The Vengeance of Snails

by Chrys Cymri

  ‘So you won’t help.’

  ‘I cannot. And the injuries are too old for unicorn assistance, at any rate.’ The unicorn lowered his head to the small gryphon. ‘I’ll ensure that you’re brought whatever food you need, Master Jago.’ Then he returned his attention to me. ‘I thought you’d want to be near your companions. The west wing has been converted for your use. Arwel, perhaps you can show them the way?’

  The elf bent his head again. ‘If you would, Fathers Penny and Trahaearneifion, Inspector Taryn, Master James, young misses and masters.’ He hesitated as his eyes came to Clyde. ‘And you, sir? What is your name?’

  The snail shark lifted his head from a bowl of wine. ‘Clyde!’

  ‘And Master Clyde.’

  Two curved ramps led up to the next level. The lack of stairs was understandable, since the mansion was owned by a unicorn. We followed the elf around a bend to the left, even the gryphons and snail deciding to walk instead of fly. The wood panelling in the entrance hall continued up the tall walls. Rather than portraits of long dead ancestors, carvings of meadows and hills had been chiseled into the dark planks. Windows gave glimpses of the intricate back garden, but the grey day provided little natural light. The house, I suddenly realised, carried a sense of gloom.

  The first room along the landing had been set aside for James. He turned inside without a word, and shut the door, Jago still tucked away in his pocket. The gryphon family were shown into the next room, and mine was the third one along. The shared bathroom, I was advised, was at the far end.

  I walked past my room to see the chamber set aside for Clyde. The snail hesitated in the doorway, his eyespots sweeping across the brightly coloured chamber. Wall hangings depicting snails resting in flower beds decorated the walls, and a circular bed filled one corner. A small bowl rested on a long table, and I bit my lip as I smelled the yeasty aroma of beer.

  ‘Mine?’ Clyde asked in a whisper.

  ‘Yes,’ I said, regretting all the months I’d kept him in a glass tank. ‘But don’t drink all the beer at once. You’ll ruin the pretty yellow carpets.’

  Time to inspect my own quarters. The wall hangings depicted dragons in flight. My bed was massive, big enough to hold several humans or even a full-sized gryphon. I inspected the wardrobes, and discovered that my clothes had been brought over from the rectory. Not only that, but all of my shirts had been washed and pressed, and my trousers had creases so precise that I worried I might cut my finger on them. I flushed as I rummaged through my smalls, and discovered that my underwear had benefited from the same treatment.

  A chuckle made me turn to the door. ‘All settled?’ Morey asked.

  ‘I think so.’ Then I spotted the row of whisky bottles on my dresser, and sat down on the bed in amazement. ‘Definitely so.’

  Morey strode over and jumped up to settle beside me. ‘Jago.’ His tail thrummed against the blankets. ‘James seems to be feeding him well.’

  ‘He’s taking good care of him,’ I said. There was more of an edge to my voice than I’d planned. ‘Jago will live.’

  ‘You do understand, don’t you?’

  ‘No. Yes.’ I sighed. ‘Yes, I do. Gryphon clans have their own rules. I try to respect different cultures. But, Morey, you know your Bible. God always calls on his people to defend the vulnerable, the powerless.’

  ‘Our society isn’t there yet.’ He jabbed his beak at me. ‘And neither is yours. You permit the killing of the imperfect. You call it abortion.’

  I said slowly, ‘It’s not quite that straightforward, but I take your point.’

  Morey’s tail curled around his forefeet. ‘Is James avoiding me?’

  ‘I think he’s gone off you, a little. But he’ll come round again. Just give him time.’

  ‘But you do understand, don’t you?’

  I met the red-brown eyes, trying to work out the real question behind the words. Morey’s body was taut, feathers slick. ‘Yes, Morey,’ I said quietly, ‘I do understand. I can’t say I approve, but I do understand. Don’t worry, we’re good.’

  The feathers fluffed and the tension eased. He rubbed his head against my arm. ‘Glad to hear it.’

  I lifted my hand and made the Vulcan salute. ‘“I have been, and always shall be, your friend.”’

  Morey sighed. ‘Black, give over, you’re nothing like Spock. Captain Janeway, maybe, but not Spock.’

  A grin relaxed my face. ‘Hey, thanks, she’s my favourite.’

  ‘Never afraid to go for an unpopular choice.’ He sniffed. ‘As in your choice of Doctor.’

  ‘I’ll always fly the flag for the Seventh Doctor and Ace. Although the Twelfth Doctor and Bill come a close second.’

  Taryn’s voice echoed down the hall, calling for Morey. ‘Saved by the bell,’ he said, flicking his tail playfully in my direction. Then he flew off to his family.

  Uncertain what we were meant to do next, I wandered down the corridor. I heard James talking to Jago, and stopped, hovering out of sight. ‘No, it’s okay not to be strong, sometimes. You see, when we’re a bit weak, then others can be strong for us. And then, at some other time, you’ll be strong for me. Right? That's how it works when you’re friends. You can take turns being strong for each other.’

  His soft words made me reach for a tissue. I tiptoed back to the ramp, then returned to James’ room, whistling loudly. Peering through the open door, I asked, ‘Can I come in?’

  My brother grunted an answer. Jago was seated on the dresser. James was in a chair near him, a plastic syringe in his hands. ‘Just warming up his food,’ he explained. ‘I’ve brought a supply in an ice box, but Willis better keep his promise and get me some more.’

  ‘Or we’ll arrange for you to cross back over to England.’ I took a seat on the nearby bed. My brother’s room was much smaller than mine, and the wall coverings showed fields and mountains. ‘Don’t worry, we won’t let Jago down.’

  Jago shifted his weight onto his haunches. To my amazement, he held up his forefeet and made some motions in the air. James rested the syringe on a cup and told him, ‘Father Penny.’ His right hand made a sweep across his neck, and then he drew with his fingers on his left palm.

  ‘Are you—is he learning sign language?’ I asked as the small gryphon copied the motions.

  ‘I don’t want him left behind,’ James said. ‘He’s way ahead of the others in understanding what people say to him. This way, he can talk to us as well.’

  ‘To anyone who understands sign language.’

  ‘More people should.’ James picked up the syringe, tested the temperature against his wrist, and then offered it to Jago. The eyas swallowed as James carefully emptied the contents into the gryphon’s mouth. ‘I learned because of a chap I worked with in New Zealand. He made me realise how many people have hearing difficulties.’

  The syringe was empty. James used a cloth to wipe a few drops away from Jago’s beak. There was an intense tenderness in his actions which I’d never seen in my brother before. Jago reared back and lifted his eagle talons to sign again. ‘He says he liked the dragon who brought us. But he’s not sure about—can you do that again, Jago? Oh, he’s not sure about the unicorn.’

  ‘Many of us have mixed histories with unicorns,’ I said quietly. ‘But Lord Willis has gone out of his way to make us feel at home.’

  ‘I thought you didn’t like him.’

  ‘I’m trying to see if I can work with him, rather than against him.’

  A discreet cough brought our attention to the door. Arwel stood outside. ‘Dinner will be served in the main reception room at 8pm.’

  ‘Thank you, Arwel,’ I said, unsure whether one did thank a valet. ‘Any dress code?’

  ‘Lord Willis would prefer that you came fully clothed.’ Arwel turned away, but not before I caught the twinkle in his eyes.

  ‘That’s still hours away,’ James grumbled. ‘What’re we supposed to do until then?’

  I wandered over to the large window. The rain had cleared. Weak sunl
ight gleamed on the formal gardens of shaped bushes and flower beds. Beyond the grass paths was a sweep of taller green, high grasses filling the space up to a high brick wall. Private grazing land for Lord Willis and his mother?

  A darker green moved against the meadow. Raven stood and shook himself, sending water flying from his body and wings. For a moment I simply stared at him, not believing my eyes. Then I was hurrying down the ramp to the ground floor.

  A servant opened the front door. My boots squelched through sodden grass as I made my way around the left side of the mansion. There were no paths, of course. No doubt unicorn hooves preferred to stride across ground rather than gravel or cobbles. My toes were damp by the time I had walked past the formal gardens and was striding through the knee-high grass beyond.

  Raven watched me approach, making no move to bridge the distance. I stopped in front of him, panting slightly. ‘I’m surprised you’re still here.’

  ‘I returned to your world to speak to Peter.’

  My throat tightened. ‘Oh, really?’ I asked, trying to sound casual. ‘Did you two patch things up?’

  The dragon snorted. ‘That human has some very strange ideas about relationships. Nevertheless, no one can hold off a rabble of snail sharks on her own. Not even the magnificent Penny. So I said I would remain in Caer-grawnt so long as you were here.’

  My mouth opened and shut several times as I edited response after response. The fifth one which came to me felt acceptable. ‘What about expecting me to look after myself?’

  ‘If the rabble appears,’ Raven said grandly, ‘we will fight them side by side. I said as much to Peter. I told him that you would never agree to take refuge inside a house.’

  For some reason, a quote attributed to Mother Teresa came to mind. ‘I know God will not give me anything I can’t handle. I just wish that he didn’t trust me so much.’ ‘Maybe I’d better ask Lord Willis if he has any shovels.’

  ‘Or ask the gryphons to return your sword.’

  Now there was an idea. I made a mental note to speak to Morey later. ‘Would you come with me? Around the other side of the house. There’s something I want you to see.’

  Raven adjusted his pace to match my much shorter legs. I might have enjoyed the stroll, walking beside a handsome dragon on a sunny spring afternoon, except I knew what I was about to show him. And I was ashamed that I would now be living in a building which took advantage of the young imprisoned underneath.

  The dank smell of dragon excrement reached us first. Raven followed me down the ramp which led to the cellar. The pufflings in the brick lined cavern shuffled forward, their chains clanking against the stone floor. ‘Bwyd?’ the yellow one asked me. She looked even skinnier than the last time I’d seen her. No wonder the first thing she did was ask for food.

  ‘Adref,’ another young dragon whimpered. Her dull green-black scales marked her out as a search dragon, but she had none of Raven’s glossy beauty.

  ‘And?’ Raven asked me.

  ‘Look at them.’ I swept a hand at the six pufflings. ‘They’re chained up here so they can heat the cylinders and provide heat to the mansion. Their midden is at the back, so they can’t get away from it. And you can see that they’re starving.’

  ‘But at least they’re not dead.’

  I glared at him. ‘This is hardly living.’

  ‘They are here,’ Raven said patiently, ‘because they had to flee from their matriarchs. It’s obvious that they were the weakest of the clutch, and should’ve been eaten.’

  ‘You lied to me,’ I pointed out, ‘when you originally said that you’d been driven out of the longhouse. You only told me the truth much later, the fact that your own mother tried to eat you.’

  ‘I escaped.’ His horns and ears drew back in anger, although whether that were aimed at me, his mother, or the pufflings, I couldn’t tell. Perhaps at all of us. ‘They escaped. We live.’

  ‘You can’t call this living! They’re chained up!’

  Raven turned his head to the yellow dragon. ‘Beth fyddech chi'n ei wneud pe câi eich cadwyni’n cael eu dileu?’

  I translated the question in my head. The puffling had been asked what she would do if her chain were removed. She studied Raven for a moment. Then she answered in Welsh, ‘I would fly home.’

  ‘And if she returned to her matriarch’s longhouse,’ Raven told me, ‘she’d be eaten. They’re chained up for their own sake.’

  ‘And not fed properly?’

  ‘This is a house of unicorns. They’re not hunters.’

  ‘But you are.’ I gave him a huge smile. ‘You could hunt for them.’

  ‘Why should I care whether they starve?’

  I dropped my voice. ‘I cared enough to fetch you from the Arctic. I didn’t leave you to starve.’

  His tail curled and uncurled around his feet. ‘For how long?’

  ‘Until you can convince them not to go back home. Then they can be set free to hunt for themselves.’ What Lord Willis would say to losing his heating system, though, I had no idea.

  ‘I could simply eat them myself?’ Raven offered. ‘Save a lot of trouble?’

  ‘Raven!’

  His sigh blew strands of hair away from my face. ‘Pugnacious Penny. I will do this, but for your sake, not for theirs.’ He turned his head to the pufflings. ‘It’ll have to be carrion. They’re in no condition to bring down even an injured beast.’

  ‘Anything will do. I can’t imagine they’re in a state to be picky.’

  Raven grumbled something to himself. ‘Call me if a rabble of snail sharks decides to invade whilst I’m away.’

  I watched him walk back up the slope, then spring into the air. Meadow grasses bent under the downsweep of his wings. As he disappeared, I tasted a nearly forgotten emotion. Hope. Perhaps I could do some good here in Caer-grawnt after all.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Dinner was both sumptious and somewhat alarming. Even as Lord Willis had shown surprising insight in the decorating of our rooms, the meals served up to each of us revealed that he knew much about our personal tastes. I enjoyed the whitebait, tried to not make too much of a mess with the lobster, and somehow found enough room to do justice to the chocolate cheesecake. James tucked into his tomato soup, well done steak, and mound of multi-coloured ice cream. Squeals and cries from the next room told me that the gryphons and snail shark had successfully downed whatever creatures had been brought in for their hunt. I wondered if Lord Willis had planned ahead for the spillage of blood and organs.

  Jago had not joined his family for the slaughter of small animals. He was a small lump in James’ shirt pocket, and the occasional snore indicated that he was asleep. My brother moved with exaggerated care whenever he reached out with his left arm. He would make a great father, I found myself thinking. If he can ever stop bedding every woman who says ‘Hi’ to him and finally commit to someone.

  The idea of being an aunt made me smile. All the joy of children without the responsibility. I could be one of those naughty aunts who gave them ice cream for lunch, and took them to the pub to get drunk on their eighteenth birthday.

  A lovely bottle of red wine, the Welsh label indicating that it came from a Lloegyr vineyard, had wandered up and down the table. I forced myself to stop after two glasses. When the butler, Tierney, approached me, I waved the elf away. ‘Services tomorrow.’

  ‘Are you preaching, Father Penny?’ Lord Willis asked me from other end of the long table. Various grasses and herbs had been brought to him during the course of the meal, and a sprig of mint still hung from his lower lip.

  ‘I thought I should, now that I’m back for the rest of my sabbatical.’

  ‘And for how long will we enjoy your presence?’

  ‘Only for six weeks.’

  ‘Would you wish to stay for longer?’

  James glanced over at me. I looked down at my empty plate, taking a moment to compose my answer. ‘There was a time when I wanted to live in Lloegyr.’ Then I met the unicorn’s eyes.
‘Now I realise that even a well-integrated town like Caer-grawnt has its issues.’

  My brother laughed. ‘And here’s you always telling me that Lloegyr isn’t like Disneyland with dragons!’

  ‘Maybe I need to listen to myself more,’ I agreed.

  ‘I’m well aware of your feelings about my factories,’ Lord Willis said calmly. ‘But I don’t know of any alternatives.’

  ‘Could I look around?’ James asked. ‘See them for myself?’

  ‘Certainly, Master James. I’ll instruct Erskine to arrange a tour.’

  ‘You might not like what you find,’ I warned James.

  ‘And why would you say that, Father Penny?’ A grey-coated unicorn walked into the dining room.

  ‘Lady Paityn,’ I said. ‘This is my brother, James.’

  To my great amusement, my brother had risen to his feet. ‘Good to meet you, Lady Paityn.’

  ‘She’s Lord Willis’ mother,’ I explained.

  ‘She’s grey,’ James whispered to me. ‘Like the mother of that filly that died.’

  ‘Why did that mare turn grey?’ Lady Paityn asked. ‘Do you know?’

  I smiled, but inwardly I was cursing my brother. ‘The mare’s filly died.’

  ‘But she was grey before that,’ James said. ‘You told me.’

  The cursing was threatening to externalise. ‘She had--killed. Humans.’

  Lady Paityn turned her head towards James. ‘Guilt turns a unicorn grey, Master James.’

  James stared at her. ‘You haven’t killed someone, have you?’

  He was standing too far away for me to kick him. ‘Are you joining us for coffee, Lady Paityn?’ I asked, my voice coming out higher-pitched than I’d planned.

  ‘No, Master James, I have not.’ Her hooves clicked against the wooden floor as she walked across the room. ‘But what I did, what my son and I did, was perhaps far worse.’

  She was now only a few feet away from James. His eyes were fixed on the sharp horn which spiralled from her forehead. ‘I’m sure you had good reasons,’ he said weakly.