raise the price to, say, five hundred. I won’t go any higher than five hundred and fifty.”
“Five hundred and seventy and it’s yours,” said Arren.
“Fine,” said Orome. “Just you wait a bit while I get it into a cage and see if it’s in as good a shape as it looks, all right?”
Orome nodded to a couple of assistants who were standing by. They came forward and cut through the ropes holding the bars on one side of the cage in place. The crude wooden bars fell away and were quickly removed, and the two of them entered the cage and snapped a set of heavy iron manacles into place around the black griffin’s wings, preventing them from opening. They put more manacles around its front legs, chaining them together, and finally put a steel collar around its neck. The griffin, which had woken up by now, tried feebly to lash out at them, but it couldn’t do anything to save itself. Once the manacles were on the men cut the ropes and dragged the griffin to its paws. It stood after several attempts, swaying and confused by the after-effects of the drug, and the two handlers took hold of the chains attached to either side of the collar and tugged it forward. Sefer, Orome’s red griffin, bit at the creature’s haunches until it started to move. The handlers slowly marched it to the far side of a large enclosure and shoved it into another cage, this one much larger and furnished with a trough and several iron rings driven deep into the walls. They attached the chains to two of these on opposite walls, and then withdrew, slamming the heavy iron door shut behind them. The griffin slumped where it stood for a time, and then abruptly started up and hurled itself at the bars. The chains went taut, stopping it in its tracks an arm’s length from the barrier. The griffin nearly fell, but recovered itself and reared up on its hind legs, screeching and wrenching at its bonds. The chains rattled and shook, and dust rained down from the rings, but they held firm.
Orome watched the screeching, struggling beast and shook his head. “Magnificent,” he said. “Just look at the muscles on it. Thing could break a man’s back with a kick.” He glanced at Arren. “How did you catch it?”
“Poison,” Arren said. “On an arrow.”
“Oh, yeah. It’s a tricky method, that. I’ve used it myself. Problem with it is, it doesn’t work straightaway, and if the thing’s too far off the ground when it kicks in, it can fall to its death.”
“Can I have my money now?” said Arren.
Orome looked at him. “You’re in a bad mood, aren’t you? You don’t look so good—why are you such a mess?”
“I have to be somewhere soon,” said Arren, ignoring the question, “so could you please just pay me now? I need the money.”
“All right, all right, I understand. C’mon.” Orome walked away, while Sefer stayed to watch the black griffin. The enclosure they were in was round, and the planks underfoot had been reinforced with metal plates and then covered with sand and sawdust. There were dozens of large cages set into the wall, and several of them contained griffins, stirring in their chains to watch the two humans pass. There was a large archway leading out, which Orome went through, with Arren in tow. “We’re going to have to give it a name,” he said. “Something impressive. Draw the crowds in.”
Arren had seen the posters advertising fights at the Arena featuring popular griffins. Plenty of people had a favourite. The names were chosen to sound melodramatic and exciting, things like Hammerbeak and Bloodrender.
“What d’you reckon, lad?” said Orome, pausing at the door to his office. “Got any good suggestions?”
“Blackgriffin?” said Arren.
Orome took a moment to spot the sarcasm. “Very funny.” He unlocked the door and they went into the office. It was a large space dominated by a battered desk. Woodcuts of fighting griffins hung on the walls, along with a notched sword and a shield with a star design on it. Orome edged around the desk and slid aside a secret panel in the wall, revealing a heavy iron box. He lifted it out onto the desk and began to flick the row of levers set into the lid, arranging them in a precise order. “Silvereyes?” he mused aloud as he worked. “No, too girly. Blackwings? Darkstar? No, doesn’t quite fit.” The last lever clicked into