Today the centaurs and even the human folk were restoring Xanthly standards, while both harpies and goblins were scarce, at least on land. But the old alignments remained, and there were ancient covenants that had never been vacated. That was where the political element came in: if the goblins had taken Che hostage in order to wrest some advantage from the monsters of the air, then Cheiron would have to negotiate with them on that basis. He had no intention of doing so.

It was night, verging on dawn, but he would not rest. Chex was sleeping, secure in the knowledge that he, Cheiron, would know what to do. He did not care to inform her of his private doubts. But perhaps it wasn't as bad as it looked. He could find out before taking action.

He flicked his body and leaped off the rim. In a moment he was flying powerfully to the lair of Hardy Harpy. It happened that Hardy's goblin daughter, Gloha, was visiting the harpies, and she was the one Cheiron wanted to see. The romance between Hardy and beautiful Glory Goblin had nearly ignited the war again; only the discovery that goblins and harpies together had magic talents had eased that crisis. But it could be that the goblins retained resentment, so had taken captive another land-air crossbreed. Gloha, with her goblin connection, might know.

He reached the harpy grove. "Whatcha up to, monster?" one of them screeched irritably, disturbed from her sleep.

"I come to see Gloha, monster," Cheiron replied, using the same courtesy title she had greeted him with. They were all monsters, and proud of it. She settled back, satisfied. As a rule, the harpies hated goblins, but Gloha was different. She was of course a goblin, but she was also a winged monster.

He reached Hardy's tall tree. Gloha could not clamp her feet on a branch the way a harpy could, so Hardy had made for her a fine and private nest, complete with a roof against the weather. "Gloha!" he called, hovering beside the nest.

In a moment the thatch door opened and a sleepy head poked out. "What?"

"It is Cheiron. I must talk with you."

"Oh. Of course. I will fly to ground." She was too polite to point out that it was still before dawn, the very awfullest time to wake a maiden from her slumber.

She stepped out onto the branch, pulling on her robe. She was a lovely little lady goblin with birdlike wings, now fifteen years old. Soon she would have to decide what kind of man to take up with; unfortunately there were no other flying goblins.

They flew to the ground, where Cheiron could stand firmly. "Che has been abducted by goblins," he said abruptly. "Do you know anything about it?"

Her dainty hand went to her mouth. "Oh, no, Cheiron! Are you sure?"