by Chrys Cymri
‘Mother--’ Lord Willis began.
Lady Paityn whipped her head around to look back at her son. ‘They’re living under our roof. Why shouldn’t they know?’
‘There’s no need to tell us anything,’ I said firmly. ‘We’re grateful for your hospitality. And we recognise what you do for this town. It must’ve been difficult to sacrifice your lands.’
‘These are their lands?’ James asked. ‘But they’re covered by a town.’ Jago’s head was poking out of the top of the pocket, dark eyes taking in the scene.
‘I sold the land to those who could develop it,’ Lady Paityn said.
‘Where did the herd go?’ That was Morey, standing in the doorway to the other room. Taryn was at his side, and the eyasses and Clyde behind them.
‘They’re still here,’ Lord Willis said. ‘They are employees.’
The white cloth rucked up under Taryn’s claws as she landed on the table. ‘Employees?’ I could hear Morey hissing at her under his breath, but his wife was undeterred. ‘They’re members of your herd.’
Lady Paityn brought her head down to the small gryphon. ‘We wouldn’t have a herd, if we hadn’t sold our land.’
‘It was a hard winter.’ Lord Willis sounded tired, defeated. ‘Snow fell, melted, froze. Our hooves couldn’t break through to graze, our horns bounced off the lake so we couldn’t drink.’
‘Then the Consortium came,’ Lady Paityn said. ‘They brought us fodder and water, and built barns so that our remaining foals did not die.’
‘We agreed to sell them our land.’ Lord Willis sighed heavily. ‘In return, they would build on all of it, and we would own a third of the factories and houses.’
‘You deliberately cut yourselves off from your land.’ Taryn sounded horrified. ‘How could you?’
‘How could we not?’ Lady Paityn demanded. ‘Our herd now never starves. All of our foals survive.’
‘But they work in your factories,’ I said.
‘Yes,’ Lord Willis replied. ‘We all have to earn our keep. Food, shelter, water, lighting, none of it is free.’
‘I guess it sounds great, living off the land,’ James said, ‘but it’s not always that easy. Maybe you need some sort of government to help people out when bad things happen. Like we have.’
Morey flew up to my shoulder. ‘I’ve seen how your governments work. I’m not impressed.’
I wished I could disagree with him. ‘Lord Willis, Lady Paityn, I’m sorry, but I still can’t condone child labour.’
‘What can we do?’ Lord Willis asked. ‘You condemn us, but you offer no alternatives.’
His words pricked a large hole into my self-righteous balloon. ‘Tell you what,’ James said quickly. ‘Let me look around. Maybe I can come up with some ideas.’ Jago pushed himself further out of the pocket and made quick motions with his claws. ‘Yes, of course you can come with me.’
‘But in the meantime,’ Morey said firmly, ‘time for eyasses to go to bed. Come along, the lot of you.’
Four smaller gryphons trailed behind their father. Taryn picked her way over to James. Jago met her gaze for a moment. Then he dropped down into the pocket. Her tail pounded against the table, then she dipped her head. ‘Very well. James, it seems he has made his choice. I leave him in your care.’
James flushed. One hand raised protectively to the small lump in his shirt. ‘Congratulations,’ I told him. ‘Looks like you’ve adopted a gryphon.’
‘Oh, I don’t mind,’ James said, looking down at his shirt. ‘Not this gryphon.’
<><><><><><>
I drank the after dinner coffee quickly, not wishing to prolong my time in the presence of the two unicorns. James wandered over to Lord Willis, and started asking questions about the unicorn’s industries. So Clyde and I headed upstairs together. ‘Not too much beer,’ I reminded him as he flew off to his room.
Spring decided to come with the dawn. I walked to the church in bright sunshine. Members of the community gave me nods and smiles, even those who were obviously on their way to somewhere other than worship. The two churchwardens greeted me courteously at the door. Morey, I discovered, had already arrived and was in the vestry.
‘Nothing too contentious this morning, I trust,’ he said as I pulled out my sermon.
‘Just something nice and fluffy about how much God loves us.’
The service unfolded without incident. Morey deaconed, reading out the Gospel and assisting at the altar. Taryn had come with four of their children, and they went into Sunday school together. I had not expected to see James, but I wondered whether the gryphons would have a word with him about Jago’s absence. Lord Willis came from the front pew to bring Clyde up for a blessing.
Cold meats and fruit waited for us back at the mansion. Since I’d never developed the habit of having a Sunday roast, this suited me just fine. James grabbed a plateful of food, then headed up the ramp. ‘Feeding time,’ he explained around a mouthful of apple. He ducked slightly as Clyde flew past him.
So I sat alone at the dining table. Now I had ample time to admire the carvings on the panelled walls, and the large windows which looked out across the back garden. There was no sign of Raven. Would it show a lack of trust, I wondered, if I were to visit the pufflings to check whether they’d been given food?
I finished an orange, picked up my robes, and followed the ramp to the next floor. A trail of slime marred the dark carpet. I sighed, wondering what the servants would say. Then I noticed that the trail led to James’ room, and I stopped to look through the open door.
An empty syringe rested on the dresser. James was reclining on the bed, Jago curled up on his chest. And Clyde, reds and oranges sliding through his body, was sitting nearby. ‘Church,’ the snail said firmly.
‘Get off it, Clyde,’ James said. ‘It’s not my scene.’
‘Church,’ Clyde repeated, his tentacles pointing at the small gryphon.
‘I don’t think he’s talking to you,’ I said. ‘Jago?’
The eyas lifted his head and looked at the snail. He raised his crest, the blend of turquoise, black, and blue bright against his blue-grey body.
James reached out and rubbed a finger along the furry chest. ‘Poor lad was asleep.’
Clyde growled. ‘Sleep. Church!’
My brother moved up the bed, propping himself against the pillows. ‘Clyde is asking why we weren’t in church.’ James spoke both in English and sign language to the gryphon.
Jago cocked his head. Then he rose onto his hindlegs and signed back. ‘He’s asking why he should go to church,’ James translated.
Various colours pulsed through Clyde’s body. ‘Baptism.’
‘Your parents want you to be christened,’ James told Jago, his hands moving in the air. ‘So you’ll become a Christian.’
Jago responded. And James chuckled. ‘No, mate, I didn’t get a choice either. I was only six months old when my parents had me baptised. But don’t worry, I don’t think it did me any harm.’
I could have wished that it’d done him more good. Clyde moved closer. His tentacles wriggled in a way I’d never seen before. Then I took another look. ‘James, do you think Clyde is trying to sign?’
‘I think he is.’ James peered at the snail. ‘Though I’d be getting dizzy, waving my eyes around like that.’
‘I'm certain he simply can’t form the words for what he wants to say,’ I explained. ‘That’s why he sings hymns instead. Maybe he could learn sign language?’
‘Maybe.’ James leaned forward. ‘It’s hard enough understanding Jago’s toes sometimes. I’m not sure about tentacles.’
Clyde stopped. His eyespots moved between me, Jago, and James. The gryphon strode over to the snail. Jago signed, slowly and carefully. ‘He’s saying,’ James said, frowning in concentration, ‘that he’ll try to understand Uncle Clyde.’
The title made me smile. ‘That would be great, Jago. I know Uncle Clyde says a lot more than we realise. I’m certain of it.’
Th
e gryphon reached out and rubbed his head against the snail. The gesture needed no interpretation. Pink rippled through Clyde’s body. Jago rumbled a purr.
‘Anyway,’ James said, ‘at least I was never confirmed. When’s that going to happen for you, Clyde?’
I felt my mouth dry. ‘I’m still talking to Bishop Aeron about that.’
‘But I let a rat in from her the other day.’ Then, far too late, James caught the expression on my face. ‘I guess she sends you a lot of rats.’
Clyde turned his eyespots towards me. ‘Bishop? Jesus?’
‘She doesn’t think so,’ I said slowly. ‘Not at the moment.’
The colours drained from the snail’s body. The shell pulled back, and he extended his wings. ‘Clyde, wait!’ I called out as he flew from the bed and through the open window. ‘Don’t listen to what anyone else thinks! We know what you’re really like! We’re your family!’
But he was already outside, soaring across the formal gardens. I glared at James. ‘I’m going after him.’
‘Sorry.’ James cleared his throat. ‘But Clyde’ll be all right. He knows we love him.’
I shook my head. ‘We have to protect him from this sort of prejudice. Remember that poem I used to tell you? “Children Learn What They Live.” Clyde’s like anyone else, he’s going to be affected by how others treat him.’
The ramp creaked under my boots as I strode out of the house. The air smelled of fresh grass and flowers. A hint of smoke reminded me that the town’s factories were not far away.
No time to enjoy the sunshine. I hurried around the left side of the house. And found Peter standing by the ornamental rose bushes, his fingers wrapped around a red flower. ‘Surprise!’
‘A great one,’ I said, hurrying up for a kiss. A glance showed me that Clyde had landed on the meadow beyond the formal gardens. ‘Why didn’t you come to the house?’
‘I was about to. Raven only dropped me off a few minutes ago.’
‘Raven brought you?’
‘Yes. I asked him if he would, and he agreed. We had an interesting chat on the way over.’ Peter looked down at the rose. ‘Does Lord Willis have a fierce gardener? A harpy or a manticore?’
‘I don't think so.’
Peter broke the flower free, and handed it to me. ‘I took off the thorns.’
The gesture did little to ease the tightness in my chest. ‘What did you two talk about?’
‘About the need for us to be able to protect ourselves.’ Peter held out his hand, and I slid mine into his warm palm. ‘Raven’s gone off to collect our swords from Morey’s clan.’
We started walking through the garden. ‘That might take awhile,’ I said. ‘You know how his clan likes to keep on the move.’
‘Raven’s a search dragon. As he likes to remind us, he can find anything.’
‘Oh, he can find anything,’ I agreed, ‘but that doesn’t mean that there’s a thin place nearby. He might still have to do some straight flying.’
Peter glanced around. Although even Clyde wasn’t near, he still dropped his voice. ‘And you’re right, by the way. I told Raven our theory, about dragon blood sealing up thin places. He cut a toe and used a few drops on a crossing near your vicarage. It worked. The thin place is gone.’
‘He won’t tell anyone, will he?’
‘Do you think he’d want people to know? It could put every dragon at risk. There must be people who’d like to see all thin places closed off.’
I thought of Clyde cutting a crossing in the sky, and tried once again to bury the memory. ‘I take your point.’
We halted just before the formal gardens sloped down into long grass. Peter glanced around. ‘Where are the gryphons?’
‘They decided to do some hunting around the church. We have a problem with mice.’ I winced. ‘I mean, non-speaking mice. I did tell Taryn and Morey to make sure they didn’t kill the wrong ones.’
Clyde flew up to the wall which separated the meadow from the woods beyond. ‘He’s become quite the flyer,’ Peter commented as the snail’s wings tucked away under his shell. ‘Although it should be impossible for a snail to fly.’
‘And dragons, gryphons, and bumble bees. Peter, I need to go to talk to him.’ Then I looked up as a familiar hum buzzed across my ears. ‘And here are the lemmings. I should’ve realised it wouldn’t take them long to find him.’
The small rodents flew over the house. I raised a hand to shield my eyes from the sun as I tried to take count. There were at least a hundred, their small legs tucked up against their white bodies. Gossamer wings shimmered as they swooped down towards Clyde. I sighed, bracing myself for more hero worship.
Clyde lifted up his head, his body pulsing with blues and pinks. Saliva dripped from sharp teeth as he opened his jaws. Obviously it had been a little while since he’d last eaten lemming.
Another set of the rodents passed overhead. I squinted, trying to work out why they clustered together. A dark object seemed to be clutched in their claws. ‘Peter, what are they holding? Can you see?’
The second group flew over to Clyde. There was purpose in their formation, I was sure of it. They separated, and hovered over the snail shark. All too late I realised what they had spread out between them. ‘Clyde! Watch out!’
The lemmings released the net. The material dropped down onto the snail. The weight tore him from the wall. Clyde’s howl of anger made me stumble, and only then did I discover that I was running towards him. My hand slid into my trouser pocket, and I pulled out my pocketknife.
The lemmings dived down. Several hundred small bodies grabbed at the net. Their thin wings thrummed as they lifted ropes and snail into the air. I was only fifty feet away, but it might as well have been fifty miles. By the time I reached the wall, Clyde was out of reach.
The snail shark had opened his jaws and was attempting to bring his teeth to bear on the thick material. One lemming, not on lifting duty, barked out a warning. The other lemmings turned, twisting the net so that Clyde became even more entangled. There was no way he could cut himself free. His eyespots were fixed on me as the lemmings carried him away.
‘Clyde!’ I halted. Despite the burn in my throat, I shouted out, ‘I’ll find you, Clyde! I will find you!’
Peter joined me a moment later. ‘No one with wings around when you most need them!’
‘Not yet, anyway.’ I yanked the blade free from the pocketknife. ‘Raven will find him. Raven can find anything.’
‘Whenever Raven comes back here.’
‘He’ll come as soon as he can,’ I said grimly. ‘He’ll know I’ve opened the knife.’
‘Penny.’ He stared at me. ‘I don’t understand. What’s so special about that knife?’
Chapter Fifteen
‘Raven gave it to me months ago,’ I said. My heart was pounding in my chest. ‘Just before we rescued James from the longhouse. Raven knows when I’ve exposed the blade.’
Peter grinned at me. ‘I’m so pleased.’
‘Really?’ The word came out as a squeak.
‘Of course. I knew he was better than that.’ Peter laughed. ‘All this talk about people having to stand on their own two feet. He’s a good friend to you, that dragon. I knew he wouldn’t leave you unprotected.’
‘I guess not.’ The innocence in Peter’s eyes was harder to take than the earlier suspicion. ‘But it might still take him awhile to get here.’
‘Pen!’ James pounded to my side, Jago clinging on his shoulder. ‘What’s happened? I heard you scream.’
‘Lemmings took Clyde,’ Peter said. ‘In a net.’
‘Why? Where?’
‘That,’ I said grimly, ‘is what we’d all like to know.’
‘You don’t think it’s, well, like revenge for him eating them?’ James held up his hands at my glare. ‘Maybe they weren’t as happy about it as they made out.’
‘Let’s not jump to conclusions,’ Peter said. ‘For all we know, they’ve simply hauled Clyde off so they can admire him more clo
sely.’
Jago ran down James’ arm, then balanced carefully to make motions with his forefeet. ‘Yes, Uncle Clyde has been taken,’ James said to him. ‘But we’ll go looking for him. Don’t worry.’
Peter moved closer to my brother. ‘You’ve been teaching him sign language? What a great idea.’
James flushed slightly. ‘He’s picked it up pretty quickly.’
‘James. About the wedding.’ Peter glanced at me. ‘Is he walking you up the aisle?’
‘No,’ I said, worry making my voice sharper than I’d intended. ‘I’m walking myself up.’
‘Then, James, will you be my best man?’ Peter put a hand on his shoulder. ‘I can’t think of anyone I’d rather have standing beside me.’
Now my brother’s face was bright red. ‘Yes. Thanks. Of course. I’d be honoured to be your best man.’
‘Just remember that I expect you to keep sober until after the speeches.’
James winced. ‘Come on, I’ll need at least a pint to get me through the ceremony. This is my sister you’re taking away from me.’
‘I think of it as you gaining a brother.’
‘Well, okay, that too.’
‘You’re just trying to distract me,’ I said furiously, ‘until Raven can get here.’
‘Yes,’ Peter admitted. ‘Should’ve known better than to think it’d work.’
James moved closer. ‘Look, I’m worried too. But we know that the lemmings worship him. I’m sure he’s fine.’
I allowed Peter to take me into the shade of the house. A small bench took our weight. Jago gripped James’ finger and practiced beating his wings. Morey and Taryn joined us, each laboring under the weight of two eyasses. ‘We’ll find him,’ Morey reassured me once I’d explained Clyde’s absence.
When a green-black dragon appeared, my wrist watch told me that we’d only been waiting thirty minutes, although it’d felt like much longer. Raven pulled up into a hover over the gardens, his head sweeping from side to side. Then he landed in the meadow.
