I had just begun my training at the feet of the Panther Clan elder when war broke out in Jamuraa. At first I cared little for the war, since the elders were teaching me how to eat mana, but as the elders grew more and more involved, I realized that in time I would have a place in their plans. Indeed, I did, but that story comes years later. My first visit to Jamuraa was a surprise to me, and not a pleasant one.

But let me tell you about myself. My name is Neshi Malu. I am tall and green-eyed, with pale skin and straight hair that frightens the darker people of Jamuraa. I carry a feric, or curved knife, and a dorndo, or leather spirit-mask, at all times, as signs of my initiation into the Breathstealers. I gave up wearing shoes, once I learned the value of contact with the earth.

I was summoned by a shaman named Bwire. Being summoned isn't anything like you'd expect. There's no flash of light, no incense and offerings--your ears pop, you feel seasick for a minute, and then you realize that you are someplace else.

Bwire's summoning was no great hardship, but bearing the weight of his mind control--that was a hardship indeed, for the shaman's mind was nothing like the disciplined thoughts of the clan elders, or the pure instincts of my panther servants. No, his was a riot of superstitions, a dark fog that was all need with no hint of sacrifice or devotion to a cause. He was young, perhaps only twenty summers, but already completely corrupted by his own delusions. He was hiding in the cracked heart of a boabab tree, in a space just large enough for the two of us.

He had the upper hand. I played along.

Bwire was a thin man, almost starved, and blighted by years spent in contact with dark mana. He had a strange way of speaking: barking his words as if they were orders to a slave. I didn't like his tone, the way he assumed I would obey. I had not understood his first words to me, because I was shaking off the urge to vomit. As my head cleared and the summoning magic faded, I gathered my strength and my centered stance.

"What is your name, Breathstealer?" he asked me.

"My name is Neshi Malu," said I, "and I sit at the feet of the clan elders. If you mean me harm, you must answer to them."

"I mean you no harm at all, Neshi," he said. "In fact, I have nothing but the greatest respect for your order and your elders. I merely would like you to find a goatherd named Jojo and kill all his goats, until you get the right one. The right goat, my friend, contains a magical amber stone. Bring me that stone, and I will free you to wander Jamuraa, or return you to the islands. That's not such a bad offer, is it?" He smiled, showing me the rotted stumps of his teeth.

The arrogant fool, I thought. Does he think I do not know the Amber Prison? I was forced by the summoning to do his will; nevertheless I could not restrain myself from a question. "And this 'stone's' contents? What should I do with them?"

His eyes flickered, but he answered smoothly. "The one inside is of no account to us. I will deal with him when I have the stone in my possession. How I do so is none of your affair."

"I will find this 'stone,'" I said coldly. "Your magic binds me, as you know. I will search for this goatherd and fight him, but then you must release me."

"Yes, yes," said Bwire. "Bring me the stone, and I will teach you secrets your elders have forgotten. Fail me, as your panther failed me earlier--"

"Panther?" I asked.

"An Urborg panther I summoned earlier. The goatherd sent it packing." My opinion of the goatherd improved considerably; few trained warriors can defeat a fully grown Urborg panther, much less halfwit herders.

"The panther's probably still out there somewhere," said Bwire. "It's yours if you can master it."

The shaman was offering me a bond to a panther that my comrades had raised and trained, and that he had stolen from us. I pretended not to notice his colossal nerve at offering me what was already mine.

I stared at him until he looked away, then said, "I leave to do your bidding." But I thought, I will return to kill you for your arrogance.