"Grandpa, you don't like any other tribes," Gloha said.

"Right. But we don't like the horde even more than we don't like the others. They're mean gobs!"

Cheiron knew of the horde. They certainly were the worst gobs. Princess Ivy had brushed with them more than once and dumped most of them into the Gap Chasm, but they regenerated like weeds and made trouble again. But though they were the most violent, they weren't the smartest of goblin tribes. Che had been abducted by smart goblins, with special magic.

Still, the news that there was no conspiracy was gratifying. That meant that it wasn't a land-air war in the making, but merely a foray by one tribe. He could deal with one tribe. "Thank you for your news, chief," he said. "I'm glad we have no present quarrel."

"Well, if it wasn't for Gloha and the Simurgh, we'd have one, sweat-flank!" the chief said defensively.

"To be sure," Cheiron agreed, placating him. "Perhaps some day that will change."

"Yeah," the chief breathed, forming his first smile.

"Bye-bye, Grandpa," Gloha said, kissing him on the cheek. The goblin glowered, but could not quite hide his ungoblinish pleasure.

Then Gloha flew to Cheiron's back, and he leaped into the air, flicked himself, and spread his wings. The downdraft blasted a cloud of sand into the chief's face. Cheiron pretended not to notice. After all, sandblasting would probably improve the gob's complexion.

"Don't take me home," Gloha said. "I'll go with you to Mount Rushmost."

"But you should not be involved in ugly business like this," he protested.

"Yes I should. If another goblin tribe did this, you will need someone to negotiate who they won't attack right away."

"But that would be risky for you, Gloha. You know that regular centaurs don't like crossbreeds; some goblins may not like them either."

"That may be," she argued, "but I run a worse risk if I don't get out and meet folk."

"A worse risk?"

"Old maidism."

Now more of her motive came clear. She was fifteen, and just about ready for romance. Her own tribe might be tolerant of a winged goblin, but goblins were generally exogamous, preferring to marry outside their home tribes. This could serve as an excellent pretext to meet many males from many tribes, and discover who was tolerant and who was not. Her decision to check the goblin tribes rather than the harpy flocks was sensible; there were still so few male harpies that she would make vicious enemies just by trying.

"Very well, if your father approves."

"He'll approve," she said confidently.