glaring, trying to scare him, but he held firm and didn’t blink or look away. In the end, the griffin looked at the ground in a gesture of defeat.
Arren felt strangely confident. He’d been among griffins all his life, and he knew how to deal with one that was being aggressive. He could deal with this one. “That’s better,” he told it. “I’ll bring you some food. If you’re gentle with me, I’ll be gentle with you.”
“Arren, what’s going on?”
Arren turned. It was Tamran, looking rather tousled, with his griffin beside him.
He straightened up. “The drug’s worn off,” he said, reverting to Cymrian. “It started getting a bit worked up—had to threaten it. Sorry it woke you up.”
Tamran rubbed his eyes. “’Sall right, Keea wanted feeding anyway. Did you sleep?”
Arren shook his head. “We should probably feed it now,” he said, gesturing at the cage and its occupant.
Tamran yawned. “Yes, yes, I’ll have something sent along.” He turned and shuffled out.
“Could I please have—” Arren began, but the other griffiner had gone. He returned to his seat.
No-one came until well after sunrise. When the sun was up, the owner of the barn came to check on him.
Arren stood up. “Excuse me, could you help me, please?”
“Yes, sir,” said the man. “What can I do for you?”
“I need something to eat. And some food for the griffin.”
The man cast a murderous look at the creature. “I don’t understand why you’re keeping it alive, sir. What use is it?”
“I came here to catch it, not kill it. I have a debt to pay. I’m going to take it back to Eagleholm and sell it to the owners of the Arena. It’ll spend the rest of its life disembowelling criminals.”
“They really do that with them, sir?”
“Yes. Will you please get me some food?”
“Yes, sir.” The man left.
He returned a while later with bread and apples and fresh milk. Arren tucked in very gratefully. “What about the griffin?” he asked between bites.
The man looked unhappy. “Well, how much will it want, sir?”
Arren swallowed a mouthful of apple. “Not too much. One haunch should do it. About this big.” He indicated the size with his hands.
The man looked even less happy about this. “I see. Um, I’m not sure. I haven’t got a carcass handy right now. But one of my neighbours has got a cow that’s on its way out; I could go and ask him.”
Arren paused. It hadn’t occurred to him that they probably wouldn’t have large pieces of meat just lying around. Keeping cows was expensive, and only the wealthy ate fresh meat regularly. Everyone else had to have theirs dried or salted or made into a kind of hard smoked sausage which had to be soaked before eating. “You’ll be properly paid for it,” he said eventually.
“Yes, sir. I’ll see what I can do, sir.”
Once the man had gone, Arren bit into the apple again and glared at the griffin. “I hope you know how much trouble you’ve caused everyone.”
The griffin stared back at him. It didn’t say anything, but there was a question in its eyes.
Arren looked away. “I should have killed you,” he muttered.
The griffin didn’t try to speak to him again, but as the day began and Arren continued his vigil, it continued to watch him. A bloody hunk of meat was brought in around noon and dumped on the floor by the cage and the black griffin tore into it at once.
After eating, it drank from the trough and slipped back into a drugged sleep.
The rain had stopped by now, and the sun shone in through the windows, turning the air gold with suspended particles of hay. Arren dozed in the warmth. He lay on his side, one hand curled under his chin, face creasing occasionally in time with his dreams.
It took two days for the wagons to arrive. Arren spent them almost exclusively in the barn, guarding his charge. Deanne offered to take over for him but he refused. He didn’t want to leave. Somehow the idea of going out into the sun again almost frightened him, as if leaving the barn would mean breaking out of the numbness that had taken hold of him after Eluna’s death. Now that the initial shock had worn off and his wound had begun to heal, he found that he couldn’t think about her any more. She would slip out of his mind every time he tried. But it wasn’t that he didn’t feel any pain. There was pain,