by Chrys Cymri
I glanced down at the dwarf. ‘He’s been through quite a bit.’
‘Aye. It slows him down.’
‘Which is why Peter shouldn’t be going easy on him,’ Morey said. ‘James needs to be challenged.’
‘Nay, this Peter has the right of it,’ Aodh replied. ‘Lad needs building up. Or else one day he’ll overreach in trying to prove himself.’
‘Children need to be stretched.’
‘Know much about children?’ Aodh asked him.
Morey’s feathers were ruffled in annoyance. ‘Not yet. But I will learn, if I’m successful in proving myself to my clan and Taryn to hers.’
‘Immediately?’ I asked. ‘Or will you wait awhile?’
‘Marriage “was ordained for the procreation of children”,’ Morey quoted. ‘The Book of Common Prayer. I’m sorry that your marriage to Alan didn’t result in children.’
‘It was a deliberate choice,’ I said. ‘We had James to raise.’
‘And if you were to marry Peter?’
Fortunately, at that moment Aodh stuck grimy fingers into his mouth to let out a loud whistle. ‘Time for the Father to have a turn!’
‘I’m happy to sit this out,’ I said quickly. I had no desire to reek of sweat when I met the church members of Caer-grawnt.
‘Just a few goes,’ Peter told me. ‘So Aodh can get an idea of what you need.’
So I placed Clyde’s case over James’ shoulder and clomped over in my hiking boots. Morey rose into the air, hovering above us as I raised the sword that James had been wielding. I made a few half-hearted exchanges with Peter, and then lowered the wooden blade. ‘Satisfied?’
‘You needn’t hold back,’ Aodh said. ‘The man can take your strength.’
‘Yes,’ I said slowly, meeting Peter’s blue-grey eyes. ‘I know.’ And I found myself grinning.
A sudden commotion from the beach broke the moment. Raven was snarling at the tacsi dragon. Sand and pebbles churned into the air as the smaller dragon backed away. ‘Knew it,’ Morey muttered, dropping back onto my shoulder. ‘I told you hiring him wasn’t that great a favour.’
‘Can you hear what they’re saying?’
‘I don’t need to.’ He folded his wings onto his back. ‘The tacsi dragon would have told Raven he’s one of them now. He’s taking it badly. But he’s wearing a saddle, so it’s hard to deny.’
‘Bishop Aeron’s chaplain has carried me from time to time,’ I said. ‘And worn a saddle.’
‘That was done to honour you,’ Morey said. ‘This is different.’
Raven was a solitary figure now, the other dragons having withdrawn further along the beach. Peter tapped his watch. ‘Maybe Raven could take Penny a bit early?’
Suddenly the last place I wanted to be was on Raven’s back. ‘Maybe I should have a bit more sword practice. I don’t want to seem overeager.’
Morey leaned forward to address James. ‘Can I trust you to carry Clyde home safely?’
‘Of course.’ James patted the case. ‘I’ll even open a beer for him.’
‘The churchwardens will cope if you turn up early,’ Morey continued. ‘Besides, they’ll see that you need to change your clothes.’
I resisted the temptation to investigate the damp patch on my right shoulder. ‘Okay, okay, I’m going. Coming, Morey?’
His tail curled. ‘If I must.’
‘We agreed,’ I reminded him firmly. ‘At least you don’t have to do anything except look pretty.’
Peter touched my arm. ‘Good luck, Penny. Knock ‘em dead.’
‘Metaphorically speaking, of course,’ Morey said. ‘I’ll join you in a moment. I need to take my leave of the matriarch.’
My backpack was resting near the cooking pit. I hooked the straps over my shoulder and made my way down to the beach. Most of the gryphons had returned to their tents, and loud snores rattled more than one leather flap. Several sat outside, bowls of hot drink swirling steam into the air. I had a sudden longing for a cup of tea, and I hoped that one would be on offer when I arrived at Caer-grawnt.
I had to walk past the other dragons to reach Raven. They moved aside to allow me through, but I could feel their eyes on me as I joined the search dragon. ‘Could you take me to Caer-grawnt, please?’
The gruff sounds of draconic laughter made my back stiffen. The tacsi dragon shouted out, in Welsh, ‘No need to be polite to him, Father. He’ll take you to hell and back if that’s what you want. He’s sold his freedom for a few talonsful of gold!’
My attempt at a dramatic whirl was nearly undone when my boot heel ground against a stone. But I still delivered my withering line, also in Welsh. ‘And what about you?’
The orange-red dragon lifted wings in a shrug. ‘I was hatched to this. He was reduced to it. The high and mighty search dragon. Well, we all look the same under the saddle.’
‘And you, Arnborg?’ I challenged the other search dragon. ‘I thought you’d stand by one of your own kind.’
Arnborg snorted. ‘I wasn’t welcome in their precious settlement. My talent frightened them.’
‘When I asked Raven to find James, he needed some of my blood to make a connection,’ I said slowly. ‘But you didn’t need anything to find James. Exactly how strong are your search abilities?’
‘Too strong for my own kind. Clan Cornovi gave me shelter when I was a mere puffling. I am loyal to the matriarch.’ Arnborg kicked gravel at Raven. ‘His loyalty is to gold and stomach.’
‘Climb up,’ Raven said, cutting across my retort. ‘It’ll take us fifty minutes to fly to Caer-grawnt.’
‘But--’
‘One to Caer-grawnt. Fifty minutes flight time. Payment has been arranged in advance with the Matriarch of Cornovi. Please hold on to the grab handles and, in the unlikely event of nausea, do not vomit upwind.’
‘Two to Caer-grawnt,’ I corrected. ‘We need to wait for Morey.’ Then I climbed up to the saddle and settled myself in. It wasn’t my fault, I thought at Raven, that you decided to go and torch your home. It wasn’t my fault you destroyed your living and had to sign up with Morey’s clan. None of this is my fault.
Guilt burned in my throat. A few minutes later, Morey took his place in the small space between my chest and Raven’s spine. Raven went for a direct launch away from the island. I watched as the gryphon encampment spiraled away underneath us. Then Raven ducked through the first thin place. As before, I decided to close my eyes rather than take note of the changes between worlds and locales. Although the Saint George sermon was safely zipped into a pocket of my fleece, I still went through my major points. Should I really mention my interfaith work on Earth? How about my own household? After all, I lived with a gryphon and a snail shark. And, unexpectedly, I found myself praying. Well, God, you know how much I want this. So pull your finger out and help me to do well. I paused, then added, Please?
I only opened my eyes when I sensed that we were preparing to land. Raven angled us down to the church. His claws scrabbled on the road as he came down in a jog, and I winced as my back complained. He slowed to a walk, and then a stop.
Before he could lower himself, I freed myself from the saddle and slid to the ground. ‘How will I let you know when I’m finished?’
For a long moment Raven studied me. ‘Call for me. I’ll be listening.’
Morey settled onto my shoulder as I hobbled down towards the church hall. The long ride had done little for the circulation in my legs. ‘That’s torn it,’ he said.
‘What do you mean?’ I asked.
‘He must have realised that you’re not carrying his knife. Or you wouldn’t need to ask how to contact him.’
‘That’s making quite a leap.’
‘You could always just tell him.’
‘I’ll have it back soon enough. Tyra said she’d let me know when it’s, well, when it’s passed through.’
Morey snorted. ‘I just hope it doesn’t stink out the house.’
I’d passed the church. The hall was adjacent, separ
ated only by a few feet of grass and a low wall. Walls of red brick rose up to a slate roof, and two large wooden doors were set into one end. A glance at my watch revealed that I was only twenty minutes early. A comfortable margin.
Cadfan appeared as I approached the entrance. ‘I told her,’ he said to me. ‘I said to Aislin that you’d be early. Is this the curate?’
Morey’s claws dug into my fleece, but his voice was calm. ‘That remains to be seen.’
‘I’d like to get changed?’ I cut in quickly.
‘There’s a small office near the back. I’ll take you there.’
A side door allowed us to enter the room without facing the large audience I could hear in the main part of the hall. The walls weren’t thick enough to mask the sounds of a dragon chortling, or the high whinny of a unicorn. Once Morey and I were alone, I hurriedly replaced fleece with suit jacket, and changed into black trousers. Two dragon rides and hours on a windy island had tangled my hair, and I tamed it with a brush and only a few muffled grunts of pain. A final tug on my jacket, and I was ready to go.
‘Deep breaths,’ Morey said from a nearby desk. ‘Shall I pray?’
I studied him. ‘Would your heart be in it?’
He cocked his head, obviously pondering his answer. ‘You want this, I don’t. But what we want isn’t important. We need to work out whether this is what God wants.’
‘Then,’ I said, ‘I think “Thy will be done” is all the prayer that we need?’
There was a knock on the door, and then Cadfan stepped back inside. His lips twitched slightly, which was the nearest thing to a smile I’d ever seen on an elf. Then he opened the inner door, and waved me through.
I took a step forward, then paused. ‘It’s like the Mos Eisley Cantina scene from Star Wars: A New Hope,’ I whispered to Morey as I took in the view of at least fifty denizens of Lloegyr.
‘How’s that?’ he asked. ‘There’s no bar.’
‘Lots of food and mugs of tea.’
‘No music, and no aliens.’
‘But dragons and unicorns and weres and vampires,’ I said happily, my eyes roving around the crowded room. ‘And harpies and even a couple of gryphons. Big ones. Just think, Morey, this could be our congregation. We could serve God here.’
‘Just remember,’ Morey warned me, ‘that there are two sides to the Force.’
Aislin strode over. ‘Father Penny. Good to see you.’
‘I’m very pleased to be here,’ I said, feeling slightly dizzy.
‘And this is your curate?’
‘Possibly,’ Morey said. ‘At the moment, I’m Elder Trahaearneifion, or Morey, if you would prefer the English name.’
‘Come and have some food,’ the churchwarden continued, sweeping her arm at the long wooden tables covered with mounds of meat and fruit. ‘The ostrich was brought down by one of our dragons just this morning, so the meat is still very fresh.’
‘I could fancy some cheese,’ I said, tearing my eyes away from the still feathered carcass.
‘Ostrich will do me fine.’ And Morey flew over to the table.
The variety of offerings reflected the mixed company in the hall. I managed to find some sliced bread, and chunks of cheddar. No sooner had I gained a mug of tea than a dragon marched up and demanded to know my credentials. How long had I been ordained, what sort of churches had I served in, and what did I think of the Caer-grawnt rugby team? Fortunately, before I had to answer the last question, a harpy was at my elbow, asking what my view was on having a toilet in a church. Her tone suggested that she was against.
I stifled a sigh. This part of an interview process was called ‘Trial by Buffet’ with good reason. I fended these and a number of other questions during the course of an hour, repeating myself at various times. Morey, I noticed with some envy, was allowed to tear into the ostrich in peace.
After a long interrogation about the subject of my Masters degree, which had left me explaining that James Fowler was a theologian and not a bird hunter, I was left alone for a blissful few minutes. I managed to drop off my plate and gain a new cup of tea.
Cadfan wandered over. ‘We’ll be going into the church in a moment, Father Penny. I trust you have had enough to eat?’
‘Plenty,’ I assured him. ‘Where did it all come from? It’s a great spread.’
‘We have a vast array of hunters in our congregation, along with several farmers.’
‘I do hope there’s also a good corner shop nearby,’ I said. ‘You know, for the essentials. Milk, bread, toilet paper. Whisky.’
Again there was a hint of a half-smile. ‘One of our pubs, The Weeping Pig, has a fine line of distilled spirits. I’m certain the landlady would be very pleased to make your acquaintance. As for your more mundane needs, our members would keep your pantry well stocked. A rector cannot be expected to do her own hunting or gathering.’
A loud shriek nearly made me drop my mug. But it was only Aislin summoning everyone’s attention. ‘If you’d like to make your way to the church, please. Father Penny will deliver her sermon there in a moment.’
Morey wiped his grimy beak on a table cloth, then flew over to my shoulder. I nodded to Cadfan, and followed him outside. Finger out, I reminded God. Don’t let me down now.
Chapter Sixteen
It was while we were waiting at the door, allowing the congregation to go into the church first, that I noticed the emptiness at my jacket pocket. ‘My sermon,’ I whispered to Morey. ‘I’ve left it in my fleece.’
‘That was rather careless of you.’
I sighed. ‘Go on, be a good curate and fetch it for me, would you?’
His beak opened as if he were going to say something more. Then he flew off my shoulder. I smiled at the dragon filing past me, nodded at a unicorn, and forced myself not to step back as an acrid smell rose from the harpy who was next. The numbers left to go inside were dwindling, and I could only hope that Morey would find a way to retrieve my sermon in time.
Only the two churchwardens were left when the gryphon landed on the churchyard wall. I gave Cadfan and Aislin a quick nod as I hurried to Morey’s side. The two folded pages of typed notes fluttered in his beak. I reached out my hand.
‘Hmph,’ Morey mumbled. He sat down, and transferred the paper to his right forefoot. ‘Spent a lot to time on this, Black?’
‘You know I did.’ I glanced back at the churchwardens. ‘Go on, I’m keeping everyone waiting.’
‘Found out a lot of information about the Lloegyr version of Saint George?’
‘Until your country discovers the internet, no. And you weren’t much help. I had to work off what I know about our version and invert it.’
Morey lowered his beak to the middle of the paperwork. Then, to my horror, he ripped it in half. I lunged forward, but he flipped up his wings and nimbly leapt backwards along the wall. Before I could stop him, he tore the sheets again and again, allowing the pieces to flutter to the damp ground.
‘What did you do that for?’ I demanded.
‘Remember when Jed Bartlet was about to go on stage for the Presidential debate, and his wife cut his tie?’
I stared at him. ‘The West Wing. Since when do you watch The West Wing?’
‘She did it to give him the energy he needed to go out and be his best.’ Morey flew back to face me. ‘Penny, you don’t need that sermon. Think about what you saw in the church hall.’
‘What, unicorns and dragons and harpies--’
‘No, what did you see?’
I thought for a moment. ‘I saw the different races of Lloegyr together in one place.’
‘Exactly. You don’t appreciate how rare that is.’ He brought his head close to mine. ‘Think about what Saint George symbolizes to us. And why he shouldn’t be such a symbol.’
‘What, hack off anyone who idolizes him?’
Morey lifted his wings in a shrug. ‘Go on, be bold.’
‘I want this job, Morey.’
‘And you’ll get it, if it’s God’s wil
l. Or don’t you trust the Holy Spirit?’
‘Sometimes.’ I took a deep breath. ‘Just warn me if you ever start channelling Dexter, will you?’
I hurried over to the churchwardens, smiling my apologies. They led me into the church. Those gathered inside who weren’t already standing rose to their feet as I entered. The sun had already begun to set, so the candles and oil lamps had been lit. A bright light shone at the pulpit, ready to shed a yellow glow over the sermon I didn’t have.
Cadfan showed me to a pew at the front, then spent a few minutes advising the congregation that they were welcome to take notes regarding my sermon for better feedback later. I squirmed as he proceeded to mention my experience as a priest, making me sound far more accomplished than I felt. Then, finally, I was allowed to climb the steps to the pulpit.
Morey was perched on a pew near the front. Although his tail was twitching, his feathers were unruffled as he dipped his head in a nod. My gaze roamed further across the church. I suddenly realised that I was able read the body language of the beings facing me. The dragons were intrigued, their ears and horns pointing forwards. The unicorns were more sceptical, their tails flicking across their hindquarters. Gryphons were mixed, fur and feathers either smooth or raised. Vampires and weres smiled at me. The harpies were stony-faced, arms crossed over their ample breasts. I know these people, I found myself thinking. I can serve them. I belong here.
‘Saint George, the human slayer,’ I began. ‘But in my world, England, where he’s also our patron saint, Saint George killed a dragon.’ A few bodies shifted, but less than I’d expected. ‘Let’s talk about what slaying means.’ For a moment, Buffy the Vampire Slayer went through my mind, and I shook my head slightly to free my thoughts. ‘Surely, in both versions of the story, we have prejudice to blame for the tragic outcome. An inability to see the best in someone who looks so different to yourself.’
I dared a glance at Morey. His tail had stilled, and was curled around his hind feet. The feathers around his cheeks puffed, so he thought I’d made a good start.
‘That’s the challenge facing my own country.’ And I elaborated on my theme for a few minutes. How the United Kingdom had become a multi-cultural country in the twentieth century, taking in people from the lands it had once colonised. The resurgence of Welsh, Cornish, and Gaelic in the Celtic nations. The prejudice still shown against those who were non-white, or who didn’t fit into a binary view of gender.
