by K J Taylor
“Trainin’ is sorted out, ye say?” Yorath raised an eyebrow. “Who are ye apprenticing with?”
“What’s that mean?” said Laela.
“Who’s going to train ye?” said Yorath. “Teach ye griffish an’ the rest of it?”
“Oh. Well, the King said he’s gonna do that himself,” said Laela.
The effect on Yorath was amazing. He lurched as if she had hit him and recovered himself with an obvious effort. “The King,” he said very slowly. “Ye . . . are going t’be apprenticed to the King.”
“Yeah, I am,” said Laela. “He said he’ll teach me griffish an’ fightin’ an’ how to fly on a griffin’s back. An’ some other things, he said.”
Yorath rubbed a hand over his face. “I don’t believe this,” he said. “Ye’re apprenticed to the King. First he vouches for ye in the Hatchery—makes ye a griffiner, in other words—an’ now he’s going to train ye himself.”
“Yeah,” said Laela, but some of the confidence had left her voice.
“How in the Night God’s name did ye get so close to him?” said Yorath. “Takin’ ye in is one thing, but this . . .”
“Well, I did save his life,” Laela pointed out.
“Seems he really took that to heart,” said Yorath. “Well.” He sighed. “I s’pose that means I’ll have t’go back to regular work from now on. Ye won’t be needing me to teach ye any more.”
Laela took his hand. “Don’t be daft; I’m nowhere near knowin’ how to speak Northern. Anyway, we’ll still be seein’ each other, right?”
“If ye want to . . .” Yorath looked uncomfortable.
It took Laela by surprise. “What’s up with you?”
Yorath stirred. “I’m sorry, Laela. But now ye’re a griffiner, a commoner like me . . .”
Laela stared at him for a moment, and then burst out laughing. “I’ll tell yeh what, Yorath,” she said once she could control herself again. “I’m gonna pretend yeh never said that. Now.” She stood up. “My room smells of griffin, an’ I’ve always wanted t’know what yer own place looks like. Mind if I come visit?”
• • •
Laela returned to her quarters much later, drunk on a mixture of excitement and the rather good mead Yorath had shared with her.
The alcohol ran its dizzy race around inside her head, filling her with a warm and wonderful sense of invincibility and pride. “Lady Laela,” she repeated to herself, several times. “Lady Laela, griffiner of Malvern. Lady Laela Redguard.” She laughed and sped up, almost dancing up the ramps and staircases toward her home, her head full of images of herself flying on Oeka’s back with a shining sword in her hand.
By the time she reached her own door, the rush had worn off somewhat, and drowsiness had set in. She went in and gratefully walked toward her bed, intending to collapse on it.
It was already occupied.
Laela paused. It was too dark to see more than the huge mound on top of her bed—she prodded it carefully, and found herself touching straw. Bewildered, she picked up a lantern and went to light it with a taper from the fire.
Its light showed her utter chaos. For a moment she stood there, frozen in disbelief as the reality of what she was seeing slowly sank in.
The bed had been torn apart. Blankets had been shredded, the pillows ripped open. The mattress had been disembowelled and the straw inside pulled out. The ruins of bed and bedding had been piled up into a crude nest, and Oeka was asleep in the middle of it.
Laela put the lantern down and put her hand over her eyes. “Oh, holy gods . . .”
After a few moments, tiredness and the fading effects of the mead fuelled her temper enough to let her put her caution aside. She strode toward the bed. “Oi!”
Oeka stirred but didn’t wake up.
Laela poked the griffin in the head. “Oi! What are yeh doin’?”
A green eye slid open.
Laela took a step back. “This is my bed,” she said. “Yours is next door, remember? Oi!”
Oeka yawned and tucked her head under her wing.
Defeated, Laela slumped into her chair by the fire and wondered what to do. She was so tired that sleeping in the chair looked possible, so she snuffed out the lamp—thinking that even if she couldn’t, there was no point in wasting the oil.
Her exhaustion notwithstanding, sleeping in the chair proved to be impossible. She sat there in the semi-darkness for a long time before finally giving up and getting out of the chair to pace back and forth, debating internally. Her training was meant to start in the morning, and she knew she’d be useless unless she got some sleep.
Tired anger finally won her over. This was ridiculous. She was a griffiner now; a member of the nobility, and she had been turfed out of her own bed by an animal.
“Gryphus burn that,” she muttered, and moved back toward the bed. She found Oeka’s wing and pulled, hard.
A split second later, she staggered away from the bed, too shocked even to cry out, her arm cradled against her chest. She backed toward the wall, preparing to run away, but Oeka didn’t come after her and she realised that the griffin hadn’t even left the bed.
Blood ran down to her fingers and dripped onto the floor. She hastily covered the wound with the hem of her dress, and watched with a mixture of terror and disbelief as Oeka curled up in her new nest and went back to sleep as though nothing had happened.
Laela ran away through the archway and into the griffin’s chamber. There she knelt by the trough and tried to clean her wound with the water.
It continued to bleed stubbornly no matter how many times she dabbed it dry, so she wrapped it up as well as she could and lay down on her side in the straw.
Eventually, the shock wore off, and she whiled away the rest of the night listing every curse-word she knew.
• • •
Morning came in a haze of tiredness. Laela sat up and peeled the fragments of straw off her blood-caked arm. The wound was smaller than she had thought, but it still hurt horribly. She did her best to clean it, and then walked stiffly back into her own room.
If her wound looked better than she had thought, then the bed looked far worse. Oeka was still asleep in the ruins.
Holding her wounded arm with her other hand, Laela crept toward the door. She reached it and took hold of the handle without incident, but at that moment the bed rustled. Oeka’s head came up. Before Laela could decide whether to just run away, the griffin had jumped down from the bed and sauntered toward her, yawning.
Laela did her best to look harmless. “Mornin’, Oeka. Did yeh sleep well?”
Oeka yawned. Her beak made an unpleasant clack sound when it shut.
“Well,” Laela said weakly. “I’m gonna go an’ see the King now. I’ll be back later.” That said, she opened the door and made her escape.
She was barely in the corridor outside when she heard the soft clicking of talons and turned to see Oeka following her. Laela knew better than to argue with the griffin, so she gritted her teeth and set out toward Arenadd’s audience chamber with Oeka in tow.
Arenadd was waiting for her. He was wearing a particularly nice robe trimmed with red, and there was a gleam in his eyes that Laela was too tired and upset to notice.
“Good morning, Lady Laela. Did you sleep well?”
Laela glanced at Oeka. “No.”
“Too excited, eh?”
“Too deprived of a bed,” Laela said sourly.
Arenadd raised an eyebrow. “Oh?”
Now she was in the King’s presence, Laela felt bold enough to say exactly what she was thinking. “I don’t want this,” she said.
“Don’t want what?”
“Don’t want that,” said Laela, pointing straight at Oeka. “I don’t want t’be a griffiner. She’s goin’ back to the Hatchery today, an’ that’s flat.”
Oeka backed away from her finger, hissing.
Arenadd looked nonplussed. “Laela, what are you talking about? You can’t—”
“I don’t want t’be
a griffiner!” said Laela. “I ain’t gonna. Not if it means livin’ with a griffin.”
Arenadd glanced at Oeka. “Why, what’s she done?”
“She took my bed,” said Laela. “She tore it apart, an’ then slept in it! An’ then, when I tried t’make her get out of it, she did this to me.” She held up her arm, displaying the deep gash.
Arenadd gave it a cursory glance. “Is that all?”
Laela couldn’t take it any longer. “Is that all?” she nearly yelled. “The damn thing bit me, for gods’ sakes! She destroyed my bed! I had to sleep on a heap of straw all night!”
Oeka pushed forward and rasped in griffish.
“She said she didn’t like the nest you gave her,” said Arenadd. “The straw was mouldy.”
“She didn’t have t’go an’ bite me!” said Laela.
“She said you pulled her wing.”
“Yes, because she was sleepin’ in my bed!” Laela tried to keep herself under control. “I ain’t livin’ with that thing,” she said. “It’s vicious.”
“Laela. Calm down. Listen to me.”
Laela folded her arms. “I’m listenin’.”
Arenadd sat down on the white marble plinth that rose out of the middle of the chamber and gestured at her to do the same.
Laela sat beside him. A moment later, Oeka got up beside her and settled down on her haunches. She nudged Laela with her head, like a cat. For a moment, Laela wondered if the griffin was asking to be petted as a cat would, but when she looked, Oeka had turned her head away and was staring aloofly at the ceiling.
Arenadd watched them with the hint of a smile. “Oeka is a griffin, Laela, and griffins demand our respect.”
“I’m a human, an’ I ain’t seen much respect from her,” said Laela.
“You have to earn a griffin’s respect, Laela. And then you have to keep on earning it. You impressed her, but unless you keep on pleasing her, she’ll take what she wants. A griffin doesn’t have to have a human, you know. If she wants to, she can leave you and look for a human she likes better.”
“Good,” Laela said viciously. “Let her go, then.”
“What, and lose everything you gained when she chose you?” said Arenadd. “Stop being a griffiner?”
“Yeah, whatever. I don’t care.”
Arenadd sat back. “Oh dear,” he said mildly. “And there I was, planning to give you an official position. Oh, well. I suppose I’ll have to find someone who isn’t so easily discouraged.”
Laela choked. “Official position? Me?”
“Yes. I can’t give titles or responsibilities to a commoner, now can I?”
There was a pause.
“All right,” Laela said eventually. “I see what yer tryin’ t’do. Don’t know why yeh care so much, though.”
Arenadd’s black eyes glittered. “So are you ready to start learning how to be a griffiner?”
Laela looked at Oeka. Once again, she was struck by how beautiful the griffin was. “But she bit me,” she said again, rather lamely.
Arenadd sighed and rolled up his sleeves. “Yes. Griffins do that.”
Laela saw his exposed forearms, and breathed in sharply when she saw the maze of scars on them. “Skandar did that to yeh?”
Arenadd pulled his sleeves down again. “Look on the bright side. At least Oeka was born and raised in the Hatchery. Skandar was born wild. When he looked for a human to choose, he ate the ones he didn’t like.”
Laela shuddered. “Oh, gods.”
“Yes. So, are you willing to give it another try?”
Laela paused. “What’s this official position yeh gonna give me?”
“Master of Wisdom,” said Arenadd.
“What’s that?”
Arenadd smoothed down his hair. “That’s just the official title. The Master of Wisdom is the foremost advisor to the Eyrie Master. In this case, me.”
Her eyes widened. “Advisor? Me? But . . . what would I be doin’?”
“More or less what you’re doing now,” said Arenadd. “Letting me confide in you. Giving me advice. Only I’d be paying you to do it. But you have to be a griffiner,” he added. “I can only give official positions to nobles.”
Laela grinned. “How much money are we talkin’ about?”
“Oh, I don’t know. About five hundred oblong a week, I think, is the official amount. I can ask the Master of Gold, if you like.”
“No, I think that’s enough,” Laela said slowly.
“So you’ll do it?”
Laela reached up and tentatively touched Oeka under the beak. The griffin lowered her head, and Laela rubbed her fingers back and forth as she’d seen Arenadd and other griffiners do. Oeka closed her eyes and cooed in response.
“Yeah,” said Laela. “I’ll do it.”
“Excellent!” Arenadd stood up. “Now, I’m afraid our first lesson is going to have to wait because I need your help with something else.”
Laela stood, too. “What is it?”
“Come with me. I’ve got something very special to show you.”
Laela followed him through the door and into his own room. The moment she stepped through the door, she winced. “Holy gods, it’s like an oven in here!”
Arenadd rolled up the sleeves of his robe again. “Yes, I’m sorry about that, but it was necessary.”
There was a roaring fire in the fireplace, and dozens of braziers had been lit around the room to add to the heat. Laela, already sweating, looked at Arenadd. “Why?”
“Because of that,” said Arenadd, pointing.
Laela followed his finger. “What in Gryphus’ name is that?”
The creature perched on a table by the fire looked like a bird at first glance, but Laela instantly decided that if it was a bird it was very, very wrong.
It was about the size of a chicken, and more or less shaped like one, with a small, lean body perched on two legs, with long talons shaped for gripping branches, and a pair of wings placed just below the base of the neck. But the neck ended in a big, muzzled head topped by a pair of stubby horns, and the tail was long and serpentine and had a diamond-shaped membrane on the end.
And where a bird had feathers, this thing had pale green scales.
Arenadd took a step toward it, but the creature backed off, opening its mouth to reveal dozens of sharp, silver fangs. The King moved away from it, shaking his head. “It won’t let me go near it, but it should let you—it’s probably well trained.”
Laela hadn’t moved. “What is it?”
“It’s a dragon,” said Arenadd. “From Amoran. They use them to carry messages.”
Laela’s mind reeled. A dragon!
Everyone knew about dragons, of course—there were dozens of stories about them. But as far as she’d ever known, they were myths, or maybe something that had existed once but not now. Seeing one here was unbelievable.
“I thought it’d be bigger,” she said at last.
“As far as I know, that’s about as big as they get,” said Arenadd. “Now, can you do me a favour? See if you can get close enough to take the message from it.”
Laela started. “What?”
“Look there,” said Arenadd. “On its back.”
Laela ventured a step closer and finally noticed the small brown cylinder strapped to the dragon’s back. “It’s got a message from Amoran?”
“Yes. It arrived early this morning. It should let you take it.”
“It won’t bite me, will it?”
“No; it’s perfectly tame. Dragons aren’t very aggressive anyway.”
Very carefully, Laela reached out toward it. The dragon came closer to her and sniffed her fingers. Wary of its teeth, she tried to touch its head. It let her do it, and even thrust its snout at her, asking to be petted. Laela noticed the bristly ears and scratched them. The dragon hooted and put its head on one side, asking for more.
Laela smiled despite herself and scratched more vigorously. The dragon hooted again. Then it leapt. Laela jerked away, but she was too
slow. Before she knew what was happening, the dragon had jumped onto her arm and was perched there, talons gripping.
Specifically, gripping the half-congealed wound.
Laela let loose with a stream of curse-words, and groaned in relief when the dragon decided to shuffle further along toward her elbow. The wound still smarted, but the pain faded quickly enough.
“Go on, take the message,” Arenadd urged.
Laela pulled herself together. Once the dragon had settled down on its new perch and begun to nibble at its wing, she wiped the sweat off her forehead and reached tentatively for the cylinder on the creature’s back. The dragon glanced at her, and then went back to its grooming.
Laela fiddled with the cylinder for a few moments before she figured out how to take the cap off the end. It came free easily enough—there was a wax plug underneath it. She put it aside and reached inside the cylinder and pulled out a thin scroll of paper. It was covered in tiny, neat runes, and, unable to stop herself, she had a go at reading them. She could decipher a few words here and there, and smiled proudly as she handed it to Arenadd. “Here yeh go.”
He took it. “Thanks. Now, let’s see . . .”
Laela, the dragon now perched on her shoulder, watched with interest. “What’s it say?”
Arenadd scanned it briefly. “Excellent. Just as I thought—it’s from the Amorani ambassador.”
Laela glanced at Oeka. The griffin had been grooming herself, apparently uninterested in what was going on, but now she looked up as if she were as interested as her human.
“What’s it say?” Laela persisted.
Arenadd looked up. “You know, this is a confidential message from the head diplomat of the Emperor of Amoran.”
“Yeah, so yeh shouldn’t share it with anyone except yer most trusted advisor,” said Laela.
The King smiled again, with his eyes. “Indeed.” He rolled up the message. “This was sent from Maijan—that’s an island away to the east that the Amorani Empire controls. Apparently the ambassador is there right now—or was when he sent this message, anyway. He’s on his way here now, and he says he should be here in a matter of days.”
Laela grinned and petted the dragon. “What’s his name?”