For a moment or two Tirian did not know where he was or even who he was. Then he steadied himself， blinked， and looked around. It was not dark inside the Stable， as he had expected. He was in strong light： that was why he was blinking.
He turned to look at Rishda Tarkaan， but Rishda was not looking at him. Rishda gave a great wail and pointed； then he put his hands before his face and fell flat， face downwards， on the ground. Tirian looked in the direction where the Tarkaan had pointed. And then he understood.
A terrible figure was coming towards them. It was far smaller than the shape they had seen from the Tower， though still much bigger than a man， and it was the same. It had a vulture‘s head and four arms. Its beak was open and its eyes blazed. A croaking voice came from its beak.
“Thou hast called me into Narnia， Rishda Tarkaan. Here I am. What hast thou to say？”
But the Tarkaan neither lifted his face from the ground nor said a word. He was shaking like a man with a bad hiccup. He was brave enough in battle： but half his courage had left him earlier that night when he first began to suspect that there might be a real Tash. The rest of it had left him now.
