Gryphon in Glory by Andre Norton Page A

for directions to those “others"? Somehow I believed that if I did that I would lose any advantage I had held in this interview.
    “This you may tell your Lord—or he whose scheme brought you to us—” He folded his arms across his chest, once more tossed his head so that the crest of his hair fell in a lock over his forehead. “We shall certainly consider all he has said. If we make a decision in his favor, he shall hear so from us. There will be a price for our services, of course. We must have time to think of that. Years ago we once sold our swords and sold them well. Those who bought had no reason to claim they did not receive full measure. If we choose to bargain again, your Dalesmen may find us worth any price we ask.”
    “That price being?” I mistrusted this horse lord—not because I thought him a follower of the Dark, for I knew he was not. Still, legends say that there were those among the Old Ones who were neither good nor evil, but whose standards of right and wrong are not our measures.
    “In due time and to your lord's own face shall we state that,” he countered. “Also, if you wish to gather an army you need other allies.” He suddenly pointed to my hooves.
    “Why not,” he asked, “seek those with whom you can claim kin?”
    I knew that I dare not show ignorance now, that to do so would lessen me in their sight. My mother's clan came from the northernmost Dales—there must lie the mixture that had made me what I was. So if I did have kin there I would find such.
    I managed a shrug. “We have no maps of the Waste, Lord. I took the westward hills for my guide—that brought me here. Now I shall ride north.”
    “North.” Lord Hyron repeated. Then it was his turn to shrug. “The choice is yours. This is not an easy land, none does ride or walk here without due caution.”
    “So I have already discovered, Lord Hyron. My first meeting with a Waste dweller was his body—”
    “That being?” He asked it idly, as if it did not matter.
    Just because he would so dismiss my gruesome find, I described the mauled thing I had buried and was only halfway through my story when I felt the whole atmosphere about me change. It was as if I had brought portentous tidings without being aware of it.
    “Thas!” It was a name, a word I did not know, and it exploded with force from Herrel. The indifference of Lord Hyron had vanished in the same instant.

Joisan
    E LYS STOOD ON A SMALL RISE FACING THE FOREST LAND. SHE WAS frowning and the hands that hung by her sides twitched slightly. I thought that she was disturbed, that she felt some need for action, yet she was not sure what. Jervon had brought the packs and our saddles close to the mark of a recent Fire and was again off collecting wood. A small pile of branches lay at Elys's feet also but she made no move to pick them up again. I paused beside her, turned also to face that line of trees that was so well protected against any invasion. Now that I regarded them more intently I could see that the leaves were darker green than those I had known in the Dales and they grew very thickly together.
    “There are no birds.” Elys said abruptly.
    For a moment I was at a loss. Then, thinking back, I could not remember having sighted, since we left the Dales, any wing- borne life. The Waste was indeed a barren land. Still—why Elys should now be seeking sight of birds puzzled me.
    “In such a wood—yes, there should be birds,” she repeated; her frown grew heavier.
    “But—I do not remember seeing any since we came out of the Dales.”
    She gave an impatient shake of the head. “Perhaps over the desert—no—there would be few to wing there. But this is a wood, a place to harbor them well. There should be birds!” She spoke emphatically, her attitude one of foreboding. Then she glanced at me.
    “You did not enter there after all.”
    “Jervon was right—there was a barrier. As if a keep door was closed and no visitors welcomed.”
    Her frown