Fish Tails (47 page)

Finally, taking a deep breath, Needly tapped Golden-­throat on her huge shoulder. The Griffin backed farther into the cave, leaving a space for Needly to stand in the entrance between Golden-­throat's huge paws. Willum had settled himself on the other side of the right paw, crouched over the upturned kettle and holding the handle of a wooden spoon with a strip of rag tightly wrapped around the spoon end. Needly wanted a
bong bong,
not a
whang whang
.

Four huge Griffins were lined up outside, facing her, tongues lolling very slightly from their huge beaks. Needly blinked at the sight, but kept moving. They looked very carnivorous. Thank whoever had designed them that she, as a human, tasted bad, though she had only Sun-­wings' word for that! Thinking about it didn't help her situation. She stepped from between Golden-­throat's paws and strode to one end of the cleared space outside the cave door, her stage. She began to chant, the same nonsense syllables she had used to calm herself before. Back and forth, striding, striding, while waving her rod at the sun. She paused at one side, bowed, then waved at the trees with more chanting. Back at the center, she made hieratic gestures and let her eyes roll up until only the whites showed.

Behind her in the cave door, Willum, his face also painted with soot, bonged rhythmically on the stew pot with the padded wooden spoon. She had explained: “You want to sound mysterious and marvelous.” Occasionally Willum accompanied the bong with a shrill whistle and a high treble, quickly chanted string of syllables.
“Fahma Donah hadda fahma ee-­ai-­ee-­ai-­ohwaaah. Onna fahma wassa cowah ee-­ai-­ee-­ai-­owaaah.
Cowah mu-­mu, awies mu-­mu. Ee-­ai-­ee-­ai-­owaaaah.”
Needly fought down hysterical laughter. Oh, Willum!

They had already settled on a name for the Griffin who had brought the eggs, she who had called from the sky with a sound like the ringing of a great bell. Needly dipped her fingers in the soot bowl and marched toward that one, at the extreme right, laying her hand upon the bridge of that huge nose beak, between the nostrils, slowly marking it, chanting, finally crying in a high, shrill voice: “A-­
hai
, a-­
hai
, a-­
hai
. The Namer names!
You are
named Bell-­sound!
”

She turned her back on her audience, bent, bowed to Sun-­wings while she caught her breath. Then she repeated the entire ritual, trying to do it precisely as she had done it before. More waving, more bongs, another sooty marking: “A-­
hai,
a-­
hai,
a-­
hai,
the Namer names
. You are
named Copper-­beak,
” gesture,
bong
. Then it was the turn of the red-­rumped one who had demanded a name. “A-­
hai,
a
-­hai . . .
the Namer says
you are named Flame-­tail
.” Finally, Needly faced into the cave, marked her huge guardian, made a wide gesture with both arms, and cried,
“You are named Golden-­throat,
and
your child is named Amber-­ears.”

“My child,” shrieked Silver-­shanks. “A name for me and for my child!”

“I will give you a name and a name for that child,” cried Needly, “when you have told me how to find the one we call Sun-­wings.”

The screamed reply could have been heard halfway across the sea! “You will tell me now a name for my child, or I will tear off your arms . . .”

Amazingly, the other three turned on her, their beaks wide, a hissing roar bellowing from three throats. From inside the cave, Golden-­throat screamed, “You will not hurt the Namer! Tell the Namer! Tell the Namer what she wants to know! She is the name giver; tell her or we will kill you and take your child!”

Silver-­shanks was taken completely by surprise. She had been backed almost into the trees, snarling and snapping the whole way, and was able to launch herself into the sky only by a frenzied flapping of her great wings. Needly watched every flap, noting that the process was indeed as Sun-­wings had described it. Taking off from level ground could be done, but it wasn't easy.

The three Griffins outside watched Silver-­shanks circling above them. To fill the silence, Needly extemporized a few rules to simplify Namers' lives, marching back and forth as she chanted them in her Namer's voice, Grandma's voice, only louder and more like . . . singing:
“By the laws of Earth and sky, Namers may not name children still in the egg. Namers may not name children still in the pocket. A name must reflect the Griffin as a pool of water reflects the reality, so names cannot be given until the child appears as a Griffin, furred and feathered! Mothers may use baby names for their little ones, but the real name can be given by Namers only when they are fledged! The Namers have saved your eggs, have saved your young. The Namers have cared for your eggs, your young. Now you must depart and go in great haste to Tingawa!”

She had to stop for breath, leaning over, panting, filling the pause with a mumble that might have meant anything, or nothing. Then, erect once more, she proclaimed: “When you are in Tingawa, when the young ones hatch from their eggs, when their fur is grown in, when the feathers on their wings and neck are grown, take them to the ruler of Tingawa and say this:
‘I come from Princess Xulai, chief of all naming. I come from Needly and Willum, the Namers. They have told me you will give us names.' ”

She spoke to Golden-­throat. “You will say this to the ruler of Tingawa: ‘Xulai, your granddaughter, says to her grandfather
,
‘Emperor, I beg of you names for the Griffin young and for generations of Griffins not yet named. And Xulai's children, the Namers, have sworn mankind will do all within its power to give the Griffins lives in the sea.' ”

She turned away, fighting to stay on her feet. The huge beasts emanated a kind of . . . aura. It wasn't hostility. It wasn't a smell or taste, not wholly, even though she could taste a sourness that reminded her of sickrooms. There was a hint of nausea in it, a vertiginous lurch that made it hard for her to keep her balance. What was it? Those huge, dripping beaks? Those lolling tongues?

Not the most calming atmosphere for someone assuming the role of seeress!
said a well-­remembered voice in her mind. She came to herself, amazed to find herself leaning against Golden-­throat's side, half under one huge wing. Warm. Steady.

“Good,” whispered the Griffin. “It will do. Hold on.”

Hold on? She wanted to crawl in a corner with Willum so they could tell each other fairy tales! Tales of heroes who always won their battles! Of heroines who were always brave and whose monsters were always manageable!

Only moments later, Silver-­shanks dropped outside the cave like an eagle onto prey, raising a cloud of dust as she thrust her kin aside, screeching: “The little stream where you get water. Follow it down to the place where another stream comes in from that way.” One huge wing pointed southwest. “Follow that stream, up. It goes into a canyon with a waterfall. Go past the falls, on up to a place where there is a rock bridge across the stream. At the top end of the bridge, farther up over the hill in a little clearing, Sun-­wings is there! Now, name me and my child!”

Needly took up her rod, gestured a command: Willum began his bonging; it took all her determination to approach the creature and mark it—­hard to think of it as
her
—­and she did not name it until she was well away from that beak
. “If you have told us true, your child is named Snow-­foot. You are named Silver-­shanks. If you have not told us true, your names will vanish, no one will remember them.”

She turned away from the four of them, wondering if Silver-­shanks would now lie in wait for her. Perhaps she would just go away.

Golden-­throat was speaking to her, whispering actually, her head turned so the others could not hear. “Namer, are you aware that the largest egg—­”

“I know,” Needly whispered. “I don't want some of them to know. Golden-­throat, have you noticed that three of them have scales?”

“Scales?”

“Like Despos has. Instead of feather or fur, on his belly. They don't have many, but there are some . . .”

“Those are scales?”

“Like a serpent, a snake, yes. I get a weird feeling about those three.”

Golden-­throat murmured, “Yes. You are wise to do so.”

“Get Bell-­sound to stay here, but get the others gone! Can you . . .”

“Does little . . . Snow-­foot know?”

“None of the little ones know. They were asleep. I didn't let them see what had happened.”

“Bring the other two eggs to me, but stay behind me!” Golden-­throat picked up Snow-­foot as a cat does a kitten, by the scruff of her neck, interposing herself between the children and the cave door. There she put the little one down, saying, “Here is your child, Silver-­shanks. You can take her down through the forest, there's a cliff there. You must begin your journey now to Tingawa! Go west! Island to island. Go swiftly, before Despos returns.”

There was a breathless quiet that stretched into an eternity before it was broken at last by the loud snap of wings opened to catch the air! Golden-­throat breathed deeply and turned toward Needly, who laid the two eggs on the ground before her. Golden-­throat rolled them out through the entrance, saying, “Flame-­tail, this one is yours, the other is yours, Copper-­beak.” She said their names slowly, giving them weight and importance. “Get them into your pockets and follow Silver-­shanks. Go south along the shore, then go west by the way we decided, island to island. Now go quickly, to Tingawa!”

Peeking through the crack between Golden-­throat's huge shoulder and the cave entrance, Needly saw the eggs being tucked into very large pockets. She noted particularly that the eggs did not make a bulge. There was room there in the mother Griffin's flesh, a kind of pocket protected by ribs so the eggs and the young ones would not easily be hurt. If Despos had broken eggs in the pockets, he had no doubt badly injured the mothers, too. She listened to the sound of receding voices followed by the sharp sound of wings catching air, like a pair of gigantic hands clapping.

Only Bell-­sound was left outside, her eyes fixed on Golden-­throat, who moved from the entrance, saying, “Bell-­sound, you have a child hatched. It is safe and well cared for. The children have fed it.”

Bell-­sound cried out, a joyous sound very like a peal of bells. Willum brought the hatchling out, wrapped in the shirt they had put around it when it hatched during the night. A tiny pecking sound had wakened him, he had wakened Needly, and they had watched, fascinated, as a little hole appeared, a beak sharp as a pin poking through as tiny bits of the shell fell away. The being inside was so very tiny, naked, ugly. Pale, tender skin stretched over grass-­thin bones. The wings seemed mere scraps of skin. When it had emerged, the little creature had been covered with something milky and sticky, and the shell had been full of stuff. “Gunk,” said Willum. Gunk it was, obviously organic, rather smelly, and they had caught almost all of it in their cooking pan. Willum had buried it in the far back corner of the privy ground. Silently, not waking the other Griffins, Needly had warmed water and cleaned the baby just outside the entrance to the cave. Willum had fetched some of the raw meat from outside the cave entry and had cut it very fine. They had fed the child as it eagerly gulped meat until its tiny head fell to one side as though its thin little neck had snapped. For a moment they feared that had actually happened, but the baby had made a gurgling, contented sound. It had simply fallen asleep.

They had made a pile of bedding where the egg had been and covered it with the blanket so the Griffin children would not know the egg had hatched. In an attempt to hide any remaining odor, Needly took a brand from the fire and carried it around the cave, letting the smoke make a stink of its own. She had no idea how sensitive Griffin noses—­or equivalent—­might be, but there was nothing more they could do but wash the pan and put it over the fire with bits of the meat and herbs from their food stores to make an aroma of its own. The wrapped hatchling went inside her shirt, next to her skin The full cloak that Xulai had included in their stores had covered the bulge it made. In the hours since hatching, the baby had developed a fine downy coat, and they had fed it surreptitiously several times, keeping the cloak well around Needly as they did so. When Silver-­shanks had appeared, Willum had taken the baby inside his shirt, his own cloak hiding its shape.

Now Bell-­sound and Golden-­throat stared down at it. Needly stroked it, petted it.

“It's a boy child,” she said. “Bell-­sound, this is a boy child.” She had had time to study Dawn-­song's anatomy in the last few days, and she had compared it to this newly hatched one. It was indeed a male. Her voice deepened:
“His name is Carillon.”
The unintentional words had been uttered in Grandma's voice, as though the old woman were standing next to her.

Golden-­throat said wonderingly, “A male child, and we have time to get to Tingawa before Despos returns. We have time, but none to spare. We must leave now.” She turned to Needly. “We must go west, and you must go south to Sun-­wings. We cannot risk this little male to go with you . . . Carillon, did you say? You have broken your own rule to name him so soon.”

“The name means a chime of bells,” said Needly. “He will have a voice like that, a beautiful voice. There is no rule for this child, this child is beyond rules. He is not of Despos.”

Bell-­sound whispered, “We are ashamed not to go with you, but . . .”

Needly felt the tears on her cheeks as she said, “Of course you can't risk it. I know what this baby means. It means if Despos is killed, he isn't the last male. And this one will not be like Despos! I know how important that makes him! And, I know you'll be safer if you go together. But don't go yet! You will be over the ocean, stopping only at islands that may be bare. You will need to carry food for the baby.”