Kelvren closed his eyes and sighed. From the miserable to the absurd. I did wonder, the gryphon thought, and now I know. It does get worse.
Treyvan walked to the recital chamber Hydona was using as a classroom. The sunlight from the dormers glinted on seven knifeblades, and illuminated the swirls of dust from feathers and age stirred up by the belt-fed brass overhead fans and the wings of the three gryphons already in the room. Sixteen people, a few in Herald’s Whites, were in a loose semicircle strewn with books, folios, and large multicolored drawings. They all seemed comfortable, propped up on dozens of mismatched pillows, and Hydona looked most comfortable of all lying on her belly on a short stage. Behind her, the two gryphlets, Jervan and Lytha, were doing their best to hover without flapping their wings. The lift that gave gryphons their ability to fly was in their bones, and it was a discipline to try and hover solely by mental control without moving any air by wings. Lytha looked to be a prodigy, almost a yard from the floor, with all four feet dangling down as if she was held in midair like a boneless cat. Jervan only managed to get his forelegs and wings to stay up without too much effort. He held himself in place and cried out, “Rrrampant!” then used his new position as an opportunity to bat at his sister’s tail more easily.
Treyvan swept in and told Jervan, “Leave yourrr sssisssterrr alone orrr I’ll feed you to the Companionsss,” reached out, and bumped Jervan with a wingtip. The gryphlet’s wings snapped out straight from his sides, changing his center of balance in his partial levitation. He fell over backward, whistling high-pitched laughter, while his sister joined in—but she sounded smug.
“Tyrrrant,” Hydona trilled as her mate approached. “Come to conquerrr?” she teased as Treyvan tapped beaks with her and then turned his head upside-down to accept an ear nibble. “You sssee, ssstudentss, you mussst be prrreparrred to maintain yourrr worrrk durrring any dissstrrraction.” The seven knives she held suspended point-down in midair between the stage and the students didn’t waver. In fact, it appeared that she paid no attention to the knives at all. “Thisss isss why you essstablish sssolid anchorrr pointsss when beginning worrrk. Rrrelative posssitionsss mean rrrelative forrrcsse. When you know the posssitionsss well, you can then concssentrrrate on what might affect thossse posssitionsss. Contrrrol isss in how you sssenssse the changesss in thossse posssitionsss. and compensssate. Thisss isss why ssso many trrraditionsss ussse diagrrramsss and patterrrnsss in magic; they arrre waysss of trrracking posssitionsss asss powerrr isss moved and changed. In thisss way you can usse finessse, and lesss powerrr, by accurrrate percsseption. Morrre awarrrenesss meansss using lesss brrrute forcsse.”
“Unlesss you like brrrute forcsse,” Treyvan teased.
“Unlesss you have a mate that interrruptsss you conssstantly durrring yourrr prrracticsse. Then brrrute forcsse isss authorrrized, and you may ussse the knivesss on him,” she replied in the same tone. Gryphlets cackled from behind her, and most of the students laughed outright.
“You wound me,” Treyvan complained.
“I wisssh,” Hydona replied, and chewed on his other ear. “But I need you arrround ssso I don’t torrrment the ssstudentsss asss much. What isss wrrrong?” Her tone changed from mocking to concerned as she sat up on her haunches.
“An unknown grrryphon’sss been grrrounded, up norrrth,” Treyvan admitted. “He isss at one of the sssupply line villagesss but therrre isssn’t anyone who knowsss what’sss wrrrong with him. Rrreportsss sssay he isss without magic, and not doing well.”
“You ssshould go,” Hydona answered immediately. Gryphlet heads popped up from behind the stage. “I’ll sssee to yourrr ssstudentsss and herrrd thossse two without you forrr a while.”
“Hurrrh. Arrre you sssurrre you want me away?” Treyvan prompted.
“You can go away asss long asss you need to, loverrr,” Hydona purred. “becaussse I know who you’rrre coming back to.”
The rain had finally let up to just a haze and the boy had gotten the tent back up while Kelvren wobbled away through the field to relieve himself. He limped back, wings dragging in the tallgrass, and crawled into the tent. The gryphon bumped a wing and dislodged one of the four poles doing so, but the boy quickly sloshed around to prop it back up. Kelvren was almost turned completely over onto his stronger side, trying to get to some of his worst itches with his beak or talons when the boy said, “I’ll get your food, sir. Just wait right there.”
Kelvren openly growled.
“I’ll be herrre. Why would I want to leave thisss palace?” the gryphon snorted. “All the sssilk tapessstrrriesss and dancssing girrrlsss arrre rrreason enough to ssstay.”
“It’s not so bad, sir, just depends what you compare it to. That’s what I always tell myself.” He returned with the sack and plopped it on the slightly less muddy tent floor.
“Not ssso bad? I am sssoaked to the bone. I can barrrely walk, I look terrrible, and I have beetlesss and twigsss underrr my wingsss. Do you underrrssstand? Beetlesss and twigsss.”
“Ticks, too, probably,” the boy shrugged. He undid the knots on the sack and left it open like a feedbag in front of the gryphon. “We get a lot of ticks around here. When it rains, they climb as high as they can up on the grass.” The boy took his hat off and shook it toward the outside—an exercise in futility if there ever was one, since the hat had so many open patches in the weave, he may as well have been wearing an angler’s net on his head.
Kelvren itched all over again, thinking about that. “Thanksss,” he growled, but the boy must have thought he was referring to the food.
“Y’welcome sir. I have to wait for the sack when you’re done, so please don’t tear it up much. I don’t have too many.”
Kelvren nosed into the bag and tasted at it with an extended tongue. He hadn’t expected prime cuts, but it looked and tasted as if he was getting the least wanted body parts from whatever animals they had at the time. There were a couple of knuckle joints, and what looked like some backstrap from a—well, he wasn’t sure. Could be pork. Could be horse. Could be deer. Could be tax collector. He hoped for horse. A short leg here, a few feet of entrails, six chicken feet and a hoof. Well, that part was identifiable at least.
It might be best just to eat it all, without looking too closely.
The boy was as far back against the side of the tent as he could manage, knees folded up to his chest and hands holding the hat in front of him. He stared at the gryphon.
Kelvren pulled his face out of the sack and regarded the boy. “Don’t be afrrraid,” he said, blood dripping continuously off his beak.
“Yes, sir. No, sir. Not afraid, sir.”
“Hurrrh,” Kelvren growled, and got another few pounds of the stuff down his gullet. “Ssso. Why sssend you up herrre? What did you do wrrrong?” the gryphon asked. He was only half joking.
“Lot of the town figures you’re really dangerous, sir. And they need all able bodies down there, but I don’t really count so much, and some of the folk, they want to stay with what stock they’ve got left to ’em in case you went down there, you know, on a rampage or somethin’. Monsters always rampage, they said.”
Kelvren narrowed his eyes and peered out of the tent, letting his mood smolder for a long while. “Alwaysss,” he growled.
“That’s what I’m told, sir.”
“Ssso. I am a rrrampage-to-be, and they sssend a boy to brrring me food? You mussst be verrry brrrave.”
“Not so brave, sir. I get the work no one else wants, and I go with it. Gets my mum and me a little coin. Privy needs cleared out, fence strung through swamp, cleanup after calving, I’m who they get. Like I say, isn’t so bad depending what you compare it to. There’s folk out there losin’ limbs and eyes and all. I figure I’m doin’ all right. An’ if somethin’ happened to me, they said they’d just get someone else, so it’s all proper.”