I looked back. In spite of Zahlfast’s spells, the griffin was gaining. He and I might also be able to evade her, but Joachim and the still-sleeping Marcus would be helpless before the lion claws and eagle beak.
Nothing else to do. Finding strength I had imagined was gone hours ago, I sprang from the cart, covered myself with illusion, and gave a great squawk.
The mother griffin’s eagle eyes and beak swung sharply toward me. She would have seen something that approximated a fluffy avian head and a furry body with oversized feet. The wings, I just knew, were coming out wrong, but fortunately they were not needed for my flying spell.
Her yellow eyes seemed to pierce right through the illusion, and she raised her front paws, claws out. I had thought the young griffin terrifying. I had been wrong.
I flew away as fast as I could, at right angles to the direction the air cart was taking, trying to make myself look as much like her child as I could. A few more squawks certainly held the griffin’s attention. Abandoning pursuit of the cart, she turned to follow. Perhaps my squawks sounded like a young griffin in desperation and fear. That certainly described me.
What would she do when she discovered I was not her child? Probably assuage the hunger she had built up during the long flight down from the land of wild magic. My only hope was that by the time she caught up with me and devoured me, the others would be far enough away to be safe. If Zahlfast dumped out the young griffin, and she was no longer hungry, she might be calm enough not to kill anyone else before the magical-creatures specialists arrived from the City.
The thought flashed through my mind that I hadn’t had a chance to say good-bye to the queen. Well, given that she was in love with the king, and never would have been with me, it was probably best that I take my secret love to my death.
Part of me still wanted to live, in spite of my certainty that I would not do so for more than a few more minutes. Trying a prayer to whatever saints might listen to wizards, I darted back and forth, more maneuverable than the big griffin. She kept on having to alter course to follow me. Several times she gave a high screech, that sent chills from my ears all the way down my back, apparently telling her child to stop playing games and come back.
Unless that was a screech of fury, that someone dared try to look like a griffin.
She was gaining on me rapidly, in spite of my evasive efforts. We had reached the edge of a woods, and I darted low under the trees. Wild with either anger or fear for her cub’s safety, she followed me—and caught a wing on a low-hanging branch.
She jerked it free in a second, leaving a few feathers fluttering behind. But I dove deeper into the foliage, putting as many branches between me and her as I could. She fought her way in after me—and became hopelessly tangled.
I dropped to the ground, shaking and gasping for breath. The illusion of a young griffin dissolved around me, but the mother griffin, apparently cursing me in the language of eagles, continued to struggle among the branches, getting her wings even more ensnared and a big branch pressed against her neck.
The sky was lightening toward dawn. Wondering what had become of the others, I staggered toward the woods’ edge—and saw a dark shape hurtling toward me.
But after a panicked second I realized it was neither the young griffin nor any other creature of wild magic. It was a wizard. As it grew closer, I recognized it as Sengrim.
Through my relief I felt momentary guilt. I had thought he was saving his own skin, but he must only have been preparing his spells.
But my guilt for thinking badly of him was short-lived. “You probably think you’re very clever to have tangled a griffin in a tree,” he said. Not clever, I thought. Just lucky. “You realize it will free itself very shortly.” I’d been thinking the same thing. “So it’s good that I’m here.”
I nodded, hoping he could see me in the dim light. My mouth was too parched for speech.
He started on spells, powerful, complicated spells that I would never have been able to duplicate. The griffin, no longer struggling, glared at both of us with fierce yellow eyes, as though memorizing us for future dismemberment.
“That little sleeping spell of Zahlfast’s was fortunate to immobilize the young griffin for as long as it did,” Sengrim commented in a pause between spells. “I don’t even know why he thought it would work on an adult creature.” Then he returned to the heavy syllables of the Hidden Language, looping air made solid around it.
“That should hold it,” he said at last, looking pleased. I was not as sanguine, but I was not about to argue. “That spell is something very ancient, that I found long ago in an old ledger tucked between more recent books in the school library. It was written down by a wizard who claimed to have gotten it from the wizard to whom he had once been apprenticed, a man who asserted he had used it to control dragons! Now you’re laughing, Daimbert,” I wasn’t but let it pass, “for you must know as well as I do how impossible it would be to control a dragon.
“But over the years I have improved it,” he continued, “strengthened it, replaced the herbs that the original required with more spells. And now I can control creatures of wild magic, if not easily, then successfully.” But then his rather complacent tone changed. “And yet the school is not interested in my spells! They’ve always held it against me that I started my training as an apprentice, not in the City with their first primer. The Master tried to give me some nonsense about how modern technical magic was better than old ledgers. I trust you will tell him how I saved all of you.”
At this point I spotted the air cart, coming slowly and cautiously toward us; Zahlfast must be prepared for a quick retreat.
“I have imprisoned the griffin,” Sengrim called, leaving out my role in slowing it down enough that his spells were even possible. “You may approach safely.”
Zahlfast set the air cart down and got out. “My own specialty is transformations,” he said thoughtfully, “which won’t work on a creature of wild magic like this. Sengrim, you’ve immobilized it at least for the moment, and you are always boasting of your knowledge of such creatures. What do you suggest?”
“Glad you recognize my abilities for a change,” Sengrim replied testily.
The sky had yellowed into dawn. There was a stirring from the air cart, and Marcus abruptly put his head over the edge. “What happened? Where’s the griffin? Did I fall asleep?”
Joachim introduced himself and filled him in quickly. I almost had my breath back but was still scarcely able to talk.
“You know,” commented Zahlfast, “it seems curious that a griffin family could have flown this far south into the Western Kingdoms without being spotted. Normally the school telephone lights up with calls from royal wizards all over, if any magical creature ventures south of the mountains. And could a young griffin have flown all that way unaided, eluding its mother the entire trip?”
Sengrim did not immediately respond, being busy with a new set of spells, but in a moment he said, with exaggerated resignation, “I believe I will be able with my unaided magic to transport this griffin, suitably bound, back to my royal castle. This will of course mean my hours of sleep are forever lost, but the sacrifice is worth it for the good of my kingdom. If I stay away from roads and villages, I should be able to do so without terrifying the people of Caelrhon, something I would have hoped one of the masters of the school would have considered. You can however have the young one for Titus’s so-called collection, if you wish.”
“But you can’t separate the little griffin from its mother!” Marcus objected. “It’s just a baby!”
Sengrim sighed deeply. “Then leave the binding box with me. I will be able to get them both home to the north.”
Zahlfast seemed ready to believe him, though I was not so sure. But drained as I was, I did not feel I could object as he helped me back into the cart and passed the binding box to Sengrim. There was a faint thumping from inside—the young griffin must be waking up. I slumped between Joachim and Marcus as Zahlfast sent the cart into
the air and winging back toward Caelrhon.
Behind us, the mother griffin gave an angry screech but remained motionless in the tree. “That was an excellent plan of yours, Daimbert,” said Zahlfast as soon as we were out of earshot, “getting it tangled up in the trees like that.” So he had recognized that Sengrim hadn’t captured it all by himself. “I was trying to think of a complicated spell that might stop it, but you knew that sometimes the simplest ways work best. But as soon as we can get to a telephone, I’m calling Titus at the school and telling him to get here as fast as he can. Sengrim may need help.”
It hadn’t been a ‘plan,’ but I would take a compliment where I could get it. “The mayor’s office may be open soon,” I managed to say. “I think they have a telephone.”
We set the air cart down outside the city walls, near where I had originally lured the young griffin. While Zahlfast went to the mayor’s office to call, Joachim said good-bye to Marcus and me. Feeling that, even if I were not messily devoured, my life might be draining away anyway, I managed to rouse myself to say that I hoped I would see him again very soon, under less exciting circumstances.
“I am sure the dean will understand when I explain it was all a hoax,” Joachim reassured me again. “And I can drop a word to the municipal guard about how two improperly arrested prisoners managed to escape, so that the guardsman will not be held to blame.”
He then added sternly to Marcus, “Your appearance at the cathedral might only inflame wounded feelings at this point, but a letter of apology would be entirely appropriate. I hope you realize, my son, that saying something insulting is never good, even in jest.”
“Oh, I completely understand, and I really am sorry,” he said and slipped something into Joachim’s hands.
When we were back in the air cart with Zahlfast again half an hour later, heading toward the great City, I asked Marcus what it was.
“The rest of the money I was paid for that farce,” he said with a shrug. “I don’t know how I could find the man who paid me originally, but I certainly didn’t want to keep it. And I’m sure the cathedral will find a good use for it. It does mean, I guess, that I’ll be staying down by the ship-breakers again. Probably the worst rooming house in the City, but it’s cheap. The landlady there lets me pay whenever I can, without expecting something every time.”
I remembered that rooming house all too well. “Come stay at the school with me,” I suggested. Zahlfast had insisted that, given the sudden appearance of multiple griffins, the possibility of a renegade wizard intent on harming me remained far too real. “We can compare our ancestors some more.”
XI
After sleeping the sleep of utter exhaustion all afternoon, I woke in early evening to find Marcus pacing up and down my room, frowning. “Well, at least I had plenty of time to write a proper letter of apology to the cathedral priests of Caelrhon,” he said when he saw me opening my eyes.
“So you’ve been here all day?”
“The wizards insisted I stay here,” he said in exasperation. “I’ve seen the towers of the wizards’ school my whole life, every time I’ve been in the City, but I’ve never been inside before. And now that I’m here, they won’t let me explore.”
“Well, you could get into danger without realizing it,” I said, stretching and beginning to think I might live after all. “Let’s go get some dinner.”
The sun was just setting, and the lamp-lighters were out. The towers of the school loomed above us against a pink-tipped sky. As we left, a wizard—I thought I recognized a teacher from the technical division this time, not one of the young assistants—began following us at a discreet distance. I pretended not to see him.
But I murmured to Marcus, “We’re being followed, but don’t worry about it. It’s a wizard who is supposed to be protecting me.”
“I hope my beard grows out quickly and goes back to brown,” Marcus said, tugging at it. “I should never have agreed to bleach it.”
I chose not to go to the restaurant where the waitress had first mistaken me for Marcus, not wanting to confuse and embarrass her with apparent twins. Instead I took him to a restaurant that featured meals of vegetables and cheese. My grandmother had taken me there quite a few times when I was a boy, and I was hoping to find the food just as good as it used to be, especially the dark rye bread.
The restaurant was dim, lit only by candles on each table. As we were seated, I noticed a pretty dark-haired waitress at the back of the room start forward eagerly, then suddenly retreat with an expression of dismay. A young man ended up serving us instead.
“I’m glad you brought me here,” said Marcus. “I always like to eat here if I can when visiting the City.” I could have guessed that, I thought, looking toward the pretty waitress, who was keeping her back to us as she served others. “It’s a good place if I have some money. If I’ve just been paid, however, there’s a really good seafood restaurant closer to the harbor.” I knew all about it.
While we ate salad and noodles with mushroom sauce, accompanied by rye bread, I kept trying to make the griffins’ appearance make sense. It must somehow connect with whoever had paid Marcus to insult the cathedral priests and had kidnapped me. In spite of all my suspicions of Elerius, I found myself repeatedly coming back to Sengrim.
Caelrhon, Sengrim’s kingdom, was both where someone had had Marcus turn on the cathedral chapter, while dressed up to look like me, and also where the griffins had appeared.
The griffins had been obtained somehow from the land of wild magic. The wizard who knew the spells to imprison them successfully seemed the one most likely to have brought them to Caelrhon in the first place.
Sengrim had not reacted at all to Marcus, but then most of the time that Sengrim had been with us it had been dark, and Marcus had been asleep in the bottom of the air cart. And as a wizard, Sengrim would have been less likely than most to start finding comparisons between Marcus and me. And I was impressed enough by his spells to know that creating an illusory appearance, so that Marcus would not recognize him, would have been easy.
But Sengrim had been home in bed in his royal castle when we went to find him, not flying around the countryside binding and loosing griffins, nor warning the city watch that Marcus needed to be arrested as a dangerous vagrant. And although Sengrim probably could have come down to the City to capture me and hide me in the sea-caves, I wasn’t sure if the timing was right for him to be taking Marcus to Caelrhon at the same time.
It was hard to think about. It made my head hurt. Maybe I wasn’t as recovered as I’d thought.
“You’re quiet, Daimbert,” said Marcus. “I think I must have missed a lot of excitement. Was that a sleeping spell, by the way? I can’t believe I would have slept through it all otherwise.”
I roused myself. “Sorry. I was just trying to understand what’s been happening. Yes, you were accidentally put under the same spell that put the young griffin to sleep. Though I still don’t understand why he wasn’t where we left him….”
Marcus liked the idea of sharing a spell with the young griffin. “I do hope that wizard isn’t going to separate the mother griffin from her chick,” he said. He glanced around the busy room. “I’ve not been in this restaurant for over a year, but there used to be a very nice girl who worked here— There she is!” He waved, grinning, making it impossible for her to avoid us any longer.
She came over to our table, looking uncomfortable. “Is that really you, Marcus?” she said, looking back and forth between us as though not sure which one to address. “I would never have known you with a white beard.”
“He’s Marcus,” said Marcus with a mischievous smile. “I’m his twin brother. He’s delighted to see you. What’s it been, over a year?”
I gave him a quick glare but didn’t want to confuse the waitress further. “So you’re here!” I forced myself to say to her warmly. “I didn’t see you as we came in, though of course I was hoping to find you. We certainly used to have some good times!”
I
n a moment, I hoped, she would be called away. But apparently not yet.
“You never told me you had a twin!” she said with a smile that brought out a dimple in one cheek. In a moment, I thought, in spite of the room’s dimness, she’d realize that my eyes were the wrong color and be embarrassed all over again.
“Well, the topic never arose,” I said vaguely, keeping my eyes down.
“When I saw two of you with white beards,” she continued, “I thought you couldn’t possibly be Marcus. I even thought you might be some uncles! And knowing what uncles can be like, I didn’t want to say….” Her voice trailed away.
“Someone’s beckoning us from outside,” said Marcus suddenly. “I’ll go see what it is.” And he jumped up so fast he knocked his chair over.
The waitress righted it and seated herself. I hoped she didn’t have customers waiting for their cheese course.
She hesitated for a moment without speaking, fiddling with Marcus’s glass. Then she gave a low chuckle and said, “Well, it’s not twins, but I’m glad you’ve come so I can tell you.”
This had gone much too far. I put my hand on hers and leaned forward into the candle-light. “I’m very sorry, Miss, but Marcus likes to joke sometimes. This should not have been one of those times. That really is Marcus who just went out. I’m his cousin, not his twin. You need to tell him, not me. I’ll get him.”
The dimple disappeared as realization dawned. She stared at me in dismay and pulled her hand sharply back.
“Excuse me,” I muttered, moving quickly for the door, realizing when I was already outside that it must look as though Marcus and I were racing off without paying.
I was about to turn back when I saw him talking to someone—a beardless man in a dark red jacket and cap. The renegade wizard who had paralyzed me and left me in the sea-caves.
Below the Wizards' Tower (The Royal Wizard of Yurt Book 8) Page 8