by Chrys Cymri
He walked down the length of the room, sweeping his phone to capture the long metal machines, the were-children climbing onto the frames to fix bobbins in place, the unicorns sliding on the oil-slicked floor. Jago watched it all with interest and, I hoped, a sense of horror. Or was he too young to have developed a conscience?
We exited the room. James accepted the manager’s invitation to visit the carding room and the weaving building. There we saw children working alongside adults to sort the cotton and to feed the sheets into machines. I shuddered at the sight of the sharp metal teeth which tore into the cotton fibres. James shot more video. The weaving rooms were mostly staffed by adults, and primarily those who had hands. I watched as long rolls of cloth emerged from the noisy machines, and wondered how many denizens of Llanbedr wore the products of this mill.
‘And now you’ve seen it,’ I said to James as we walked back to the mansion. ‘This is what pays for Lord Willis’ abode and lifestyle.’
Erskine had taken his leave of us before we’d gone on to the carding room. Now only two elf servants walked alongside us, still holding umbrellas over our heads. ‘But remember what he told us,’ James said. ‘The herd would’ve starved. And I bet lots of other people here needed those jobs. I mean, what about you?’
The servant at his side looked down from his greater height. ‘You speak to me, Master James?’
‘Yeah, I do. What brought you to Caer-grawnt?’
‘Hunting had become scarce.’ The elf shrugged. ‘I needed a way to provide for my family.’
James glanced over at me. ‘See? It’s not like they were forced to come here.’
‘But James,’ I said steadily. ‘The children. What about those children?’
‘It’s basic economics. That’s what I read at uni, remember?’ James grinned. ‘You can pile ‘em high and sell ‘em cheap, which usually means you need a low cost base. Or you can try to go high, but then you need either better quality, or a reason for people to pay more. Like your bananas.’
‘My bananas?’ I asked, baffled.
‘They have those stickers on them, right?’
‘Oh, the Fair Trade sticker.’
‘But they cost more, right?’
‘Yes,’ I said. ‘But Fair Trade is better for the farmers. They’re given a fair price for their work.’
‘It’s the story.’ Jago had crawled up to my brother’s shoulder, and James was scratching the small head. ‘That’s what sells these days. You need a great story.’
I sighed. ‘Even with the good people of Lloegyr?’
‘I haven’t worked it all out yet,’ James said. ‘I’ll talk it over with Jago.’
‘Jago?’ I repeated. The gryphon turned his dark eyes towards me. ‘Really?’
‘Got his father’s brains, and then some,’ James said proudly. ‘Just you wait until he can talk properly.’
We’d reached the mansion. The elves escorted us into the porch, then went around the side of the house. I turned to face my brother. ‘James, you know that gryphons usually live with their own kind. When Jago’s healed, he’ll have to go to the clan, with the rest of the eyasses.’
Jago hissed. James put a protective hand over the gryphon. ‘We’ll see about that.’
‘I should think his own kind have first claim on him.’
James glared at me. ‘They abandoned him.’
‘And you’ve saved him,’ I agreed. ‘Maybe we’ll have to wait and see what Jago wants.’
The eyas raised himself onto his hindlegs, and spread his fore toes across James’ cheek. His crest rose and his wings opened. Only the still malformed beak kept him from looking suitably terrifying. ‘You have Morey,’ James said. ‘If the clan wants to take Jago from me, they can go whistle.’
Chapter Seventeen
With Clyde gone, and the gryphons hunting outside for their meals, dinner was a quiet affair. James quizzed Lord Willis about his business practices. I was impressed with my brother’s questions, and allowed myself to even feel a little pride. Some energy had finally returned to his voice, and he nearly knocked over his wine glass several times as he waved his hands in emphasis.
I finally left them to their discussions. The conversation had moved on to international trade. Although I was intrigued by some of the information, such as the difficulties of negotiating with the landvaettir of Iceland, there was too much focus on transport conditions and exchange rates. So I trudged up the ramp to our wing of the house.
Voices from the gryphons’ room drew me down the landing. Taryn saw me at the doorway, and she lifted her head to welcome me in.
The gryphons were sprawled across a pile of furs which covered most of the floor. Morey was addressing the eyasses. ‘Do you want one more story before bed?’
The four smaller gryphons squealed eager affirmatives. I lowered myself to the ground.
‘There was once a unicorn who decided to go on a long journey.’ Morey growled. ‘This was through a bad part of the country, where there were no heddlu to keep people like her safe.’
‘Then why did she go?’ Rothgen asked.
‘Sometimes,’ Taryn said, ‘we have to make journeys which are dangerous. The unicorn would have had good reason.’
‘When the unicorn was far away from any town,’ Morey continued, ‘a group of robbers set upon her. They stole her gold chain and beat her with tails and swords.’
‘What were they?’ Gwilym asked. ‘Dragons?’
‘Couldn’t be,’ Eiddwen said. ‘Dragons can’t carry swords.’
‘It doesn’t matter who the robbers were,’ Morey said steadily. ‘Every species has good people as well as bad.’
‘Not all,’ Rothgen said. ‘Some are just bad. Like those snail sharks. They wanted to kill us.’
‘But Uncle Clyde’s good,’ Eiddwen countered.
‘Okay,’ Rothgen allowed. ‘But the rest are just bad.’
Morey waited until the eyasses had finished agreeing with her. ‘So the unicorn was left in a ditch, barely alive.’
‘She needs to be saved!’ Gwilym announced. ‘Unicorns are good!’
I suppressed a sigh. Even at this age, denizens of Lloegyr were being indoctrinated into this common misbelief about unicorns. It was almost like a cult.
‘An archdruid came along the road,’ Morey continued. ‘She saw the injured unicorn, but she hung back. There was no sign as to which herd she belonged, and the archdruid was due to lead an important ceremony in the forest. She couldn’t risk getting blood on her hooves. So she hurried past.’
‘But she’s an archdruid,’ Eiddwen wailed. ‘How could she?’
Annest nudged her. ‘Like Dad said, every species has good as well as bad.’
‘Next along the road was a dwarf.’
‘Oh, he’ll help,’ said Rothgen. ‘Dwarves are good. Like Erskine.’
‘The dwarf came close to the ditch.’ Morey paused, making the younger gryphons lean forward, tense in anticipation. ‘He saw the unicorn, but also knew he had no way to take her to safety. Besides, the archdruid, another unicorn, had passed by without helping. So why should he?’
‘Not like Erskine,’ Rothgen muttered.
‘The night was falling,’ Morey said. ‘And the unicorn felt her hopes fade as darkness crept across the land. Then one more being came into view. A snail shark.’
The sudden hissing from the eyasses startled me. ‘He’s going to eat her,’ Annest predicted darkly.
‘The snail shark saw the unicorn lying there.’ Morey cocked his head. ‘And he felt sorry for her. He crawled over, and used his own slime to seal up her wounds.’
‘Yuck,’ Rothgen announced.
Gwilym flicked his purple tail. ‘Well, if it helps the unicorn, maybe a little bit of yuck is okay.’
‘The snail shark stayed with her all night, and he bared his teeth at the night creatures who wanted to eat her. In the morning, he sent a lemming to the nearby town. Harpies and elves rigged a stretcher between a gryphon and a small dragon, an
d they carried the unicorn to a tavern. The snail shark told the tavern’s owner that he’d pay whatever it cost for the unicorn to stay there, until she healed.’
‘It was Uncle Clyde, wasn’t it?’ Rothgen asked excitedly. ‘The story’s all about Uncle Clyde.’
I glanced at Morey, and he gave me a nod. ‘It’s about not judging anyone,’ I told the gryphons. ‘You don’t know if someone is good or bad just because of what species they are. You can only know what they’re like by how they act.’
‘And now,’ Taryn said firmly, ‘it’s time for bed.’
There were a few mutters which reminded me of James’ own protests when he’d been a child. ‘Morey, Taryn, could I talk with you?’ I asked as the eyasses settled into folds of fur.
Four sets of beady eyes watched as I rose to my feet. I gave them a comforting smile, and withdrew to the hallway with their parents. For a moment I leaned over the landing’s bannister, trying to catch the sound of James’ voice.
‘Your brother is still talking to Lord Willis,’ Taryn assured me.
My knees complained as I once again lowered myself to the floor. ‘James wants Jago to stay with him. Instead of joining the clan.’
The two gryphons looked at each other. Morey shook his head. ‘As part of their growing up, all eyasses must leave their parents and be raised by other clan members.’
‘Although we expect they won’t remain with the clan,’ Taryn said. ‘Their size makes them perfectly suited to the roles we occupy. Whether as Associates to priests, or Familiars to police officers and government officials. But there would be questions to answer from our matriarchs, if an eyas never lives with others from his clan.’
Morey tapped my knee with his beak. ‘Wasn’t James offered blood kinship?’
‘Yes, to be a blood brother to Larry, Curly, and Moe.’
‘Otherwise known as Adare, Piran, and Ivori,’ Morey said drily. ‘But it’s going to be hard to forget those alternative names.’
‘Would that be enought to satisfy your matriarch?’ Taryn asked her husband. ‘If Jago were to live with James? This brood is going to your clan, after all. She’ll have the greater say.’
Morey puffed out the feathers on his cheeks. ‘She was there when James proved his bravery. And she might wonder how Jago would fare hunting with much larger gryphons. He is very small.’
‘And a griffwn glas.’
‘Well,’ I asked, ‘what do you think?’
‘Convince him to become blood brother to Adare, Piran, and Ivori,’ Morey said. ‘And then we’ll talk to our matriarchs.’
I found myself grinning. Maybe this wouldn’t be so difficult to arrange after all.
<><><><><><>
‘No bleeding way.’ James stopped cutting meat to look up at me. ‘And you know it. We’ve had this talk.’
A lack of real coffee was already making my mornings a trial. ‘Becoming a blood brother means you’d be a clan member. And then the matriarch might accept Jago staying with you.’
The gryphon in question was swallowing a sliver of raw flesh. He jabbed his beak on James’ thumb. ‘More.’
‘He’s doing really well,’ I said. ‘Meat and talking.’
‘He can’t hunt, not yet.’ James slid his knife through the small animal leg and held out the bloody result. ‘The beak’s not strong enough to grasp his prey. But I don’t think it’ll be that long. And he can say a few words.’
‘Few,’ Jago agreed.
His short answers made me think of Clyde, and I had to look away to regain my composure. I cheered myself up with the fact that I’d be seeing him again tomorrow. I headed to my room to work on Sunday’s sermon.
<><><><><><>
High-pitched blasts on factory whistles made me sit up in the bed, my heart pounding. Blankets tangled around my legs as I fought to get my feet on the ground. The blasts continued, and as I stumbled to the window, I heard the sounds of growls and whinnies. I pulled back the curtains. Grey pre-dawn light showed me that all was peaceful on the back gardens.
‘Pen? Sis?’ James pounded on my door. ‘You in there?’
‘Where else?’ I hurried over. ‘What’s happening?’
The hall lamps were on, casting a yellow light over his face. ‘Haven’t a clue. Taryn’s gone out to look.’
‘Get real clothes on,’ I told him. ‘And grab your sword. Just in case.’
As he hurried away, I picked yesterday’s clothes off a chair and changed. Fresh would’ve been better, but there wasn’t enough light to be picky. My sword was resting next to the bed, and I slid the scabbard’s loop through my belt.
I made my way to the gryphons’ room. James was already inside, his left hand resting on the hilt of his own sword. Taryn was perched on the windowsill, and speaking through gasps for breath. ‘All over the town,’ she was saying. ‘Breaking into every house. It seems. Hard to tell. There may be injuries. Panic on streets.’
‘What’s breaking in?’ I asked.
James turned to me, his expression grim. ‘Snail sharks. The town’s been invaded by snail sharks.’
Rothgen bristled at her father. ‘You said snail sharks were good!’
‘Stay here and protect your children,’ I told Taryn and Morey. Then I ran down the landing and the ramp, sword bouncing at my side.
Half the household stood in the entry hall. Servants carried a variety of weapons, ranging from spears to copper pots. Lady Paityn stood to one side, conferring quietly with her son.
Lord Willis dipped his head in a nod, then looked over at me. ‘Father Penny. And Master James.’ My brother had just arrived at my side. ‘May I suggest that you return to your rooms? The mansion will be held secure, I can assure you.’
‘And I’m here to help,’ James said. ‘I faced down three full sized gryphons who wanted to tear out my heart. I’m not scared of a bunch of snails.’
The unicorn’s ears flicked. ‘Very well. Will you assist Tierney in the defence of my home?’
‘Yes.’ A small blue head suddenly emerged from his shirt. I opened my mouth, and James shook his head at me. ‘I tried to leave Jago behind and he bit my thumb.’
‘At least his beak is improving,’ I said. ‘Lord Willis, what will you be doing?’
The unicorn’s tail whipped over his hindquarters. ‘Joining the people of my town, of course. I’m their patron.’
I straightened. ‘And I’m their rector. I’m going with you.’
‘Very well.’ And he paced to the door.
Since I’d braced myself for an argument, it took me a moment to start after him. Lord Willis was already standing on the porch when I made it outside, after pushing my way through the milling servants. Behind me, Tierney was shouting out orders.
‘We’ve never been invaded before,’ Lord Willis said quietly. The factory whistles had finally stopped, but I still leaned in close to hear him through the ringing in my ears. ‘Any suggestions as to what we should do next, Father Penny?’
‘I know you employ a local police force. Find the officer in charge?’
‘Good idea.’ He stepped off the porch. ‘Mount up.’
I stared at him. ‘You want me to ride you? Lord Willis?’
His skin twitched. ‘I can run faster than you.’
My short bout of horse riding lessons had included several sessions of riding bareback. I still felt clumsy as I swung a leg over his back. I’d touched enough unicorns to know that a non-virgin wouldn’t be reduced to a puff of smoke, but to actually ride one felt like tempting fate.
I wound my fingers into the flowing mane as Lord Willis worked up from walk to trot to canter. His gait was smooth, even when we traded grass for cobblestones. We headed up the road to the residential area of the town.
The sun was beginning to rise, adding light to that of the gas lamps. The unicorn slowed as we approached a group of townspeople. The families, a mixture of weres, dragons, and unicorns, huddled in the street. The children were whimpering, and I saw blood flowing from several of
the adults.
‘Go to the mansion,’ Lord Willis told them. ‘Put your children inside, and those of you who are willing to fight, join my servants outside.’
Then he kicked back into a canter. I gripped hard with my knees as he swerved from the main road and down a side street. Large terraced houses rose on either side of us. Front gardens had been destroyed, flowers and bushes uprooted. Doors hung loose, and desperate noises emerged from several houses. Lord Willis carried us past them all, his ears laid back as if he were trying not to hear the calls for help. Although I realised that we needed to find the local heddlu, part of me ached, wondering what tragedies we were leaving behind.
Lord Willis turned again, then again. We’d returned to the main road. I dared to risk a quick glance behind me. Smoke was billowing from several houses, and pieces of debris scattered across the street. The unicorn’s nose had obviously picked up the acrid scent, causing him to take the diversion.
Hooves screeched against stone as Lord Willis came to a sudden stop. I was pitched forward, and only managed to keep my seat by throwing my arms across his neck. After I’d regained my seat, I saw a fight ahead of us. Dragons were lined up on my left, sending flames at the snail sharks growling on the right. As snails sizzled and shells split in the heat, I noted that all of them bore numbers.
‘Enough!’ A tall gryphon strode into the gap. The snail sharks were dead or dying, and the dragons quenched their fire. ‘Yous fly over to unicorn sector. They be defending the foals.’
The dragons launched themselves into the air. The gryphon, a tan and black eagle-panther combination, marched up to us. ‘Lord Willis. You be far from your place.’
The unicorn snorted. ‘How goes the battle, Asilraf?’
‘Word! Battle indeed, my friend.’ There was an accent to Asilraf’s speech which made me think of Africa. ‘They been fighting hours. I counts maybe twenty dead, hundred injured.’
‘And the snail sharks?’ I asked.
His red eyes came to me. ‘You be that qasis for town?’
‘I’m a priest, if that’s what you mean.’