Dr. Saunders had lent her a large airline carrier to take the griffin home in. Now he helped her load it into the back seat of a cab. Mariellen was barely able to squeeze in beside it.
The cabbie glanced over his shoulder. “Big dog, huh?”
“No.” Mariellen smiled. “It’s a griffin.”
The cabbie maintained an offended silence for the rest of the trip. When they arrived Mariellen had to wrestle the carrier out of the cab by herself.
“Well, here we are,” she said.
The griffin didn’t respond. It was turning its head from side to side, blinking in the sunlight.
“I don’t know how I’m supposed to get you up the stairs.” She stooped and began to drag the carrier toward her building. Once inside she stopped to consider.
“Three flights… can you climb?” She opened the carrier. “Come on, then.”
The griffin stepped out slowly. Its eyes were huge and its tail twitched.
“It’s all right,” Mariellen soothed.
The griffin looked up at her and made a twittering sound she hadn’t heard before.
She laughed. “That’s right. We’re home.” She lifted the empty carrier into her arms. “Follow me, now.”
For a moment the griffin stood watching Mariellen ascend. Then it humped itself along behind her, wings flailing uselessly. By the time they reached the top of the first flight both were panting.
“A fine pair we make,” Mariellen said. “Tell you what. If I join the gym, will you come too?”
The griffin gulped and shut its beak.
“Rested already, are you? All right, let’s go. Two more flights.”
Hawk was whining softly on the other side of the door.
The griffin was familiar with dogs, of course, but he’d never met one face-to-face without bars in between. If Hawk came bounding out on top of him now, Mariellen was afraid he might try to run away.
“Let’s put you in your carrier, all right?” But it wasn’t all right; there was no way the griffin was going back into that thing. When Mariellen persisted it ruffled up its feathers and clacked its beak at her.
“Oh, hell.” She put her hands on her hips. “What am I going to do with you? Hawk has to go out.” Maybe she could get hold of Hawk’s collar as she opened the door.… “Well, here goes.”
She turned the key, cracked the door open, and made a wild grab for Hawk as he hurtled by. She missed, but the griffin didn’t. Before she could react, it had fastened its beak in Hawk’s shoulder. Hawk screamed.
“Dammit!” Mariellen managed to lock her hands around the griffin’s throat and pull it away from Hawk before it could do any more damage. She was glad to see that the dog was sensibly keeping his distance.
She loosened her hold slowly, keeping one wary hand on the griffin’s neck. It seemed calmer now that Hawk had retreated, but she didn’t dare let go. She maneuvered it through the open door, reached in for Hawk’s leash, and shut the door in the griffin’s face.
With his enemy out of sight Hawk came to Mariellen to be leashed. But he kept looking nervously at the door and his flanks were quivering.
“You poor thing,” she said, stroking his head. “What did that nasty griffin do to you, hmm?” She checked him over briefly. There was an ugly gash on his shoulder, but aside from that he seemed to be all right. “Let’s get you out first. Then we’ll clean you up, okay?”
Hawk looked up at her and wagged his tail once. I hear you, the wag said, but I’m not happy.
He favored his left foreleg all the way down the stairs.
As she walked her dog, Mariellen had ample time to regret her decision to bring the griffin home. What had poor Hawk done to deserve this?
Well, yes, he had come rushing out the door. But he hadn’t been heading for the griffin, he’d been coming straight toward—Mariellen stopped in her tracks, causing Hawk to turn and look questioningly back. Could it be? Was it possible that the griffin had been protecting her?
After all, it had never reacted one way or the other to the dogs it had seen at work. Maybe she was being too hasty. In any case, the office would be closed by now; she wouldn’t be able to bring it back until morning anyway.
“All finished, Hawk? Come on, let’s go home.”
Mariellen opened the door a crack and peered inside. The griffin was nowhere in sight. As she stepped over the threshold Hawk braced his legs and pulled back against the leash.
“Come on, Hawk! It’s all right, fella, he’s not here.” Where was he, anyway? She hauled Hawk inside and shut the door. The dog pressed against her, quivering. No point in keeping him leashed; he’d only be at a disadvantage if the griffin attacked him again. When she turned him loose he shrank back against the door, looking at her pleadingly. “Don’t worry, sweetheart,” she said. “I won’t let him get you.” At least I hope I won’t.
She tiptoed through her apartment, looking into corners and underneath furniture. Was it always so quiet in here? Mariellen could hear herself breathe. Behind her, at the door, Hawk whined once and was silent. She entered the bedroom.
And there, curled up on the bed, was the griffin. It was such an anticlimax that she almost laughed.
Griffins did sleep with their tails wrapped around them, she noted, but they put their heads behind their wings like birds too.
Hawk didn’t meet the griffin again until evening. The griffin, rested and fed, was enthroned on Mariellen’s bed like a pasha. When Mariellen called Hawk in, all it did was look at him with each eye in turn and ruffle its feathers contentedly, clucking like a whole barnyard full of chickens. Hawk advanced a step, sniffing audibly. When nothing happened he rested his big head on the bed.
“Good Hawk,” Mariellen crooned. “What a good boy!” The griffin edged closer to Hawk, stretched out its long neck, and began to nibble around his ears with its hooded, yellow beak. Hawk closed his eyes.
Mariellen let out the breath she’d been holding. This was going to work. It was actually going to work!
“Hawk,” she said, “allow me to introduce you to our new griffin.”
Before she went to bed Mariellen shut Hawk out of the room, lifted the griffin onto the newspapers she’d spread in a corner, and waited until it had used them. So that was all right.
As she went out with the soiled papers Hawk came trotting back in, went straight to his bed, and curled up with a sigh. The griffin had clearly chosen to sleep on Mariellen’s bed; it was already climbing back up, using its beak as well as its claws.
When Mariellen got under the covers it snuggled close, draping its neck around hers like a feather boa. In the middle of the night she half awoke to find the griffin preening her as it had Hawk; dozing off again she dreamed that her mother’s careful hands were combing and braiding her hair, strand by strand.
In no time at all it seemed as if Mariellen had always lived with the griffin. After the first couple of weeks she left the bedroom door open when she went to work. Her two pets had become such good friends that she no longer worried that they might hurt each other in her absence.
The griffin had, of course, continued to grow. In a month’s time it was taller and longer than Hawk. When it got up on the bed now it no longer climbed, but sprang, half spreading its wings. Mariellen wondered how much longer her bed was going to take it.
Its appetite had grown too. Mariellen tried to interest it in Hawk’s kibble, but all it would eat was meat—pounds and pounds of stewing beef, liver, and kidneys. “I spend more on you than I do on myself,” Mariellen told it. “Do you know that?” But the griffin just came closer and ruffled its head feathers. “Oh, all right, I’ll scratch you.”
Even in its first plumage the griffin was a beautiful beast. Marielien’s fingers almost disappeared in the dense golden crest that crowned its head. Its eyes, half-closed with pleasure, were the color of honey bathed in sunlight. They could outstare the sun and see in the dark. At night they glowed like a cat’s.
The wing feathers were chocolate brown wit
h a fringe of gold. Behind the wings the lion body had grown long and angular, with claws to rival the talons up front.
Mariellen hadn’t dared to take the griffin outside.
Her landlord had never made any trouble about Hawk, but she had an idea that he might not be too happy if he found out he had a griffin on his premises. Besides, there were laws about keeping exotic pets in the city—and the griffin was certainly exotic.
Nevertheless, Mariellen knew that she couldn’t keep such a large animal cooped up forever. Somehow she was going to have to let it get out and exercise.
The solution occurred to her one morning as she was walking Hawk. Even now, with the season so far advanced, it was just beginning to get light when she left for work. What if she set the alarm for an hour earlier and gave Hawk and the griffin a good romp in the park? Nobody was on the streets at that hour. Well, almost nobody. Mariellen did not permit herself to think about the muggers and rapists that kept nice people from going into the park when it was dark outside. Presumably the sight of Hawk would keep them at bay. And if it didn’t… “Would you protect me?” she asked the griffin. “Would you understand if somebody threatened me?” With any luck she wouldn’t have to find out.
The following morning Mariellen leashed Hawk, stepped out into the hall with him, and held the door open for the griffin to follow. It came as far as the threshold and stopped.
“Come on,” Mariellen invited. The griffin took a step back. “Do I have to put a leash on you?” Hawk was whining, wondering why she was taking so long. “This is ridiculous,” Mariellen muttered. And she stepped behind the griffin, pushed it over the threshold, and slammed the door.
Immediately all hell broke loose. The griffin, turning to retreat from the big scary world outside, found its way blocked. Panic-stricken, it flung itself against the door, squalling loudly and leaving long scratch marks on the paint. Mariellen was afraid it would break its neck.
She reached for the doorknob just as it leapt again. Its talons closed on her forearm and sank in like daggers. “Oh, shit!” With one desperate heave she got the door open and stumbled inside, almost falling over the griffin as it streaked in ahead of her.
Clutching her bleeding arm she made her way to the bathroom. The arm looked pretty bad and it was starting to hurt like hell, but she could flex her fingers all right. She didn’t think any nerves or tendons had been damaged.
In all the excitement Hawk had been forgotten in the hall. When Mariellen got around to looking for him she discovered that in his anxiety he had deposited a large, smelly load on the landing.
Evidently, she thought as she went back in for paper towels, this is not going to be my day.
It was several days before all three of them were recovered enough to experiment with the great outdoors again.
This time Mariellen was less ambitious. She reasoned that it might be easier and safer to take the griffin out onto the fire escape first.
On Sunday morning, after Hawk had been walked, Mariellen opened the fire escape window, climbed out, and called to the griffin. As she’d hoped, the streets were relatively empty. Few people bothered to get up this early on Sundays.
The griffin came to the window willingly enough. Resting its head on the sill, it cocked one bright eye at the sky and the other at the sunlit sidewalk below. Mariellen patted the bars beneath her and kept calling. The griffin’s head lifted and craned outward and finally one taloned foot advanced to the windowsill and clung there. “What a brave fellow! Come on, then!” There was a flutter of wings and the whole enormous eagle body stood framed in Marielien’s window.
It was fascinating to watch the griffin look around. Mariellen was used to Hawk’s superior senses of hearing and scent, but she’d never been around an animal that was visually superior to her before. Not only could the griffin look directly at the sun without discomfort, it was clearly watching things that Mariellen couldn’t see. Its head snapped around, now this way, now that, following—what? a bird? a plane? Mariellen giggled. With a griffin in her life, anything seemed possible.
“So? Are you going to come out?” As if it had understood, the griffin stepped forward, bringing the remainder of its improbable body into view. Bathed in sunlight it ruffled its feathers, half spread its wings, and basked.
Now that the griffin had discovered the joys of the fire escape it wanted to be out there all the time. Mariellen would go about her housework with the window open, the griffin’s long, tasseled tail hanging over the sill like a bellpull.
Once she heard a child’s voice from below: “Mommy! Look at that big bird on that fire escape!”
And the mother’s bored response: “It’s stone; they put it there for decoration.”
“It moved, Mommy! I saw it!”
“Don’t be silly. Come on. You’re going to make us late.”
“But I saw it, Mommy!” The child’s wails of protest faded out, presumably as its mother dragged it off.
Mariellen grinned. A good thing, she reflected, that adults don’t usually look at anything above their own eye level. But this couldn’t go on forever. Sooner or later the griffin was going to be discovered, and then what?
It was time to have another try at bringing the griffin to the park.
Mariellen didn’t make the mistake of trying to rush the griffin again. After Hawk’s walk she shut him in the bedroom, propped open the hall door, and encouraged the griffin to venture out.
It was a slow business. Here there was no expanse of bright sky to entice the griffin, only a long, shadowy hallway with an abyss at the end where the stairs began. In the space of a half hour it had advanced no farther than the welcome mat.
Mariellen persisted. On subsequent mornings she fed the griffin out in the hall, moving closer and closer to the stairs until she finally had it going down a full flight to get its meat.
Now that the hall was familiar territory the griffin began, quite literally, to spread its wings. Mariellen’s apartment, with its small, cluttered rooms, wasn’t big enough to accommodate its full wingspan, but the hallway was. It began by stretching, went on to flapping, and eventually startled both Mariellen and itself by taking momentarily to the air. It made such a ruckus over this accomplishment that Mariellen had to hustle it back into her apartment before it woke up all the neighbors.
The very next morning it launched itself halfway down the stairs and glided to the landing below, never touching down once.
“So you really can fly,” Mariellen said. “What’s going to happen when we go to the park? Are you going to come back to me?” It was something to think about. A griffin wasn’t the sort of animal one could walk on a leash. Even if she could improvise a harness, Mariellen suspected that the griffin could overpower her with no trouble at all. Either it would stay with her of its own free will—or it wouldn’t.
That night she dreamed that she had the griffin out in the park. It sailed up into the sky, shedding golden sparkles from its wings, higher and higher until it melted into the clouds and was gone. She reached futilely after it and it was there after all, a warm conglomeration of feathers and fur. Mariellen smiled in her sleep, her happy arms full of griffin.
It was still shadowy outside when they arrived at the park. The griffin, reveling in its newfound powers, had sailed down all three flights of stairs without hesitation and followed Mariellen out onto the street.
Once they reached the park, however, it hung back, squalling and jittering.
“You’re not much for novelty, are you?” Mariellen asked it. “All right, you can look from there.” She returned to where the griffin had stopped and stood beside it, gently scratching around its head. After a while its eyes glazed contentedly and it began to make clucking noises in its throat. “See? Nothing’s going to hurt you here.” She advanced again and this time the griffin followed.
It was strange to see it picking its way over the dewy grass. I’ve never seen him in a natural setting before, Mariellen thought; only against a backdrop of man
-made things. And even this isn’t right for him, all this green.…
Except for the tip of its tail the griffin stood perfectly still. In the first rays of the rising sun it shimmered like a figure picked out in gold thread on a medieval tapestry.
Mariellen looked at her watch. “Come on,” she said, “it’s time we were getting back.” The griffin twittered, staring up into the distance. “I have to bribe you, huh? That’s what I like about you. You’re so docile and obedient.” She pulled a plastic bag of meat strips out of her pocket. “How does breakfast sound? Ah, now I have your attention, do I?” She fed the griffin a piece of meat. “No, you don’t get any more till we’re moving. That’s a good griffin. What a good boy!”
It was a great relief to Mariellen to have assured herself that the griffin would follow if she lured it with meat. Apart from assuaging her fear that she might lose her pet, it meant that now she could consolidate both her morning outings. Long before sunup the next day she clipped a leash on Hawk, put the griffin’s breakfast in her pocket, and headed for the park.
Afterward Mariellen was to remember that summer as a sort of honeymoon with the griffin. The dark untenanted streets, the early morning hush, breathed magic.
When they got to the park she would let Hawk run loose. The big dog would race in joyous circles as the griffin scurried along behind flapping its wings to keep up. Then, panting, sides heaving, they would collapse together onto the cool grass. Sitting there with them Mariellen would hear the dawn chorus of the birds. It was like being in the center of a crystal cup: a vibration of silvery chirps beginning at the rim of the world and swelling until it filled the sky.
Then the sun would rise. All the silver and black would dissolve into color, the flat silhouettes of trees solidifying into shifting masses of green. In the low, slanting light the grass glowed in multiple transparencies, crisscrossed by its own shadows.
And Hawk’s amber eyes, the griffin’s golden ones, would be looking into Marielien’s with love.
Best of Marion Zimmer Bradley Fantasy Magazine, Volume 2 Page 22