by K J Taylor
‘Oh!’ Gwydion stood up. ‘Er, yes, I think … wait a moment.’ He went to the entrance to Echo’s nest chamber and peeked through. Looking nervous and hesitant when he did this was easy.
Echo was there in his nest, idly grooming a wing. He looked up when Gwydion coughed, and made a noise that sounded vaguely like a question.
‘Er, there’s someone here saying we’ve been asked to go and see the Master of Gold. I think it’s about an apprenticeship.’ Gwydion fidgeted while he waited for a response.
Echo stood up and shook himself down. He was wearing his spotted coat again, and every hair looked beautifully neat and glossy. No wonder, considering that they were all brand new. Gwydion moved aside to let him come through the archway, but once he had done so, Echo didn’t go on ahead. Instead, when Gwydion walked toward the waiting servant, the griffin followed silently.
‘We’re coming,’ Gwydion told the servant, who nodded back politely and set off.
They were fairly low down in the tower, in one of the smaller and plainer of the griffiner quarters. Their route led them upward now, into the levels where the richer and more powerful griffiners lived. As a Council member, the Master of Gold owned one of the best suites at the very top, just above the Council Chamber itself.
During the walk Gwydion kept his eyes busy, taking in as much as he could. They met a few griffiners on the way past and he paid extra attention to them, noting their faces and the outfits they wore, whether they carried anything, and whether or not they were accompanied by their partners. Most of them weren’t, which wasn’t too surprising. When they were at home griffins generally left their humans to their own devices, unless something important was going on, or they felt there might be some danger about. Clearly the inhabitants of the Eyrie felt safe right now.
The servant stopped at an open door and ushered them through it into a richly decorated chamber. Like all rooms used by griffiners, it was hugely oversized and had plenty of floorspace so a griffin could move around easily. The furniture was sturdy and placed close to the walls, but it was nicely carved from expensive woods, and the vast floor was decorated with thick carpets. Tapestries hung on the walls, along with a ceremonial sickle and a painted shield. Unlike Gwydion’s own quarters, the main room here wasn’t the bedroom — it was furnished as an office, with a big desk and shelves full of books and papers. A door in one wall probably led to the bedroom, while an archway in a different wall led to the griffin nest and the opening to the sky beyond it. But the griffin who owned the nest was lying on his belly in the middle of the office floor, staring balefully at the newcomers.
The Master of Gold had been sitting at her desk, but she got up when she saw them and came over, holding out a hand in greeting.
‘Ah!’ she said, on seeing Gwydion. ‘You’re the new one, aren’t you?’
Gwydion smiled shyly. ‘I suppose I am. I’m Gwydion, and this is Echo.’
Echo, seeing that the other griffin wasn’t threatening, entered the room beside his partner and stepped over to introduce himself. The Master of Gold’s partner, a slim young female, stood up and huffed at him in a businesslike way.
The Master of Gold watched the two griffins interact, and relaxed when neither of them looked about to have a disagreement. ‘I’m Arwydd,’ she said to Gwydion. ‘But you can call me Wydd if you like; everyone does.’
He wasn’t quite what he had been expecting. For one thing, she was young — possibly younger than himself. She had a pretty face and a friendly smile, and she was looking at Gwydion with interest and, he noted, admiration.
He smiled back. ‘Pleased to meet you, my Lady.’
She laughed. ‘“Lady”! Just barely. I’ve only been doing this job for a month, you know.’
‘Really?’
‘Oh yes.’ Wydd laughed again. ‘Oh bother, I shouldn’t have told you that, should I? How am I going to get any respect out of you now?’
‘Easily,’ Gwydion said stoutly. ‘You’re a griffiner, and I’m — ’
‘Another griffiner,’ she said at once. ‘Don’t worry, I’ve been told your story, and believe me, I don’t think any less of you just because you’re new. Everyone’s new at least once in their life. Now, why don’t you come and sit down and we’ll have a chat?’
‘I’d be honoured.’
‘Don’t be.’ Wydd showed him to a chair in front of the fireplace, and dragged over another one for herself. There was no fire in the grate, but the room was warm enough anyway. ‘Now then,’ Wydd said once they were settled, ‘I’m told you’re good with numbers?’
‘Very good,’ said Gwydion, who had spent plenty of time making less intelligent people feel confident by explaining their own finances to them, and plenty more time afterwards counting up his profits. ‘And I was the best dancer in Warwick,’ he added, thinking a light joke would work well here.
It did. Wydd chuckled. ‘And modest too, I see.’
‘Honest,’ Gwydion corrected, without a trace of irony. ‘I used to help my father sort out his money. He owned more than one shop, you see, and it took some work to decide how much to invest, and in what, and when.’
‘That’s good,’ said Wydd. ‘That’s just the sort of experience we need. Honestly, it’s a real blessing that you’ve turned up. Since I took over from the previous master here I’ve been run off my feet trying to handle everything on my own. A good assistant is exactly what I need.’
‘You’ll take me on, then?’ asked Gwydion.
‘Well,’ said Wydd, ‘the proper procedure is that I give you a trial first — give you some minor work and see how you handle it. But the truth is that I don’t think we’re likely to find anyone else any time soon, and frankly I’m not in the mood to wait around and see who turns up. We’ll do the trial anyway — I’d get in trouble if we didn’t — but don’t worry too much. I won’t give you anything too hard!’
Gwydion looked relieved. ‘You’ll teach me too, though, won’t you?’
‘Of course. That’s my job, as your master.’ Wydd blushed. ‘I mean, it will be. Once it’s all sorted out. You’ll have to be officially sworn in as a griffiner first. There’s a ceremony, and you’ll take an oath to the Queen, and Echo will do the same to the Mighty Skandar. But don’t worry about that; it’s easy. Since you’re untrained I’ll be given the official duty of training you as a griffiner, so I’ll have a part in the ceremony too. Once that’s all done we can start work together!’
Gwydion glanced at Echo. ‘When’s the ceremony? Nobody’s told me anything about that yet …’
‘Oh, probably soon,’ said Wydd. ‘There’s usually a party afterwards.’
‘Oh good,’ said Gwydion. ‘I love parties.’
‘Me too.’ She grinned. ‘You’ll have to teach me how to dance.’
Gwydion laughed, and only someone watching very closely would have noticed the sly gleam in his eyes. But as he promised Wydd that he would dance with her, and settled down to chat and joke with her now that the important things had been discussed, he could not push away the guilt that had begun to grow in his stomach. He had rarely felt guilty before, but he did now, and no matter what he did for the rest of that day he felt the feeling grow steadily, like a tumour, eating away at his triumph and turning it into something bitter and ugly.
Guilt or no guilt, Gwydion’s official acceptance as a griffiner went ahead a few days later. He spent the intervening time with Echo and his master-to-be, exploring the Eyrie, meeting people, and learning the first few basic lessons about how to work with his new partner. Wydd wasn’t, as it turned out, much of a teacher. She was barely more experienced than he was, and had never taught anyone before, as she cheerfully admitted. She was more interested in getting to know her new apprentice and in the process letting him get to know her.
Gwydion was fine with that. The last month or so had been more than stressful: it had nearly killed him. So despite his need to learn griffish and prepare for his new life, he was happy to spend his time with Wydd eati
ng the fine foods she offered, chatting with the other griffiners she introduced, and deliberately losing at Grove, the latest table-game to catch on in Malvern. He enjoyed it, too. It was good to lead the high life again.
Finally the day of the ceremony arrived. Gwydion was given a new outfit: a griffiner’s ceremonial costume, which all griffiners were expected to wear on occasions like this one.
It was made from rich brown fabric, and the chest was covered with hundreds of feathers sewn on so thickly that they made the wearer look as if he had a feathered chest like a griffin. Below that a patch of grey rabbit fur extended into a hanging ‘tail’ whose tip had been covered with more feathers — tail feathers this time, arranged in a fan shape just like on a griffin’s tail. On the back and shoulders, huge wing feathers had been attached to hang down like a cape.
Normally the outfit would have been made especially for the griffiner, with feathers donated by his partner. But there hadn’t been enough time to have one made, so this one had been lent to him by a friend of Wydd’s, since its colours were fairly close to Echo’s.
It fitted quite well. Once he had put it on — not an easy task — Gwydion inspected himself in the large mirror he had found in his new room.
He was playing at being younger than he was, but he thought that he looked older, and thinner as well. His illness had hollowed his cheeks, and the scar was fading, leaving a line of pale, shiny skin where it had once been red and swollen. He ran a finger over it and grimaced. His looks were ruined. They’d been replaced by a different appearance that some people might still find attractive, true, but the scar meant something more important than a blow to his vanity. From now on, changing his identity would be much harder. He had never had to hide something like it before, and he wondered how he would do so when the time came.
Then again …
Then again, maybe there would never be a need to change again. With Caedmon gone and the war almost certainly finished for good, this new life in Malvern would be the best he could hope for, and better than he’d ever expected. And there was no way Echo would ever let him leave it.
So … this was it, then. Live in Malvern. Be Gwydion the griffiner forever, and leave Heath the rebel behind. And why not? He’d shed a hundred other names and personalities before — why should this one be any different? Hadn’t he always used his talents for his own benefit, to do what he liked and take whatever he wanted?
And now, of course, it was even better than before. He had a partner now, one who could change his coat just as easily as Gwydion could change his own appearance, and who knew how to play Gwydion’s game quite well. Once Gwydion had learned how to talk to him, it would become even easier. He could become rich and powerful here in Malvern, just as he had always wanted.
Gwydion adjusted the feathers on his outfit, and tried not to meet his own eye in the mirror. ‘What’s wrong with me?’ he muttered aloud. It had never felt this hard before. He tried his best to push his doubts away, but it was futile. He had a horrible feeling that he had grown a conscience.
But, in the end, what other choice did he have?
He sighed miserably and left the room to face the official beginning of his new life.
FOURTEEN
ONE FACE TOO MANY
Despite his regrets, Gwydion felt glad later on that, just once in his life, he had got to see the great Council Chamber in use. The entire Council had gathered, and many griffiners had come with their partners to sit in the galleries and watch. On the platform in the very centre, which was painted silver to look like the moon, Queen Laela stood with the Mighty Skandar. The Council stood in a ring around the platform, each councillor positioned between their partners’ forelegs as was proper on official occasions. Several of them had their apprentices there with them, standing behind and to the side of their masters.
Gwydion and Echo entered the chamber from the floor, and walked side by side to the platform, passing through the gap left by Wydd’s empty spot. She walked ahead of them with her own partner, Essh, then recited the ceremonial words to Laela.
‘Eyrie Mistress Laela Taranisäii, I am Arwydd Hafweni. In my position as Master of Gold for this Eyrie, I hereby present Gwydion of Warwick. He has been chosen, and seeks to become a part of this Eyrie.’
Next it was Essh’s turn. He came forward and spoke to Skandar, and though Gwydion couldn’t understand it, it was obvious that his partner was taking a vow of his own.
Gwydion came forward when Wydd gestured to him, and knelt in front of Laela. ‘Eyrie Mistress Laela Taranisäii,’ he said, having memorised the words that morning, ‘I am Gwydion Warwicki. I have been chosen, and have obeyed the law of all griffiners by coming to swear myself to you.’
‘Then take the oath,’ said Laela.
Gwydion recited it without standing up. ‘I, Gwydion of Warwick, hereby swear that I will obey my Eyrie Mistress in all things, and that I will serve my apprenticeship faithfully in readiness for the day when I will be required to fulfil the duties of my master before me, and that I will always and forever put the needs of my country and my Eyrie before my own. I swear that when danger threatens I will fight at my Eyrie Mistress’s command, and that I will never betray or neglect my duties as a warrior of Malvern, or leave my Eyrie without permission or command. I swear this by the holy name of Scathach, the Night God, sacred guardian of Tara and its people, and may she strike me down if I have lied or if I ever break my oath.’
There, it was done, and Gwydion felt his heart shudder. Not that he truly and honestly believed the Night God would strike him down for the lies he had just told, but he could not shake off the memory of Saeddryn’s snarling face, or the pain when she had slashed his own face open from eye to jaw. If the Night God’s anger and judgement had a face, then that was it, and he silently prayed that he would never meet Saeddryn again. Especially not now, when she would have every reason to kill him.
But she wouldn’t dare enter Malvern again … would she?
He was too busy worrying to pay much attention to the rest of the ceremony, but his part in it was over anyway; all he had to do now was stand there while Laela recited the proper words to welcome him and name him a griffiner of Malvern. Then Wydd came forward again, and formally claimed him as her new apprentice, vowing to teach him everything he should know.
After that the councillors held out their hands to him in a gesture of welcome, and the griffiners up in the gallery cheered and applauded — possibly because the tedious ceremony was now over, and everyone was free to go up onto the tower-top and get drunk.
Gwydion and Echo followed Wydd and Essh out, as was customary.
Once they were well away from the Council Chamber, Wydd smiled at her new apprentice. ‘Well done. I was wondering if you’d remember all the words properly — not easy, is it? How long did it take you to memorise the lot?’
Gwydion shrugged easily. ‘I recited them to myself all morning until I had them right.’
Wydd chuckled. ‘Good idea. Don’t tell anyone this, but when I had to do that I got nervous and trailed off halfway through. My master had to whisper the next bit into my ear! I nearly died.’
‘Don’t worry about it,’ Gwydion said kindly. ‘Nervousness can make anyone stammer. Odds are no-one was paying attention anyway.’
‘Hope not.’ Wydd glanced at her partner. ‘Anyway, never mind about that. It’s time to have fun! I’m going back to my room to get out of this outfit — no way am I going to try dancing with it on! You’d better do the same. One wine stain and it’s ruined, and you don’t want to know how much those things cost.’
‘Oh, I’m not so sure. If I’m going to be working for you, I’ll probably wind up knowing the cost of everything. But I’ll take your advice anyway. See you up top!’ Gwydion nodded and headed off back to his quarters.
Echo arrived ahead of him, and paced impatiently while he carefully stored the ceremonial outfit away and put on a much plainer tunic he had been given along with it. ‘Plain’ was a relative te
rm: the tunic didn’t have any feathers on it, but it was still made out of fine velvet trimmed with fur. Only the best for griffiners.
Once he was dressed, Gwydion took a moment to comb his hair, then told Echo he was ready to leave. The spotted griffin came over immediately, offering his back.
Gwydion’s heartbeat sped up. ‘Er, no thank you,’ he said. ‘I can walk.’
Echo didn’t like that. ‘Kkksssh!’ he hissed, shoving his human none-too-gently with his shoulder.
Gwydion would have argued, but despite the unpleasant prospect of flying again he knew he was expected to do what his partner wanted and arrive in style. So he fetched Echo’s harness and put it on him, and got onto his back once they were out on the balcony beyond the nest. Echo had apparently decided to accommodate his human’s fear and inexperience, because he took off with a surprisingly gentle motion, and flew in a slow spiral up toward the tower-top where he had landed on his arrival at Malvern. Back then it had been almost completely bare, apart from a few plants growing in stone pots, but now it had been turned into a dance floor. Tables had been brought up and stocked with plates and bowls of food to which guests could help themselves. The tables stood on one side of the space, and on the opposite side carcasses had been laid in a neat row for the griffins. In between was a big open space for dancing, and a troupe of musicians was already playing a jaunty tune. The small fruit trees that grew in their outsized pots among the other plants were decked out with flowers and silver bells, and several barrels of drink had been brought up and opened, with cups and ladles on hand.
Echo landed in the middle of the dance floor and Gwydion dismounted. Plenty of other griffins and griffiners were already there, and they greeted the two pleasantly.
Now that Gwydion and Echo were there the celebration could begin. The guests went to the tables to eat or to the barrels for wine or mead, or clustered together to talk.
