"What's a sorcathel, anyway?" Rolin asked. 
    "The ancient meeting place of men and griffins÷and we are in it!"  Bembor replied.  "From this vantage point, the swift sorca and their riders enjoyed a commanding view.  Nothing could approach unnoticed by air, sea or land.  At the first hint of danger, sentries would ring the bell that hung in this tower." 
    "And it's still here!"  Sitting on a beam, Scanlon grinned down from the belfry, where a large silver bell gleamed in the moonwood light. 

    "Look!  It hasn't got a clapper!" cried Rolin. 
    "What good's a bell without a clapper?" Opio fumed.  Emmer untied the frayed bell rope and tugged on it.  The bell swung freely but silently. 
    "Why don't you strike it with your staff, Bembor?" Gemmio suggested. 
    Bembor shook his head.  "Lucambrian silversmiths fashioned each bell with its own special clapper.  Nothing else would ring it.  I can't imagine why anyone would remove this bell's clapper.  It's quite useless without one." 
    "Maybe the clapper's somewhere in the sorcathel," said Rolin.  He and the scouts searched, but found nothing. 
    "Even if we could ring this bell, the sorcs [griffins] must have all died out by now," Gemmio said. 
    "Then why would the Prophecy tell us to 'toll the bell'?" asked Rolin. 
    "There's some writing on the rim," Scanlon called down from the belfry. 
    "Can you make out the words?" Bembor asked, holding up his moonwood staff.  By its light, Scanlon read the engraved inscription: 

                    Who rings this bell when need is nigh,
                    Shall summon sorca from on high; 
                    Upon their backs the brave may fly, 
                    But none can tame them, though they try. 

    "That tells us nothing we don't already know," grunted Opio. 
    "True, but now we can be sure this is Elgathel's bell," Emmer said. 
    "And that no one can tame a sorc," added Scanlon. 
    "I wouldn't want to try," Rolin remarked.  "They're awfully fierce looking." 
    "Sorcs can be terrifying when they're angry," Bembor agreed.  "They have very sharp beaks and claws.  Few creatures will pick a fight with one." 
    "Then I'm glad they are our friends and not our enemies!" said Scanlon. 

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