‘A loss to the planet of epic proportions!’ agreed Sir David.
The cries of protest mingled until a confused chorus of voices filled the library. Then a shrill whistle abruptly halted the noise. It came from a screen that had been dark until now. The newcomer was clearly not a human member of FREEFAB. His glasses were perched on a mighty beak, and he was smoothing down the black feathers of his wings.
‘Forgive my late arrival, Barnabas,’ croaked Sutan Buceros, a rhinoceros bird of considerable size and legendary age who had often advised the Greenblooms on the protection of the fabulous beings of south-east Asia. Barnabas had estimated Sutan’s age as six hundred and twenty. The rhinoceros bird’s croaking voice made that seem perfectly credible to Ben.
‘My assistant,’ Buceros went on, ‘has told me about the problem. Has anyone yet suggested the sun-feather of a griffin to save the foals? After all, the quills of such feathers contain a substance that will make even metal and stone grow.’
The silence that followed this question from Buceros was so complete that Ben exchanged a glance of surprise with Twigleg. He saw not only disapproval on the faces looking out of the screens, but also a touch of fear. The only face that had brightened was Barnabas’s.
‘No, Sutan, no one has made that suggestion so far,’ he said. ‘Very interesting. And I feel very embarrassed for not thinking of it myself! That could indeed be the solution!’
‘But Barnabas!’ cried Jane Gridall. ‘Griffins are hardly famous for their helpfulness – quite the opposite! They despise every other living thing! A griffin regards all life forms simply as prey. They came to terms with us humans once, just because we think in the same way, but that’s more than a thousand years ago. Didn’t they declare war on the entire human race after some battle or other, and hasn’t all trace of them been lost since then?’
‘Which, as we all know, is a very well-founded reaction to the two great obsessions of the human species,’ commented Sutan Buceros.
Ben looked enquiringly at Barnabas.
‘Greed and megalomania,’ he whispered in reply. ‘Yes, Sutan, all of us here are painfully aware of those two obsessions,’ he said for all to hear. ‘I think I can say that we all have evidence of them too. But we’re not concerned with human beings here, we want to ensure the survival of the last winged horses!’
‘I’m afraid that’s the very thing that makes the problem worse, Barnabas.’ Inua Ellams always sounded as if he was singing what he said in a deep, velvety voice. ‘So far as I know, griffins consider horses even more despicable and superfluous than all other life forms! Wings or no wings, it makes no difference.’
The heads on the screens nodded in agreement, visibly relieved. Ben didn’t know much about griffins, but a few years ago a gigantic bird, the roc, had almost fed him to its chicks. If Ben remembered what he’d heard correctly, a griffin not only had a beak as terrifying as the roc’s, but also the claws of a lion and, as if that wasn’t bad enough, a venomous snake for a tail.
‘I’ve spent more than twenty years looking for a Pegasus,’ said Barnabas, ‘fearing all the time that they were extinct, like so many other wonderful creatures. And am I to give up now, when there’s some hope of new foals after all these centuries? Impossible! I won’t stand by and watch those bringers of good luck disappear from my world and the world of my children, like so many other wonderful animals! Even if it means that I have to go to a fabulous creature that’s proud of its cruelty and its skill in killing, and even ask it to help us.’
In Ben’s experience, the discussion that began now could go on for hours. But a moment came when Barnabas took him aside, and asked him to let Firedrake know about the imminent arrival of the Pegasus stallion. ‘But don’t say a word about Sutan’s idea!’ he whispered, while behind him the argument went on: would the offer of gold induce a griffin to give them a sun-feather? ‘Firedrake mustn’t know that we may be setting off in search of a griffin! Inua is right: griffins certainly despise horses and all members of the equine family. But the only living creatures on this planet that they regard as their rivals and archenemies are…’
‘Dragons,’ said Ben, finishing Barnabas’s sentence for him.
‘Exactly! You know as well as I do that Firedrake will offer us his help if he hears of the plan, and it would put him in great danger!’
Ben nodded, although he knew how hard he would find it to lie to Firedrake. ‘But what am I to tell him?’ he whispered. ‘If we set off before him, he’ll ask where we are going!’
Barnabas frowned. ‘Why don’t you just say we’re looking for a phoenix feather? That’s not dangerous, and he’ll believe we don’t need his help!’
Would he? Firedrake knew Ben so well.
Twigleg would certainly have found convincing ways to tell the lie about the phoenix feather. (‘Of course!’ Sorrel would have remarked sharply. ‘After all, he was once a traitor and a spy!’) But the homunculus stayed with Barnabas, to record the discussion, as usual, in one of his notebooks. Ben missed him very much as he rehearsed his story a dozen times on the way to Slatebeard’s cave. He knew, however, that Barnabas was right. Firedrake would never let them persuade him to leave them alone in their search. Griffins really did sound terrifying – and Ben had to admit that by this time he felt very curious about them.
CHAPTER FOUR
Not The Whole Truth
I believe in fairies, the myths, dragons. It all exists, even
if it’s in your mind. Who’s to say that dreams and
nightmares aren’t as real as the here and now?
John Lennon
When Ben reached Slatebeard’s cave, he found only a couple of Odin-dwarves there. They had made friends with Slatebeard because they were almost as old as he was. They told Ben that Firedrake had gone down to the fjord.
Even the largest fabulous creatures have an impressive talent for making themselves invisible to human eyes. Maybe that is what distinguishes them most clearly from ordinary animals. But Ben’s eyes were used to spotting them even in the densest forests and darkest caves, and the shape that he was looking for was more familiar to him than any other. He found Firedrake on the bank of the fjord, at a place where it fell so steeply that the coniferous trees lining it reached far out over the water. Even now, Ben was amazed to see how the dragon could keep so still lying there – so much at one with the natural world surrounding him that most people wouldn’t even guess at his existence.
The presence of Firedrake brought even more fabulous creatures to MÍMAMEIÐR than usual. He and Slatebeard attracted even those who didn’t need the Greenblooms’ protection. The fjord was teeming with sjöras and water-sprites, and when Ben knelt down in the grass beside Firedrake, the fiddle music of three fossegrims at once carried up to them.
‘What’s happened?’ The dragon bent his neck until his head was level with Ben’s eyes. ‘You look very anxious.’