Crossroads and Other Tales of Valdemar Read Free Page B

’S time for your feeding. Is that all right, sir? You hungry?” The boy’s voice was strained with fear, and the words were obviously forced out between nearly clenched teeth. In fact, those teeth chattered a little from the rain as the wind picked up. “Come to feed you? Sir?”
    “Hurrrh, yesss, come. Clossserrr. I won’t eat you. What did you brrring?” The insult the boy delivered was galling. Come to feed him, like he was some animal in a pen? Did they have any idea who he was? What he was? He tried to stand, but instead just felt pinned by the soaked canvas. “Thessse polesss fell down. Come help with them firrrssst.”
    The boy looked around for a dry place to put his load, and since there was none, he settled on a thick clump of tallgrass to cradle the sack. It was still in the rain but out of the immediate muddy water. Hitching up his pants, he clumped through the sludge to the edge of the canvas, pulled it up, and met Kelvren’s eyes full-on. Apparently up this close to a gryphon for the first time, the boy looked like a squirrel who just that moment realized that the pretty shadow closing in on him was an owl. Ten heartbeats passed before the boy moved another inch.
    At that precise moment between ten and eleven heartbeats, the canvas weakly arched over Kelvren’s head collapsed completely from the weight of the rain on it, leaving only the curve of a muddy beak sticking out.
    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.