“Your puppet has done well,” said Fury. “Though I perceive it is called Fitz and not Farolio.”

“Yes,” said Hereward. He did not look at her, but waved his arm, the brassard leaving a luminous trail in the air. “Fitz! To me!”

“It has become a bloody affair after all,” said Fury. Her voice was a growl and now Hereward did look. Fury still stood on two legs, but she had grown taller and her proportions had changed. Her skin had become spotted fur, and her skull transformed, her jaw thrust out to contain savage teeth, including two incisors as long as Hereward’s thumbs. Long curved nails sprouted from her rounded hands, her eyes had become bright with a predatory gleam, and a tail whisked the ground behind.

“Fury,” said Hereward. He looked straight at her and did not back away. “We have won. The fight is done.”

“I told you that I ate my enemies,” said Fury huskily. Her tail twitched and she bobbed her head in a manner no human neck could mimic. Hereward could barely understand her, human speech almost lost in growls and snarls.

“You did not tell me your name, or your true purpose.”

“My name is Hereward,” said Hereward, and he raised his open hands. If she attacked, his only chance would be to grip her neck and break it before those teeth and nails did mortal damage. “I am not your enemy.”

Fury growled, speech entirely gone, and began to crouch.

“Fury! I am not your—”

The leoparde sprang. He caught her on his forearms and felt the nails rake his skin. Fending her off with his left hand, he seized hold of the necklace of yellow diamonds with his right and twisted it hard to cut off her air. But before he could apply much pressure, the beast gave a sudden, human gasp, strange and sad from that bestial jaw. The leoparde’s bright eyes dulled as if by sea-mist, and Hereward felt the full weight of the animal in his hands.