There comes a time when every wizard should retire, and pass the mantle of responsibility on to younger shoulders. It behooves us, then, to teach our successors well, so that the new wizard may do honor to our names, attract the very best of clients, and be well enough paid to support our retirement home in Vushta.
— THE TEACHINGS OF EBENEZUM,
VOLUME LXXl
It was the unicorn. It stood across the fence from me, its golden horn pressing into my chest.
“Oh good,” the magnificent beast said. “You’re awake. You seemed to be having the strangest dream. Tell me. Do you often caw in your sleep?”
I stepped back from the horn. This is what had startled me away from my beloved, just as I was about to receive her true message!
“Why?” I asked, struggling to form words, my head still half-full of grackle. “What do you want?”
The beast sighed. “Unicorns, beautiful though we are, get lonely, too.”
“You woke me up because you were lonely?” 1 was incredulous.
“Yes.” The unicorn fluttered its dark, soulful eyes. “That, and I was looking for a virgin lap somewhere, to lay my head.”
“Get away from me!” 1 cried. This was too much!
“Come on now,” the unicorn pleaded. “Here I am, trapped by a bunch of uncouth beasts, unable to roam the verdant fields as is my right. Do you know how tedious it can get, all by yourself with no one to admire you?”
I wanted to scream. I had lost Norei because some creature wanted me to admire it? My beloved hadn’t told me her message! I had to go back. I did my best to think of a grackle.
It was no use. I was too upset. Anger killed my concentration. How could things get any worse?
It started to rain.
The shack survived the summer shower. It did so by leaking in every conceivable location. I perceived, at last, why the shack was still standing. Water could not damage the old structure, since the old structure simply let the rain pass on through, straight down upon us.
In short, we did not have the most restful of nights.
Something pounded on our door around dawn.
“Wake up! Rise and shine! We’re all waiting for you!”
We? Waiting for what? I realized that I had talked to the Hippogriff for quite some time yesterday without learning anything of substance. Well, there was always interspecies romance, but I didn’t feel that was appropriate to our present situation. At least, I hoped it wasn’t.
The door fell in. It hit the muddy earth with a sickening plop.
Ebenezum rolled over and groaned. The Hippogriff stuck its eagle head inside.
“My, my,” the creature said. “All right, we’ll give you a few minutes to pull yourselves together. You’re guests of honor, you know.”
Ebenezum sat up and sneezed.
“I’ll wait a respectful distance away,” the Hippogriff said, withdrawing its head. “I know how you humans value your privacy.”
“Wuntvor,” Ebenezum said hoarsely after the Hippogriff had gone. “I cannot go out there.”
I looked to my master. This trip had been more than hard on him. He had rallied above his difficulties time and time again, saying spells to remove us from danger even though he might sneeze for hours thereafter. But our adventures had taken a toll upon the wizard. A half-dozen times on our journey thus far, my master’s ills had overwhelmed his sorcerous spirit, and his aura of wizardliness would leave him for an hour or two, leaving only an old man behind.
Now, I could see that fatigue about his eyes once again. The day before had been far too taxing on his constitution. He needed rest desperately. He needed to be kept far away from anything that would cause a nasal reaction.
Now the Hippogriff was going to take us to a meeting of monsters. And, as far as my master’s malady went, the assemblage out there was ragweed season. If my master took that trip out there today, I feared it would be the last trip he would ever take.
“I will handle it myself,” I proclaimed. Before my master could protest, I walked out to meet the Hippogriff in the yard.
“Where’s the other one?” the beast inquired.
“I’m the one who makes decisions,” I lied. “The other one is old, and you saw that he was sick. If we need him, we can talk to him later.”
The Hippogriff considered my words. “But, isn’t he the wizard? I mean, I’m not really up on human attire, but those were wizard’s robes he was wearing, weren’t they?”
The Hippogriff had a point. I had to think fast. How could I convince the beasts that Ebenezum was unimportant, so that they would let the wizard rest and regain his strength?
“Well, the old fellow was a wizard, once. Quite a good one, too. He still can conjure a trick or two, on his better days. We let him keep the robes. It’s an honorary sort of thing. But you notice he doesn’t have a hat. Only full-fledged wizards can have hats.”
“You, then, are a full-fledged wizard?” the beast asked.
I nodded solemnly.
“So where’s your hat?”
My hand involuntarily brushed my hair. “Well, yes, indeed. A bit embarrassing, that. I’m afraid I lost it when the Rok brought us here.”
The Hippogriff shrugged its equine shoulders.
“All right, I guess. It’s a bit of a problem with the Rok, always losing things. Even passengers, sometimes—” The Hippogriff nodded solemnly, as if carefully reviewing the situation. “You’ll just have to explain it to Pop. I’ll warn you, though, should you in any way try to play him false. Griffins have a very low tolerance for lies.”
I waved away the Hippogriff’s warning with the back of my hand, as if to say, “What need has a wizard to fear a Griffin’s anger?” I did my best to walk by the Hippogriff’s side without my knees buckling beneath me from fright.
My master must recover. Otherwise, we would never see Vushta, and the world would be lost to demons.
I told myself that over and over again as we approached the crowd of monsters.
“You know, of course,” the Hippogriff remarked, “we observed your party for some time before we requested your presence before our assembly.”
“Indeed?” I replied. Had they observed us long enough to realize I was nothing more than an apprentice?
“Yes, our organization wants to be careful in how we are presented to the human world. We wanted the best possible spokespeople to carry our story beyond the Enchanted Forest.”
“Indeed!” I said, as firmly as possible. Perhaps I shouldn’t be worried after all. We must have made a pretty good impression. My legs seemed firmer beneath me now, my feet striding boldly along the path. If they thought that much of me, I must walk like a wizard.
“Of course, finding any spokespeople at all was a bit of a problem in the Enchanted Forest. For some reason, this is the sort of place people tend to avoid. Probably has something to do with a large number of our membership having a taste for human flesh.”
My knees threatened to go altogether. I cleared my throat. “Indeed,” I managed after a moment.
“Don’t worry, though. The membership has sworn off eating humans until the end of this campaign. Well, at least most of them have, and I’m sure we can crush any dissidents before they have time to nibble more than a toe or two. So really, you have nothing to worry about. You just keep your part of the bargain, and you’ll be perfectly safe.”
I nodded my head, trying to look far more sure of myself than I felt. What bargain, where? Safe from what? My voice had died in my throat. I couldn’t even manage another “indeed.”
“So there we were,” the Hippogriff continued, “looking for spokespeople, when who should come crashing through the forest but you five. Now the Rok can only carry two at a time, so we had to figure out who it was best to invite. Luckily, it didn’t take long to make that decision. The older wizard and you seemed to be the only ones actually doing anything.”
I thought on that for a moment. “Well, the others are very good talkers.”
“You got it!” The Hippogriff nodded to the assembled masses before us. “Wait a moment, and you’ll see that we, too, are great masters of rhetoric.”
The Hippogriff led me through the assembled creatures and monstrosities to a raised platform in their midst. I was aware of a thousand eyes upon me, the eyes of birds and beasts and men, although the bodies that went with those eyes were often of a different species altogether. I glanced about briefly as we moved through the assemblage. I—who had seen a thousand demons, each one different from the last, and who had witnessed other wonders uncountable in my travels toward Vushta—I saw any number of creatures I’d never seen before. I got a sense of every sort of fur and feather, small eyes hidden behind shaggy manes, large eyes on the ends of stalks, and, of course, large teeth and even larger teeth, claws and pincers and long, barbed tails. I did not let my gaze linger too long on any of the beasts, lest some fearsome sight should totally destroy my resolve. Besides, I thought it impolite to stare.
“Only one?” The Griffin stared down at me from the raised platform. “Only one deigns to come to our meeting. Well, I suppose it will be all right.” The Griffin paused. “If you brought some gold.”
“Pop!” The Hippogriff picked me up in its enormous beak and tossed me onto the platform. “Is that any way to treat a guest?”
“Excuse me,” the Griffin said as I stood and brushed myself off. “Every so often, my upstart offspring makes a valid point. All this gold business—well, you know how it is with us mythological beasts, when instinct rears its ugly head. We haven’t had much direct, one-on-one contact with humans before. But we mean to change that now.”
“I’ve had direct contact with humans before!” a voice called from the audience. “Straight down the gullet to my stomach!”
There was laughter and shouting out in the crowd. Some seemed to be decrying the remark, saying things like, “Give the human a chance!” On the other hand, others were discussing just how much salt and oregano should be used to truly enhance my flavor. The group before me was, as my master might refer to them, a “rough audience.” For the first time, I wished I had Ebenezum by my side to give me advice.
“They’re a bit rowdy out there,” the Griffin remarked. “We’ll have to let them settle down. This is something of a convention, you know.”
“Indeed,” I said. I thought that if I could control my breathing, at least I could appear calm.
“Yes,” the Griffin continued. “You should be very honored. You are the first human ever to attend a meeting of the Association for the Advancement of Mythical and Imaginary Beasts and Creatures. Or, as we like to call it, AFTAOMAIBAC.”
The Griffin turned to me, its eagle eyes piercing in their intensity. “Before we address the meeting, however, you and I are going to have a little talk.”
“Indeed?” Instinctively, I backed toward the corner of the platform. It took an effort of will to keep my feet from going any farther.
It was all or nothing. I cleared my throat. Ebenezum wasn’t here and I had to fill his shoes. I had to persevere, for my master, and Vushta!
“Be careful, sirrah!” I said in my best deep voice. “You are dealing with a wizard!”
“Why, yes, that’s our point now.” The Griffin’s lion claws brushed against my feet. Its eagle breath was hot against my face. It smelled as though it had been eating rodents.
“We know we’re dealing with a wizard,” the Griffin continued. “But we’re wondering why he didn’t show up this morning?”
So I would have to go through all this again.
“Oh,” I said nonchalantly. “You mean the old man. He may look like a wizard, that’s true, but—” I waved the rest of the sentence away impatiently. “I’ve already explained this to your son!”
“Yeah, Pop, it’s true!” the Hippogriff volunteered. “This guy says the old geezer used to be a great wizard, but now is a little gone in the head, you know?”
“But,” the Griffin objected, “he was wearing wizard’s robes—”
“Yeah, but no hat. Only real, full-time wizards can have hats!”
The Griffin turned to me. “Well, where is your hat, then, wizard?”
“Oh, Pop, you know how the Rok is. He lost it on the trip over here!”
The Griffin nodded grimly. “Have to have a talk with that Rok. Always losing things. Very well. You’ll have a chance to prove your wizardly prowess a little later on. I still don’t know about this older wizard. Would a retired human so desperately hold on to his old robes?”
“I’d believe it in a snap,” the Hippogriff replied. “I know how stubborn certain mythological beasts can be when they get older.”
“I beg your pardon!” There was battle lust in the Griffin’s eyes. “Kindly explain to me, young beast, exactly what you mean—’’
“Pop—” The Hippogriff waved its beak at the crowd. “The meeting?”
“Yes. Ahem. I forget my priorities.” The Griffin shot me a final, withering glance. “This is the most important day of your life. Let us pray it is not your last.”
“Pop!”
“Sorry. Old habits die hard. We are rewriting history here, and you will be a part of it.” The Griffin reached out a comradely wing in my direction. “No longer will you be a mere human, forced to eke out a common destiny in the mud.”
“Mere human?” How would my master handle this? I had stood here and listened to this beast go on for far too long. To make this work, I needed to adopt a truly wizardly manner. “I have told you, sirrah, I am skilled in the sorcerous arts.”
“I’m sorry. You look much more skilled at carrying buckets and cleaning out cow stalls. That older fellow, now . . .”
I started to object, and found a lion’s paw entwined with my shirt. The Griffin spoke very quietly:
“I will accept the fact that you have no gold. Lies are another matter entirely.”
The Griffin turned to the assemblage.
“Brothers, sisters, and indeterminates! We are gathered here today to write a new page in mythology! Too long have we taken a back seat to dragons and unicorns, giants and Fairies! From this day forward, Griffins and Centaurs, Harpies and Satyrs will be on the tip of every tongue, and find a place in every heart!”
“And us Chimeras! Don’t forget us Chimeras!”
“And what about us Kelpies!”
“How about us Nixies?”
“Yes! Yes!” the Griffin shouted above the crowd. “Chimeras, Kelpies, Nixies, everybody! We’ll force mythology down their throats!”
The crowd went wild. They shouted some word, over and over. I strained to make it out.
A voice, much louder than the rest, called from the edge of the clearing:
“But nothing for Bog Womblers?”
The Griffin stopped, openmouthed.
“Bog Womblers?”
A large, gray thing sitting by the river raised its pseudopod. “Yes! Everyone forgets the Bog Womblers!”
“Yes, of course,” the Griffin said, recovering rapidly. “Uh—Pookas, and Sphinxes, and Bog Womblers, too!”
The crowd went wilder.
“Uh, Pop?” the Hippogriff said softly.
The other beast glanced back irritably. “Yes, what is it now?”
The youngster nodded its head toward the far edge of the clearing, beyond the Bog Wombler, where a number of near-naked women were wheeling carts into the crowd.
“Just that the refreshments are here.”
“Is it that time already?” The Griffin shook its head angrily. “I’ve spent far too much time with this— human here! And I was just hitting my stride!”
It turned back to the assembled monsters. “Fellow mythical beasts! I know how deeply we all want to complete the business at hand. But our minds won’t be at their best if our stomachs are empty, will they?”
The Griffin’s remarks brought on a new chorus of shouts from the crowd. A couple of the larger creatures smiled my way. I was not sure if their large, toothsome grins and repeated licking of chops were all in all a sign of friendly good fellowship.
“Nymphs!” the Griffin called. “Bring on the refreshments!”
I was startled for an instant. The beasts were going to take a momentary pause in their strange ritual to refresh themselves. This could be just the chance I needed. Maybe I could discern what was really happening here, and what was expected of me. Maybe I could escape, and take Ebenezum with me. I looked around the dais on which we stood, but could see no gap in the tightly packed monsters.
The Griffin strode up to me on muscular cat feet. “Human. You have a few minutes to yourself. Step down and get to know some of our membership, if you will. We want to put you at your ease.”
At my ease? Perhaps, I thought, I was needlessly worried. Perhaps this Griffin was merely a slightly overbearing father figure, and I was here to spread the news about this ritual back among humankind. Perhaps
I imagined things, and half the crowd did not fantasize about how I would taste in a light cream sauce. I did my best to smile at the Griffin in a comradely way.
“Oh,” the Griffin added as an afterthought, “and after this break, you will have your chance to prove your mystic powers to the assembly.”