by Chrys Cymri
I pressed ‘play’ again and we watched as the Doctor made his farewells, stating tearfully, ‘I don’t want to go,’ and became the Eleventh Doctor.
‘And now,’ I said as the closing credits streamed across the TV screen, ‘let’s go on to The Genesis of the Daleks. Some good ethical questions in that one.’
But red and orange swirled through Clyde’s body. ‘Fireplace.’
‘Trust me, Clyde, you’ll enjoy Tom Baker.’
‘Fireplace. Fireplace. Fireplace!’
That such a loud voice could come out of a foot-long snail amazed me. ‘All right, all right, Tennant it is.’
‘Fireplace!’
A blur of purple-grey flashed past my eyes. Morey landed heavily onto the coffee table. ‘What on earth is going on? You’re disturbing the eggs!’
‘I was trying,’ I said steadily, ‘to start Clyde’s confirmation preparation.’
‘What, by stuffing him up the chimney?’ The DVD, having reached the end of the closing credits, started looping the Doctor Who theme music. ‘Oh, I see, by using Doctor Who. Only you would think of that, Black.’
It’d been at least a week since I’d annoyed Morey enough for him to use his nickname for me. ‘One Church of England diocese had a whole day’s training on how clergy could use Doctor Who with teenagers.’
‘Fireplace!’
‘For goodness sake, Black, would you just put the ruddy thing on?’
Grumbling to myself, I pulled out the relevant DVD and slid it into the player. ‘Here, you know what to do,’ I told Clyde, handing him the remotes. And I took the mugs to the kitchen.
Morey caught a lift on my shoulder. As I busied myself making another pot of tea, he said, ‘But, as Clyde’s other godparent, I’m pleased that you’re preparing Clyde for confirmation. You could discuss it with Bishop Aeron.’
I sighed as I poured tea into two mugs. ‘You don’t give up, Morey, do you?’
‘Unlike some people.’
‘That’s it, no digestive biscuit for you.’
Morey’s tail flicked. ‘I only like the chocolate ones anyway. And you can just leave my tea on the table.’
‘What about mine?’
‘You don’t have time to drink it.’ He jerked his head at the back garden. ‘You’ve got visitors. Don’t keep them waiting.’
Three full sized gryphons were landing on the mixture of grass and weeds. Tea sloshed as I plonked the mug on the kitchen counter and hurried out the back door.
Chapter Five
It was only as I strode through the back garden, my slippers dampening in the wet grass, that I realised I’d never asked Morey why he was certain I was the one the gryphons wanted to see.
The three straightened as I approached. The tan and orange of the owl-tiger gryphon was bright against the dull brown of the back fence. Next to her stood a mixture of osprey and panther, the black and white of her head blending in with the monochrome spots of her body. The third was a brown eagle and lion combination. So, the three gryphons who had hunted James. I felt my face warm, and I wondered if a priest were allowed to give someone the finger.
They dropped into a deep bow, bird forelegs stretched out before them. ‘Greetings, nest sister to the courageous James,’ said the owl-tiger gryphon.
‘Greetings,’ I responded curtly. ‘What can I do for you?’
‘We promised to make James a blood brother,’ the osprey gryphon said in Welsh. ‘We have come for him.’
I took a deep breath. Anger or not, disappointing three fierce creatures the size of horses was not a pleasant task. ‘James is still recovering from the hunt. If you’d sent a rat, I could have told you so, and saved you a journey. We’re a long way from your clan lands.’
‘Arnborg brought us,’ the owl gryphon assured me. ‘The dragon waits for us nearby. Your nest brother could fly on her.’
It was tempting to let the gryphons wait whilst I consulted with my brother. But, regardless of what James might say, I wasn’t certain that a dragon ride to wherever the gryphons were currently encamped was what his heart needed right now. ‘I’ll pass on your message. I suggest you go back to your clan, and send him a rat. Then he can let you know when he might be ready to meet with you.’
‘Now,’ the eagle gryphon growled. ‘We would take him now.’
Talons flexed against grass and soil. For a moment I wondered if they would simply push past me and force their way into the house. ‘I’m his matriarch,’ I said firmly. ‘And I say that he’s not ready to go anywhere. Would you challenge me in my own clan?’
To my relief, feathers smoothed and tails stopped thrashing. All three lowered their heads, bringing their yellow eyes to the level of my own. ‘Of course not, Matriarch,’ the owl gryphon said quickly.
A cloud parted, sending a slant of late afternoon sun across their blood-flecked feathers. I realised that their breathing had eased during our talk. Arnborg might have found ways to shorten their journey, using her skills as a search dragon to seek out thin places, but their drooping wings spoke of an exhausting flight. I felt some of my anger ease. ‘I don’t think James is in any shape to go with you, but I’ll ask him if he’d like to come down and have a word. Would that be acceptable?’
There were general rumbles of agreement. I turned and squelched my way back to the house. One day, I’d learn my lesson, and keep a pair of wellies ready by the back door.
‘All okay?’ Morey asked as I walked through the kitchen.
‘All under control.’ I shed my wet slippers at the bottom of the stairs, and walked up in my damp socks.
James was propped up in his bed, pale face lit by the screen from his Macbook. ‘Hey, Sis.’
‘Hey, bro.’ I paused in the doorway. Clothes and magazines were strewn across the floor, and several dirty mugs fought for room on the bedside cabinet. ‘We’ve got company. Three gryphons want to see you.’
‘What, Larry, Curly, and Moe?’
I gaped at him. ‘Those are their names?’
‘I haven’t a clue. I was too busy trying not to get eaten to ever ask.’ He closed the laptop lid. ‘But when I was hiding in the lava tube, naming them after the Three Stooges seemed to help.’
It took me a moment to find my voice. ‘They want to make you a blood brother. I think it’s too early for you to fly anywhere, but they’d like to see you.’
James stared at me. ‘Blood brother? Since when?’
I suddenly realised that I’d never told him. ‘Sorry, they said that after Raven and Peter took you off to the John Radcliffe. They were impressed with your cunning and courage. You’re worthy of being a gryphon, it seems.’
There was a shift in the air, so subtle that I thought I might be imagining it. Then James placed the laptop on the end of the bed and swept his duvet aside. He was wearing nothing more than a jockstrap, and I averted my eyes as he rummaged through his small closet. Granted, I had taken my turn changing his nappies, but that had been a couple of decades ago.
When he was finally decent in a pair of jeans and a dark shirt, we made our way through the house. Morey had left the kitchen and was perched on a tree branch to talk to his much larger clan members.
As soon as they saw him, the larger gryphons curled their forefeet under their bellies and touched their beaks to the ground. ‘Heliwr mawr a chyfrwys,’ said the eagle gryphon.
‘Great and cunning hunter,’ I translated for James.
‘Well, that’s just great,’ James said. ‘And just when did you decide that? When you didn’t get to rip out my liver?’
‘You helped bring down a mammoth and a Tyrannosaurus rex,’ I reminded him. The glint in his eye made me slide nervous hands into my pockets.
‘Then why was I hunted? Is that what you normally do to a hunter?’
‘I was hunted,’ Morey reminded him. ‘To prove myself to the clan.’
‘You chose to do it.’ James pointed at the three larger gryphons. ‘You lot gave us no choice. Me, or Pen. So I did this hunt of yours.
You know what I was thinking, when I was crawling through the lava tubes? When I was wondering whether you’d be at the other end, waiting to tear my arms and legs off? That maybe I’d find a way to use the drugs on you, and see how you’d like dying. But, no, I used them on me. And now I’ll be on medication for the rest of my life.’
The owl gryphon said quietly, ‘We meant no malice.’
Before James could respond, the eagle gryphon asked him, ‘Are you a meat eater?’
James stared at her for a moment. ‘Yes.’
‘When you consume flesh, do you feel any guilt?’
‘No.’
She snorted. ‘Nor do we. The hunt is life. The hunt is death. The hunt is life. We are the clan, and we are the hunt.’
The osprey gryphon lifted her head. ‘If you want to join us in blood bonds, you must understand this.’
‘One minute you’re going to rip me apart, and the next you want me in your gang?’ James brushed overly long brown hair back from his forehead. ‘Well, I have just two words for you. Can you guess what they are? The second is off. The first is fu--’
‘My brother needs to think over your offer,’ I broke in quickly. ‘He’ll let you know when he’s ready.’
The three hunters glanced at each other. ‘Very good,’ said the osprey gryphon. ‘When you come, James, and join us in the blood oath, you’ll grant us new names to add to our own. Think over what those will be.’
‘Oh, that’s easy,’ James muttered. ‘Larry, Curly, and Moe.’
The owl gryphon flexed her neck. ‘Are those the names of great hunters?’
‘Very great hunters,’ James said. ‘They knew exactly how to get a slap or a poke in the eye.’
‘Daw'r heliwr dewr atoch chi,’ Morey told his clan members. I glanced away, uncertain I shared his confidence. I didn’t think James would ever agree to visit Clan Cornovi.
I managed to usher my brother back into the house before he could offer any further insults. ‘Thank God,’ I said as I shut the door, ‘that gryphons are more even tempered than dragons. A dragon would have flamed you by now.’
‘Quicker than being eaten.’ James slumped into a chair. ‘Got any beer in?’
‘Of course,’ I said, feeling vaguely insulted. ‘Hobgoblin or Broadside?’
‘Old Speckled Hen?’
‘Clyde and I finished that off.’
‘Figures,’ James grumbled. ‘The snail always snaffles the best.’
‘And I’ll be making dinner in a moment,’ I said as I pulled out a bottle. ‘Anything you fancy?’
‘Got anything you hunted yourself?’
I sighed. ‘James, the gryphons were really impressed with the way you won the hunt of kin. I think what they’re offering is a high honour.’
My brother accepted the pint glass and gulped down several mouthfuls. ‘They can shove their “high honour” where the sun don’t shine.’
‘James--’
‘I mean it, Sis.’ He wiped beer foam from his lips. ‘I’m off gryphons. Big time.’
‘Even Morey and Taryn?’ I asked cautiously. ‘And their eggs--’
‘Rot their eggs.’ At that moment, the cat flap rattled as Morey pushed his way into the kitchen. James grabbed his beer. ‘On second thought, I’m not hungry.’
‘What’s going on?’ Morey demanded as James stormed out.
I shook my head. And I headed after my brother. ‘James, I need to talk to you. About Caer-grawnt.’
He paused at the bottom of the stairs. ‘What about it?’
‘You know I was dismissed from ministering at St George’s.’ I took a deep breath. ‘But that doesn’t mean you can’t go back. You’d have to find a place to live--’
‘I’m not going back.’
A mixture of relief and new worry churned through my stomach. ‘Why not?’
‘The problems were building up anyway.’ James shrugged. ‘They might have computers, ones they’ve brought over from here, and there’s even some intranet. But the rat kings are against us ever linking up systems. Can you imagine what having the internet in Lloegyr would do to their business? How many people would use rats if they could just send emails?’
‘There’s always a reaction against new technology,’ I pointed out, although a part of me hated the idea of losing poetic flying rats.
‘Let someone else deal with it.’ James started up the stairs. ‘It can be their fight. I don’t want it.’
‘So you’re just going to give up?’ I asked. ‘Not even try?’
‘Why should I go back to a place that doesn’t want me?’
I found my mouth opening and closing as he trudged away. Morey was sitting on the table when I returned to the kitchen, his tail flicking idly from side to side. ‘Interesting,’ he said as I prepared to make dinner.
‘What is?’
‘How much your brother sounds like you.’
Metal clanged against metal as I slammed a pan onto the hob. ‘In what way?’
‘You know what I mean.’
I started cutting up carrots and bell peppers. And I located the open bottle of red wine with the vague intention of adding it to the spaghetti sauce. After I’d made sure it hadn’t gone off, of course. ‘James is still recovering from his brush with death.’
‘So what’s your excuse?’
‘Why do I need one?’
Morey shook his head as I brought over the bottle and a second glass. ‘I’m on egg duty tonight.’
‘No drinking while baby sitting?’
‘Taryn would have my ears.’ He sniffed. ‘Besides, it’s not baby sitting when it’s your own children. So, are you going to follow the example set by your brother? Run away from a challenge?’
‘All right, all right, all right.’ I pulled out the onions. ‘I’ll meet with Bishop Aeron. But that doesn’t mean I’ll change my mind.’
Dinner was a lonely affair. Although, after Alan’s death, I’d had eighteen months of eating on my own, I’d now become accustomed to at least Morey or Clyde being in the kitchen whilst I ate. But Morey had returned to his bedroom, and Clyde was now watching School Reunion and drooling over K9. As I wound pasta around my fork, I wondered how I could explain to Clyde that romantic prospects with a metal robotic dog were very limited.
After I’d loaded everything into the dishwasher, and poured myself a third glass of wine, I headed to the study. Email re Bishop Aeron I wrote on a notepad, hoping that staring at the words would give me the necessary courage to actually act upon them.
The phone rang. I glanced at the time on my computer and decided I would answer it. ‘Penny White.’
‘Hi Penny, it’s Peter.’
I chuckled. ‘I think I’d recognise your voice by now.’
He laughed. ‘Sorry, old habit. Just wondering, are you free tomorrow afternoon?’
‘Just a moment, let me look at my empty diary.’ I paused for a moment. ‘Guess what, I’m absolutely free. Why? What’s happening?’
‘Snail sharks keep turning up in Earls Barton. Oh, nothing like that one time, not a whole rabble of them. Just a handful at a time, and they mostly leave the dogs and cats alone. But people are beginning to notice that something strange is going on. I’d like to see if we can find out where the crossing point is.’
‘You want me to bring Clyde. Since he’s good at finding thin places.’
‘Yes, please.’ Peter’s sigh was loud down the phone. ‘We’ve already arranged for the post office to be moved. That’s caused enough ructions for one town.’
‘I thought the postmistress retired.’
‘She did, but we needed to arrange it anyway.’ Peter sounded glum. ‘The snail sharks kept eating the stamps.’
‘Gives a whole new meaning to “snail mail”.’
He chuckled. ‘We’re hoping that the vaping shop might be able to stay there. The snails don't seem interested in e-cigarettes.’
‘Good for them.’ I hesitated. ‘I don’t really like taking Clyde back to Earls Barton. Just in
case he remembers why I adopted him.’
‘You’ve never told him? About his mother?’
‘How can I?’ My pen drew an outline of a shovel below my note about Bishop Aeron. ‘I killed his mother with a gardening tool.’
‘She was trying to cripple a dragon at the time. In fact, thinking back, that was Raven, wasn’t it? That’s where the scars on his right leg come from, right?’
‘What time do you want us?’ I asked quickly. ‘And shall we meet you there?’
‘Around 3pm, and yes, that’d help. I'm driving over from a meeting in Peterborough.’
‘That’s great.’ I found myself drawing a circle around the name Aeron. ‘Hope that goes well.’
‘Penny, are you all right? How was church today?’
‘It happened.’
‘Anything you want to talk about?’
I deliberately placed the pen down on the desk. ‘No, it’s all right. I’ll see you tomorrow.’
‘Okay. Love you.’
‘And you.’
The phone handset beeped as I placed it back into its cradle. Then, after a deep breath and a gulp of red wine, I composed an email to the Bishop’s chaplain.
Dear Sally, I know I said I wasn’t interested in meeting with Bishop Aeron, and I know you’ve already sent the rat, but could I please change my mind? And Morey would want to come too. Sorry to mess everyone around, and I can understand if Bishop Aeron says it’s too late. Yours in Christ, Penny White.
My mouse hovered over the paper aeroplane icon for a moment, and then I clicked to send the message.
Less than a minute later, my iPhone buzzed as an email hit my inbox.
Dear Penny, I set up the meeting yesterday. It’s at 11am on Wednesday. Please make your way through the thin place in Nenehampton Cathedral. The Dean knows you’re coming. Thank you for changing your mind, or I would’ve had an embarrassing conversation with a bishop dragon! Love and prayers, Sally.
‘Bishop’s chaplains,’ I muttered to myself. ‘Too canny for their own good.’ And I went upstairs to tell Morey of our appointment. He might be able to hear both sides of a telephone conversation and read DVD discs while still in their cases, but somehow he couldn’t pick up email conversations. I could only thank heaven for small mercies.
