The Dark Griffin (20 page)

“I can wait,” said Arren. “He told me to report to him as soon as I arrived.”

“What for?”

“That’s between him and me.”

“I see.” The guard didn’t sound particularly sincere. He looked Arren up and down. “And you’re intending to go in there looking like that, are you?”

Arren growled and barged past them into the Eyrie. One of the guards followed him for a short distance, but gave up and returned to his post. When Arren reached the doors leading into the council chamber, though, he found them shut and guarded by two more guards, these ones accompanied by their griffins. He stopped at a respectful distance, and one of the griffins came forward to sniff at him. It turned away with a contemptuous flick of its tail and returned to its partner, who lifted his spear slightly and said, “What are you doing in here?”

Arren bowed his head slightly. “Arren Cardockson, Master of Trade. I’m here to see Lord Rannagon. Will he be long?”

“Don’t know, but you can’t see him now,” said the guard. “He’s busy talking to the Mistress of the Eyrie. I couldn’t say how long they’ll be; it’s been a while already.”

“What are they talking about?”

“I don’t know.”

“I think
I
know,” the other guard broke in. “He’s arguing with her again. Trying to make her change her mind.”

“About what?” said Arren.

“Didn’t you hear?” said the guard. “It’s all over the place.”

“What?”

“Lady Riona’s thinking about retiring and naming someone as her replacement. Obviously Lord Rannagon thought it’d be him, what with him being her brother and all. But she said no.”

“It’s because of that bastard of his,” said the other guard. “It’s got to be.”

“What, you mean that boy who showed up claiming to be Rannagon’s son?” said Arren.

“Yeah, that’s him. Erian, I think he’s called. Rannagon gave up and admitted he was the boy’s father. He didn’t have much choice; he’s the spitting image of him. Anyway, there went his chances of being Master. You can’t have a Master of the Eyrie who goes around fathering bastards.”

Just then they were interrupted by a loud screech and a thump from inside the council chamber. The guards’ griffins started to hiss, and one of the guards opened the door behind him in order to look through and see what was going on. Arren looked over his shoulder and saw Rannagon and Riona. They were trying to restrain their griffins, which were snarling and snapping their beaks at each other. The two guards entered and approached warily. Arren hesitated a moment and then followed.

“My lady?” said one of the guards, stopping and bowing. “Is there anything you want us to do?”

Riona and her griffin looked up sharply, but then relaxed. Shree sat back on his haunches, tail lashing, and Riona carefully let go of his wing. “No, thank you,” she said. “We’re fine.”

Rannagon had a bloody tear on the front of his tunic, but he glared at the guards. “I told you not to come in here.”

“Sorry, my lord. We’ll just leave.”

Arren stepped around the guards. “Lord Rannagon.”

Rannagon looked at him, apparently noticing him for the first time. His face fell. “Arren?”

Arren paused and then bowed. “Lord Rannagon, I—”

Riona came toward him. “Arren Cardockson, explain yourself.”

Cold dismay bit into him. “My lady, I—”

Riona waved at the guards. “Get out and close the door. Don’t come back unless we call you.”

They bowed and left. Once the door had closed behind them, the Mistress of the Eyrie confronted Arren. Her griffin, Shree, stood tall with his wings half-open, still savage with anger. Riona looked a little more composed. “Where have you been? Answer quickly.”

“I—I was at Rivermeet, my lady.”

“So I heard,” said Riona. “And what were you doing there?”

“I was sent there to catch a wild griffin,” said Arren. “I caught it. It’s at the Arena now. I—” He took the bag of money from his pocket and showed it to Rannagon. “I’ve got the money, my lord. I can pay you now.”

Neither Rannagon nor Riona touched it.

“Arren, why did you do it?” said Riona. “I don’t understand.”

Arren blinked. “Why did I do what, my lady? I was following orders, that’s all.”

Riona pointed at the couch next to her seat. “Sit down.”

Arren sat. It was soft and comfortable, and he resisted the temptation to lie down. “I’m sorry I’m such a mess,” he said. “I only just got back.”

Riona seated herself on her own chair, and Shree crouched by her hand. Rannagon remained standing, his hand on Shoa’s shoulders. The yellow griffin’s tail was swishing, and she looked restless.

“Now,” said Riona. “Tell me everything. Start from the beginning.”

Arren took in a deep breath. “I came here to report to Lord Rannagon after the raid on the smugglers’ den on Tongue Street. He told me I would have to pay compensation to the dead smuggler’s family, and when I said I couldn’t afford it he said he knew a way I could earn some money. He said there was a wild griffin out near Rivermeet that had started killing people, and that if I caught it I would be paid. I said I didn’t think I could do that because I’d never done it before, but he said he thought I could do it and it was easy. He gave me some poison and said that if I put it on an arrowhead it would put the griffin to sleep, and he gave me a map to the village. I didn’t want to do it, but Eluna—” He paused a moment, wincing. Just saying the name made him feel a sudden thump of pain in his chest. “She—she agreed to do it for me, and I couldn’t argue with her. Lord Rannagon said I should leave the next day and that he would take care of my affairs while I was gone. I had doubts, but I went anyway, and the day after I got there Deanne arrived.”

Riona had listened closely to this, expressionless. Beside her, Shree started to hiss.

“So, that’s your story, Arren?” she said once he had finished.

“Yes,” said Arren. “If you ask Lord Rannagon, I’m sure . . .” He looked appealingly in Rannagon’s direction, but Rannagon only stared back impassively.

“You’re sure that’s everything?” said Riona. “There’s nothing else you want to tell me? Remember,” she continued, even as Arren opened his mouth to speak, “I am your friend. I can understand that there were mitigating circumstances. Obviously, you are not well-off money-wise, and you were upset over what happened in the smugglers’ home. And I can understand that you have a thirst to prove yourself—you’re young, after all.”

Arren clasped his hands together, his long fingers entwined. “I—yes, my lady, I didn’t think it through properly. Eluna pushed me into it, and Lord Rannagon asked me not to tell anyone else about it.”

“You’re right. You didn’t think it through,” said Riona. “I knew you were impetuous, Arren. You’re young. It’s only to be expected that you would be overconfident. However, that does not mean I can forgive you for what you’ve done. Lord Rannagon told me everything.”

Arren looked up.

“Indeed I did,” said Rannagon. “Arren, do you really think you can lay the blame for this on me? I suggest you tell the truth. You’re in enough trouble as it is.”

“But I already did tell the truth,” said Arren.

“You told the truth, did you?” said Riona. “That’s strange. Because the story I have been told is that Lord Rannagon offered you the opportunity to go with Deanne and her companions to Rivermeet and claim a share of the bounty, but that you, apparently thinking you could be a hero and take all the money for yourself, stole the map and a bottle of poison from his desk, abandoned your duties and ran away to Rivermeet the very next day, without asking for leave or permission or even taking the time to appoint someone to stand in as Master of Trade during your absence.”

“What?” said Arren, bewildered. “But I never—”

He broke off. Shoa had moved closer to him, and now she settled down behind the couch, very close to him.

“That’s
a lie
,” said Arren. “Who told you that?”

“I did,” said Rannagon.

“And several of the Eyrie’s guards saw you hide the letter inside your tunic as you were leaving the office,” said Riona, “although Lord Rannagon didn’t notice it was missing until the following day, after you had already left.”

“But—”

Shoa nudged him in the back of the head with her beak. “Do not argue,” the yellow griffin said, her voice barely audible. “You will not be believed. If you accuse Rannagon of anything, I will kill you.”

Arren glanced at her. She stared back, her blue eyes cold.

“I—” he began. Immediately, the yellow griffin hit him with her beak—not hard, but just enough for him to feel the sharp point at the base of his skull. If she decided to strike hard now, he would die instantly.

Arren bowed his head and said nothing.

Riona sighed. “I am very disappointed in you, Arren. You were an excellent Master of Trade, and I had hoped to see you go far. But I cannot ignore what you have done. I have no choice but to relieve you of your post. Consider yourself unemployed until further notice. You will not be allowed to act as Master again until you have satisfied me that you have learnt your lesson.”

Disbelief showed in Arren’s eyes. Shoa had returned to Rannagon’s side, and the two of them were watching him, showing no sign of guilt, or even recognition. “How could you?” he asked in a small voice. “How could you do this to me? You’ve—I’ve—oh gods—” He bowed his head, fighting back tears.

Riona paused. “Arren? Are you all right?”

Arren looked up at last. “Eluna’s dead,” he said.

Rannagon and Riona both looked deeply dismayed.

“Oh no.” Riona came forward and put her hand on Arren’s shoulder. “Oh, Arren, I’m sorry,” she said, her voice losing its stiff formality.

Shree nudged Arren in the side. “I am sad for this,” he said. “Eluna was a fine griffin and a strong warrior.”

“Arren, how did this happen?” said Rannagon.

“The black griffin killed her,” said Arren.

Rannagon let go of Shoa’s neck and put his hand on Arren’s other shoulder. “Oh, Gryphus—Arren, I’m so sorry.”

Arren punched him in the face. Rannagon yelped and fell over backward. Instantly Shoa leapt straight at Arren, knocking him violently to the ground. Her talons went deep into his flesh and she screeched at him, beak opening wide, threatening to snap shut on his neck. Arren struggled wildly, striking the griffin in the chest. The words burst out of him.
“Kreeaee! Liar!”

Rannagon rushed forward and hauled Shoa off him. It was a hard struggle and she fought every step of the way, her yellow wings thrashing in his face and threatening to knock him over. Arren struggled out of the way and managed to get up, blood soaking into his tunic. Shoa broke away from Rannagon and ran at Arren again, but Shree threw himself in the way. The two griffins scuffled briefly before Shoa retreated, hissing and bristling.

Arren’s shoulders had been punctured by the griffin’s talons, but he barely registered the pain. He started toward Rannagon, raising his hand to point accusingly at him. “You lied to me!” he roared, speaking griffish. “You tricked me!”

Riona called for the guards. They ran in and grabbed Arren by the arms, restraining him as he tried to get at Rannagon.

Riona stroked Shree to soothe him. “Arren Cardockson, control yourself,” she snapped. “And Rannagon, even if this was not your fault, apologise. You put this idea in his head, even if you didn’t intend to, and I hold you partly responsible for what happened.”

Rannagon dabbed at the bruise forming on his chin. “Arren, I really am sorry,” he said. “More than I can say. You’re like a son to me, and I never intended for anything like this to happen. Yes, perhaps I led you on without meaning to, and for that I’m sorry. There’s nothing I can do to take away your loss, but if there is ever anything I can do for you, just ask and I will do everything in my power to see it done.”

Riona looked slightly mollified. “Good. However”—she looked at Arren, who had stopped struggling and was staring at Rannagon—“my brother cannot take all the blame for this. You are ultimately responsible for your own actions, and Eluna’s death is your own fault. I was wrong to think you were trustworthy enough to be promoted so young. I will choose a new Master of Trade. You are banned from the Eyrie. You are not a griffiner any more, and you have no place among us now.”

“But I—” Arren began.

Riona nodded to the guards. “Please show him out.”

Arren didn’t resist. He walked between the guards as they led him out of the building, unable to say a word. They took him to the front door and ushered him through it.

“Off you go,” said one, giving him a slight push.

Arren said nothing. He walked away without looking back.

I
t seemed to take a long time to get home. The bloody patches on his tunic stuck to his skin. He felt as if he hadn’t slept in over a year. The ground lurched beneath him, and he staggered and nearly fell, but managed to stay upright. He reached his own door at last and half-collapsed against it. Recovering, he fished the key out of his pocket, unlocked the door and entered.

His house was cold and musty, and full of shadows. He shut the door behind him and pulled the bar into place.

Everything was exactly how he’d left it, though there was a coating of dust and cobwebs over the furniture. The blanket was still draped over the hammock, and the pillow was on the floor underneath. His porridge bowl was on the table, and the water in it had a coating of mould on the surface.

He dropped his belongings on the floor by the door and wandered into Eluna’s nest. The hay had gone musty, and there was a little mound of dry dung in one corner.

Arren walked forward as if in a dream. He picked up a loose feather and clutched it to his chest. It was soft and downy, white as snow, the edges tinged with silvery grey.

He held it in one hand and lay down in the hollow left by Eluna’s body. Her scent still lingered in the hay, strong and musky and fierce. It was so powerful that when he looked up, he half-expected to see her there, glaring at him for taking her spot.

The sun began to go down. Darkness slowly gathered, and torches were lit in the city streets. The moon rose, bright and full, silvery-white against the black sky. The day was over, and people returned to their homes or went to the taverns, to drink and relax and talk to their friends. But Arren stayed where he was, staring at nothing, and did not move at all.