Andre Norton - Year of the Unicorn

The Captain of the Were Riders looked upon us. If I had expected a sign of amaze or wonder from him, I was to be disappointed.

“So you found the way to return—” he said.

“We found it. And now we pass through another gate—” Herrel pointed to the portal behind Hyron.

“You are Were blood, these towers are your home.”

Herrel shook his head. “I do not know now what I am, for we have been a journey like to change any living thing. But of these towers I am not, nor is Gillan. So we shall go to seek that which we are—for that we must learn.”

Hyron was silent for a moment, and then he said in a troubled voice. “You are one of us—”

“No.” for the second time Herrel repudiated his half blood.

“You will go to your mother?”

“Do you fear that? You who have chosen not to be my father?” Herrel retorted. “I tell you, I will have none of you, dame or sire. Do you think to hold the gate against us?”

Hyron stepped aside. “The choice is yours.” His tone was now as emotionless as his face. He did not speak again, nor did Herrel as we rode forth. And we did not look back, but Herrel said:

“That, lady wife, was the last gate between the past and the future. And who we are, what we have now is but Gillan and Herrel—”

“Which is enough.” I made him answer, and so it was.