saw in the waters recurred often in my dreams. In time, the images seemed to take on a life of their own until I could no longer doubt that what I had witnessed would, if the gods allowed, somehow come to pass."

The tiger ran his hand in nervous habit through his mane, which, after many suns, had almost returned to its normal length. "And what was that?" he demanded.

"At the time of seeing, I glimpsed a red tiger dressed in the robes of a historian. He walked in contemplation on a terrace set high above a beautiful city unknown to me. He stopped, detecting my presence. Only then did I notice the cheetah spots that dotted the white of his mane."

"An'ifer'amen, one of mixed race...like me."

"Yes. Considering how rare the legitimate existence of one is, I sensed that he was important to our people. Looking at him, I instinctively knew that he was closely bound to you and me, but at the time, I didn't understand how. It was only last season, just before you joined with your tigress for the first time, that I finally came to know the answer to the vision's riddle. This being is our son."

The tiger's black eyebrows arched in shock. "And how did you reach this conclusion?" he asked.

"In a dream, he finally told me, and my eyes opened to what they had not wanted to see. Besides the fact that he resembles you, his words rang with truth."

Tygra lightly tapped his keyboard. The monitor filled with gibberish. "Although our numbers are few, what must our 'son' accomplish to serve our people?" he asked quietly.

"In the original vision, once he saw me, the an'ifer'amen smiled. He looked at me as if he had known me for many seasons, but he said nothing. When I spoke a greeting, the vision faded, and all that remained was water in a black bowl."

"Has he not told you of his purpose in the dreams that followed?"

"When broached on that subject, he only smiled."

"What of his name?"

"He said: 'When the time comes, as it must, you will know what to name me.'" She had related the words as she had originally heard them from her spirit son, but concluded that she had not quite conveyed his dry wit.

The tiger stood, then offered her his hand. She touched her fingertips to his in a gesture of affection. Conflicting emotions darkened his features. "How soon shall we meet?"

Goddess be blessed, I have won, but why do I not feel victorious? The cheetah placed her hand over his. "I am only two days into my cycle. Let us wait at least another six days before we mate. I promise you this Tygra: I will ask for only one joining with you. If the gods want this cub, they will have to help, for I know and appreciate the sacrifice you are making on my behalf. I am not going to make my demand more unreasonable."

He didn't protest her statement or the condition that she had imposed, so she reasoned that he accepted it with gratitude. "I'd better speak to Panthro," he said as he released her hand. "He should leave the Lair until...we complete our joining, and your fertility ends. He and I don't need the added stress that develops between males when they associate with a fertile female. Lion-o will most likely approve of this plan without the need for a council meeting."

"As a warrior sworn to Savar, Panthro can certainly take care of himself. Maybe he can drive the tank to Tabbia. A holiday in that seaport would do him good."

Tygra laughed, then said, "He would only add to his growing legend if any of the tales I heard about his last visit there are true." The architect's mood swiftly turned serious once more. "I must admit that I will find it painful to tell Talitha about our planned liaison."

"Then don't."

"For love alone, I must, but I also haven't the faintest idea as to how our plans will affect the soul bond that unites us. It must be considered before we can act."

"You have misunderstood me. What I am suggesting is this: allow me to talk to her, as one female to another, and solve this problem. As a healer, I must believe that Talitha will not come between us in this matter. If anyone possesses an insight regarding your special bond, and how to deal with it, she will. You'd do well to trust her as I do."

"Then that settles it," Tygra said with a grim finality in his assent.

Only for the moment, Cheetara thought with growing uneasiness.

*****

The mystic looked up from the colorful threads that she worked on her loom. "You have begun your cycle of fertility," she declared to the cheetah. "Praise Miritana that it has finally returned to you."

I haven't said a word except that of greeting, and she knows! Cheetara thought with amazement. The historian sat on the edge of the mystic's bed. The autumn sun filtered softly through the arched windows that faced the west. Her lengthening shadow blackened the stone floor and the gold rug near her feet. She replied, "Should I bother to ask you how you knew?"

The tigress smiled. Her dark blue eyes sparkled in the sunlight like rare jewels. "I would concede that my accuracy does owe itself to my training as a mystic."

"I suppose the signs are as clear to you as the image in a mirror."

"Not to boast, but I probably knew even before you did. One of the first abilities that all mystics acquire is a discerning eye." Talitha abandoned her work. She seated herself on a plump red cushion arranged on the oval carpet. The folds of her blue robe spread in a soft spiral over the fibers. Regarding her friend, the tigress said, "I have no formal claim on Tygra except that which our soul bond and our love impose. I have been prepared for some time for the possibility that you and I would have to share him."

"You would not resist our joining, one that would result in a cub?"

"What purpose would it serve for me, a mystic, to fight against bringing a new life into this world?"

"But aren't you--"

"Jealous? In more ways than you can imagine," she replied. The tigress rose and walked toward the windows. Fiddling with a latch, she opened the one at the end of the row. A chill breeze that hinted at the changing weather to come ruffled the fine strands of her ivory mane. Her airy voice took on a bittersweet tone. "We are sisters in suffering, Cheetara. We have both conceived cubs, and have lost them to the silence. I would envy your chance to create new life even if you had chosen Panthro over Tygra. I must admit that my trials have changed me in ways that I would have never anticipated."

Talitha sat next to the historian. The quilted mattress shifted little under her light form. Grasping the cheetah's hands, the tigress commanded, "Do what you must! A greater purpose is at work. Worry not about me. Mystic training has prepared me well."

Talitha's fingers meshed tightly with hers. "But your bond with Tygra--how--"

"The protective shields that we have constructed within our minds are strong. If during your mating, Tygra's emotions intensify to the point that I can feel them, well, I will simply have to resist harder."

"And if the barrier finally falls despite your resistance?"

"I will submit and allow his feelings to wash over me like a stream over rocks. His desire will flow through me, but I will not merge with it, nor will I contribute to it. I can promise you that he will never know whether he has breached my shields."

"I want to believe you, but how can you be so sure?" Cheetara said with desperation. "You are not made of steel, and I have no wish to give you pain."

The tigress released her hold. Reddish light tinted her white fur, and made her glow with warmth. Talitha answered with conviction, "I am a mystic."

*****

The historian sat quietly by the lone open window in her chamber, and watched for the return of the Thundertank. The cool twilight painted the southern plain in the dark colors of the night to come. The trees at the edge of the forest became gaunt guardians, black and forbidding. The first bright star of evening, a beacon of comfort, blazed in the clear sky.

"Please let him come home soon," Cheetara prayed, "or I will lose my courage." She glanced at the ceramic sculpture perched atop her dresser. The historian smiled. The comical fish of Tabbot design always cheered her.

The distant rumbling of an engine brought a discordant note to the silence. Standing to get a better view, Cheetara tracked the faint patch of light that glittered among the trees. "Thank the gods," she murmured as the Thundertank broke free of the forest and roared across the plain.

In minutes, the vehicle traversed the bridge that spanned the chasm before Cats' Lair. It came to a screeching halt in the courtyard below. Three figures disembarked. The wind carried their angry words skyward.

"There was no need for us to delay once the healing was done!" Panthro growled.

"The weavermaster begged us to take refreshment in thanks for our assistance. What would you have had us do?" the architect retorted.

"Damn this sudden attack of autumn fever! Once you told me of Cheetara's cycle, I should have left for Tabbia; instead, I have been stuck these past suns carting you two around to each afflicted village. I should scrawl on the side of the Thundertank: Traveling Mystics!"

"The danger has passed, Panthro, so please complain no more," Talitha chided. "With your help, Tygra and I have prevented a serious epidemic. Now you are free to go to the city by the sea and relax."

"I feel tense enough to split a thundrillium crystal with my teeth," the grey warrior remarked.

"I will soon end Cheetara's fertility, and we'll both feel better," Tygra promised, raising his hand toward the panther in a gesture of peace.

The older Thundercat suddenly slapped the tiger's hand. "Get on with it then!" he snarled.

"X'trint!" Tygra cursed.

The mystic placed herself between the two males. "I have had enough of this nonsense!"

"Talitha is right!" Cheetara shouted down to her companions. "There is no need to fight."

The tiger and the panther glared at her, but the mystic nodded in agreement with her statement.

"Can I expect you this night, Tygra, as you have promised?" Cheetara asked.

"After I have gotten the dust out of my fur," he answered through clenched teeth.

"You can always bath with her," Panthro muttered, striding up the staircase that lead into the main hall.

"An idea I wish he would consider," Cheetara said softly to herself.

*****

The tiger who stood before her seemed far younger than his age of 31 would suggest. His brooding eyes held the same doubts as one who had come to be awakened to adulthood. His loose black tunic hid well the strong and experienced body beneath its folds. "For the honor you have bestowed upon me," Tygra said, shyly proffering a thin gold necklace.

Cheetara took the gift from his hand and marked his trembling. The metal glinted in the candlelight that illuminated her chamber. "So exquisite, but so unnecessary," she remarked, attempting to pass the chain back to him.

Tygra stepped away from her, his hands crossing back and forth in refusal. "It is a custom practiced by red tigers of noble birth."

The historian decided not to press him further, for she knew that she would lose a battle of wills with the architect. Dangling the necklace from her hand, she purred, "Help me put it on?"

With a curt nod, he knelt beside her on the plush rug of black and gold that she had acquired in Tabbia. Tygra gently lifted her shoulder-length mane in a manner both familiar and comforting. His clean fur possessed a sweet, fragrant scent.

After she had secured the chain, he let the strands slowly slip though his fingers. Cheetara poked his shoulder. "There was a time when you would have never missed an opportunity to kiss my neck."

A smile softened his features. "I have not forgotten, swift one."

"I don't believe you," she demurred, giving his mane a gentle tug.

He took her hand and brushed his lips delicately across her palm. "Please be patient with this 'old' tiger," he asked. "Your fertile scent is a fire that burns my mind, yet my body refuses to enter the flames."

"Let me help," she answered. The cheetah loosened the braided lacings that had kept his tunic closed. The stoic Thunderan remained still as she worked, but under her touch, his breathing quickened with desire.

Despite the dim light, she discerned the strong curves of his muscular chest. His abdomen tightened with excitement. She left the final lacing fastened. Hoping to entice him further, she said, "I think I shall take a rest before I reach the prize." Tygra shuddered, whether in fear or relief the historian could not be certain. Afraid that he would reconsider his pledge, she stepped up her efforts. The cheetah rubbed her hand over the glossy white fur of Tygra's chest, but received from him only a resigned sigh.

"Does your flesh sizzle yet?" Cheetara asked, pushing him down on the thick rug like a strong wind against a field of pliant grain. Not waiting for a reply, she kissed him. Tygra surrendered to her advance, but did not add to it. Her tongue darted once over his sharp teeth before she relented in puzzlement.

His eyes brimmed with tears; his lips pulled back in distress. The horrified expression on his face drove her away. "Forgive me!" he choked. The tiger slammed his hands in frustration against the rug. "I am as hot as a star, but my body refuses to obey."

Compelled by curiosity, Cheetara untied the last lacing on the tiger's tunic and parted the fabric. He had spoken the truth. His thick penis had remained flaccid despite her attentions.

The historian stretched alongside the unhappy architect. She whispered into his ear, "The night is still young. Perhaps I hurried you, and if that is so, it is you who must forgive me. Be at peace. I can wait a little longer for the gift that I have desired for so long. When you are relaxed, Tygra, you will rise, and I will be ready."

*****

How in the name of all the gods can I help him? Cheetara wondered as she regarded the morose tiger seated opposite her. His elbows resting on the long dining table, the architect had positioned his forehead against his hands. Rigidly fixed to his chair, his defeated pose had remained unchanged for the better part of an hour. The plate of hot food that Snarf had prepared, and had quietly laid before him before he had gone to do the marketing, had remained untouched. The twisting steam rising from his mug of Berbil tea danced cheerily upward, but the tiger took no notice.

The cheetah glanced down at her breakfast of broiled fish. Though it smelt delicious and probably tasted just as marvelous, she decided that, like the tiger, her appetite had fled, a victim of their abortive efforts at lovemaking. The historian rubbed her eyes. That they had not gotten any sleep had only made the situation worse, for each had finally sunk into a cold, exhausted silence that even the well-intentioned concerns of a snarf could not break.

What can I do? The question appeared to have no answer. Tygra had been willing. She had tried everything that she had learned about pleasuring a male, but his body had refused to cooperate. He insists on blaming himself, but I have also failed. How could this have happened? Under the influence of my fertile scent, his blood should be racing through his veins. He should want me!

A beam of sunlight pierced the windows set near the ceiling of the dining chamber. The ray struck the edge of her plate. With the burst of light came an insight. Tygra's mind and his body are at war. No matter what he has thought, and what he has vowed, the truth is simply that his flesh yearns for Talitha, not me. She slapped her hand against the table. The noise broke through the tiger's despair. He raised his head and met her gaze.

"I have found the solution to our dilemma." A flicker of interest brightened his sad face. Cheetara added immediately, "But you won't like it." The hope faded from his dark eyes as the drifting clouds above blocked the sun. The cheetah reached across the table, and grabbed his left hand. "Will you at least listen to what I propose?" The striped Thunderan nodded slightly, even the small effort appearing to tire him.

Before the cheetah could continue her explanation, the door to the chamber opened. The mystic strode purposefully into the hall. The swish of her robe charged the silence. The young tigress sat on a chair beside the historian and stared at her companions.

"Talitha," Tygra said in a bittersweet tone which hinted that he had come to the same conclusion as the cheetah.

The mystic pointed her finger at the two older Thunderans. "I am the way," she declared. "At dusk, we will gather together in Cheetara's room, and I will become the bridge between you."

"How?" Tygra gulped.

"Does the way matter?" Cheetara asked him.

The tiger gave a weary shrug. "It does to me, but no matter what I believe, I will yield to whatever Talitha suggests."

"Then we are agreed, Tygra," the cheetah responded.

The mystic smiled at her lover and at her friend. "I know how hard this is for you. I thank you both for your trust. I will help you at each point along this difficult road. Until this evening, let us all spend the day in rest. Remember this: we will find peace once this cub is called to life."

*****

Lying on her bed, Cheetara studied the changing sky. Although her body had stubbornly refused the rest guaranteed by an afternoon nap, the enjoyable pastime at least allowed her to forget that she had not slept.

Through the closed arched window, the bright blue veil shifted to a subtler hue touched by the gold and green of twilight. As the moments passed and the room darkened, the light from the two candles that she had placed on her nightstand cast darting shadows on the walls.

Her time of waiting would soon end. Once she had conceived, those in the Lair could return to a normal flow of life. She shivered despite the warmth her lined robe afforded. The day had taken on a unexpected chill that had permeated the Lair. Although only the early part of autumn, Lion-o had ordered Panthro to delay his trip to Tabbia until after he had switched the environmental controls from summer to winter mode. The panther had yet to coax sufficient heat out of the sluggish systems. She marked his scowl the one time that she had crossed his path during the day, and fearful of his agitated state, had foregone a friendly word.

A soft tapping interrupted her musings. "Enter," she said hesitantly, unsure of which tiger had decided to come to her room first. To her surprise, the door slid open to reveal both Tygra and Talitha.

The architect entered without a greeting. He stared in sullen silence at the stone floor. He wore a tunic similar to the one that he had worn on the previous evening. His mate had opted for a heavier robe. Talitha gave the cheetah a shrug and a weak smile. She carried a small wooden chest of intricate design that immediately aroused the historian's curiosity.

Cheetara left her bed and approached the couple. Reluctantly setting aside her interest in the little box, and hoping instead to ease the tension between them, she said to Talitha, "I see that you are as cold as I."

The mystic chuckled. Pointing to her lover, she replied, "Don't you wish that we had fur as thick as his." The object of her assessment fidgeted in embarrassment.

Irritated that she had only worsened Tygra's uneasiness, Cheetara wondered if any chance existed to improve on the situation that had left all three of them uncomfortable. Maybe sharing some food would help us to relax, she decided. Gesturing toward the wide bowl of fruit that she had also placed on her nightstand, she said, "Some grapes? The Berbils had a good harvest this year."

"Thank you, but no. We will dine later this evening," the mystic answered quickly.

Cheetara decided sadly, I am a wedge between them. They will be pleased when this day has ended and will be happy to be left alone once more. I can't fault them for that.

The cheetah pointed at the odd box. "How long before you tell me what is inside?"

"When we are ready to begin, what is inside the box will help us, and you will have your answer."

"Then what is delaying us!" Tygra announced with annoyance.

"We are healers, Tygra. Anger has no place in the performance of our duty," Talitha remonstrated.

"But he is correct, Talitha. We have wasted enough time." Cheetara indicated the rug and the cushions that she had scattered on its surface. "Let's sit."

Positioned on the carpet, the three of them formed a strained triangle of uncertainty. The mystic set the tiny box by her feet. From a pocket in her blue gown, she withdrew a black strip of cloth that she draped over the container. She said to the cheetah, "Not even Tygra knows what lies within the chest."

"Damn your secrecy," the architect muttered.

Unperturbed by his criticism, the mystic continued. "Within lies the solution to our problem. We have Aidan and Althea to thank for the herb which will help us achieve our goal."

"The starborn have had a hand in this?"

"After our discussion this morning, I didn't follow my own advice. I gave up on resting, and decided instead to go to the starborn for assistance. Without their advice and their gift, I would have not found a way out of this maze of trouble. They have given us a path to follow, for we can enter the trail with knowledge and acceptance."

Talitha retrieved the dark cloth, and held it out to Tygra. "You sincerely wish to help Cheetara, yet your flesh and brain are at war. We must confuse your stubborn body."

"Do you think me a fool?" Tygra growled, pushing her hand back. "Even in the darkness I can easily tell the difference between you and Cheetara!" He added scornfully, "For Jaga's sake, her fertile scent alone is strong enough to indicate her presence."

"The herb that the starborn gave me will ease that difference. Under its influence, it will become harder for you to tell us apart." The mystic laid the cloth across his lap. "That is because the plant is an aphrodisiac. It will help us to conquer your reluctance."

An ingenious plan, Talitha. This may just work! the cheetah decided happily. Doubt dampened her enthusiasm. But will Tygra submit to this? He is an individual who must always be in control.

The tiger fingered the rough fabric. "Is there anything else that I need to know?"

"There exists little danger of psychological dependence on this plant because we will use it sparingly; however, there is an uncertain element that we all face: mild hallucinations. They originate in the pleasure centers of the brain, and they should only enhance our mutual experience."

"I once became addicted to a seemingly harmless fruit that almost caused me to bring about our downfall," Tygra objected. "How can you be so convinced of this plant's safety?"

"You succumbed to Mumm-Ra's trickery because you eroded your guard with fatigue," Talitha snapped with justifiable anger aimed at his hidden insult. Her mate stared at his wringing hands and remained silent. When her anger faded, she added softly, "I respect your concern, Tygra. I wouldn't suggest this path if I didn't believe in it. You see, I have sampled this herb."

"Impossible," Tygra declared. "By our soul bond, I would have felt something of your experience."

"You claimed that you slept deeply this afternoon during the time that I journeyed to the starborns' dwelling. Knowing you as well as I do, I doubt that anything would have roused you from your repose," she said. "The truth is that my experience was brief and neither stressful nor intense. My psychic protection never faltered. My exposure to the plant was diluted. I inhaled only the minty aroma from a tea made from it. The hallucination was pleasurable, not harmful. Without full exposure, its effects disappeared as swiftly as my increased ardor.

"According to the starborn, the power of the plant has its limits. An individual's response attains a peak after which the herb can have no further effect for some time. I have concluded that no matter what the level of initial exposure is, the chemical receptors in one's brain specific to the active agent in the plant eventually become saturated. Thus, the effects on the individual fade fairly rapidly once this has occurred."

What courage it took for her to experiment with the unknown, Cheetara thought with admiration. She is truly a sister to me. The spotted female sidled up to the architect. He tensed as she rested her hand over his. "May I have the honor of shielding your eyes?"

He passed the cloth to her without hesitation. "I suppose what I cannot see won't hurt me," he quipped lamely. Moved by his false bravado, she said nothing as she secured the blindfold.

Talitha placed her hand against her mate's chest. "Lie back, Tygra," she said. "Allow me to help you to relax."

"I trust you, beloved. Do what you must," the architect conceded as he sprawled across the rug. The mystic knelt behind him, and eased a cushion under his head. Once he had settled comfortably in place, the tigress began to massage his temples. "Surrender to the compassion that will flower into love," she intoned.

Tygra's hands slowly unclenched. Under the mystic's care, the tension continued to leave his body. His breathing slowed, and Cheetara wondered whether the tiger had fallen asleep.

A feminine voice not her own suddenly intruded on her thoughts. *We must work swiftly and quietly. Open the box!* her friend commanded telepathically.

Although she burned with questions, the cheetah did the mystic's bidding without argument. She lifted back the hinged lid of the little chest and revealed two packets of silk. When she lifted one bundle and inadvertently squeezed the soft mound of fabric, a pungent odor wafted free. Cheetara put her hand to her brow. The furnishings in the room began to flicker in synchronization with the movement of the candle flames. She felt dizzy, and suppressed a strong, irrational urge to giggle.

*Cheetara!* The telepathic sending from the mystic broke the spell of silliness that had befallen her, but did little to stop the spinning of the room. *Keep one packet for yourself; pass the other to me.*

The cheetah decided that her hands clearly belonged to another, for she could not get them to work properly. Her slow moving fingers fumbled for the sachet. The captured packets began to wriggle like fish. Startled, Cheetara flung one at Talitha, who caught it with ease.

*You must hurry! The trance that I placed upon Tygra is about to fade. We must be ready to act together when he revives. Rub your body with the sachet, so the scent of the herb will cling to you.*

She expects too much! Cheetara thought. How can I hold onto this funny fish, and remove my clothes at the same time.

*Cheetara!*

The historian growled, "Be patient! We have all night to love him!" She dropped the wriggling mass back into its velvet-lined case. How does it do that? she wondered as she slipped out of her gown. She poked at the tiny form. It jumped in the most amusing manner.

*Must I do everything!* the tigress hissed like steam in her brain. Talitha moved to her side. The mystic grabbed the sachet, which let out a squeak.

"Oh, don't hurt it!" Cheetara pleaded.

"Name of the gods," Talitha said in a manner that suggested that the cheetah had suddenly proven to be an unexpected nuisance. She laid the sachet on her palm and said, "See. It is content."

Indeed the little bag now chirped with happiness. How foolish of me to think that Talitha would harm anything, Cheetara decided with relief. I must apologize. The historian sat by her friend. She stroked the mystic's neck with her sachet, which found the action as delightful as she did, for its melodic whistles rivaled any bird song.

The mystic moved with the fluidity of a dancer. She touched her wrist delicately. "Rub yourself, not me," Talitha whispered, pushing her away from her face in gentle reproach. Cheetara pouted. The disappointed historian wished that her friend had allowed her the special closeness that females usually enjoyed during a celebration of fertility.

The tigress removed her garment. She languidly caressed her breasts with her sachet. Watching the beautiful movements transformed the cheetah's yearning for closeness into desire. The petal-shaped flesh between her thighs moistened in expectation. Having focused her attention on the tigress, her mind cleared briefly from the herb-induced bewitchment, and Cheetara recalled the reason for their meeting and its importance. Preparing herself for Tygra, the historian acted on her friend's advice. The silk glided easily over her fur and stoked the fire in her flesh that outshone the candles in the room.

The blindfolded tiger by their side moaned. The mystic untied the fastenings on his tunic and peeled back the cloth to reveal his body. She leaned over and dangled her fragrant breasts above his head. His nose twitched and tracked the scent. He reached up with assurance and found her shapely form. "Talitha...beloved," he purred, caressing her nipples.

The tigress lay across his broad chest. She teased his lips with fluttering kisses that stole his breath. Her fingers tickled his black stripes until she had coaxed him completely out of his garment. She knew well his pleasure points and exploited each one until his penis surged with the life it had to offer.

When he was ready, Talitha distanced herself from her lover. Tygra growled in protest. He failed in his attempt to stand, for the potent plant had made him drunk with his desire. The mystic beckoned weakly to the cheetah. Her eyes had changed into sapphire mirrors that reflected two souls, not one.

Cheetara pounced upon the tiger. They intertwined, but the force of the impact knocked them off the carpet. The world became a blur of stone and fur as they rolled over each other. When the spinning stopped, Tygra loomed above her. Despite their thrashing, the black cloth still covered his eyes. Cheetara pulled him close, ignoring the love sounds that echoed from a darkened corner where the mystic huddled alone. Her long legs wrapped around his body in invitation. "Dear one," the tiger whispered into her ear. He overcame the weakness that the plant had inflicted upon him, and entered her.

Tygra rose and fell like a great orange wave that playfully licked her shores. Deep within her body a gate begged to be opened. The tiger cried, "Remember the garden!" Whether he had directed his commanding plea at himself or at her remained a mystery, but that it had signified their first night of love so many seasons in the past was evident.

We have not fooled him! Cheetara admitted to herself. The truth opened her body and her mind. She vibrated with the electricity of climax. Her ears filled with deafening tiger-cheetah roars. A spiral of silvery light flowed from Tygra, and merged with her. In that instant, she knew that the Goddess had granted her request.

A moment that had filled an eternity had finally passed. Choosing not to linger, the architect extricated himself from her body. Sitting awkwardly on his legs, he ripped off the offensive blindfold, and flung it across the room. The vestiges of joining and the soul bond that he shared with Talitha had left their unsettling mark in his eyes. Tygra gave her a slight smile that was uniquely his because of the haunting sadness that invariably framed it.

With a grunt, he rose unsteadily to his feet. He retrieved two cushions. Squatting by her side, he dropped the pillows by her feet. Seizing her legs before she could utter a word of complaint, he lifted her, and shoved a pillow under her hips.

"Tygra, what in the--" He silenced her with a raised finger and a stern expression before propping the other pillow under her head. As he reached for the bedding and pulled the linen free, Talitha approached him. The mystic helped her mate arrange the cloth into a neat covering which they laid over her like a shroud.

Talitha explained, "For the maximum enhancement of conception, Tygra insists that you should not move for at least an hour." Her wistful expression indicated that she had yet to shake off the full effect of the starborns' herb or the special link with her mate.

The icy floor numbed the cheetah's back. As her companions watched with mild disapproval, Cheetara pushed away the pillow under her hips, then arranged the cover to keep out the cold. Retaining the pillow under her head, she turned onto her side. Finally comfortable, she argued her case effectively. "Considering the nature of our biology, I have no doubt that I will conceive from this joining."

The yawn that followed her statement weakened the power of her words. The architect answered her in an unintelligible whisper. "Louder," Cheetara heard herself say in a voice that sounded as if it came from miles away. The light in the room dimmed considerably. The tigers disappeared into the shadows. Her head sank impossibly deep into the cushion.

The blackness of sleep engulfed her completely.

*****

Cheetara followed the wind to the source of the curses which wafted up the grand staircase of Cats' Lair. The tunic and trousers that she wore kept out the cold; her boots silenced the sound of her footsteps as she walked down to the courtyard. She leaned against the smooth grey metal of the Thundertank, and waited patiently for her scent to reach the panther who studied the engine intently.

"Come to torment me," Panthro said without looking up from his work. He dug deeper into the engine, soiling further the worn, loose work clothes that he favored.

The cheetah came to his side, and ran her hand over the top of his maneless head. "Of course," she replied.

The panther threw down a dirty towel which landed by her boots. "Well I don't need the distraction!" he snapped. "I've got a bad crystal here and it's keeping me from my journey. So if you don't mind--" His words faded into the kiss that she gave his lips. The wrench that he held slipped from his hand and struck the stone.

When she reluctantly pulled away, the panther stood rigidly in place with his eyes tightly shut. Cheetara tugged at his grey tunic. "Was it that bad?" she asked innocently.

"It was that good," he said, finally relaxing. His amber eyes held uncertainty and questions instead of anger.

Committed to her objective, Cheetara declared, "I'm coming with you to Tabbia."

"And what about Tygra?"

"Done."

"Oh." The panther added with defiance, "You can't come with me because you won't know for certain that you have conceived until some time has passed. You might have to crawl back into Tygra's bed again for another dose of what he has to offer."

"That won't be necessary, Panthro. I already know that I have conceived."

Perhaps it was something in her voice, or the confidence with which she carried herself which changed the panther's mind, for belief crept into his expression. "Does Stripes agree?"

"Tygra will be glad to see me go," she answered with sorrow, for her statement contained the truth.

Panthro bent over and scooped up his wrench. As he inspected its surface for damage, he asked, "What has our young king said about this?"

"I awoke before dawn and cornered him in the control room since I knew that he had the night watch. He has given me leave to go."

The older Thunderan tapped the wrench against his palm. "I suppose I can't talk you out of this."

"No way in the seven hells."

"All right then," he said, "I'll take you to Tabbia, but--"

"No 'buts'," Cheetara replied, rubbing against his dirty grey trousers.

"B-but y-you wi-will fo-follow some rules!" Panthro said haltingly, while valiantly trying to maintain his composure as she stroked his chin.

"Rules?" she asked coyly, slipping her hand between the folds of his tunic and caressing the smoky fur beneath. Panthro managed to slip the wrench into his pocket, then pried her free. Cheetara knew better than to struggle in his strong grip. "You're getting to be as bad as Tygra. What rules?" she said.

The warrior's brow wrinkled in disdain. She wondered which had unsettled him more: her lusty rebellion or her comparison of him to the solemn architect.

He gave her arms a shake. "Listen to me! These are the rules, and they are for your benefit. The gods above know that I want you, but you are still in fertility until that embryo implants. I want you only to carry Tygra's cub. I will take no chance that will permit an unnecessary twinning."

"Panthro, of all the races, cheetahs are the most infertile in this regard. It is unlikely that I will produce a second egg that you can fertilize."

"But a chance exists."

"It's infinitesimal."

He continued without heeding what she had claimed. "First rule: We will wait until tomorrow before we dare to join to be sure that Tygra's sperm has done its job."

The warrior's declarations and concerns were beginning to drive the ardor from her body. She had found it difficult to allay his fears when confronted by his stubbornness, but persisted in her mission. "Panthro, the survival rate of sperm--"

"Second rule: We will refrain a few days hence to make sure that you don't release a second egg just before the first one implants. You can keep track of the timing."

Cheetara roared in frustration, "Go to Tabbia alone!" The startled panther released her. She repeated the Historians' Code to herself until she had decided that she wasn't going to hit the grey Thundercat with one of the many tools that he had placed on the fender of the tank. Bloodshed never helped lovemaking, the cheetah thought with sarcasm.

The warrior reached tentatively for her. "Come with me to Tabbia. I'll trust you to know best," he apologized.

The cheetah knew that the big panther was as soft-hearted as a mystic under his gruff exterior. "I should have appreciated your concern for me, teacher, rather than scolding you," she said quietly. "It is I who need forgiveness."

The panther gave an acknowledging grunt that threatened to break into a chuckle. "As a student, you always had a mind of your own. Why should you change now," he said.

She gave him a hurt look which she knew he would see as false. He made a face back at her that made her laugh. She said through her giggles, "You win. Your rules."

"Good. Go pack your bag. I should be finished with this job by the time that you are ready."

Cheetara nodded in agreement. As the panther returned to his work, she reached for his buttocks. He instantly had her pinned against the tank. "A warrior always watches his back," he declared.

She ran her tongue over her lips seductively, and marked the swelling under his trousers. "Dear teacher," she murmured, "in Tabbia you will be on constant watch."