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Authors: K.J. Taylor

The Griffin's Flight (55 page)

BOOK: The Griffin's Flight
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“I question Lady Elkin’s ability to choose the finest officials,” said Senneck, “if that is the best she could find to be Master of Farms. He cares more for hunting than for his duties.”
“I’m sure she had her reasons,” said Erian. “Maybe he was more interested before, and she thought he’d be like that forever.” He realised he was being unduly defensive and shrugged to cover it. “I’m sure we can make certain the work gets done properly, anyway.”
“No doubt,” said Senneck. “Now, we should—”
But another lord had already wandered over to them. “Welcome to Malvern, my lord Erian. I hope you do well here.”
Erian didn’t recognise him. “Oh. Thank you, I don’t believe we’ve—”
“Lord Dahl, Master of Taxation,” said the griffiner. “My partner, Raekri, isn’t far away; she was hungry. Now, Lord Kerod tells me you’ve been made his assistant?”
“Uh, yes, uh—”
“Excellent. You really should meet a few people. Here, come with me.”
After that, Erian found himself swept up in an endless parade of greetings and platitudes poured on him by a series of benign but uninterested faces, each one attached to a name he forgot almost instantly. Lords and ladies and griffins, some with official positions and some without. He did his best, smiling and nodding and answering their questions about himself and his background, and trying to take in everything they told him.
In the end, though, he slid into a kind of trance from which he did not awaken until Dahl said, “And this is Lady Arden, the Master of Trade.”
Erian froze. “What?”
The red-haired lady in front of him smiled. “Pleased to meet you, Lord Erian. Tell me, is it true that you are Lord Rannagon’s son?”
Erian pulled himself together. “I have that honour, my lady. So, tell me,” he added, once they had tugged fingers. “Did I just hear you say you were the Master of Trade?”
She laughed. “That was Lord Dahl, actually. I suppose
Mistress
of Trade wouldn’t sound proper. Now, Erian, I’m interested to hear about your parentage. I wasn’t aware that Lord Rannagon had any sons. Where were you born?”
Erian’s heart sank, but the instant he opened his mouth to reply a deafening screech cut across the conversations going on around him.
The guests fell silent at once, and he saw them backing away from the point where the screech had come from. For an instant he thought a fight had broken out, but then he saw Kraal standing at the centre of a rapidly expanding ring of empty ground.
“My lords and ladies!” said Elkin, once again appearing beside him as if by magic. “It is time!” She raised a hand, and the little group of musicians that had been playing by the tables moved to the edge of the ring and settled down.
Elkin scanned the crowd. “Lord Erian,” she called. “Come forward!”
Erian needed no prompting from Senneck this time. He all but shoved his way past the people standing between him and Elkin, until he had reached the edge of the ring, and then he stepped into it. “Here I am, my lady.”
Elkin favoured him with her smile. “My lord,” she said, holding her hand out toward him, palm uppermost. “Would you honour me with a dance?”
Erian took her hand. “The honour would be mine, my lady,” he said, aware of all the onlookers.
“Then let us begin,” said Elkin, and before he knew it the musicians launched into “The Lordly Peasant,” and she linked her arm with his and began the dance.
Erian felt giddy, but he knew the dance, and after a moment’s stumbling he slipped into the proper rhythm of the steps, and he and Elkin danced alone at the centre of the circle.
But only for a brief time. The onlookers, having allowed the Mistress to begin, moved into the circle and joined the dance. Soon nearly every human there had found a partner, while a few stayed by the tables and watched, and the griffins moved back and settled down to eat or groom.
The ceremonial outfit made dancing awkward. Erian could feel the long feathers hanging from his back and shoulders weighing him down, and a constant fear nagged at him that they would catch on something and break, but he ignored the thought and put all his efforts into dancing as well as he could. “The Lordly Peasant” was a fast tune, and keeping up with it was no easy task; he mentally thanked the gods that he had practised the steps in private.
But Elkin made a good partner. Even though she was a head shorter than him, she was stronger than she looked and quick on her feet. And even though Erian had never liked dancing, his heart was singing. All the secret fantasies he had had about this night were coming true.
The first dance ended, and they launched into “Dance of the Griffins.” Most of the other dancers chose new partners, but Elkin made no move to let go of Erian’s arm. Nor did she part with him during the third dance. By the fourth, however, she moved on to a different partner, leaving Erian with a feeling of mingled elation and disappointment.
He danced with several different women after that, some better than others, but all the while he found himself looking for Elkin. She had disappeared among the mass of twirling figures, and he couldn’t catch a glimpse of her pale hair anywhere.
Night drew in and the stars came out. Eventually the moon rose. By then Erian had danced several dances, and he was sweating and exhausted when he finally excused himself and went over to the tables to eat something.
He helped himself to some bread and cheese and a roasted chicken leg, and picked some strayberries out of a bowl. Jugs of drink had been laid out as well, so he poured himself a cupful and unwisely downed it in a few mouthfuls without tasting it first.
It turned out to be strong iced wine, and he put the cup down and started coughing. Moments later his stomach lurched, and he grabbed hold of the table to support himself. His head was spinning.
Idiot!
he berated himself. But he had a second cup anyway, to steady his nerves. That made him feel a little better, and he had some more to eat before tackling a third cupful.
He wondered where Senneck was, and then dismissed the thought with a shrug. Doubtless she was enjoying herself with the other griffins. She didn’t need him for now.
He finished the third cup and stifled a yawn. The wine had made him feel pleasantly warm and contented, and he eyed the nearest jug and wondered if he should risk having some more.
“My lord?”
Erian turned. “Hm? What? Oh!”
Elkin had appeared behind him, smiling. “There you are,” she said. “I was looking for you.”
“Oh,” Erian said again. “I—uh—hello, my lady.”
She held out her arm. “Will you honour me with the next dance, my lord?”
Erian smiled and accepted the arm. “Of course.”
Elkin led him onto the dance floor as the musicians struck up a slow tune that he recognised as “The Flowers of the Field.” This was a dance he didn’t know.
Elkin took his hands in hers. “Come,” she said.
Erian was nervous for an instant, but the wine boosted his confidence. He let her lead him into the dance, and watched the others around him to try and pick up the steps. He stumbled a few times, but Elkin helped him keep up.
“This is my favourite dance,” she confided as she moved in close to him.
“I like it, too,” Erian said and grinned back.
And even though he hated dancing, it was the truth.
The dance seemed to go on for a long time, and when it was over Erian said, “Do you want to go and have something to eat?”
Elkin paused. “Of course. Why not?”
They returned to the tables and picked at a few choice dishes, neither of them saying much. Erian tried desperately to think of something to talk about, but his mind had gone blank.
“The wine’s good,” he blurted at last. “Would you like me to pour you some?”
“Yes, thank you,” said Elkin. She took the cup he offered her, and sipped from it. “This wine came all the way from Amoran, you know. I was waiting for a good time to bring it out of the cellars. Do you like it?”
“Yes, it’s very good,” said Erian.
“They make it in Syama,” said Elkin. “Have some yourself, why don’t you?”
Erian did. “It’s very sweet. I’ve always liked sweet wines. Do they put honey in it?”
“I think so, yes.” Elkin finished the cup and grinned wickedly at him. “I’m not supposed to drink too much wine, you know, but I do anyway, on special occasions.”
“Why not?” said Erian.
“Oh, because I’m so delicate, you know,” said Elkin, pouring herself another cupful regardless. “And I
am
Mistress here, too. Who knows what stupid decisions I might make?”
Erian laughed. “I don’t think anyone would say anything. They all admire you, my lady. Every griffiner I’ve spoken to since I got here has told me you are the best Eyrie Mistress they know of.”
“Have they really?” she asked seriously.
“Yes. And I think so, too,” Erian added.
She gave him an amused look. “Is that so?”
He cursed himself yet again, and put the cup aside. He’d drunk too much. If he said or did something truly appalling in front of her …
“Well?” Elkin prompted.
“Uh, yes,” said Erian. “I do.”
She watched him for a while, sipping at her wine. “So,” she said, once the silence had begun to be uncomfortable. “Tell me about yourself, Erian. And”—she picked up a strayberry and turned it over in her fingers—“I don’t mean in the way you did when we first met. Tell me something
real.
”
Erian felt hot all over. “Oh, well …”
“Go on,” said Elkin. “I’m interested. I want to know you better.”
“Well, I …”
And then, quite suddenly, he was telling her everything. He talked about his conception, when Lord Rannagon, on his way back to Eagleholm after the war in the North, had stayed for the night at a small village called Carrick, where a peasant girl named Belara had caught his eye and shared his bed for the night. Rannagon had left the next day.
She had tried to lure him back after she discovered that she was pregnant, but never had any response from him, and eventually died birthing the boy, leaving him to be brought up by her parents.
“So I grew up without a father,” said Erian. “But they told me who he was, and told me stories about him, and I grew up believing—well, I always thought it made me special. He was my hero. I used to imagine meeting him; I’d try and think of all the things I would say to him and what he would say back. For a long time I believed that he’d come and see me one day; he’d come on his griffin, Shoa, and we’d fly back to Eagleholm together, and I’d grow up there, and …” He trailed off.
“But he never came?” Elkin said sympathetically.
Erian smiled sadly. “He did. He did come. He came and saw me several times. And he didn’t take me away, but—but he was kind. He called me ‘son,’ brought me presents. Shoa even let me touch her once. Later on I found out he was doing it secretly, flying out to Carrick on a pretext so people wouldn’t know. And then he stopped coming. But he gave orders to an old griffiner in the village to be my teacher. He taught me griffish and how to read and write and handle a sword and a bow. He never told me why, but I knew my father had got him to do it—paid him or bribed him somehow.”
“You were lucky,” said Elkin. “Not many griffiners would do that.”
“I know.” Erian smiled. “That’s how I knew that he cared about me. I always knew it. And when I was sixteen I knew it was time. My grandparents expected me to get married, take over the farm and settle down there, but I wouldn’t. They told me I was mad—stupid—but I knew I wasn’t meant to be a farmer. I knew griffish, I knew things peasants didn’t know, and the gods must have a different plan for me. And my
father
must have one, too. I kept expecting him to come and see me again, but he didn’t, and so I decided that I had to go to him. So I went to Eagleholm, and I found him there. He pretended he wasn’t happy that I’d come, but later on he said he knew I would. I asked him if he thought I should become a griffiner, and he said that wasn’t for him to decide. But he told me only nobles become griffiners, and that just because I was his son I shouldn’t get ideas above myself. He said he could get me a job in the city—maybe as a guardsman—but that was all he was willing to do. He told me he was sorry, but that having me there was an embarrassment and he was already in trouble with his sister for acknowledging me, even if it was only in secret.” Erian rubbed his head. “Once he’d finished saying that, he gave me a piece of paper and told me to go and not come back.”
Elkin sighed. “That was cold of him.”
“Not as much as it sounds, my lady,” said Erian. “I realised later on that people must have been listening in—Shoa was listening, and I know she didn’t like me. But the paper—once I was outside I looked at it, and it was a map to the hatchery. There was writing on it. It just said ‘Let the gods and the griffins decide.’ And I went to the hatchery, and—”
“And all your dreams came true,” Elkin finished.
BOOK: The Griffin's Flight
11.51Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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