in frustration, and her attempts to get around the gargoyle grew more frantic.
“Hey! Blondie!” Greystone called when he saw Ria. “This thing can talk. Why ain’t she talkin’ to me, then?”
“It’s an elvensteed,” Ria answered. “She won’t listen to you or let anyone ride her but Eric. But elvensteeds can travel anywhere without Gates or Portals, and if he’s called for her—”
“We can follow?” Greystone said, brightening.
“Exactly. Just get out of her way before she decides to bite you.”
Greystone stepped aside and folded back his wings. Lady Day zipped around him like a bull avoiding the matador’s cape. By the time she was halfway up the block, she was gone from sight.
But if I can follow Eric, I can certainly follow you, my dear.
“She’s gone! Hey, Blondie! What do we do now?”
“We follow. And Greystone . . . ?”
The gargoyle looked at her hopefully.
“Don’t call me ‘Blondie.’ ”

Aerune stared down at the bold interloper. It had never occurred to him that the mortal Bard might dare to beard him in his stronghold.
“Kneel to me, mortal,” he thundered, mantling himself with Power and stretching out his hand. A massive ring gleamed, blood-red, on his outstretched forefinger.
“I don’t think so,” the Bard said. “We don’t do much kneeling in the World Above these days. Or hadn’t you noticed? Things have changed since