Gryphon in Glory by Andre Norton Page B

story is that what they seek is a source of power, and it lies to the west. We think that they believe this. Therefore, it is not our Dales that is their final goal but perhaps—this—” I made a gesture to include the meadow in which we stood. Once more the wristlet blazed. “Your land—and perhaps those you name kin.”
    He made a sound deep in his throat, a snarl such as a cat might voice. Now he pointed to my wristlet.
    “Where got you that?” he demanded.
    “By chance—I found it in a stream in the Dales.”
    He smiled, the lift of his lip resembling a cat baring fangs—though the teeth he displayed were no different than my own.
    “And where got you those?” This time he pointed to my hooves.
    I answered steadily enough.
    “My birthright—or birth curse. I have heard it said both ways in my time.”
    Again those narrowed eyes studied me closely. When he spoke some of the hardness was gone from his voice.
    “I think you may have found those who will listen to your message—or may find them after I take council. Your animals"—he glanced disdainfully at the fear-struck desert horses—"cannot follow our trails. Their breed would die of terror were one of my people to approach them closely. I go now to my pack lord. If he wishes to see you I shall return—Man of the Dales.”
    He pointed now to the north.
    “There is water there and good forage. If you wish—camp and wait.” He had turned his mount, now he looked back over his shoulder.
    “I am Herrel.”
    I was startled. It is one of the strong beliefs of my people, who know the Power only slightly, that to give one's name to a stranger is a dangerous thing—since a man's name is an important part of himself and he can be influenced through it. Still this stranger had just, by that standard, shown great trust in me. I answered as quickly.
    “I am Kerovan.” To that I added no title or lordship, for such were mine no longer.
    He sketched a salute with his free hand, then rode without looking back again, while I followed his advice in leading my now-more-biddable mounts on toward that campsite he had indicated.
    I did not have to wait long. Herrel returned and with him another like him, save that his helm crest was an eagle with half unfurled wings, his saddle cloth a netting into which feathers had been woven. He sat his horse a little aloof while Herrel told me that I was bidden to speak with their lord. The second rider busied himself by driving four wands well into the ground, each being topped with a tuft of fur or feathers. Herrel, indicating them, told me that they would keep my mounts within bounds as well as any fence, but that I must go afoot.
    So it came that I paced as might a captive between the two of them into the dusk of that dark wood. I did not allow my hand to brush near my sheathed sword. From now on I must be doubly wary, though I did not sense from these two, as I always had in Imgry's camp, the waves of hatred that my appearance fired in the Dalesmen.
    Once within the first screen of trees, the way was not hard going. In fact there was a path or narrow road, wide enough for only one horseman, so deep-trodden one might believe it was a highway used through many years. To my advantage, my hooves were no longer constricted by the boots I had worn so many years in concealment. In fact I was glad to stretch my legs by this tramp. The many scents of the forest were heady. I drew deep breaths, and I discovered that I was growing lighter of heart and less wearied than I had been since I entered the Waste.
    What did begin to impress me was that I saw no other life save the three of us who moved silently, for the hooves of the horses awakened only the slightest of sounds. No bird hopped on any branch, nor did I spy, along the outer edges of the trail, any beast's prints. The greenery was very dark nor had I elsewhere seen such trees of so huge circumference of bole. Their bark was black and deeply ridged.
    The path we followed wove a