Kelvren slept far longer than he’d intended, and it was a sleep with unsteady dreams. These dreams were more like sharp images, that struck and faded like the pluck of a bowstring, leaving afterimages and the memories that spun off from them. The worst were ones of his body coming apart, splitting open from each of the wounds he’d suffered until he floundered, drowning, in a deep pool of all his blood. The other dreams were less grisly—there was sky, in most of them, in the deep blue of chasing dawn, or the dazzling blaze of white only seen when emerging from one cloud towards another in bright day. There was the view of the Londell River, and Lake Evendim, and the descent into Errold’s Grove. Some memories were sexual—which was no unusual thing for a gryphon, especially him. He’d been on quite a few backs over the years. Skydancing, solicitous crooning, laughter, and intimate nibbling were well recalled, then they’d fade away until another of those bowstring images shocked into his mind. His friends at k’Valdemar—Darian and Snowfire, and Steelmind and that insufferably enigmatic Firesong. And his trondi’irns, who made him feel so good, and got him prepared so finely for his assignations—and then it was back to the sex dreams again.
“Sir? Time for your feeding, sir.” The boy with the mottled skin was back, looking under the flap of the tent.
Kelvren rolled onto his belly, startled. He immediately regretted it, crushing his sheath. He yelped and then kept his eyes closed a while, seeing only dazzle.
“Sir? You all right? You made a funny noise.”
Kelvren coughed twice and answered, “Funny forrr you. Not ssso funny forrr me.” He winced and slowly opened his eyes. “I may have brrroken sssomething I’ll need laterrr. Urrrh. Food?” he asked, ears flicking forward. “Or isss it what you brrrought lassst time?”
“Uhm. It’s not the, ah, exact same as last time. Some of it’s new colors. And I brought some bread that didn’t turn out right, but they didn’t want me to tell you that. They figured, if you didn’t know it was burned, you’d maybe think it was a treat.”
Kelvren’s eyes went to slits and he stood up on all fours, but kept his head down as he exited the tent. As he came out into full sun, despite the haze left from the heavy rain before, he swung his head to bear dead on the village.
“A trrreat. I am wearrry of thisss disssrrressspect. You. Boy. What isss yourrr name?”
“Boy. I mean, that’s what most people say to call me, is Boy. My full name’s Jeft Roald Dunwythie. The Roald part’s named after the king, o’ course. No relation. But like I say, most everyone here knows me as Boy. So I’ll answer to that if you want.”
“Hurrrh. Do you like being called Boy?” Kel asked.
“It’s not as if I have to like it, sir. Boy’s what they call me.” At the gryphon’s unblinking gaze, he finally admitted, “No, I don’t much like it. My mum gave me a proper name and, if it’s good enough for her, it should be good enough for anyone else. If things was right. But things ain’t so perfect in this life. They are as they are.”
Kelvren turned away. Half a minute passed before he returned his gaze to the young man. “Jeft Rrroald Dunwythie, if you learrrn nothing elssse frrrom me, I wisssh it to be thisss. Hold it clossse to yourrr hearrrt and never forrrget it. It doesss not matterrr what otherrrsss call you, asss much asss it matterrrsss what you anssswerrr to.” The gryphon limped away heavily, and stamped some tallgrass down on the other side of the tent for several minutes. He shook out his feathers, feeling renewed strength despite his restless innards. His anger and pain were transitioning into resolve, and a Plan. “And asss sssoon asss I am done making rrroom, we arrre going down therrre to get my next meal. If they expect a rrrampaging monsssterrr, they’ll find out I am not that. They’ve ssseen me hurrrt and delirrriousss, but I ssswearrr to you—they’ll neverrr forrrget what I am like when I am hungrrry, annoyed, and deterrrmined.”
Kelvren Set into the first part of his Plan. Principles of magic, he thought, learned early on. Transmutation. Turn what is useless into what is usable. He hobbled toward, and then past, his companion. If I cannot preen for beauty, then I will preen for effect. He laboriously groomed—badly—wincing several times from the persistent agony of his wounds. He took a few deep breaths and stared up at the sky when he was done. If I am going out of this life, he thought, I am not going as a disrespected animal shoved away to rot. If I die, I am damned well going to do it with a full belly, and the satisfaction of knowing I ruined some idiot’s day.
The gryphon limped around to face the young man. Bandages askew, feathers at all angles, and his stitches exposed, he looked to be in poor shape to anyone’s eyes.
“Brrring your sssack, Jeft. Time forrr fun.” Jeft did just that, crashing along through the tallgrass and brush to catch up. “Why arrre you ssso disssresspected that they give you the worrrssst jobsss?”
“It’s my face, I think. I’m not any different from the other younglings here, ’cept my face.”
“What isss wrrrong with yourrr facsse?” Kel asked, pausing ostensibly for Jeft to close in on him, but in reality, it was because he was having trouble moving well. His right side haunch folded up on him, and jarred his lanced shoulder badly, eliciting a short whine. “It looksss fine to me. You have good marrrkingsss.”
“That’s just it there, sir, these, uh, markings,” he confirmed as he stopped beside the gryphon, pointing at the splotches that randomly covered his face. “People think my face is really ugly. They say it’s ’cause my mum married a far-southerner, and he had bad blood in him, an’ so I came out like this, all ugly from both sides, they say. And there’s nothin’ can be done about it, so I just do what I do.” He hoisted the heavy bag up again.
“And yourrr fatherrr?”
“He died. He was one of the traveling harvesters, an’ when he went away up northwest, he got crushed by one of those big carts, they said. Mum took it hard and still hasn’t gotten better after that. Anyway. He’s in a better place now.”
Kelvren levered himself up gingerly, mulling that over, then snorted at the flies pestering his wounds and resumed his trek. “I am . . . sssorrry you—hurrh!—have—kah! sketi!—lossst yourrr fatherrr,” he said breathily, tripping on brush. “I have not ssseen mine in fifteen yearrrsss. We sssend messsagesss but—ah. It isss not the sssame as sssharrring sssky with him.”
“Sky’s prob’ly where my father is,” Jeft smiled. “We always did like talking about birds, me and him, so’s maybe he’s a bird now. He’d like that a lot ’cept, I guess he couldn’t get stew an’ scrapings as a bird.”
Kelvren could see that soldiers and villagers were taking notice of them as they closed the distance to the encampment. Kel angled toward a recently cut tree stump and suddenly fell against it.
“Sir? Master Kelvren, sir? What’s wrong?” Jeft dropped the bag and crashed toward the gryphon. “You’re bleedin’ again, sir, an’ that, uh, sewin’ they did on you’s torn up some. Sir?” He waved at the flies, to little effect, and then Kel could feel the boy’s hand on his eartufts. “Sir? You hear me? Can I help? Sir?” He was sounding desperate.
Slowly Kelvren opened an eye, toward Jeft. “Hurrrh. It isss—all forrr effect,” he wheezed, and smiled as best he could. “Ssso brrrave. You rrrun towarrrdsss me when the rrressst of yourrr village would rrrun away.”
“Well—I was scared, too!” he blurted, and then confessed, “I mean, if you—I—I’d be in a lot of trouble. Mayor said you were my problem now, an’ I bet they’d whup me if you died.” He pulled back his hand and wiped it on both of his eyes, under the brim of the sun hat. “It—I just don’t want you t’die, all right? An’, an’, if y’need a healer, or somethin’, I’ll run get you a healer—” Jeft looked all around, and saw a dozen Guard soldiers were headed their way at a brisk walk. “I, uh—I think maybe help’s coming, sir?”
Kelvren rumbled softly. “Yesss. Ssso they arrre. Heh.” He closed his eyes, to rest. “Let the gamesss begin.”
Hallock heard a commotion from the town while walking around the last of the
convalescents’ tents. In a Guard encampment it wasn’t unusual to hear occasional incidents ranging from fist brawls to dirty-song competitions, or some poor soldier getting dressed down at top volume. This was the first one Hallock had heard, though, that began with shouting and running, and finally, laughter—and not all of it human. There was just that one loud, descending burbling voice that mixed in with the rest, but it put Hallock into motion. Quick-walking with the stick in his hand, he rounded the mill road and followed it toward the sounds—which came from the main mess tents.
He saw a mix of backs in Guard uniforms and locals’ work clothing, and then a flick of a large feathery wing above them. Then there was another ripple of laughter. He pushed his way forward, finally collaring a lieutenant to help him reach the center of it all.
There he found someone who appeared to be a town official, judging by his necklace. He was getting up off his knees, where apparently he’d been vomiting into a large sack—though on second thought, yes, it appeared he had been vomiting because his head had been in the sack. Now the man was coughing furiously into a handkerchief and attempting to wipe his face down. Some of his attendants were trying to calm down a few Sixteenth and Guard regulars who were still shouting and provoking the man.
Kelvren sagged sideways against a trestle table, with one wing slack on the ground and his bandages askew and seeping. The platter on the table was filling up. Soldiers brought their own bowls over to pinch off a bit of meat or bread and set it down on the platter. When they spoke something to Kelvren, the gryphon nodded or smiled—but even from this far away, Hallock could tell that the creature was exhausted. Kelvren reached for a bowl and some of the food on the platter, but his taloned hands shook too much to keep hold of the bowl. A strange-looking boy stuck close to the gryphon, and was there in an instant to catch the bowl and load it up with food.
“First!” someone called out, and the air filled with a mix of expletives, intakes of breath, and “Sir!” aimed nowhere in particular. All Firsts were Captain in rank. Over a hundred Guard soldiers instantly Weren’t Involved And Were Doing Something Else When It Happened. Whatever “it” might have been. Some soldiers saluted and then swiveled around in the mud to find who they were supposed to be directing it at. “It’s Stavern!” someone else called out, and then a small cheer followed. “Welcome back, sir!” called a junior rider, who jostled around the retreating official to reach Hallock. He saluted again, apparently just to make sure he’d been seen saluting at all, but was also grinning. “Your gryphon friend there, well, we’ve just been taking care of him, sir. He wasn’t getting treated none too well, so, we just helped him out some.” The rider shooed people out of the way to get Hallock over to Kelvren’s side.
The gryphon swayed a little, and his eyes pinned and dilated several times as he recognized Hallock. “Ah! My fine frrriend Hallock Ssstaverrrn,” he purred. “How isss the belly?”
“Feels tight.”
“Hurrrh. Mine, too. Thessse arrre good people, thessse sssoldierrss of yourrrsss. Know the value of a good meal.” A couple of dozen chuckles from all around told Hallock that he was missing something.
“Kel, you look—”
“I know how I look,” the gryphon growled threateningly, then mellowed the next moment.
“Then I hope you don’t feel like you look.”
Kelvren swallowed, twitching his ears and keeping his eyes closed as a bowlful of food went down his gullet. He sighed loudly and opened his eyes again to lock onto Hallock’s own. “Well-known fact. Feeding a grrryphon isss good luck.” He sighed. “Thisss sssketi-chunk therrre, the . . . what isss it called. Officsse warrrmerrr. That,” He indicated the retreating official and his staff, with his beak. “Ssseems he left orrrderrrs that I wasss to be given a sssackful a day of the ssscrrrapsss unfit forrr the ssstewpot. I took insssult.” He swung his head around to indicate the soldiers in the mess tent with him, several of whom were still coming by to drop bits of their ration into what had become the gryphon’s food tray. “Ssso in the ssspirrrit of equality between alliesss, I came herrre and sharrred the sssack with him. He looked well fed, and ssso in the ssame ssspirit, added sssomething to the sssack himssself beforrre leaving, I think.”
A couple more soldiers laughed outright, then stifled themselves at Hallock’s withering look. The rider turned Hallock aside and whispered confidentially, “He was in awful shape when he came limping down, sir. An’ we knew what he’d done for you o’course. So when he asked so polite for help, well, we couldn’t refuse. We brought ’im here to get him fed, an’ sent word for the—-well, anyway, things just went as they went. Some of the regulars, well, they crowded the mayor there, and—”
“Mayor? That was the mayor?” Hallock sighed. He put up a hand to halt the explanation. “So some of you pulled the sack of—scrap—over the mayor’s head.”
“And pulled the ssstrrring,” Kelvren finished with a hint of triumph. “Policssy change wasss enacted immediately upon esscape from the feed bag.”
Hallock frowned and asked, “Wait. Why would the mayor have anything to do with whether you got fed, anyway?”
The rider interrupted. “I know that one, sir. Guard feeds Guard, and buys meat and grain from whoever’s nearest. The gryphon’s a foreigner, so’s when the accounting’s done, the hospitality comes from the local senior diplomat. That’s the mayor. I figure he thought the gryphon was gonna die soon anyhow, so why use the good meat he can sell to the Guard instead?”
Hallock nodded, and unhappily took in Kelvren’s disheveled appearance. “I see. So. You. It was regulars that did it all, right?” The rider nodded. “You. There. Regular. It was horse that did it all, right?” The woman nodded. “All right, then. Clearly, there were no witnesses, and no laws or regulations provably broken.” He waved a hand around loosely to dismiss the whole affair. “As you were.” He angled in close by Kelvren, who reached up with a shaky taloned hand and pulled him close in against his head. Hallock was pressed against the gryphon’s warm, feathered neck, cheek and jaw.
“It wasssn’t too much, Hallock Ssstaverrrn. I jussst—wanted the sssame rrressspect of any Valdemarrran warrriorrr. Not . . . hurrh, what would Darrrien sssay . . . the firrrst sssalt frrrom the table. “His stoic demeanor faltered. “Therrre’sss nobody forrr me herrre.”
Hallock squeezed a few of the neck feathers, each wider than his spread hand. “I’m here, Kelvren. And believe me, there are many here who admire you for what you’ve done for me.” Hallock saw that where the gryphon’s feathers had been cut away in clumps along his side and flanks, bandages had fallen away and seeping wounds glistened. “You have wounds coming open again, Kel, we need to get you out of here. You look like you are in terrible pain.”
Kel held him there for a few more heartbeats, then patted the man’s back before pulling back to meet eyes again. “A good meal helpsss, and the good will of otherrrsss. And ssseeing you, my good frrriend. What would Genni think of thisss day, mmm?” The gryphon shifted his weight, flinched, and let the wing he was trying to move lay where it was. “I do hurrrt, yesss. And I need a placsse to ssstay. And to get clean.”
The gryphon lowered his head to the table, and let its weight rest on the curve of his beak while he kept his eyes closed. He sagged a little more with each breath. Hallock held out his hand and rubbed the gryphon’s mud-crusted brow ridge. “I know somewhere you can stay, my friend. We’ll take you there.”
Kelvren lifted his head and looked sidelong at Hallock, with a slight grin. “You know what I sssaid beforrre. Pain sharrred isss . . . pain halved. I sharrred half of my pain with the mayorrr . . . and I feel much betterrr now.”
Hallock gathered up a squad and they helped Kelvren trudge from the mess tent through the cantonment, a pair under each wing and one at each shoulder. Soldiers came out from almost every tent and watched the slow progression. Some came over to ask if they could help—everyone seemed to know who the creature was, or at least what he’d done. Jeft followed along, looking worr
ied each time the gryphon slipped or groaned. When they passed one of the corrals, several horses pressed in closer to see what this curiosity was. “Why aren’t they terrified?” one of the soldiers wondered. “He’s a huge predator, shouldn’t they be bolting?”
“We do not . . . ssscarrre mossst crrreaturrresss . . . unlesss we intend to. It isss . . . a peculiarrrity of usss,” Kelvren wheezed. His exhaustion was showing, and he stopped to rest.
“You have a lot of those,” Hallock teased. “Hoy, look. That dapple gray, that’s Dughan, my mount when my forehead got redecorated.”
Kel made an effort to look over, but still his head hung low.
Hallock tried to keep the gryphon’s mood light. “I’m ordering that you be fed well. Some of the men were suggesting we make up a fake squad, to allocate the food for you. It’s an idea with some merit—but I think I carry enough weight now to have you cared for outright.” He spoke instructions to a runner and then sent her on her way ahead of them. When they arrived near the convalescents’ tent Hallock had visited earlier, the sorting barrels had been pushed to the back and several cots had been folded and pushed aside. Nearly everyone was awake, and every eye was wide. Enlisted men spread out a canvas tarpaulin on the cleared space, and the squad gingerly guided the gryphon in. Kel all but collapsed on the spot, and sprawled sideways onto his good—or rather, less injured—side, panting. An unhappy private, nearly pinned by the gryphon’s fall, crawled out from under that side’s wing.
“Healer Birce will be here soon,” Hallock reassured Kelvren, knelt down beside him. “Devon, too, on his usual rounds. They’ll fix up those plasters for you when they check everyone else.” He waved over a folding stool and set it in front of Kel’s beak, patting the canvas. “Here . . . a place for your head.” He grunted, and lifted Kel’s head to rest flatly upon it.
Crossroads and Other Tales of Valdemar Page 4