Gryphon in Glory by Andre Norton Read Free Book Online

Sight.
    “No!” I was on my feet, looking around as if I could seize a weapon to destroy her words. I fought to master my fear as I said then, “If he is in the Waste, there, too, I go!”
    “The Waste"—Jervon might have been speaking to an impatient child—"is very large. You have no guide—”
    “But I do!” I did not know whence came my conviction as my hand was tight on the gryphon. “There is this—and I shall learn how to use it!”
    “Perhaps that is possible,” Elys said slowly. “But are there the seeds of Power in you?” She arose and began studying my face. “No, you do not know what you can do—not yet. However, this is the road you will follow—” Jervon started to speak. She stopped him with a gesture. “This is a choice she has already made, for good or ill. What remains . . .” Now she looked at him instead. “The Waste and a man who may or may not be found, a task which may or may not be beyond the doing. We have been only drifting, you and I, do we now make a choice also?”
    His frown grew darker but he said at once, “If so be your will.”
    She shook her head vigorously. “Not my will. The day is past when I choose to ride and you follow. We go as of one mind or not at all.”
    I looked eagerly from one to the other. This Elys might not be one of the Old Ones, but she controlled a fraction of Power learning and through that might be able to claim kin-right with the Waste roamers. I had spoken of a guide, but I knew not how to make use of it. This was no venture of theirs, save I wanted to ride in their company. Their closeness of spirit was warm to my heart, so I clung to the fancy that being with them longer I could learn the secret of that—enough of it to smooth my way with Kerovan.
    Jervon hitched at his swordbelt. “Might as well ride one way as another,” he commented. “Also I think that your Kerovan"—now he spoke to me—"since he was dispatched by Imgry, would head directly westward from the headquarters. Thus we go south if we would pick up his trail.”
    “I have heard that Lord Imgry buys much of the salvaged Waste metal for the forging of arms,” I said. “Therefore there must be a going and coming of those who deal in that. Perhaps Kerovan would follow their trails.”
    “Well enough. Let morning come and this mist rise—then we ride south and west. If there lies any trace of such a trail we can cut it so in time.”
    The mist that imprisoned us did not rise during the rest of that day, still clinging heavy as night came. I watched it uneasily as the darkness grew, for I kept thinking that, from the comers of my eyes, I now and then caught a hint of movement within it which was not the billows of the fog itself, but rather as if something more tangible hovered there, using it as a cloak from which to spy on us.
    Jervon ventured out from time to time coming back with armloads of dead wood, which he piled close to hand. Only when the dark really deepened Elys put an end to that. She confirmed my own suspicions when she produced from her belt purse a slender stick of blue.
    With this in her right hand and her left raised so that her slender fingers were free to move in complex patterns, she proceeded to draw lines on the pavement, fencing in our campsite, including the mounts, which Jervon had hobbled and brought closer to the fire. What Elys finished at last was a star of five points, setting the lines true with skillful accuracy, though the labor wore away her strange pen.
    In each of the outflung points she proceeded to add an intricate symbol, thus locking us in. The horses had been restless for some time past, throwing up their heads, snorting, staring into the mist with signs for growing uneasiness. However, once her work was complete, they quieted.
    Nor, I discovered, did I myself now have that sense of being watched by the unseen.
    I shared journey food from my own store with my new companions as we settled down in the warmth of the fire, agreeing upon