Fish Tails (46 page)

They had already brought in water and a sizable supply of firewood; the fire had been placed in the most sheltered corner, and the smoke was leaking into a little recess and away through a fissure at its top. It was almost like a fireplace, Needly thought as she pulled the mattresses where they could gather near the warmth. Everything above them was forested. The smoke would indeed appear to come from a hunter's camp, like all those they had seen from the top of the pass.

They laid the three mattresses in a triangle, one corner of the triangle quite near the low and shadowed recess where the fire burned. The big egg went at that corner, taking up the end of one small mattress. When they had wiped the egg with warm water, they covered it with a blanket, and Willum pointed out the other end of that mattress and announced that it was his place. The larger mattress came next, Needly on the end next to Willum and Dawnsong at the other. The other small mattress held Snow-­foot and Amber-­ears. Willum stood, considering the arrangement, and asked Needly, “Y'think it'll work?”

From her place next to Dawn-­song she murmured, “From what I've heard them say, Willum, all the Griffins in the world are here, on this side of the world, this continent and the one to the south: Grandma called them Normery Cah and Sowmery Cah. The Griffins were designed to live among mountains, and they've stayed in this range for hundreds of years—­it goes way up into the northlands—­or the one to the south that lies all along the western sea. They need companionship, just as we do, but remaining together has made them easy prey for Despos. He's too big. He's too powerful. He's too . . . Grandma used a word . . . ‘paranoid.' It's a kind of insanity! It means he's always afraid something, everything is trying to kill him, so he kills everything before it has a chance.

“When they're sure he's really gone, the egg mothers will come back here for their eggs; Sun-­wings, Golden-­throat, and Silver-­shanks will come for their little ones and they will go south and then turn westward to fly island by island to Tingawa. That's the way Xulai said they had to go so they won't need to fly too far in each step. It's hard to fly a long way carrying the little ones.”

Willum murmured, “It'd be good to send a message to Xulai; she put paper and a pen in the things she sent. She has ways to talk to the ­people in Tingawa and she c'd let'm know the Griffins are comin'. And we might be able to help. We might be able to cut up that tent out there and make a harness so they could carry the little ones easier.” He yawned gapingly. “I tell you one thing, Needly. Whoever made those Griffins didn't know much about keepin' a healthy flock or herd. Even my grandpa—­and Grandma allus said he was no wizard—­but even he knew you have to breed out some. Y'can't have only one he-­critter for a flock. One at a time's all right, otherwise they fight, but you got to switch between 'em. She says that's why men get the wanderlust, so they'll go breed out some, and it's why some families fade away to nothin'. Royal ­people in olden times, like. They got all family-­proud and they died off from inbreedin'. You gotta watch it, Needly. You do.”

He nodded to himself in confirmation, then, with a determined expression, strode across the cave and just outside, to the carcass. After an arduous session of slicing around bone and sinew accompanied by half-­swallowed curses, he returned with a large, bloody chunk off which he and Needly carefully cut small shreds and fed them raw to the three Griffin babies until the young ones said enough. Then they salted and roasted bits for themselves, talking about salt and did Griffins eat salt? And where did they find it? Saltgosh, they decided. At night, when no one was watching.

This matter talked out, the young ones began to think of possible names for the three not yet hatched. Both Willum and Needly were indignant that the babies already hatched had not been named before! “Like they were just things,” whispered Needly. “Like they didn't matter!” They and the little ones agreed, however, that babies not yet hatched could not be named as yet. It could be done far better after the Namer knew at the very least whether they were male or female.

“Male or female?” whispered Willum, recognizing the possibility for the first time. “Oh, Needly, what if . . .  ?”

“Shh” She put her hand across his mouth. “Don't even think about it. And not a word, Not until . . . you know. Later.”

They could go without sleep no longer. Willum took off his boots and lay with his head and shoulders near Needly's, his own stockinged feet beneath the blanket that covered the largest egg. The warm air flowing past it was keeping it warm. It moved, and he could feel each tremor with his toes. Blanketed, Dawn-­song lay aslant on the larger mattress, leaving a triangular space next to her belly where Needly lay, her back against the little Griffin's pocket. From there she could whisper to Willum and feel the touch of his hand as well as feeling the egg inside Dawn-­song's pocket as it shifted and stirred. Little Snow-­foot and Amber-­ears were cuddled together like kittens, Amber-­ears' pocket against Snow-­foot's warm belly, both well covered.

Three baby Griffins, three Griffin eggs, all of them warm, and those that needed feeding had been fed. Thank heaven Xulai had been liberal with the blankets.
One way or another,
as Grandma used to say.
Whatever needs doing, we will do! One way or another!

 

Chapter 8

Unnatural Beasts

T
HE
G
RIFFIN
N
EEDLY AND
W
ILLUM IDENTIFIED AS
S
ILVER-­SHANKS
returned at dawn. Though Xulai had told Needly that she thought no reptile genes had been included in the Griffin heritage, everything about this particular Griffin evoked the image and idea of serpents. Only moments before she landed outside the cave, they heard her screaming from the height and Needly thought of snakes. She reminded herself that snakes were voiceless, that they certainly did not scream. Nonetheless, her involuntary mental picture at the cave entrance moments later was that she confronted the fanged strike of a snake.

She and Willum came hand in hand no farther into the cave entrance than needed for Silver-­shanks to see them as she went on shrieking: “Despos went to the nests . . . lusting for killing . . . for blood . . . for tearing and rending . . . Despos wanted something to kill . . . no eggs made him more angry . . . there were no young . . .

“No one was near enough except your . . .
friend
.” The word became a foulness, spit from the beast's mouth with particular emphasis. “He would kill her. Aha.” The laugh was exultant. “Aha,
she
was not quick enough!”

“What happened?” Needly asked from a dry, trembling mouth, feeling the blood drain from her face.

“He hit her. Oh, he hit her with his talons. She went down, down. I went to see. She is still alive.” Silver-­shanks preened, her crest rising, her claws extending as she gloated. “Not for long, perhaps.”

Needly felt Willum's hand clench in anger. She squeezed it with all her strength, saying silently,
Be still, Willum. Be still.
Needly felt as he did; she wanted to hit at the creature, call an avalanche down on her. Anything to stop that voice. She swallowed the impulse, contained it, concentrated all her anger, all her hatred into a point of fire, as Grandma had taught her to do. “Where is she?”

“There!” The Griffin shrugged toward the southeast. “She cannot fly. She cannot walk. Despos, he did not kill her. Enough she was down. He found rising air, he circled in it upward and upward, until he was the size of a bird! I am here to get my child now. The others are coming.”

“Won't you help us get to Sun-­wings?” Needly asked calmly, calmly. “Can't you take us to her?”

“I am not going that way,” Silver-­shanks snarled.

“It wouldn't take long to take us, and her child.”

“I have my child to carry. I will not try to carry two mankinds or a Griffin cub.”

Needly swallowed deeply. “Did you bring Sun-­wings any food?”

“She's not a hatchling!” Silver-­shanks sneered. “Let her look to ­herself!”

The words slipped out before Needly could stop them. “So you do not really care for one another. And yet you let her help you with Despos? Does that not seem to require that you help her?”

“What is this
help
? This
require
! Griffins feed selves. Griffins feed hatchlings! If Griffin cannot kill, Griffin dies.” Though her great beak did not have the expression lips would have given her, the tissue around it and between the eyes was capable of movement. Silver-­shanks emitted scorn, dislike . . . actual hostility. Needly remembered Sunwings' words all at once: “hostility,” “envy.” This was one of the other kind she had spoken of.

Needly's body was momentarily paralyzed, but her mind was rushing wildly: Sun-­wings understood “help.” Silver-­shanks did not. Sun-­wings spoke fluently; Silver-­shanks seemed to resent speaking at all, or, perhaps, resented speaking to humans. Which one of them was typical of Griffins, or was there such a thing as “typical”? As with humans, one would have to evaluate Griffins as individuals. Humans were both good and evil. Humans had created both good and evil things. But generally each separate kind of creature had been one or the other, not both! Now it seemed that Griffins were likely to be as variable as . . . as human beings? As variable as Gralf from Grandma!

Adding to her immediate dismay was the struggle inside her own body. It had always belonged to her, done what it was required to do, been what it was expected to be. Now . . . now it had become a container for strange new feelings, unfamiliar new intentions!

She took a deep breath and did what Grandma would have told her to do, if she had been here. Analyze. How did it feel? If it had color, what color would it be? What part of her felt it the most?

It felt as though there were something new inside her, an actual physical thing that started inside the top of her skull and reached, stretched—­yes, it had a definite feeling of effort, that stretching—­reached all the way down to the bottoms of her feet. It was taut as a bowstring! Something tight that hummed and was hot! A red-­hot something vibrating inside her! Even in Tuckwhip she had been this angry only a few times: When Grandma was killed. When Gralf announced that he had sold her. Everything went up in flames . . . as though the world were on fire!

She shut her eyes, breathed deeply, spoke to herself in Grandma's voice: “Derail it, now!” Her mouth began the recital of meaningless syllables,
amaba, bamaba, camaba, damaba, eamaba, famaba, gamaba . . .
Grandma had called them “derailing words.” Of course, Grandma had then had to explain what rails had been, and used for what, and how “being on rails” could describe a mental state, and why “derailing” was sometimes a bad thing and sometimes an extremely good idea because rails went only where they went. One could not choose a route, and if one did not want to go where these particular rails were going, one needed to derail
. Hamaba, iamaba, jamaba,
the red fading,
kamaba, lamaba . . .
cooling the fiery orange-­red to softer scarlet, then to rose, to pink, a quiet, gently intimate pink. Thus one could move one's concentration away from fury into a more . . . controllable state.

Controllable state! Oh, she'd had years of experience in that! Quiet! Control your steps, your mouth, and your eyes. Do not stare in disbelief, do not look in anger, do not trip over the foot this HE puts in your way, do not stumble and spill the milk. Do not anger Pa! Do not anger Slap or Grudge!

There was the source! Silver-­shanks was Gralf, and all the Pas in Hench Valley. She too would harm anyone who confronted her, contradicted her. She too would maim, wound, and kill. And it wouldn't help to argue; that would only make her angrier! Needly turned to Willum and whispered rapidly. He nodded and went back into the cave. They had a secret to protect, and they had already decided how to do it.

Needly breathed deeply and faced the scowling Griffin once more, saying quietly, sturdily: “We will go by ourselves to provide food for her and care for her. I will not leave Dawn-­song here alone. We will go together to find her mother. Please, tell us now how to get there.”

“Find her for yourself!” The creature half crouched, crest up, claws out, threateningly ready for a kill.

Needly froze in place, moving not at all in the face of that deadly glare as she said calmly, “Did you say Golden-­throat is coming to get her daughter? And the other mothers, they are coming for their eggs? I think I hear them returning now.”

Silver-­shanks' eyes darted side to side, edging closer, head weaving as she snarled. “Oh, in time they will . . .” Abruptly her head went back, her eyes focusing upward. She snarled again, with what sounded like frustration. “I hear them.” Whatever she had intended to do, she would not do it in the presence of the others.

Needly risked a quick glance over her shoulder. Willum had managed to hide the eggs, the little ones, and the secret they were keeping. He sat by the fire, seemingly alone. Needly turned back to see Golden-­throat landing only a short distance away. She signaled Willum by raising her hand.

Golden-­throat came quickly, thrusting Silver-­shanks aside without saying anything or indicating even that the other one had been seen, and making space for herself at the cave mouth. Now little Amber-­ears was close behind Needly, where Golden-­throat could see her clearly. The Griffin child was dancing from hind feet to front feet, capering delightedly as she cried to her mother. “Mama, we have names!” she chortled. “My name is Amber-­ears! Mama's name is Golden-­throat. Oh, wonderful, wonderful names!”

Needly drew back and bowed, her arm extending, gesturing for Golden-­throat to come inside, hoping desperately that the Griffin would come in alone . . . Beyond her, Needly saw wings, a head, two . . . a third! Three other Griffins were already approaching.

Golden-­throat's eyes flicked to one side, widening slightly as she took in Silver-­shanks' crouch, her glare, her claws extended like curved swords. Deliberately, Golden-­throat shouldered her way past and entered the cave. Past her gigantic shoulder, Needly saw Silver-­shanks' head turn toward the three that had just arrived. Abruptly, her crest fell flat, her claws retracted.

So. The snake did not threaten when she was opposed or outnumbered. One or more of the new arrivals might not be an ally of hers. Which ones were her allies? Which were likely to be Sun-­wings' allies . . . friends? Silver-­shanks had used the word “friend” as though it were a curse. Did they even have friends?

The newly arrived ones pressed close to the cave entrance, immediately caught up in the babble about names, names, wonderful names. The heat from their bodies warmed Needly like a campfire as she slipped deeper into the cave, into the shadows, becoming less visible, less central. Small creatures, like Needly and Willum, were so very vulnerable to those talons, those claws, those beaks. With Golden-­throat inside, none of the others would be able to enter the cave, and Needly relaxed momentarily against the wall, swallowing hard. Her mouth was dry, as though she'd walked miles without water. Past Golden-­throat's rump she could see Willum, still quiet by the fire, but his hand was under his shirt, and she knew his knife was in it. Pray he kept still. It would be using a needle to fight a . . . one of those huge extinct things . . . an elephant!

Golden-­throat, with surprisingly gentle care to avoid crushing Willum, turned her huge body to face the entrance. She preened herself, crest raised, crying out to the others that she herself was now Golden-­throat, for she had been given a name by the Namers. Oh, yes, the Namers.
The Givers of Names!
How fortunate that the Namers had been here, just at this time! Just when they all
needed names to identify themselves in Tingawa
!

Needly felt the tension inside her relax a little
. Oh, clever creature, Golden-­throat! She had seen the hostility, judged it for what it was, and given the hostile creature a reason not to kill her or Willum. Like Sun-­wings, she knew their hope for survival depended upon Abasio and Xulai and on keeping their hostages safe! So their hostages were no longer merely human nothings, they were Namers! They had been given status among the Griffins!
Maybe. At least they had a temporary standoff there in the cave entrance: Golden-­throat in the center, Needly at one side of her, Willum at the other. She could read his face where he stood, just across those huge paws from her. Now, if he would just . . .

One of the new arrivals, who had an almost scarlet rump and tail, thrust her head forward and ordered in a trumpetlike voice—­it was a command, not a request—­that these Namers come forth to tell them the names of all the mothers, all the children, all those that were as yet egg-­children, not yet hatched!

Willum's face showed what he thought of this. Needly could see that he was inclined to be truculent about the whole matter, but Golden-­throat said something to him very quietly and he stopped scowling and waited, more than slightly subdued.

“We will need to prepare if there is to be a . . . an OFFICIAL naming ceremony,” Needly cried, giving the idea all the weight she could. “Go a little farther away while we prepare!”

Golden-­throat cried, “Yes, move away while the Namers prepare to name us and our children!” Somehow she managed to lend a very special resonance to the word “Namers.” The word seemed to hang in the air, humming, long after it was spoken.

Needly went to stoop over, putting her mouth to Willum's ear. “Willum, whatever else we do, you and me, we need to be necessary to these . . .” She risked a glance at Golden-­throat. “These very large and dangerous creatures who are not likely to be patient with the oneriness of children!”

Golden-­throat blinked slowly. Needly could swear she smiled. How could she smile? Nonetheless, the flexible tissues at the corner of Golden-­throat's beak quivered, as though she was considering laughter. She did not laugh. She merely said very softly, without moving her clenched beak, “Listen to her, young one! She understands what's going on.”

As Needly glanced into Golden-­throat's eyes, her heart leapt at the complicity she saw there. Well then. Perhaps Willum had not been as wrong about the Griffins as she had thought! Perhaps they were capable of . . . empathy. With the support of even one Griffin, perhaps she could exact a price from the others—­if they were sincere about wanting names. She murmured, “Sun-­wings is injured. I have to get that one out there—­we call her Silver-­shanks—­to tell us where she is.”

Golden-­throat nodded very slightly. “You have not yet told her the name you have given her? Good.” She turned and went to the cave entrance, effectively blocking it.

The children mumbled together, and Willum went to get their stew pot while Needly dug through her pack to see what she could use. The little ones came out of hiding and watched closely when she found a long, wide sash in her pack, heavy red silk lined in white. Unnecessary baggage, but she had brought it because it had been Grandma's and it smelled of her still. She tied it around her head, knotted on her forehead, tucked the ends back so they hung down in front of her ears, down across her chest. She made a stripe across each of her cheeks with soot, another down the bridge of her nose. She whispered quick instructions to Willum, then put a handful of fireplace soot into a bowl with a little water and picked out the straightest, thinnest stick she could find from the woodpile to use as a wand. Willum grabbed it from her and trimmed it with his knife to make it neater, more . . . official-­looking.