Part 9 (1/2)

”The pigs are not thine to give,” Prospero said, folding his arms, ”that thou knowest, for I have told thee. Now leave this game and come-”

”Not without my gryphon. She's mine, I found her, and I said she would have a pig here. There are many pigs. I counted forty-four. She can have a male pig and you still will have pigs to breed.”

”The pigs belong to the folk here, not to thee,” Prospero said, his patience fading.

”Then I will ask them,” Freia said, and she stood, walked along the trunk of the tree, and jumped down. ”Chup-chup-chup!” she called, clapping her hands, and the gryphon's head withdrew into the green shade. A disturbance, and the animal pushed through the bushes, snapping at them with that terrible beak. It-she, Prospero corrected himself- looked briefly at Prospero with an unnervingly intelligent gold eye. As she emerged from the trees, wings protectively tucked tightly against her back, Prospero realized he had underestimated her size. He had never seen such a large one.

Freia had a plaited leather halter around the gryphon's beak, head, and neck. She tugged on the lead-rope and the gryphon, favoring her off hind leg heavily, hopped after her, toward the little group of people on the other side of the clearing. Her wings, Prospero saw, were restrained by a fibrous-looking rope, made by Freia, and one wing was splinted.

”Freia-” Prospero began.

Freia threw him a quick, brilliant glance and looked back to the people.

They were backing away, murmuring. One stood his ground, and Freia went to him and stopped an arm's-length away. The gryphon halted and settled into an uncomfortable half-crouch.

Scudamor and Freia examined one another. Freia's bow and her little leather knapsack of gear, her short leather tunic and the knee-high leggings she wore, made her appear a wild woman of an explorer's dream before black-bearded Scudamor, who wore a simple muddy-white sleeveless smock, belted up above his sandalled legs for ease in working.

”Welcome, Lady,” said Scudamor.

”This is a gryphon,” Freia said, ”She's Trixie.”

Scudamor looked at the gryphon.

”I promised her a pig, and Prospero says the pigs are yours,” Freia said.

Scudamor looked at the gryphon still. She had pulled her head in, sitting hunched.

Freia looked at Scudamor, and then Prospero heard her say a very small, soft word that gave him all hope for the future.

”Please,” Freia said.

Scudamor said, ”The gryphon favors her leg.”

”Yes.”

”She cannot hunt,” Scudamor said.

”I hunt for her.”

”Let us go to the pigs,” Scudamor said.

” Tis not needful-” Prospero began, and Freia drew in her breath, and Scudamor said mildly, ”To give the Lady's gryphon a pig is a good thing.” He nodded, as if to himself, and turned and walked away. Freia tugged the gryphon's tead gently and the gryphon rose and limped with them.

”Be d.a.m.ned,” muttered Prospero, confounded. Well, let them give the beast a pig, and when her leg healed they'd have no pigs at all in eight days.

But the gryphon ate her one pig, and then no more, for 92.'H'ifley Freia hunted for her; she hopped after Freia devotedly, and Prospero realized when the gryphon's feathers and fur began to shed and grow again that this was a youngling, coming only now into bright mature plumage. He did not know how young she might be, but she was growing larger as she fledged. Trixie had apparently decided Freia was her foster-mother, and Freia, who had never shown inclination toward pets, poulticed and bandaged and combed and fed her a.s.siduously.

”Belike,” Prospero suggested, as Trixie pulled strips of meat from a wood-elk Freia had shot and rafted home to the island for her, ”belike thy gryphon were better encouraged to hunt for herself.” He feared the day the animal's health returned.

”She cannot fly,” Freia said. ”Her feathers are half-out. I told her she mustn't eat anybody here, or the pigs or the new ones.”

”Sheep.”

”They don't look very nice to eat. They're all hairy.”

”That's wool, wench, and thou hast seen it 'fore this, in thy garments.” And he told her about wool, Freia thought that cutting the hair off the sheep was a strange occupation, and suggested that waiting for them to shed would be easier, but Prospero forbore to expand upon the minutiae of husbandry.

”Anyway Trixie won't eat them; I said she mustn't,” Freia said when Prospero had risen to leave her. ”Papa-”

He waited, ”I asked the men who were making the s.h.i.+p, the big one, if I could not have some of the iron ropes-”

”Chain, Puss. It is chain, or chains.”

”Chains. So that is what chains look like. I had wondered. -They said I must ask you.”

”What wouldst thou with chains?” Prospero asked, guessing.

”For Trixie.”

”Wilt not let her fly when she's mended?”

”Yes, I will, but ... she must have better harness. The A Sorcerer and a Qentkman *=- 93 leather is thin, and she doesn't mean to break it, but it breaks.”

”Ah. Hm. Well, there is little to spare. Do thou wait, and tell them I have said thou mayst have any excess, but only when they have completed their work. 'Twill not be long- five days, or six; they labor with good will.”

Freia nodded. ”Thank you, Papa.”

Dewar used the hours between his meeting and his appointment with the Countess profitably. He went into the town and found a tavern where he eavesdropped and gossiped, learning as much as he could about the Countess and her affianced. At the eighth hour he met a page as he emerged from his room at the castle, and the page led him to a sunny, pleasant bower in the garden where the Countess's maid and the Countess waited by a table laid with covered dishes on a yellow cloth, beneath a tree which was seasonably adorned with clouds of white flowers and sharp, impossibly bright-green new leaves.

”Good afternoon, Your Grace.” Dewar bowed.

”Good afternoon, Dewar. Laudine.”

Reluctantly, Laudine withdrew to a bench some distance away and sat down to a piece of needlework, and the page was also dismissed to skip off back to the castle.

”Please be seated.”

”Thank you, madame.”

”I seem to recall asking you to call me Lunete,” she said when he was beside her.

”I would not seek to presume on the informality of fellow-travellers,” he said, ”but to willfully disoblige you would be far more presumptuous. Lunete, then.”

”Thank you. Would you care for salad?”

”Allow me. It is kind of you to grant me this interview today. There are a great number of things clamoring for your attention after your absence.”

”I am curious,” said Lunete. She was curious, and his talk was delightful. With his courtesy and address, he made her feel as if she were the Empress Glencora herself.

94.'Efizabetfi 'Wittey ”And so am I,” said Dewar. ”You see, I am not particularly informed on iocal issues. I wondered why you and the King of Ascolet were pursued by Ocher of Sa.r.s.emar.” He had acquired some inkling of the business in the tavern, but wished to hear the tale from the lady herself. The town had begun to seethe with preparations for some kind of battle; Dewar had glimpsed Otto leading a column of pikemen.