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there had been of them we shall never know) had already withdrawn. They left behind them numerous traces of their own, alien to humankind. There are places where no man dares venture, not only for his life's sake, but also because of a threat to his spirit. Other places are known to welcome, bring peace and healing. Some of our blood sought out what small secrets they could uncover, but that lore was often baffling.
    However, though the Old Ones had left coast and Dales for some compelling reason, we are all certain they had not altogether withdrawn from our world. There was the Waste to the west, a vast buffer between us and even more unknown land, full of signs of Power, potent places. We knew well that there was life there—besides the outlaws—perhaps left to spy upon us, perhaps utterly uncaring, since their affairs and desires might be so far removed from those we understood.
    There were fighters among the Old Ones—we have found traces of ancient and terrible wars. Metal seekers have brought out of the Waste masses so congealed and melted that it proved such had been the targets of vast forces.
    If the Dalesmen had first believed that they only lived in High Hallack on sufferance, Jong, undisturbed years had lulled us into thinking that we had nothing to fear from those others. Still—suppose that the invaders, who knew nothing of this land, the things that trod the Waste, were to overrun us? Where next would they strike? Would they be stopped by legends and shadows?
    We were not even sure why those of Alizon were unleashed upon us, traveling overseas to expend such fury upon a country, which, by all accounts, was far less rich and useful than their own. I had heard one story that a high-ranking prisoner, taken when one of their mighty earth-crawlers had broken down, reported that those who had lent them those alien weapons had said the secret of vast power was to be found here—enough to make them masters of the world. So their ruler lusted for that.
    The only place where such a Power could be found might be the Waste, or in a land that might lie beyond that. If that belief was what had brought the Hounds upon us . . . Then—could those of the Waste be made to see that they had a part in our war?
    No thinking man doubted that if Alizon invaded there they would come up against potent forces. But could the wielders of those be persuaded now to lend aid to the Dales?
    I chewed upon that, finding it held a flavor I liked. To meddle with Power on our own, as my mother and Rogear had sought to do, was fatal folly. However, to enlist on our side those who had tamed it was another thing. Had this lain somewhere in Lord Imgry's mind?
    I sent my horse forward with a click of tongue, suddenly eager to reach the journey's end—as we did by nightfall.
    My last meeting with the southern leader had been in a forester's hut, no trappings of state had backed that tall man with the cold greenish eyes. Now I sat on a stool in a small keep's great hall.
    Imgry occupied a high-backed chair which had been taken from the dining dais, yet still raising him above those who came to him. The man's authority was like an unseen armor, though the latter in truth he did not wear at present, only the plain leather of a lord home from a day's hunting. The hunt he spoke of, though, lay before and not behind him.
    I had waited for some change of countenance when he sighted my bared hooves—they had been boot-hidden at our last meeting. Only I came to believe that indeed I could have been as inhuman as the gryphon-man of my night vision and he would not have noted the difference since I was there to serve a purpose.
    For Imgry, only his own ambition and aims had importance. Everything he said, thought, acted upon, was for one purpose alone—to achieve plans that burned in him, to the extinction of all else.
    He had laid out on the bench between us a much creased and spotted leaf of parchment. There were marks on it that my own past scouting had