A little gust of wind blew by. Rikard raised his face, which though young was very grim. He signaled his captains, swung up into the saddle, and set off round the dunes and back toward the city at a trot, not waiting to see the black ships steer in to shore where their soldiers could board them, or his own army fill up its ranks and come marching behind him. When the gryphon swooped screaming overhead he raised his arm, grinning at the great creature as she tried to perch on his gloved wrist, flapping her wings and screeching like a tomcat. «You no-good gryphon,» he said, «you hen, go home to your chicken coop!» Insulted, the monster yawped and sailed off eastward toward the city. Behind him his army wound upward through the hills, leaving no track. Behind them the brown sand lay smooth as silk, stainless. The black ships, sails set, already stood out well to sea. In the prow of the first stood a tall, grim-faced man in gray.

Taking an easier road homeward, Rikard passed not far from the four-legged hut on the headland. The witch stood in the doorway, hailing him. He galloped over, and, drawing rein right at the gate of the little yard, he looked at the young witch. She was bright and dark as coals, her black hair whipped in the sea wind. She looked at him, white-armored on a white horse.

«Prince,» she said, «you'll go to battle once too often.»

He laughed. «What should I do—let my brother lay siege to the city?»

«Yes, let him. No man can take the city.»

«I know. But my father the king exiled him, he must not set foot even on our shore. I'm my father's soldier, I fight as he commands.»

The witch looked out to sea, then back at the young man. Her dark face sharpened, nose and chin peaking cronelike, eyes flashing. «Serve and be served,» she said, «rule and be ruled. Your brother chose neither to serve nor rule … Listen, prince, take care.» Her face warmed again to beauty. «The sea brings presents this morning, the wind blows, the crystals break. Take care.»