The Care and Feeding of Griffins (40 page)

“
Books,” she answered without hesitation.  She offered him a self-conscious smile when he drew back to stare at her.  “I had to leave all mine behind.  Of all the things I miss…Not that I’m complaining,” she added, her eyes seeking Aisling. 

“
Books,” Antilles echoed.  “Not gold?”

“
Oh, I’m sure I’d take gold.”  Taryn shrugged.  “I’d just use it to buy books.”

“
Ah.”  Antilles studied her in silence a while, and then tossed his horns and resumed his story.  “For whatever reason, perhaps simply to discomfit the clan and the human king, the two warriors set out from the hills to meet the challenge.  They were brothers, both sons of the chieftain, and they were called Menelajis and Igmemnon, for they were numbered among the greatest of our clan.  The first assassins set on them in the first night, but the brothers defeated them so easily—”

“
And so brutally,” Taryn guessed.

“
Even so.”  There was a glint of humor in his eye that suggested Antilles did not find the idea wholly inappropriate.  “However it was, it ended such that there were no further encounters with common harriers.  But this is not to say there were no further dangers.  On the second night, while Igmemnon slept, Menelajis spied a human, bent with age, carrying a burden of thick rods down the road.  As he knew the terrible threat to human travelers, and as he had great respect for the elders of any people—”

“
And as he had nothing else to do.”

Antilles shrugged again. 
“—Menelajis went to aid the human.  But as he bent to gather the rods that had slipped the elder’s hand, the human, suddenly spry, drew a cudgel from his bundle and struck, cracking Menelajis’s horn.”

“
I’m sure he took that in stride,” Taryn said wryly.

“
Oh aye.  So much so that he offered to give the human a closer look at the broken shard of horn that had so newly left the great warrior’s head.”

“
A closer look right through the heart, I suppose.”

“
Nay, lady, how should one look through one’s heart?  T’was right through the eye.  Which settled the matter handily, but made Menelajis somewhat cynical for the remainder of the journey.”

“
Poor guy.  Do your horns grow back if you break them?”

“
Nay.  You are thinking of antlers.”

“
Oh.  Sorry.  Go on.”

Antilles contemplated his tale, shrugged a little deeper into his furs, and said,
“The next bandit showed even greater cunning.  As the brothers traveled, they came to a clearing where they found a human who challenged them to a friendly test of strength.  You can imagine—”  Antilles flexed one massive, muscular arm.  “—how this challenge was received.  The human informed them that branches of trees would be bent down and bound to their arms, and the longer they could pull against the terrible strain of the trees, thus would the winner be determined.  For prize, he offered a cask of fine wine.”

Antilles paused, eyed his empty cup, and then rose to fill it.  Aisling roused himself as the great hooves clopped by, and then crawled out from under his den to curl up in Taryn
’s lap.  Her legs were starting to get a little numb from sitting on the stone hearth, but she couldn’t see where else to lie down except in the bed beside Antilles, so she stroked Aisling’s warm fur and reminded herself that comfort wasn’t everything.

“
As a show of faith,” Antilles continued, settling himself again in his furs, “the human went first.  The brothers bent down two supple trees and counted out the paltry time it took before the human cried the giving signal.  Then the brothers allowed themselves to be tied, both at once, for t’was a contest of two halves said the human, and not three.   But instead of counting their time, the human immediately proceeded to pick through their possessions, trusting that soon the brothers’ arms would tire and the trees would wrench them bodily apart.”

“
Yuck!”

“
The human greatly underestimated the strength of the Cerosan,” Antilles told her, draining half his cup at a swallow.  “They easily snapped their bonds and for good measure, Menelajis tied the human—neck, arms and legs—to three different trees before they journeyed on.”

“
Didn’t they even wait to see him pulled apart?” Taryn asked.

“
Nay.”  Antilles mulled over the matter.  “Perhaps they did not wish to bloody their fur before they met the king.”

“
Yeah, I guess that’s a consideration.”

“
On the last night, with the watchfires of the kingdom in sight, the brothers were approached a final time.  A human met them on the road and begged their aid in harvesting golden apples from an enchanted tree.  Now Cerosan are rarely tempted by either riches or by fruit, and Menelajis was already determined that this should be a trap and was well in favor of slaying the human outright—”

“
Poor guy,” Taryn said again, with heartfelt sympathy.  “Broke his headbone and got all bitter.”

Antilles chuckled, then shook his head and said,
“Igmemnon, in a generous mood, agreed to help the man.  But when they reached the site of the magical tree, the brothers could see that the treasured apples were high in the very top branches, high enough that they could not simply reach them down.  Nor could the thick body of the tree be bent, and the human was anxious that they not cut the tree down and so lose any future fruits.  As Cerosan are not built to climb trees, Igmemnon convinced Menelajis to ascend upon his shoulders.  Neither are Cerosan built for that,” Antilles admitted.  “It took some time to coordinate themselves.  While the brothers were so occupied, the human drew a blade and attacked.  Igmemnon saw the danger and retaliated with the only weapon at hand—Menelajis.”

“
Ouch!”  Taryn couldn’t help it; she started laughing.  “Oh, that poor guy!  And so much for keeping his fur unbloodied.”

“
Quite.  But at last, there was nothing and no one between them and the promised reward.  The brothers strode into the palace and were reluctantly received by the king.  Recall, if you will, that Cerosan were still very new to those lands—”

“
And very fierce,” Taryn nodded.

Antilles made that head-raising acceptance, and this time, his chest swelled slightly as well.  He nodded. 
“And now they threatened to be very popular as well, for the people of the kingdom were greatly relieved to have the dangers of their roads removed, and none of the king’s own men had been able to bring them peace.  There were mutterings, and the king determined to rid himself of the heroes as rapidly, and as cheaply, as could be managed.”

“
He couldn’t possibly think he could kill them,” Taryn said, narrowing her eyes suspiciously.

“
Nay.  After such a showing of strength, it would have been a foolish thing indeed to take arms against the brothers.  Instead, he gave the warriors a great feast, and with it, great quantities of mead and wine.  When all were riotous with rejoicing, he revealed to them his ‘treasure’.”  Antilles suddenly found the contents of his cup very interesting.  “A daughter,” he said.  “Zeuxippe.”

“
Whoa.”  Taryn watched the Cerosan avoid her eyes for a few seconds.  “What did they do?”

“
Nothing, at first.  They had been prepared, no doubt, to haul away great bags of wealth solely for the sport of it, but they had no idea what to do with a human of their own.  Their reticence did not escape the attention of the king, and as the wine flowed and the feasting drew long, the king commanded Zeuxippe to dance.”

Antilles gazed into the fathoms of his cup, his voice growing soft, reverent. 
“Ah, did she dance,” he murmured.  “In ways our people are not and can never be capable.  She danced like air and song and water.  She danced like that first breath of spring after the rains have fallen.  She danced like the last star as it fades before dawn.  She danced, secretive and wanton as the very act of love.  And as she danced, the brothers came to the realization that perhaps having a human underfoot for all time would not be a bad thing.  She danced, and Igmemnon and Menelajis each determined to take her as a mate.”

“
Um.”  Taryn could feel heat crawling in her cheeks.  “Do Cerosan have, um, group marriages?”

“
Nay, not in that manner.”  Antilles was quiet a while.  “This is the part that may offend you,” he said at last.

“
You’re not the author,” Taryn told him, mentally bracing herself.  “Just the fellow who is sharing his hearth.  And his mead.”

Antilles grunted, the sound of his good-humor, and put the cup upside down to dry again.  He said,
“One by one, the feasters retired from the king’s hall, and the Cerosan, as guests and heroes, were given the best rooms that could be given to visitors.  Separate rooms.”

“
Oh.”  Taryn waited for Antilles to continue, and when he only sat silent, she said, “She went to see them.”

He nodded slowly.

“She seduced them?”

“
I doubt they would have required much seducing,” he said.  “But nay, her plan was more devious than that.  She went to Igmemnon and danced for him alone in the privacy of his sleeping quarters.  There, with his head thick with wine and with no little lust, she enticed him until he was overcome.  Believing that she desired with him to mate, Igmemnon pulled her to his bed and had her.”  Antilles looked toward the fire, his expression uneasy.  “She struggled,” he said.  “She screamed, but not loudly, not enough to bring the guards upon them.  She wept.”

Taryn didn
’t speak.  She couldn’t.  Her hand in Aisling’s fur was frozen.

“
I don’t know how it is for humans,” Antilles continued, returning his gaze to her.  “But for Cerosan, once mating has begun and once wine has settled into the blood, there can be no ending but that which is already begun.  Igmemnon took his pleasure of her, and Zeuxippe lay weeping and let him believe her ruined.  Then, somewhat sobered and full horrified by what he perceived he had done, Igmemnon swore an oath to her that she should be protected by him.  He swore to keep her honorably among his kind, or if that should not please her, that he should see her well heeled with gold and safe from the dishonor of her own people.  He swore this, and she agreed to it before she fled.  She fled, and she went in to Menelajis, and worked her charms again.”

Taryn looked into the fire, her heart a cold stone somewhere in the vicinity of her stomach.

“Her task done, Zeuxippe took to her own room for some well-earned rest and there passes forever from legend,” Antilles said.  “But Menelajis went to his brother’s rooms and there told Igmemnon that he desired the dancer for his own.  Each brother, protecting his secret shame and the honor of her that had orchestrated it, refused to let the other win her.  They argued.  Ferociously.  Weapons were eventually drawn.  And when it had ended, both lay dead, for neither could best the other.  Such was their reward for service to Man’s king, and so was the idea of Cerosan as murderous brutes cemented for all eternity in human minds.”

The fire hummed and spat behind her.  Aisling snored and purred and flexed his claws rhythmically in Taryn
’s thigh.  Antilles lay silent and looked at the ceiling.

“
That’s a sad story,” she said finally.  “I guess mine was too.”

“
Happy tales seldom last the test of time.”  He turned his head to look at her.  “Come.  Will you not lay yourself down and sleep?”

Her legs were aching, too numb to unlock themselves.  Taryn lifted one ankle and stretched it out, but then hesitated, suddenly embarrassed again by the thought of lying next to him.  He was naked, after all. 
“Are you sure that’s okay?”

“
Aye,” he said, his voice even and amused.  “You have not danced for me.”

That wasn
’t what she’d meant, but her cheeks burned all the same.  She crawled onto the soft bed, sinking nearly to her elbows in a drift of thick fur, and lay down rigid until the pins and needles pressure in her poor legs subsided.  He was careful not to touch her, and she slowly relaxed and curled onto her side, pulling Aisling against her hip to sleep beside her.  Her mind began to wander, lazing its way toward rest.

“
I actually dance pretty well,” she said without thinking.

“
Aye.”  He rolled onto his side, away from her.  “I imagine that you do.”

50.  Tilly in the Morning

T
aryn woke up to the feel of tiny talons repeatedly gripping at her face, just as though she had an especially slippery watermelon seed on her cheek that was going to explode if Aisling couldn’t pick it up.  She brushed him off and crawled back to a safe distance before opening her eyes.  Her griffin was staring at her with gape-beaked anxiety, all his feathers positively aquiver.  “What’s wrong?” she asked.

She had managed, God knew how, to forget that there was a minotaur (or a Cerosan, rather) sleeping in the same bed until that moment.  At the sound of her voice, or maybe just those particular words, Antilles suddenly surged up, axe in hand, ready to rid the cave of lurking dangers.  Where he even got an axe, as he lay there stone-naked and soundly-sleeping, was its own mystery.

Aisling blinked at Antilles with no small surprise, then inched a little closer to Taryn and craned his neck out.  “Want to go potty?” he whispered, his mimicry of her own peppy morning voice somewhat strained by a note of real urgency.

Taryn felt her eyes go big at this phenomenal first.  Then, before her little man could think twice about the merits of house-breaking, she seized him and sprinted for the door.

Antilles came as she was trying to budge the restraining bar with her shoulder, and heaved the thing off in one hand.  He pulled the door open and held it for Taryn to duck through, and soon Aisling was sprinting off into the scrubby mountain foliage, hissing indignantly to discourage on-lookers. 

It was very cold outside.  Funny, the cave had been so warm, she
’d actually forgotten just how brutal the mornings had been getting.  Taryn watched her breath steam into clouds before her face, feeling the chill of the mountain sinking upward into her bare feet.  She moved out onto the trail, hugging herself for warmth.

The whole valley was spread out below her, lost in the early fog.  Trees in the foreground, mountains to the side, and nothing but white in the middle, like a painting God had begun and then walked away from. 

There was a flat outcropping below her on the winding path that led to Antilles’s door, and Taryn went there, feeling winter in the rock beneath her feet.  She stood on the wide plateau and looked out on the whole world, all of it sunken and unfinished in its sea of mist.  Her tent was down there somewhere.

The unpleasant thought that she was looking a few months into the future rooted itself in her mind.  This was the valley covered in snow.  That was her tent, buried under it.  This was Doom, a portrait in white.  She wasn
’t ready for it.

Aisling joined her on the overlook and sat on her foot.  He shivered, glanced at her, and shivered again, harder.

She got the message.  Gathering her griffin into her arms, she headed back to the cave.

Antilles was at his hearth, adding fuel to the coals and setting a wide-mouthed pot of water over them to heat.  His fur looked spiky and slept-in.  Thoughts of winter and white death melted appropriately away.  Bed-head on a minotaur.  Taryn couldn
’t help smiling.

He caught the look with an unexpected glance her way and his body tensed.  He straightened up, frowning at her.

“Gosh, you look cute first thing in the morning,” she said, and set Aisling on the floor.

Antilles didn
’t seem to know how to respond to that.  His ears rotated forward.  His nostrils flared.  He kept frowning.

“
You’re all poofy,” she amplified.

He gave an irritated snort, but brushed at his forearm, which didn
’t accomplish much in the way of grooming.  “I could say the same of you, if only the condition were unplaced,” he told her.  “You always look disheveled.”

Taryn
’s smile slipped.  Her hand went to her hair, feeling out the stiff tangles that had grown there as if by magic.

Antilles paused and watched her, looking uncomfortable. 
“Winsomely disheveled,” he said in a grudging tone.

“
I was a lot more focused on my appearance when there were people around to see me,” she admitted, letting her hand fall.  “I must look awful.  Funny how things start to slip without you realizing it.”

Some
thing in Antilles softened.  He looked away into the embers of his hearth.  “Aye,” he said.

That was all he said for a while.  Then he stirred himself and went to a shelf on the far side of the room.  He rummaged briefly and returned with a currier in one hand and a hairbrush in the other.  He sort of waved the hairbrush at her as he went by, and she took it mostly to keep it from dropping on the floor.  It was made from a dried, spiny plant set into a wooden handle.  It looked like a vicious sort of plant, but the bristles had been rounded and dipped in some clear, hard-drying coating.  Taryn turned it over in her hands, looking after Antilles, but he was ignoring her as he brushed briskly down his arms and chest, putting himself in order.

Taryn started coaxing the plant-brush through her hair.  It took a long time to weed out the knots that had grown there, longer than it took Antilles to do his entire body.  When she was done, he was already pouring tea into cups for the two of them.  She braided her hair, and he watched her fingers move from the corner of his eye as he reached down a box made of beaten tin from the mantle over his hearth.

“
Better?” she asked, tossing her braid over her shoulder.

He considered her far more closely than she thought the question deserved. 
“Tis a matter of preference, I suppose,” he said eventually, and turned away.

Which was probably his way of saying that all humans looked alike to him and that look was ugly.

Antilles set the tin box on the table and opened it to reveal a heap of what looked an awful lot like severed ears.  He fetched some crumbling biscuits from a bowl to put beside them, and then gestured at this little feast as he returned their brushes to the far shelf.

Taryn sat down in his oversized but very comfortable chair and took a biscuit.  Aisling wasn
’t keen on the piece she offered him, but he was clearly hungry enough to eat bread if he had to.  He took it with a grumble and crouched down under her chair to dissect it, his tail lashing repeatedly against her ankle as proof of his displeasure.

Taryn thought this reaction a tad unwarranted, actually.  The biscuits were a little stale, but quite good, with a sweet flavor and a cakey consistency, packed with crushed nuts for substance.  It emboldened her to try an ear, which turned out to be an especially tangy slice of dried fruit, the flavor of which was somewhere between a peach and an orange.  The tea was dark and earthy-tasting, not what she would have chosen in a breakfast tea, but it had boiled grain beat five ways from Sunday, and she drank it all.

Antilles poured more without speaking and took a seat opposite her.  He did not touch the food, but merely leaned back to watch her eat.  One of his hands rested on the tabletop, the fingers drumming now and then. 

His stare made her more than a little self-conscious and she tried not to wolf her food quite so dramatically. 
“How long have you been here?” she asked, just to have something to say.

Antilles glanced at the walls of his cavern. 
“Long,” he said.

How informative.

“You will find, perhaps, that there are few in Arcadia who document the passing of years as assiduously as humans,” Antilles said.  His gaze drifted back to her, contemplative.  “Why do you ask?”

“
Conversation is one of those things that people do when they find themselves together.”  She eyed the dwindling supply of biscuits and took another.  “And I was curious.  You seemed to indicate that you were here when…when that city was abandoned.”

“
Aye.  I was.”

“
But that had to have been a long time ago.”

“
Aye.”  He cocked his head.  “If you mean me to make some reckoning of years, I should say surely not more than a hundred and I would think nearer to half that number.  But long years they were.”

She studied him
—his powerful frame, his rich pelt, his clear eyes—and shook her head.  “It’s hard to think of you as being that old.”

“
Old,” he echoed, slowly, as if tasting the word.  Then it was his turn for a head shake.  “I am older yet than that by far, for I was born some two hundred years before Dis fell.  My kind may live to see some few thousands of years before they are considered old, though seldom do we reach our elder years.”  He looked at her again, this time with speculation.  “How many years have you?”

“
Twenty-four.”

“
Great gods, a babe in arms.”  He chuckled, passing a hand before his eyes.  Again, there was no smile.  How odd, that he could frown but not smile.  “And how many years do humans count, if they can expect no ill or other harm?”

“
I’ve heard of people who got to be over a hundred.  A hundred and six, a hundred and eight, like that.  But I think the average is eighty or ninety where I’m from.”

“
I have never seen a human so aged,” he said, and then rolled one shoulder.  “Nor have I asked one’s age.  So much do I know.  Will you have another cake?”

There was only the one left.  Taryn
’s manners and her stomach fought a bitter battle.  “You haven’t had any,” she said weakly.

“
And you haven’t had enough.  Take.  My stores are well-stocked.”  He slapped a hand against his iron slab of a stomach and tossed his horns.  “Aside of which, I have eaten cakes at first and mid-day meal for nigh on five days.  I have no one else to aid me in the eating of them and ‘tis impractical to make but three.”  He watched her split the biscuit with Aisling, his frown gradually returning.  “What is it you’ve been eating?”

“
Why do you ask?”

“
Conversation is one of those things—”

“
Boiled grain,” she replied, rolling her eyes to show what she thought of his memory.  “Fish.  Some pheasant.  I got a hopper once, but I gave it to Aisling.”

“
A…hopper…”

“
One of those little long-nosed critters that bounce around.”

“
Oh aye.  The horsemen call them sungura, and so we have done.  I like your word better.  And they are well enough to eat, if such was your concern.  You would do well to avoid the mindi, however.”  He paused.  “The small, hoofed animals.”

“
Oh, the grass ponies!  Yeah, I haven’t even considered them ever since I saw one eat a hopper.  There’s just something incredibly creepy about a carnivorous horse.”

“
Aye, your instincts led you wisely.  They feed on carrion and one another and so are oft riddled with diseases and parasites.”  Antilles frowned a little harder.  “Yet your diet is lacking already, human, and soon the fish will die and the grain likewise.  Sangura will sleep and pheasants nest.  You have come at a difficult time.” 

Taryn shrugged, irritated and trying hard not to show it. 
“I came when the egg hatched.”

“
Aye.”  He glanced toward his mantleplace, then rose and went there.  “My Valley is a bounteous table to those who know what to seek.  When spring comes, and summer after, my concern shall wane, but until then, take this.”

He handed her another tin box, this one almost the size of her head, but very light.  The lid had been decorated with hammered bumps in the shape of a winding snake with two heads.

“What is it?” she asked, prying the lid off.  The aroma of pine trees and flowers struck her at once, soothing in spite of the very unappealing appearance of crushed plant matter.

“
Needle tea,” he answered.  “There is a quality in it to keep one’s blood and teeth healthy when fruits are not available.”

“
Oh.  Thank you.”  She put the lid back on, frowning at its decoration without really seeing it.  “I don’t have anything to give you,” she said.  “But I’ll pay you back someday, I promise.”

“
If you will.  I require no repayment.”  Antilles capped the tin of ear-fruits, paused, then handed that over as well.  “Tis apt to be a long winter,” he said gruffly.  “And you are woefully unprepared for it, human.  I expect you’ll want to be about your business now.”

She was being dismissed. 
“I expect so,” she said, rising.  “But I thank you for your hospitality.  It was fun sharing stories with you, even if they weren’t very happy ones.”

He didn
’t look at her, but the set of his tense body softened again.  “Aye,” he said.  “Aye, it was.”

“
Come on, Aisling.  Let’s hit the road.  Be seeing you, Tilly.”

He let her reach the doors without comment, but then suddenly turned and said,
“You were a welcome guest, Taryn.  I…may have you back.”  He thought about it, frowned, and then stomped over and shut the door behind her.