"No matter. I can take care of that later," Tlingel replied. "Iwas misled by the appearance of this place."

"Oh. It's a ghost town. I backpack a lot."

"Not important. I am near the proper point in your career as aspecies. I can feel that much."

"I am afraid that I do not follow you."

"I am not at all certain that you would wish to. I assume thatyou intend to capture that Pawn?"

"Perhaps. Yes, I do wish to. What are you talking about?"

The beer can rose. The invisible entity took another drink.

"Well," said Tlingel, "to put it simply, your—successors—growanxious. Your place in the scheme of things being such an importantone, I had sufficient power to come and check things out."

"'Successors'? I do not understand."

"Have you seen and griffins recently?"

Martin chuckled.

"I've heard the stories," he said, "Seen the photos of the onesupposedly shot in the Rockies. A hoax, of course."

"Of course it must seem so. That is the way with mythicalbeasts."

"You're trying to say that it was real?"

"Certainly. Your world is in bad shape. When the last grizzlybear died recently, the way was opened for the griffins—just as thedeath of the last aepyornis brought in the yeti, the dodo the LochNess creature, the passenger pigeon the sasquatch, the blue whale thekraken, the American eagle the cockatrice—"

"You can't prove it by me."

"Have another drink."

Martin began to reach for the can, halted his hand and stared.

A creature approximately two inches in length, with a human face,a lionlike body and feathered wings was crouched next to the beer can.

"A minisphinx," the voice continued. "They came when you killedoff the last smallpox virus."

"Are you trying to say that whenever a natural species dies out amythical one takes its place?" he asked.

"In a word—yes. Now. It was not always so, but you havedestroyed the mechanisms of evolution. The balance is now redressedby those others of us, from the morning land—we, who have never trulybeen endangered. We return, in our time."

"And you—whatever you are, Tlingel—you say that humanity is nowendangered?"

"Very much so. But there is nothing that you can do about it, isthere? Let us get on with the game."

The sphinx flew off. Martin took a sip of beer and captured thePawn.

"Who," he asked then, "are to be our successors?"

"Modesty almost forbids," Tlingel replied. "In the case of aspecies as prominent as your own, it naturally has to be theloveliest, most intelligent, most important of us all."

"And what are you? Is there any way that I can have a look?"

"Well—yes. If I exert myself a trifle."

The beer can rose, was drained, fell to the floor. There followeda series of rapid rattling sounds retreating from the table. The airbegan to flicker over a large area opposite Martin, darkening withinthe glowing framework. The outline continued to brighten, itsinterior growing jet black. The form moved, prancing about thesaloon, multitudes of tiny, cloven hoofprints scoring and cracking thefloorboards. With a final, hear-blinding flash it came into full viewand Martin gasped to behold it.

A black unicorn with mocking, yellow eyes sported before him,rising for a moment onto its hind legs to strike a heraldic pose. Thefires flared about it a second longer, then vanished.

Martin had drawn back, raising one hand defensively.

"regard me!" Tlingel announced. "Ancient symbol of wisdom, valorand beauty, I stand before you!"

"I thought your typical unicorn was white," Martin finally said.

"I am archetypical," Tlingel responded, dropping to all fours, "Andpossessed of virtues beyond the ordinary."

"Such as?"

"Let us continue our game."

"What about the fate of the human race? You said—"

"... And save the small talk for later."

"I hardly consider the destruction of humanity to be small talk."

"And if you've any more beer ..."

"All right," Martin said, retreating to his pack as the creatureadvanced, its eyes like a pair of pale suns. "There's some lager."

Something had gone out of the game. As Martin sat before the ebonhorn on Tlingel's bowed head, like an insect about to be pinned, herealized that his playing was off. He had felt the pressure themoment he had seen the beast—and there was all that talk about animminent doomsday. Any run-of-the-mill pessimist could say it withouttroubling him, but coming from a source as peculiar as this ...

His earlier elation had fled. He was no longer in top form. AndTlingel was good. Very good. Martin found himself wondering whetherhe could manage a stalemate.

After a time, he saw that he could not and resigned.

The unicorn looked at him and smiled.

"You don't really play badly—for a human," it said.

"I've done a lot better."

"It is no shame to lose to me, mortal. Even among mythicalcreatures there are very few who can give a unicorn a good game."

"I am pleased that you were not wholly bored," Martin said. "Nowwill you tell me what you were talking about concerning thedestruction of my species?"

"Oh, that," Tlingel replied. "In the morning land where thosesuch as I swell, I felt the possibility of your passing come like agently wind to my nostrils, with the promise of clearing the way forus—"

"How is it supposed to happen?"

Tlingel shrugged, horn writing on the air with a toss of the head.

"I really couldn't say. Premonitions are seldom specific. Infact, that is what I came to discover. I should have been about italready, but you diverted me with beer and good sport."

"Could you be wrong about this?"

"I doubt it. That is the reason I am here."

"Please explain."

"Are there any beers left?"

"Two, I think."

"Please."

Martin rose and fetched them.

"Damn! The tab broke off this one," he said.

"Place it upon the table and hold it firmly."

"All right."

Tlingel's horn dipped forward quickly, piercing the can's top.

"... Useful for all sorts of things," Tlingel observed,withdrawing it.

"The other reason you're here... ." Martin prompted.

"It is just that I am special. I can do things that the otherscannot."

"Such as?"

"Find your weak spot and influence events to exploit it, to—hastenmatters. To turn the possibility into a probability, and then—"

"_You_ are going to destroy us? Personally?"

"That is the wrong way to look at it. It is more like a game ofchess. It is as much a matter of exploiting your opponent'sweaknesses as of exercising your own strengths. If you had notalready laid the groundwork I would be powerless. I can onlyinfluence that which already exists."

"So what will it be? World War III? An ecological disaster? Amutated disease?"

"I do not really know yet, so I wish you wouldn't ask me in thatfashion. I repeat that at the moment I am only observing. I am onlyan agent—"

"It doesn't sound that way to me."

Tlingel was silent. Martin began gathering up the chessmen.

"Aren't you going to set up the board again?"

"To amuse my destroyer a little more? No thanks."

"That's hardly the way to look at it—"

"Besides, those are the last beers."

"Oh." Tlingel stared wistfully at the vanishing pieces, thenremarked, "I would be willing to play you again without additionalrefreshment... ."

"No thanks."

"You are angry."

"Wouldn't you be, if our situations were reversed?"

"You are anthromorphizing."

"Well?"

"Oh, I suppose I would."

"You could give us a break, you know—at least let us make our ownmistakes."

"You've hardly done that yourself, though, with all the creaturesmy fellows have succeeded."