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enough.”
    Disappointed, Taran turned away. The riders vanished beyond the trees and the grove seemed empty and desolate. Melynlas, tethered among the other steeds, whinnied plaintively.
    “This night will be long,” Adaon said, looking intently past the shadows at the brooding heights of Dark Gate. “You, Taran, shall stand first watch; Ellidyr second, until the moon is down.”
    “So you shall have more time for dreaming,” Ellidyr said with a scornful laugh.
    “You will find no quarrel with my dreams tonight,” replied Adaon good-naturedly, “for I will share the watch with both of you. Sleep, Ellidyr,” he added, “or if you will not sleep, at least keep silent.”
    Ellidyr angrily wrapped himself in his cloak and threw himself on the ground near Islimach. The roan whickered and bent her neck, nuzzling her master.
    The night was chill. Frost had begun to sparkle on the dry sedge and a cloud trailed across the moon. Adaon drew his sword and stepped to the edge of the trees. The white light caught his eyes, turning them brilliant as starshine. He was silent, head raised, alert as a wild creature of the forest.
    “Do you think they've gone into Annuvin yet?” Taran whispered.
    “They should soon be there,” Adaon answered.
    “I wish Gwydion had let me go with him,” Taran said with a certain bitterness. “Or with Morgant.”
    “Do not wish that,” Adaon said quickly. His face held a look of concern.
    “Why not?” asked Taran, puzzled. “I would have been proud to follow Morgant. Next to Gwydion, he is the greatest war lord in Prydain.”
    “He is a brave and powerful man,” Adaon agreed, “but I am uneasy for him. In my dream, the night before we left, warriors rode a slow circle around him and Morgant's sword was broken and weeping blood.”
    “Perhaps there is no meaning in it,” Taran suggested, as much to reassure himself as Adaon. “Does it always happen--- that your dreams are always true?”
    Adaon smiled. “There is truth in all things, if you understand them well.”
    “You never told me what you dreamed of the others,” Taran said. “Of Coll or good old Doli--- or yourself, for the matter of that.”
    Adaon did not reply, but turned again and looked toward Dark Gate.
    Unsheathing his sword, Taran moved worriedly to the edge of the grove.
     
     
     
     
    Chapter 4
     
    In the Shadow of Dark Gate
     
    THE NIGHT PASSED HEAVILY, and it was nearly time for Ellidyr's turn at guard, when Taran heard a rustling in the shrub. He raised his head abruptly. The sound stopped. He was unsure now that he had really heard it. He held his breath and waited, poised and tense. Adaon, whose ears were as keen as his eyes, had also noticed it and was at Taran's side in an instant.
    There was, it seemed to Taran, a flicker of light. A branch cracked nearby. With a shout, Taran swung up his blade and leaped toward it. A golden beam flashed in his eyes and a squeal of indignation struck his ears.
    “Put down that sword!” Eilonwy cried. “Every time I see you, you're waving it around or pointing it at somebody.”
    Taran fell back dumbfounded. As he did, a dark figure bounded past Ellidyr, who sprang to his feet, his blade unsheathed and whistling through the air.
    “Help! Help!” howled Gurgi. “Angry lord will harm Gurgi's poor tender head with slashings and gashings!” He scuttled halfway up a pine tree, and from the safety of his perch shook a fist at the astonished Ellidyr.
    Taran pulled Eilonwy into the protection of the grove. Her hair was disheveled, her robe torn and mud-stained. “What have you done?” he cried. “Do you want us all killed? Put out that light!” He seized the glowing sphere and fumbled vainly with it.
    “Oh, you'll never learn how to use my bauble,” Eilonwy said with impatience. She took back the golden ball, cupped it in her hand, and the light vanished.
    Adaon, recognizing the girl, put his hand anxiously on her shoulder. “Princess, Princess, you should not have