The Care and Feeding of Griffins (10 page)

B
.

That was the best dedication Taryn had ever read in her life.  She pillowed her cheek on the open page and fell asleep.

15.  The Overlook

T
he lord of the Valley was standing on the mountain overlook when the chief of the horsemen came up the path.  The horseman sighted along his lord’s gaze, directly to the dark dot in the golden sea of the plains.  He stepped back, his report superfluous, and waited, his hand flexing on the haft of his runka.

“
How many?” the lord asked finally.

“
Only one,” the horseman replied.  “A female, my scouts tell me.”

“
Only one,” his lord mused.  His great hand went to the blade of his war axe, testing.  “Only.”

The horseman said nothing.  There was little that
only
one enemy could not do.

The two stood together
without speaking, each studying the little smudge of this new camp in the silence of their own thoughts.  The horseman’s eyes could detect no movement at this distance, but the female who occupied it must be about her business, for soon there was a little line of grey smoke rising over the plains.  Seeing it, the horseman again gripped the haft of his killing spear.  ‘Only one,’ he told himself, straining for calm.  He said, “What is your will, my lord?”

The question was considered for a long time.  At last, the axe swung back to rest on its master
’s broad shoulders.  “Do nothing, but keep eyes on her camp and do not let her see your scouts.  When she travels on, follow, and keep me informed.” 

“
And if she does not travel on?”

The lord of the V
alley looked down at the invader’s tent.  He grunted thoughtfully and turned away.  “We shall wait and see, chieftain.  If she has come into my holdings to work evil, we shall soon know it.  And may the gods grant her a swift death, for I shall not.”

His footsteps receded up the mountain path.  The horseman continued to gaze down at the diminutive campsite a while longer, and then he, too, left for home.

16.  The Little Mermaid

D
ear Mom and Dad and Rhiannon,

Well, the honeymoon is definitely over.  I haven
’t quite stopped noticing how incredibly beautiful it is out here yet, but I’m caring less and less because it’s cold.  Really cold.  Most of me is toasty warm inside my sleeping bag, but my face is nothing but a big block of ice with hair once that sun goes down.  Aisling, it goes without saying, is not potty-trained and there are no Pampers here.  (Not that they’re biodegradable anyway, so please don’t send any.)  He has two baby blankets.  Every day, I wash and dry one of them so he’ll have a clean one between me and his pee, as we share, ha ha, the ‘bed’.  Still, I’m hoping to make progress in that regard.  Just as soon as I have toilet facilities set up, I’ll get right on teaching him to use them.  Right now, my priorities are a little more down to earth.

She paused, tapping the pen against her teeth, and then added:

Although I still haven’t seen anyone except for Aisling, I am more and more convinced that I have neighbors nearby.  Someone’s coming around here, at any rate.  I woke up this morning again to the sound of hooves.  Horses aren’t exactly solitary critters, so I’m guessing it was a native.  No one was there when I opened up my tent, but I sure hope they introduce themselves soon.  I’m going to go crazy if I don’t talk to someone.  Aisling is great and all, but he’s still at that ‘stare-at-you-and-drool’ stage.

“Hail, thee.”

Taryn spun, one hand flying out to check Aisling, who lay beside her in the sun, but she knew the voice. 
“Romany!” she cried, stretching out her legs in an effort to wake them up.  “You found me!”

“
Aye.  Thee was not difficult to find.”  The gypsy came through the grass, her skirts swishing and her eyes flicking from place to place.  Her dragons peeked like stiff ribbons from the great, black fall of her hair, glittering like jewels in the morning light.  She took in tent, fire, griffin, and future garden with a smile that held more than a hint of silent mockery, but said only, “And thee is settled, I see.”

Suddenly self-conscious, Taryn jiggled her tingling legs and tried to project an air of casual capability. 
“Yeah, it seemed like a good spot.”

“
Aye.”  The gypsy looked up, her gaze going over the river and the forest beyond to the mountains.  Her eyes gleamed.  “Not without its dangers, but dangers there are in many places.  Has thee letters?”

“
Yes!”  Taryn spread her paper out on her thigh and quickly wrote:
My mail-runner just arrived, so you’ll be getting these letters after all.  Love to all of you!  XOXOXOX  T
.

She folded it, took her first letter from her backpack, tucked them both together in an envelope, and addressed it.  When she looked up, Romany was again gazing at the mountains.  The gypsy was still smiling, but there was something in her that was intently watchful all the same.

“Here,” Taryn said, holding out her letters.  “I didn’t bring any stamps, but…”

“
The sale of thy carriage more than amends such trifles.”  Romany took the envelope and made it disappear up her sleeve easily.  She turned around.

“
Wait!”  Taryn struggled up on her half-numbed feet, but the gypsy never even slowed.  “Please wait!”

“
I go where I will and am not made welcome here.  Be at ease, thee.  I shall return when the mood is on me.”  Romany began to sing, striding away at her unhurried, swaying pace.

“
But—”

The grass swallowed up Romany
’s skirts and shawl and night-black cloud of hair.  The singing echoed once and was gone.  It was as though Romany had disappeared right before her eyes.

Taryn stood staring after her with Aisling, newly-wakened, peeping distress at her feet.  Alone again.

It hit her like a fist.  She’d never been a real social butterfly, never would have imagined she could feel so bereft by the lack of human contact, but there it was.  The gypsy came, the gypsy left.  She hadn’t even stopped for a cup of cocoa.  Taryn felt like folding up in tears.

She looked down at Aisling, still sprawled out in that boneless bird-kitten heap, so utterly helpless and peeping.  Three years to raise a griffin.  For the first time, she felt time stretching out before her.  Time like shackles.

‘No,’ she thought.  ‘No, I won’t resent this.  Never this.  This is a miracle.  This is magic.’

And she felt it
—that amazed and joyous glow creeping out from her heart—but it was slow to spark and slow to burn.

“
Let me tell you a story,” Taryn said.  She sat down again and pulled Aisling onto her lap, holding him close until his frantic shivers eased.  “Once upon a time, there was a little mermaid.  She was very happy in the sea, living with her father and mother and sister.”

Aisling
’s head bobbed weakly on his little neck.  He turned into the crook of her shoulder, his questing peeps turning to sleepy chirrs. 

“
But one day, as she was swimming near the surface, the little mermaid saw a ship.  As she swam behind it, staring, a sailor fell into the sea.  He would have drowned—”

Aisling peeped.

“Yeah, that would have been sad, huh?”  Taryn stroked the downy cap of his head, feeling the spiky growth of real feathers just starting.  “But fortunately, the little mermaid was there and she saved him, and took him to shore.  Unfortunately, she also fell in love with him, just because he was so beautiful and strange.”

Aisling squirmed around to press his head against her breast, chirring contentedly.  Taryn stroked his feathers down to his shoulders and then his fur down to the tufted tip of his tail.

“She went to the sea-witch, who told her she could make the mermaid’s tail into human legs so that she could walk on the land.  Every step she took would be like walking on knives, but did she want it?  Yeah, she did.  She wanted it with all her heart.”

Taryn took a deep breath and released it as a sigh.  Aisling echoed her, by coincidence or mimicry, and she smiled and rubbed the feathered ridge above his beak.  All his young feathers puffed happily forward.  He peeped at her, one taloned foot wrapping her finger and squeezing tight.

“So she did,” said Taryn.  “The little mermaid sold her voice to the witch and got legs.  And she went to find her sailor, and yes, every step was a whole new hell, and yes, her sailor was in love with someone else and got married and never looked twice at the poor little mute girl he and his wife graciously took in, and yes, Aisling, yes, it was worth it.  Because when you give that much up, it has to be worth it.  She could have gone back.  Her sister sold her hair to the witch for the power to bring the little mermaid back to the sea, but she wouldn’t go.  She just moped around the beach all day watching her prince be happy until she turned into sea foam.  And some people call that a sad ending, but you know what I think?  I think we all write our own endings.”

Aisling muttered and slept.  Taryn sat by her cold fire, watching the river roll by in the distance and stroking his soft sides.  She had so much to do.  The day had just started and already her legs hurt.

They hurt with every step.

17.  Dreamspace

M
any long and painful hours later, Taryn was tucked into her sleeping bag, curled onto her side to preserve as much warmth as possible, and soundly sleeping.  She had spent the day pulling grass and now lay with her hands curled before her, her palms wrapped in a spare pair of socks (stained in the centers with browned blood) after being meticulously treated with alcohol swabs and antibiotic cream.  She hurt, even now, but she was able to escape the worst of it in sleep, and she was fighting hard to stay asleep, her brows creased with the effort of it, so she wouldn’t have to wake up and live in her aching body.

No, tomorrow would come soon enough and there would be plenty for her to do.  For now, she dreamed of home, of walking down a sidewalk with Rhiannon and eating ice cream.  Her ice cream was lemon.  It was supposed to be chocolate.  In the dream, this was important.  Taryn, who very vaguely knew that she was dreaming, was interested to find out just why, but she never got the chance.

The skies darkened and the storefronts faded into plains.  Rhiannon, still walking and licking and talking, faded to a shadow and then was gone.  Taryn was alone, her hands empty.

Around her were the plains of Arcadia.  Above her, Arcadia
’s skies. 

“
Come.”  The word was a drumbeat, a sound more felt than heard.  “Come.”  It was a voice outside of sound, almost outside of hearing.  It was neither male nor female, old nor young.  It belonged to wind and stars and time.  “Come.”

Taryn went, not because the voice compelled her, but just because she was curious.

She could see a light above her, but it was not the moon.  It was an eye.  A great, white, staring eye that swept its lidless gaze back and forth over the plains.

Taryn shaded her eyes to look directly at it, still walking calmly toward it.  She supposed she should be scared or something, but it just didn
’t seem all that scary.  Sure, it was a giant floating eyeball and all.  Big, booming, disembodied voice and some such, too.  But the feeling she got from it was not one of menace, only a very faint irritation, and it wasn’t even directed at her.

“
Come.”  The eye moved its pale beam back and forth, searching, seeking.

And suddenly, that white light swept over Taryn, only to come
immediately back to her, fixing her in its stare.  Taryn brought up both arms protectively.  She could actually feel the gaze of the eye on her, burning but cold, with a weight as intangible as wind, pushing down on her.

Then it vanished, and as Taryn tried to rub the dazzle of it out of her eyes, a black shape detached itself from the tall grass and came toward her.  A man, young, tall,
fairly good-looking and absolutely astounded.

“
Where did you come from?” he asked, but not as though he expected an answer.  More like he were asking a gerbil he had suddenly discovered in his bowl of Cheerios.

Taryn lowered her hands and said,
“Earth.”

“
Earth?”  The man looked her over from toes to crown and back again.  “Truly so?  Remarkable.  Where are you?”  The eye flashed in the sky above them, just for an instant, and then the man came closer.  He looked at her again, the way a man may look at a car for sale.  “Earth,” he said again, marveling. 

“
I’m dreaming,” Taryn explained.

“
Mm-hm.”  The man walked in a circle around her.  His hand brushed at her left arm, her hair, her right hip.  The similarity between this and a car purchase intensified; he was kicking her tires.  He came back to study her face again.  “Pretty little thing,” he murmured.

“
Um…thank you?”

“
And all alone.”

“
No, I’m not.”

His gaze flickered as he drew back.  The eye reappeared, stabbed at the plains, and then vanished again. 
“Who is with you?” the man asked.

“
My griffin.”

The great eye slammed incandescence upon her, burning her with its blistering brightness as she threw herself to the ground to escape it.  Then it was gone, and the man was gripping her shoulders, shaking her to make her look at him.

“Your griffin?” he demanded, hauling her roughly to her feet.  “You have a
griffin
?”

“
You’re hurting me!”  And the pain was a very bad thing, because she could feel it echoing out in the real world, where her very real body was twitching, creating ripples of equally real pain that might actually wake her up.  The dream was strange and a little scary, but it was just a dream.  The pain waiting for her in her body was real.  “Let go!”

“
A live griffin?”

“
Get off me!”  She pushed.

The man grabbed at her shirt front and yanked her to him, pressing his hand to her forehead as she slapped and kicked.  He kept moving, his lips peeling away from his teeth in a snarl, poking at her brow like an inept doctor hunting for a heartbeat with a broken stethoscope.  Then he released her, shoving her away with a curse. 
“Too far,” he mumbled.  “I need more.”

“
You bastard!” Taryn snapped, straightening her clothes.

The man looked at her sharply, and then burst out laughing. 
“Well, yes, I suppose I am,” he said, smiling.  “But the half that matters came of Mab.  You’ll be seeing me again, Earth-born.”

And then he was gone.  The eye was gone.  Gradually, storefronts and streets painted themselves in over the plains.

“—has to be a record of it somewhere,” Rhiannon was saying, walking out of void and onto the sidewalk, licking at her ice cream.

Taryn looked down.  There was a cone in her hand.  It was chocolate.

She stared at it for a long time before shaking her head and starting after Rhiannon. If she thought about it too hard, she’d wake up.  Somewhere out there, she was hurting.  And dreams, well, dreams were weird.