"Human outlaws?" Bink asked.

       "Yes. Kids from the north, doing mischief magic, gassing our livestock, shooting swords into trees, making dangerous pits seem to appear under our feet, that sort of thing. So naturally Chester assumed-"

       "I know the culprits," Bink said. "I had a scrape with them myself. They've been grounded now. If I had known they were coming down here-"

       "There just doesn't seem to be much discipline on the range these days," she said. "According to the Covenant, your King is supposed to keep order. But recently-"

       "Our King is getting old," Bink explained. "He's losing his power, and there's a lot of trouble cropping up. He used to be a major Magician, a storm brewer."

       "We know," she agreed. "When the fireflies infested our oatfields, he generated a storm that rained five days and drowned them all. Of course, it also ruined our crops-but the flies were doing that already. Every day new fires! At least we were able to replant without further molestation. We are not forgetting the help he rendered. So we don't want to make an issue of it-but I don't know how much longer stallions like Chester are going to put up with these annoyances. That's why I wanted to talk with you-maybe when you go home, if you could call things to the attention of the King-"

       "I don't think that would work. I'm sure the King wants to keep order; he just doesn't have the power any more."

       "Then perhaps it is time for a new King."

       "He's getting senile. That means he hasn't got the sense to step down, and won't admit there's any problem.''

       "Yes, but problems don't go away by being ignored!" She made a delicate feminine snort. "Something has to be done."