Spell of the Crystal Chair by Gilbert L. Morris Page A

What is it?”
    “Oh, it’s mostly of what you would call deer.” She shrugged, then and said, “And, of course, a dog or two.”
    Abbey’s eyes flew open, and her hand covered her mouth. She started to jump up.
    But Sarah jerked her back by her parka. “Don’t say anything!” she hissed in her ear. “Be polite!”
    “But I can’t eat dogs.”
    “It won’t kill you. It’s probably just a little bit of dog, anyway.” She herself was feeling a bit queasy, but she had learned in their travels to eat what was put before her.
    After the meal, they were served a drink that was much like tea. When Josh asked what it was, Fairmina said, “The plant is grown far from here, and we take the leaves. We crush them and boil them in water.”
    “Tastes a little bit like sassafras tea,” Reb said. “Real good, Princess.”
    They drank tea, and the Sleepers and their friends listened as the elders talked on. One of them, a younger man, told of how he had killed a large bear. He acted it out, and his story sounded almost like poetry.
    “I guess that’s what they have instead of books,” Josh whispered to Sarah. “It’s kind of vocal history.”
    Then Chief Denhelm stood up. He called for attention, and everyone fell silent in respect for him. “We welcome the visitors that have been sent by Goél to help us in our battles. Perhaps they have some questions they would like to ask.”
    Josh said, “I guess we’d like to know a little bit more about the problem, if you wouldn’t mind telling us, Chief.”
    Chief Denhelm was slow to answer. Then he said, “Our enemy are called the Yanti. We were once unitedas one tribe many years ago. But for some reason, war came, and the tribe divided.”
    “What was the war about?” Dave asked quietly.
    “No one remembers now. But it was a sad day. Ever since then, the Lowami and the Yanti have been fighting each other.”
    “Are they very much like your people, Chief Den-helm?” Sarah asked.
    “The tribes have been separated for many years. They are a darker people than we, with darker eyes and darker hair. Much like yours, Sarah.”
    “Has anyone ever tried to bring peace?”
    “I have tried many times, but Balog is a warlike man.”
    “Is he the chief of the Yanti?” Wash asked.
    “Yes. A very powerful man, and he hates our people.”
    “His wife does not hate us,” Princess Fairmina said.
    “That is true. Olah is a good woman, but she came from our tribe, you remember.” He turned to Josh. “She was taken in war from our people, and Balog took her for his mate. She was a very good young woman.”
    “We grew up together,” Rimah said. “I think if the men would get out of the way and let the women settle it, the two tribes could live in peace.”
    Laughter went up at this, and one of the elders said, “Next, your wife will want to be chief.”
    But Rimah said, “No. That is not true.”
    Denhelm went on explaining how the division of the tribes had brought war. “Many have been killed. It is not good.”
    “Then, is that why you sent to Goél, Chief? To stop the war?”
    “It is, but I would not have sent if it had not been for the Ancient One.” He nodded toward a very old man,who had sat silently through the meal. The Sleepers were never to learn his name. He was simply called the Old One or the Ancient One. It appeared he was a priest, and everyone showed him the utmost respect.
    “Oh, Ancient One, tell our guests of your vision.”
    The old man rocked back and forth. It seemed he would never speak. His voice was thin and reedy when it came, but it grew clearer as he spoke.
    “From time to time I have dreams. This one was sent from Goél, I believe.”
    He fell silent again, and everyone waited. Josh was impressed at the reverence the Lowami had for their priest.
    “In my dream I saw terrible things. It was all in a swirling mist, but terrible beasts came and attacked our people. Many died. I grew afraid, and then I heard a voice saying, ‘You must