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."Everything we had got stolen from us; first by the Spanish, then the whites.So—we're takin'some of that back, the Jaguars.Takin' back what's ours by right.""So." The man leaned forward, and Pablo got a good look at him.He nearly died of envy.The man—looked like a movie star, a statue, a god! That manner, that voice—and now that face! What couldn't he, Pablo, do with a combination like that?"I hear passion in you, hombre.I hear a heart, I hear guts.I hear a warrior.Tell me something, man—you interested in doing something about this, something real? Something big?"Oh man— give me a chance—Pablo thought, and said, as level and cool as he could, "Try me.Try us."The man smiled; predator's smile, jaguar's smile."You ready to go back to the old gods—the warrior's gods? You ready to give them what they need? You gotta pay for power, hombre.You think you can come up with the coin? Warrior's coin?"Pablo nodded, but before he could answer, the man rolled on, his own words hot beneath the ice-cool of his tone."You think you can handle yourself smart—be a warrior and deal with the new world? You think you can deal in the big time? You think you can handle more than a gang?""Like?""Like maybe an army?"***Tuf couldn't figure out where he was.One minute he'd been following this chick—oh man, that had been an armful, long black hair, round and soft in all the right places, a come-on look in her eyes, and a promising wiggle to her hips—the next minute, bonk.No idea who hit him; never saw them.Now he was waking up cold and confused, and God knew where.It looked like a warehouse, or something.He was just about bare-ass naked except for a single strip of cloth.He was lying on cold cement, and his head hurt like hell.Whatever it was, wherever he was, the building was empty; there was real dim light coming from a couple of exit signs, but that was it.Enough to hint at a high ceiling, far-off walls.The echoes when he moved told him empty.He started to get to his feet, and found that one of his ankles was tied to a support beam.He tried to get the knots undone, but they were too tight, and he didn't have anything to cut the rope with.He swore and struggled, but only succeeded in ripping one of his fingernails off.Suddenly—light.Blinding light from a fixture directly over his head struck him with an almost physical blow.The light was so bright that it threw everything outside the circle it delineated into absolute darkness.Tuf cringed, and shaded his eyes, but with no result; he couldn't see the rest of his surroundings anymore.Footsteps; sound of bare feet scuffing against cement.Into the circle of light stepped an old enemy.Pablo.Chief of the Jaguars.Tuf suddenly recalled that he'd been on Jaguar turf when he'd been coldcocked.Better brazen it out."Say hey, Pablo." Tuf was trying to be cool, but it wasn't easy.Pablo looked rigged out for some kind of costume party; fancy loincloth, ropes of flowers on his wrists and ankles, for chrissake; some kind of helmet shaped like a big cat's head under one arm, about a ton of silvery jewelry.He should have looked stupid—he didn't.He looked mean."Say hey, Tuf." Pablo sounded cool; sounded amused, like he was laughing at Tuf.He moved a little, and Tuf could see his other hand come into the light.He was carrying what looked like two sticks."What th' hell's all this, man?" Tuf asked, trying to sound casual."Like, you're my enemy, man.I caught you on Jaguar turf, fair an' square.Like, I coulda killed you, but I'm gonna give you a chance."Tuf snorted."What chance, man?"Pablo just grinned and threw one of the sticks at Tuf."Like we fight, man.You an' me, mano-a-mano." He pulled on his helmet, and his eyes looked darkly out of the big cat's mouth, shadows within shadows."Like you haven't got a choice, man.You fight me, or you die."Tuf had caught the stick almost reflexively, and took a good look at it.It was flat, polished wood, and along both edges were set feathers.Feathers?"I'm s'pposed to fight you with this? For what? Turf?""Honor, man.For the gods.For the old ways." Tuf did not much like the way Pablo's eyes were burning down in the deep shadows of the cat's mouth."We fight for Burning Water, man—or you die for Burning Water.You take your pick.""With a stick? What if I lose?"Pablo laughed."You die, you just die quick.You don't fight, you die slow.'Member that dude they found down to Bachmann Lake? Like him."Tuf swallowed fear."And if I win?""I die; you kill me, you take my place." Pablo sounded as if it were a matter of supreme indifference to him."Who says?" Tuf asked belligerently."Burning Water." Pablo nodded at the area outside the circle of light to Tuf's right.Something stood there, or somebody.Dark and shadowy—and powerful.Even from here Tuf could feel the power—like the power of a black sun."So who's this Burning Water dude? Huh?"Pablo's eyes shone with fanatic devotion, and his face was transformed by a vision only he could see."He's gonna make us free, man.He's gonna make us warriors.He's a god; no lie, an old god.He's gonna wipe out the white man, he's gonna give it all to us.I'm tellin' you."The smart-ass retorts on the tip of Tuf's tongue died before he could speak them.Somehow—that vague shadowy power seemed capable of all of that.That shadow was the shadow of Fear—of a hunger that could eat the world
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