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were our sort.'
    'You think this accidental meeting was no accident?' asked an older farseeker.
    I shrugged. 'It may have been accidental on Zarak's part. But if the Herders have discovered about Talented Misfits . . .'
    'Maybe he was wrong about not being traced,' Ceirwan said.
    I shook my head. 'I think he was telling the truth, but we'll have to make sure. Have you traced the old path from Zarak's memory?'
    Ceirwan nodded. 'It's a cloister all right - in Darthnor, of all places.'
    'Darthnor. A town full of pro-Herder bigots an' fanatics. Wonderful,' Matthew said darkly.
    Later that day I went down to the farms. Ostensibly I wanted to organize wagons for the expedition to the Lowlands. But I was also curious to talk to Alad about his outburst in Guildmerge. The Beasting guild-master was nowhere to be seen but I noticed a dark horse grazing nearby. That reminded me of the rumours of friction between humans and the younger horses.
    It looked up warily at my approach. 'Greetings, Funaga.'
    I was surprised at its guarded tone. 'Greetings, Equine,' I sent. 'Do you know where Alad Beasting guild-master is?'
    The horse looked at me measuringly. 'Who knows where the funaga go?' it sent coolly.
    All at once I realized whom I was talking to.
    Alad had encountered the black horse in Guanette. He had belonged to a gypsy troop. Half starved, he had been trying to pull a cart loaded with furniture, five plump children and a fat, dirty gypsy man cursing and lashing out with a whip. Alad had told me the horse's imaginative mental curses had attracted his attention - that and its strength of mental projection.
    He had ended up buying the horse and bringing him to Obernewtyn. Despite a deep hatred of humans, the horse had chosen to remain, becoming almost at once the spokesman for its kind. He had arrived, a dusty, bedraggled bag of bones, wild-eyed and filled with hatred of the funaga. Now he was lean and muscled, his coat gleaming and sleek. Only the eyes were unchanged, still filled with anger and suspicion. Suddenly I was sure this horse was behind Alad's difficulties with the horses.
    'I remember when you came to Obernewtyn,' I said gently.
    The horse tossed its head, nostrils flared wide. 'I was brought here a slave. I did not choose to come,' it snarled.
    Taken aback I said, 'We had to do it that way. It would have looked odd to buy a horse and set it free. You chose to stay.'
    'That is so, Funaga. There is no place in the world not infected by the funaga. Here is the same as anywhere else.'
    From the corner of my eye, I saw Alad approaching.
    'We are not like the people who owned you before. Here, all work together. We are equals.'
    The horse snorted savagely. 'You talk like a fool. We have no place in the funaga conclaves.'
    'It's only a matter of time . . .' I began, but the horse cut me off with its own thought.
    'Alad-Gahltha asked that we be treated as true equals. Again this was set aside. Wait, they say. We have waited long enough. Now we are tired of waiting. From now on, we work only for our food and shelter. We will carry no funaga, and we will pull no cart beyond these mountains. We will not risk our lives to help the funaga. We will not fight the funaga's battles unless they are also ours.'
    There was no doubt in my mind that the proud, bitter horse meant it.
    'That won't make anyone like you or take . . .'
    The horse spat violently at my feet. 'Like! I care nothing for the likes and hates of the funaga. Allies we will be, or nothing. I have heard the funaga plan a journey to the Lowlands. We will see how they fare with no equine to draw their carts or carry them in the dark lands.'
    I blinked. 'But we're not going to the Blacklands.'
    'The places where the funaga dwell are darker than any poisoned ground,' the horse sent bleakly.
    'I tried to warn Rushton. And it's not just the horses,' Alad said from behind.
    I ignored this and addressed the horse again. I knew as well as he that no expedition could be undertaken on