Grand Theft Griffin

by Michael Angel

  This time the muttering around the tables was more pronounced. A couple of voices in the crowd stood out, and none were in my favor. “We don’t need this, not now!” “This woman’s not worth fighting over.” “Why tie up the royal purse strings over this nonsense?”

  Fitzwilliam raised his hand. Eventually, the room finally fell silent.

  “I agree with you, my loyal nobles,” he sighed. “This is a trivial matter. The gold crowns to be allocated for a Court Forensic Examiner are trifling compared to the needs for arms, for roads, for men. And yet, because it is such a pittance, I am inclined to grant said salary to Lady Chrissie over the Parliament’s objections. Unless one of you, kind lords, can explain to me how granting a single woman’s salary will impoverish one or both of the Reaches?”

  The room went silent. The warmth I felt inside from the ale bubbled up as I realized that no one could come up with anything to gainsay the King’s logic. Fitzwilliam looked as if he really were going to go to bat for me.

  Of course, that good feeling lasted only for a few seconds.

  Just my rotten luck.

  “Your majesty, I object.” And with that, Sir Ivor, the son of the old Lord Ivor, stood up and addressed the throne. “I agree that the amount in question is small. Only the truly miserly would object to the coins spent.”

  King Fitzwilliam’s fingers stopped in their irritated drumming. “Then what is your objection, son of Ivor?”

  “The fact that she is not fit for this court.”

  “Not fit for my court? Explain.”

  A quick whisper took place between the elder and younger Ivor. The elder one continued the argument. “Your Majesty, at the risk of seeming the braggart, I must remind you that my family has served the crown loyally for six generations. Lord Behnaz, for almost as long as that.”

  “I would hesitate before touting Lord Behnaz’s service to my father,” Fitzwilliam remarked acidly. Behnaz turned visibly pale as his ruler continued. “His loyalty is that of a rug: only steady if it is trodden underfoot.”

  “Be that as it may, all those serving in your court are of blood that is either noble, or of proven worth. All but one: that half-animal thing which you keep as the court wizard.”

  That little jab hit home for me. I fixed the old man with a glare as I spoke. “That ‘half-animal thing’ put his skin on the line for this kingdom when your own son was ‘bravely’ risking himself guarding doors and fetching horses from the royal stables.”

  Lord Ivor glowered at me, but continued to talk only to Fitzwilliam.

  “Nevertheless, my opinion stands: you cannot appoint a woman to your service who will disgrace this court. She is not noble. She has not rendered service to this crown. And thus she is not a Lady, no matter what the pages deem her upon introduction.”

  Sir Ivor pounded his fist on the table next to his father for emphasis. “No service, no nobility, no appointment!”

  Most of the lords, Behnaz included, took up the cry, repeating the words. Again, Fitzwilliam raised a hand to quiet the room. It took longer this time around, and at the end of it my heart sank. The strength of the opposition was making King Fitzwilliam hesitate; he would only go so far in his support for me.

  “What have you to say about this, Lady Chrissie?” he asked. Some more grumbling followed the use of the word ‘Lady’, but the King ignored it. “No one of this land can vouch for your birth, so can you prove service to the crown?”

  In truth, I couldn’t have cared less about this issue of court titles. But I did want to keep the job option open, more than ever. Without realizing it, having the offer in the back of my mind had helped me keep my sanity when dealing with idiots like McClatchy and their toadies like Ollivar. Hell with all of this, I’m upping stakes for Andeluvia!

  And now that could all be snatched away in a moment.

  “Your Majesty, noble lords,” I said, “Do not forget my service in bringing the murderer of the Good King Benedict to justice.”

  “What service?” Behnaz laughed contemptuously. “You did not serve of your own free will, at the behest of the crown. You just admitted before this noble court that you were summoned here without your consent.”

  God damn that man. Even the King nodded agreement on that point.

  “Then do not forget my service in bringing the murderer of Captain Vazura to justice.”

  Now it was Lord Ivor’s turn to sneer. “Vazura was killed aiding your cause…which was to help the Fayleene, not this kingdom.”

  “I alerted this kingdom to the threat of war and destruction,” I doggedly went on. “The threat of the spirit stone. The threat of the stone dragon, Sirrahon. And perhaps the re-kindling of a very old war!”

  “The spirit stone was evil, indeed. Where is your proof that they had designs on any kingdom except that of the Fayleene? As for this so-called dragon, has anyone at this table so much as seen or heard of this ‘Sirrahon’?”

  “Commander Yervan,” King Fitzwilliam called, “step forward and speak on this issue.”

  An older knight wearing gold-trimmed plate armor stepped out of the shadows behind the throne. The Commander of the Palace Guard bowed to one and all before speaking.

  “My lords, I and my scouts have seen much evidence of a dragon’s rampage to the north and east. Both the Fayleene Woods and the Great Northern Forest beyond the Khaiber Pass are naught but cinders for now.”

  “Well, then,” Ivor said, “have you seen the cause of this destruction? Have you tracked it? I am no forester, but surely there are reasons that a wood can catch fire, other than from a dragon’s breath?”

  Yervan looked glum as he answered. “No one has seen the cause of the forest’s destruction. As for tracking, my scouting parties followed a swath of downed trees and crushed rocks for a score of leagues to the east from the Fayleene woods. Afterwards, the tracks simply…stopped. Vanished.”

  “You see?” Ivor shook his finger at the assembled nobles. “These threats are fairy tales. Nursery-maid stories created to stir us up, that is all. And as far as this old ‘war’ of yours? Wake us all when you spot the banners of the phantom army that’s supposed to invade us!”

  The chorus of ‘hear, hear!’ from the assembled men hit me like a slap across the face. It was enough to make me drop the disturbing thought that crossed my mind for a split second: How could anything as big and mean-tempered as Sirrahon simply vanish into thin air?

  Part of me wanted to crawl away, find a hole, and jump into it. But another part, one that was fueled by the liquid courage I’d had from a silver tankard, wanted to speak up.

  And with one of those weird little clicks in my brain, I knew what to say.

  “My lords, I am providing a service to the kingdom as we speak,” I announced, sounding a heck of a lot more confident than I felt. “Your Majesty, I am working on a case that is critical to your realm. It appears that a griffin has brought something very rare and valuable from my world into this one. I plan to find that griffin and bring them to account!”

  An amazed series of whispers ran through the room like electricity. Ivor’s scowl redoubled itself as he asked, “How does this affect the realm?”

  “Where do you think this kingdom’s Air Cavalry get their mounts?”

  “Well met, Lady Chrissie,” King Fitzwilliam said approvingly. “What are you doing to pursue closure of this case?”

  If I was in this far, I was in for the whole enchilada. “I have a plan. To enact it, I must travel to where the griffins live and run my quarry to ground.”

  “So be it!” the King declared. “I have heard enough objections for the day. Lady Dayna Chrissie of the Land of Angels, I charge you to go to those lands as my agent. Before night falls, you will bring a copy of your plans to me. I shall in turn give you a token of my support to use in that land.”

  “Thank you, your Majesty. I shall not fail.”

  “See that you do not. If you succeed, none here shall have any bar to your claim to speak as part of my Royal Court
. If you do not succeed…I see no reason for you to return to service in Andeluvia ever again.”

  I gave the clumsiest of curtseys and then turned to walk out. I moved very slowly, as I wasn’t about to let any member of this high-born peanut gallery see my legs tremble as I left. A pair of red-and-black attired royal guards opened the doors to allow me to exit. Then they swung the heavy doors shut with a boom.

  Galen and Shaw came up to me, their expressions worried.

  “We were able to listen to most of what took place,” Galen informed me. “The throne room’s echoes pick up all but the slightest whispers.”

  “Then you heard what I have to do,” I said. “What I volunteered to do.”

  “That we did,” Shaw nodded. “Thou hast spoken well in a hard place. But one question doth trouble me: what is this ‘plan’ thou spoke of?”

  I swallowed hard. “My plan? I have no idea.”

  Galen let out a long-suffering sigh. “That is exactly what I feared you would say.”

  Chapter Ten

  The day after I met with King Fitzwilliam promised a bright autumn morning full of sunshine. But that was about the only good thing going for it. I pulled Fitzwilliam’s token out of my brand new backpack and set it on Galen’s work table. The little bronze badge hung at the end of a fine metal chain. It bore the imprint of a horse’s hoof, a scribble of arcane symbols, and a vague approximation of the king’s face in profile. It sat shining in the sun, looking like a rather gaudy tourist bauble.

  “It’s pretty,” I sighed, “but I’m not sure how useful it’s going to be.”

  “It might be more useful than you think,” Galen said, as he put his tools aside and extended a large, calloused hand towards me. “Allow me to examine it.”

  I gave him the badge and looked around, trying rather poorly to hide my rampant curiosity. According to Galen, his living quarters were on the ground floor of Fitzwilliam’s palace, along with an equine-sized latrine placed conveniently close to the stables. I’m not sure that he wasn’t pulling my leg on that one, having never visited his rooms.

  Of course, what really fascinated me was our current locale: his wizardly workshop on the second floor. The high-peaked doors had been shut with a glistening seal of magic energy set in a star pentagram. A single muttered incantation, and the star flickered out, allowing us to enter.

  The interior looked a lot like I’d expected. Tall shelves crammed with moldy-smelling books and rolls of parchment loomed on each side. Sets of tables sat by the wall with the windows, holding everything from glass jars with brightly colored liquids to miniature terrariums containing creepy looking mossy plants and even creepier looking bugs.

  Aside from the fine layer of dust that covered most everything, it looked like Galen did try to keep the place up. There was a sense of order in the room that reassured me more than I cared to admit. The other comforting factor was the way the place smelled. The mixtures of herbs and powders that Galen carried in his jacket pockets infused his clothes with a hint of exotic spice. Those same scents hung in the air here.

  The centaur wizard had thrown open a set of glass doors at the far end of the room, revealing a spacious stone balcony. It allowed the light to fall more fully upon the closest table, which had been allocated as a special sort of work area. My Dad would have recognized the peg board that hung on a nearby wall, though the tools that hung there were strange. Most had dark stone handles and shards of glass embedded at the business end.

  Several half-finished projects made up of gears and metallic coils lay upon the table’s tool-scarred surface. I was pretty sure I recognized the one that the centaur had just been tinkering with – an item that looked like the love child of an egg beater and a spork. I’d seen it on the deceased Duke Kajari’s desk back when I’d been looking for Benedict’s killer.

  “In my assessment, this badge does have significant value,” Galen finally pronounced. “Essentially, it confers upon you the rank of ‘envoy’ to the Griffin Lands. That’s only one rank below an ambassador.”

  “Okay…” I allowed, “maybe you can tell me what the difference is, then? I’m still trying to wrap my head around the whole ‘diplomacy’ thing in your world. Mostly it seems to be about convincing people you mean them no harm. At least until you can smack them with a rock.”

  The centaur let out an amused snort. “Simply put, an ambassador is allowed to sign treaties in the name of the King. You are not. However, an envoy is no mean rank. You can demand that a provision of a treaty be enforced. And should you be killed while performing your service, Fitzwilliam would be under a noble’s obligation. To demand the culprit’s head on a pike, or to take the kingdom to war in order to retrieve your body. So this is a very high honor indeed.”

  Just great. Well, as my mother would say, ‘it’s the thought that counts’.

  Heavy wing beats and the soft thump of a landing came from the balcony. Shaw furled his wings and stuck his white-feathered head through the open doors. Though it was still hard to make out expressions on his stern eagle’s face, I was getting better at it. My griffin friend looked genuinely excited to have found me.

  “Dayna,” Shaw declared, “‘tis amazing news I bring! Royal pages have brought to mine ears a request: that I transport you as a newly minted envoy to my homeland!”

  And with that announcement, Grimshaw took a step back before turning to the side so I could see him more fully. Andeluvian steel glinted from his Air Cavalry breastplate. A shiny new leather saddle, held on by a cinch strap that went around his midsection, gleamed from his back. A thrill raced through me; I’d known about the trip, but actually seeing how I was going to get there made my heart begin to race in anticipation.

  “I wish the reason was less grim,” I admitted, “but I’m truly looking forward to it.”

  “Your reasoning impressed King Fitzwilliam,” Galen said. “I cannot help but wish that it had impressed him enough that I could join you.”

  Grimshaw looked surprised at that. “Thou art staying here? Thou wouldst pass up the chance to perish gloriously for a just cause? For shame, wizard!”

  “In the first place, not all of us crave death as the defining moment of our lives. And secondly, it is not my choice. Alas, I am still the court wizard, and Fitzwilliam has me assigned to a special, confidential project.”

  I came close to asking the obvious: What project? But a slight shake of Galen’s head nixed that idea. Instead, the wizard snapped a second item to the badge’s chain, a familiar type of silver medallion, then followed it up with a much smaller gold one. Then he draped the entire collection of trinkets over my head. I tucked them under the dark windbreaker I’d chosen to wear for today.

  “I recognize the silver medallion, at least,” I said. “And I can use the easy transport between here and my world. What’s the gold one for?”

  “Communication. Should you need to summon me in a hurry.”

  “But ‘ware the need for our wizard to follow the rules laid out by mine own people,” Shaw cautioned. “Under the treaty between this kingdom’s people and the griffin-folk, you may use a spell to transport out of the Griffin Lands. But not into them, save without leave of the Elders of the aerie.”

  Galen nodded in confirmation. “Therefore, should you need me, I will utilize magic to arrive as quickly as possible – but I can only transport myself to the very border of the griffin demesne. You will need to do the same whenever you return from your world.”

  “The border ‘tis not far,” Shaw hurriedly added. “Scarcely a half-hour’s flight, if that.”

  “True,” Galen said, “but thirty minute’s flight is an hour on the ground at a trot. And closer to three for a human on foot. The terrain can be very rugged.”

  “Worry not, wizard. I shall ensure that our friend has means of conveyance back to where she needs to be.”

  The centaur turned back towards me. “Pray tell, what about food, shelter, and bedding? My understanding is that accommodations in the Griffin Lands
are rather rustic.”

  “I heard that too,” I agreed. “I’m prepared.”

  Using two hands, I hefted my backpack with a grunt. I gave it an affectionate pat. Before I’d blipped over to Andeluvia, I’d parked in front of a sporting goods store and waited for the clerks to open for the morning.

  I lacked the zero-fat hiker’s build and had a pasty complexion showing that the only tanning I’d done had been in front of a computer monitor. So the salesperson was stunned when I paid for a large pack suitable for a week-long wilderness expedition. Granted, I was only able to swallow the price by purchasing the ‘floor special’. That meant I ended up with a pack in the same plastic shade of orange as a highway traffic cone.

  “Doubtless you have implements from your world to cope with conditions at the griffin aerie,” Galen observed. “You seem confident that this trip will locate the griffin you seek.”

  “I am. The Office of the Medical Examiner will be getting copies of the security camera tapes, but I can’t count on them to solve the case. The room was pretty dimly lit, and the cameras weren’t set to watch for anything approaching from above.”

  “Then were you able to bring something to Andeluvia to help in your quest?”

  I tugged at one of the pack’s zippers. “As a matter of fact, I brought the one thing that should blow this case wide open.”

  With a snap, I opened a plastic case and held up the little toothbrush-shaped answer.

  Chapter Eleven

  While I’d helped guide the Fayleene across the northern reaches of Fitzwilliam’s kingdom, I’d told my friends more about my day job. To my surprise, all three got the concept of cells and DNA more easily than King Fitzwilliam. Though somewhat skeptical of concepts like bacteria (Grimshaw doubted the existence of ‘bugs too small to be espied by thine eye’), they accepted what I said in general.