Those beliefs had been one of the greatest hurdles the more civilized (or at least more prosperous and more powerful) Hithans had had to overcome before the peasants would allow them to mount any kind of expedition to the northeast. Their tribal chiefs and spiritual leaders had insisted that it was the worst kind of blasphemy to allow the powerful foreigners from the south to trespass into the borders of such sacred (if unpleasant) spirit realms.

But the Hithans were, after all, imperialists. That meant that they weren't about to allow the superstitions of a handful of unkempt and impoverished tribes to prevent them from doing whatever they wished. So, with a combination of secret bribes to the more amenable of the peasant leaders and with overt shows of force as they marched army after army into conspicuous, intimidating encampments all along the border of the vast plain, they had finally managed to break down the natives' resistance. An entire village of locals- men, women, children, and the elderly all together, for the tribesmen had been unwilling to leave any of their people behind- were dragged along as guides, leading them deeper and deeper into the vast, secret, Infinite Plains.

Just what those guides, and the other villages who had remained stubbornly behind in their scattered camps, really thought of the Hithan army and their expedition none of the invaders knew. But then, again, being imperialists, they didn't really care about the opinions of anyone other than their own, aristocratic peers.

Despite that arrogance however, the Hithans weren't complete fools. They hadn't conquered a large part of the known world (which wasn't really all that much of it, actually, though they didn't know that) by ignoring any information that might turn out to spell the difference between success and failure. So when the native tribesmen had stubbornly insisted, even to the point of openly defying the drawn swords of impatient Imperial soldiers, that the expedition would never be able to survive the approaching winter of the Infinite Plains mounted on common horses, the Hithan general in charge of the expedition, a stocky, middle-aged nobleman named Ariallio, had agreed. To the awed amazement of his own troops, they had been compelled to use the local draft animals, which were, in fact, specially bred members of the common swine family.

The imperialist soldiers were as arrogant as their leaders, and it seemed for a time that Ariallio would have a full-fledged revolt on his hands when the warriors found that they were expected to ride pigs into the wilderness. But Ariallio had a tremendous force of will, and of course the Hithans were trained from birth to total, unthinking obedience to their leaders, if those leaders were of sufficiently high birth. And, too, once the men had actually seen the animals they were expected to ride they lost a great deal of their resistance to the idea. The plains swine were only distantly related to their smaller, domesticated Hithan counterparts. The riding swine were as large as hippos (not that Hithans knew what hippos were, never having seen any) and as muscular as rhinos (another creature of which the imperials had never heard). In effect, riding a plains swine was like riding a hairy, thick-skinned, and somewhat bad-tempered tank that outweighed even the largest and strongest of imperial equines.

Of course if the soldiers had been expected to ride such ugly, ungainly creatures within the boundaries of the empire, they would never have done so, even at the cost of being charged with treason. But this was an expedition into the wilderness, after all, and none of their peers would be present to sneer or to scorn. Not that a Hithan expedition was any small thing. In fact, like their more savage counterparts amongst the plains tribesmen, the army always brought along as many of their households as were fit and able to travel.

And of course there were also the inevitable camp followers of various kinds- opportunistic adventurers, wandering merchants, and ladies of questionable virtue who were always to be found wherever soldiers were gathered together away from home. But since very nearly all of this vast horde of people, if they were fortunate enough, were likewise mounted on plains swine or had teams of the surly, half-wild animals pulling their wagons, they were hardly in any position to look down on the pig-riding soldiers in their midst.

The natives had insisted that no horses whatsoever could be allowed on the expedition, not a single one among any of the army or among the camp followers. When Ariallio had realized that there would be no cooperation whatsoever from the plains tribes if he didn't agree, he had reluctantly sent out the command to that effect. The order had caused a great deal of muttering and complaint, but not even the hardiest of scoundrels among the troops or among the camp followers was foolish enough to openly defy the authority of a Hithan general.

Tabellius himself was a member of the aristocracy, sufficient to be given a position above the common soldiers but not high enough to give him any real authority. And, too, his youth worked against him, for he was only in his early twenties and seniority had very nearly as much prestige among the Hithans as birth. But his family had money, the third leg upon which the stool of authority rested. As a result, he had been included in the General Council of the expedition with the vague title of 'Advisor,' which meant, in practical terms, that he was expected to watch and learn but not offer any opinions unless specifically asked to do so.

Since he had brought along a small fortune of his own, not to mention a vast quantity of tents, bedding, foodstuffs, utensils, and various other properties, he had managed to purchase an entire stable of the plains swine to carry his slaves and other possessions. He himself was mounted on one of the least ungainly and swiftest of his beasts, a dark-skinned boar he that possessed the not inelegant name of Hassesswaden. Tabellius had been just sophisticated enough in such matters not to ask what such a name might mean in the native language, since it was almost sure to be something that would take away a great deal of the word's mellifluous charm.

The young man rose in the stirrups and twisted against the thick layers of skins and woolens enveloping his body. He gazed back against the thin overcast glare of the constant clouds of high dust half-obscuring the sun to the long, trailing mass of soldiers on swineback, supply wagons, natives with their families and the straggling mob of civilians who stretched back for miles from his position near the front of the expedition.

In the cold, early morning air it seemed that the animals and beasts were huddled together against the chill, so that their numbers appeared to be much less than was actually the case. But even so, there were easily tens of thousands of people staggering unevenly through the thick, drying grasses of the endless plains.

The young knight, riding just behind the officers at the front of the column, had halted at the top of a small rise, with most of the expedition stretching out behind him across a low, flattish, bowl-shaped valley with a narrow, turgid stream flowing slowly through it. For the plains were actually made up of low hills and shallow valleys rather than the kind of endless, unbroken flats of other grasslands elsewhere of which Tabellius had heard.

The thought made him wonder, for a moment, if everyone in the expedition would have long since gone insane from sheer boredom if it hadn't been for the modest scenery of those low hills through which they were slowly making their way. Of course this was the young soldier's first expedition, so he didn't realize just how boring marches through endless miles with an army could be, whatever the landscape. But he suspected that the plain's mild surprises, the continuing hope that the next rise might reveal something interesting, had much to do with the fact that there had been remarkably few scraps among the troops. Hithan soldiers lived to fight, after all, with one another if no one else. Fortunately the landscape was just varied enough to create a need to be continually on guard against unknown natives or, perhaps, wandering bandit hordes. Or so their officers told them, to keep them alert and in line.

In actuality, of course, Ariallio was professional enough to have his scouts, both native and Hithan, scattered out for miles in every direction from the vast horde of humanity over which he had charge. So far none of them had reported back the least hint of human habitation anywhere they had yet explored in the vast interior of the continent.

In the nightly meetings of the council Tabellius had heard the higher officers constantly express their amazement that such obviously desirable lands were so totally devoid of human settlements. It had been their experience, as widely traveled explorers and conquerors, that people managed to live just about everywhere, no matter how harsh and inhospitable the environment. But the Infinite Plains seemed totally empty of all life other than various birds, large and small, wandering herds of bison and antelope, occasional wild donkeys, and tracks and traces that had obviously been left by wild horses. And, of course, by many types of rodent-like smaller creatures, including a type of burrowing rodent that stood on its hind legs and chittered at them in large, angry packs as they passed, making it seem at times as if they were surrounded by a plague of energetic, deep-voiced, bad-tempered crickets.

Every member of the army, from Ariallio himself down through the officers to the lowest of the foot soldiers, was well aware that glory, promotion, and prosperity came only from war and from conquest, hopefully against a foe of considerable wealth and few militaristic impulses. So they had started out across the plains with high hopes of a long series of battles that would sound dramatic in the telling back home but, hopefully, would not be any more perilous than absolutely necessary. The Hithan army possessed superior weaponry and tactics that usually made their 'battles' little more than one-sided massacres, after all.

But while days passed into weeks and then into months as they penetrated deeper and deeper into the Infinite Plains without the least sign of humanity, a stubborn depression began to spread slowly through the camp. They continued on their way, since those were their orders. The officers occasionally halted at the summit of some especially high hill to conduct a suitable ceremony of planting the Imperial flag, claiming the land in every direction for Hithia, but eventually even the most optimistic among them had to admit, in their hearts if nowhere else that, as a glorious adventure of conquest, this expedition was turning into a bust.

Being young and naive, and never having actually been in battle, Tabellius was, perhaps, more disappointed than many of the more experienced soldiers to find that there were no natives to conquer. But he was a versatile youth, and not without a fair measure of curiosity. So once he had realized that there was to be a great deal of traveling and very little warfare, he had decided to find some other pursuits with which to fight the monotony. He had begun a journal in which he recorded the day's activities, such as they were (numerous reports on the progressively colder and colder weather, for the most part). And he had ordered several of his servants to be on hand at all times to respond to his commands to gather whatever specimens of flora or, occasionally, of fauna he might spot from his mount and wish to add to his rapidly expanding collection.

Beyond these simplistic naturalistic pursuits, he had decided it might be amusing to learn to speak the language of the natives. Hithan aristocrats seldom lowered themselves to such pursuits, but Tabellius was naturally an outgoing young man and liked to talk with everyone who came within reach, even with lowborn foreigners. So he had hired as his instructor a middle-aged man named Oghasstierin, who was one of the more intelligent (and more clean) of the many tribesmen who had been coerced into accompanying the army northward.

Oghasstierin, despite being severely overweight and possessing features that would not have been out of place on the pink-skinned plains swine upon which he rode, was reasonably sophisticated and good-natured. He had turned out to be an excellent teacher, not only of his native language but of many other aspects of his people's lore, as well. Despite his innocence, Tibellius recognized, in a vague sort of way, that Oghasstierin was himself an aristocrat of sorts among his own people. His association with the young Hithan was tinged with a certain natural air of superiority that placed Tabellius in a more inferior position than was usual in the relationship between a Hithan aristocrat and a mere foreigner.

If the young man had fully realized how completely the older man had taken over control of their relationship he might have terminated it immediately, to preserve his standing amongst his fellows if for no other reason. But Oghasstierin was wise enough, and skillful enough, to maintain a properly subservient manner in all of his dealings with the Hithan knight. As a result, their relationship continued with remarkably few tensions, considering that the younger man was a member of an army who had virtually kidnapped the entire nation of the older man, to drag them into the wilderness where they manifestly did not want to go

As Tabellius paused for a moment at the crest of the small ridge to look backward over the vast sweep of mounted knights, followed by the even more numerous foot soldiers and the families of mounted and unmounted natives, then by the personal and collective supply wagons, and finally, as an uneven, undisciplined mob at the end, by the lowly camp followers, he saw a familiar form riding toward him at the quick-paced, surprisingly swift trot of one of the plains swine.

The young man's lips curled into a faint, amused smile as he realized that the dignified and normally sedate Oghasstierin was leaned forward in the swine's saddle, flogging the pig to greater speed with one of the short-handled, nasty whips the natives used to control the surly, uncooperative beasts. The somewhat undignified, impatient image the older man presented was so out of character that Tibellius almost broke into open laughter. But as Oghasstierin drew nearer he saw that his face was uncommonly grave and pale and he felt an unexpected, inexplicable flash of anxiety. What in the world had the old man in such a state?

Tibellius reined in his pig and waited at the side of the advancing army until his tutor in all things native was able to draw next to him. "Good morning, Oggie," he called as the older man came within hailing distance over the general racket of the troops on the march, "What has you in such a rush, today?"

Oghasstierin bowed his head and lifted his free hand to his forehead in a quick gesture of respect. "Good morning to you also, Knight Tabellius," he said with his usual dignity, though still slightly faint of breath from the exertion of attempting to ride a trotting pig without being thrown, a difficult and demanding task at all times. The mounts of the two men fell into step, side by side, walking stiff-legged with the steady, ground-eating pace of the advancing army surrounding them. Then Oghasstierin cleared his throat with a show of nervous anxiety that was uncommon for him. "I take it, from the way the troops are deployed this morning, that nothing- unusual was reported by the scouts in your morning conference?" he asked finally.

Tabellius gave the older man an odd look. "It is a strict rule of protocol that what is said in such meetings be held in confidence," he remarked stiffly.

Oghasstierin was instantly contrite. "Forgive me, young sir," he apologized, once more raising his whip hand submissively to his forehead. "I would not wish to say or do anything to encourage you to sacrifice a principle and possibly endanger your position. Though I would remind you, as a simple matter of observation, that we are all very much in the same situation, here. Your welfare is also the welfare of those of my own people who are traveling with you. I was not asking of idle curiosity, or to betray any secrets that might be harmful to all of us."

Tabellius gave a slightly embarrassed laugh. "I wasn't thinking you were a spy, Oggie," he assured him. "Anyway, as a matter of fact I'm fresh out of secrets this morning. I'd imagine just about everybody in the expedition knows full well by now that nothing much is happening. I've never seen so many miles of empty wastelands in my entire life!"

Oghasstierin carefully didn't remark that a man barely twenty, who was on his first major trip to anywhere at all, could hardly be a good judge of such matters. He merely nodded. "Our scouts are all excellent men, and experts in their craft," he said. "If they report no problems, then it would seem that one could have confidence in their-"

But even as he was speaking a collective cry went up from those at the very front of the column, a mixture of gasps and exclamations of surprise and cries of alarm. The mounted soldiers quickly drew to a halt, signaling to those behind them to do likewise. In an instant the drummers began to beat a warning for everyone to fall back into defensive positions.

Tabellius felt a rush of excitement. He instinctively rested his hand on the hilt of the sword in its scabbard at his side. He tugged on the reins of his swinish mount, pulling the resisting boar away from a patch of prickly sand-apples it had been crunching at with its wicked, long teeth. He trotted forward to his assigned place, just to the right of and behind the small body of hand-picked soldiers who made up Ariallio's bodyguard.

The general had drawn his swinish mount to a halt just behind the foremost of the troops, on a bare patch of ground sloping forward toward a vast stretch of lower land thick with autumn-dry grasses that would have been hip-high on a man walking afoot among them. It presented an excellent viewpoint from which he and those gathered around him could see a small band of men on horseback riding swiftly toward them, obviously making no effort to conceal themselves from view.

"So the plains aren't completely unpopulated after all," a calm voice said to Tabellius' side. He turned slightly to glance at the fellow knight mounted on a swine next to him, a smallish, blonde young woman named Corrianelle Bosius. Tabellius had never much liked the girl, primarily from envy since this was her third major expedition for the Empire. She had let it be known from the very beginning that she considered the young man as nothing but a downy chick of dubious value. He ignored her and merely squinted into the distance from which the mounted strangers were approaching, trying to get a better look at the newcomers.

At first he thought that they must have been both remarkably hardy though base primitives. For even from that distance he could see that none of them were wearing any clothing. The skin on their arms, faces, and chests was a pale amber hue, not unlike a typical Hithan who had been exposed to a lifetime of outdoor labor, while the coats of their horses were a remarkable variety of colors; some golden tan, others intense, shining black, some duck-down white, and many other spotted and patchy, as varied as a litter of mongrel puppies of dubious and mixed ancestry.

As the Hithan army bustled with quick, professional skill into their defensive positions, Tabellius, Corrianelle, and the other knights who had no specific responsibilities in battle (except to try not to get killed) sat astride their mounts, watching the potential enemy approach. Inevitably, they were the first to realize their true nature. Tabellius, his eyes watering in the cold morning wind, heard the young woman next to him hiss sharply. "They ride more strangely than any horsemen I have ever heard of," she said softly, as if to herself. "They sit so far forward it looks as if they've wrapped themselves completely around their horses' necks. Surely no one could keep his balance in such an awkward position!"

Tabellius shook his head doubtfully. "I don't think- !" he stopped in amazement and sudden realization. "Can't you see what they are?" he demanded. "They're not men riding horses, Corrianelle! They're the horses themselves! Or at least horses from the human hip down, and men from the horse's neck up!" He turned to the young woman seated next to him with an excited laugh. "They really are!" He turned to the woman seated next to him with a broad, awed grin on his face. "This is incredible!" he laughed in excited delight. "Don't you see what this means?" he demanded "All of the classical myths we were taught as children were true! Those creatures galloping toward us are centaurs!"

"Don't be a fool!" the young woman sneered contemptuously. "Myths are myths, not fact! There couldn't be any such creature...."