JOHN MORRESSY

NEST EGG

Unlike certain other mythical creatures, the griffin has never gained acceptance
as a suitable domestic companion.

A dragon raised from the egg can be very useful around the house, especially for
lighting a fire quickly on chilly mornings. The only drawback to a dragon, aside
from size, is the risk of a cough or sneeze setting off an unintended
conflagration. But preventive measures can be taken. Early removal of the
fire-breathing organs (a painless alteration if done in the creature's first
half-century) renders a dragon not only safe but sleek, docile, and
affectionate. According to experts on the subject, the procedure also improves
general health and extends the life span. Altered dragons are said to be
especially good with children.

A troll, if taken young and raised within a caring family group, can be an
invaluable help, particularly in the kitchen. Close supervision is required
until it learns to follow recipes exactly, but a properly trained troll is fit
to serve as chef to a king.

Even a unicorn, though high-strung and picky about living conditions, can be a
pleasing and useful home companion. Unicorns require constant attention and firm
handling, but they are clean, attractive creatures and discourage lions from
hanging about.

A griffin is something else entirely. For one thing, a griffin is very big. It
is also very noisy. It has few social graces and makes no effort to acquire any.
Its disposition is unpredictable, its strength awesome, its anger terrible. Even
the spelling of its name can lead to controversy: disputes are frequent among
those who spell it griffin, griffon, and gryphon. Granted, a griffin will keep a
home free of rats and mice; but its appetite is not satisfied by small
creatures. It considers a dog or cat an appetizer, and a pony a light but
satisfying supper. A pair of well-fed Belgians seventeen hands high would be no
more than a filling meal. People of sense and good judgment do not attempt to
domesticate a griffin. They keep their dealings with griffins to a minimum when
they are unable to avoid them altogether.

Thus Kedrigern's surprise at the content of an urgent communique from an old
client. He unfurled the scroll with interest. The message was gorgeously
rubricated, formal in style and diction, but the intent was plain and
unmistakable.

 To  the justly famed and powerful wizard Kedrigern, master of counterspells and
disenchantments, from his friend and comrade Tyasan, Lord of the Misty Marshes.

 Whereas  Cecil, our cherished household griffin, has not eaten in three weeks,
is molting in an unsightly way, and does not respond to treatment; and

 Whereas  the physicians and chirurgeons of the court are unable to find the
cause of this noble creature's suffering, much less a cure for it, and

 Whereas  the aforesaid Cecil's condition manifests signs of magical origin,
viz. a malediction placed upon him by enemies of the kingdom with the aim of
distressing, discomposing, and discomfiting Our Royal Self and the Royal Family,

 Therefore  your presence is urgently required at Castle Contrecoeur. Come at
once.

Kedrigern flung the message to the floor, where it promptly rolled itself up. He
paced about the room, muttering and kicking the scroll before him, and at last
he snatched it up, dropped into a chair, and glared into the fire.

His wife looked into the doorway. "What is it now?"

He thrust the scroll at her. "This. It just arrived. From Tyasan."

"I don't recall the name. Do we know him?"

"He has a small kingdom off to the north of the Dismal Bog. I did him a service
nine or ten years ago, and now he wants me to drop everything and run to his aid
again."

Princess took the scroll and opened it out on the table, placing heavy
candelabra at top and bottom to keep it from rerolling. She read it over and
said, "It seems reasonable. He's got a sick griffin on his hands, and he wants
you to help. Can't you?"

"He wants a physician. A very highly specialized physician. I'm a wizard. I
don't do griffins."

"Griffins are mythical creatures. Maybe they require treatment by a wizard."

Kedrigern reflected on that for a moment, then shook his head. "Not so far as I
know. I've heard of griffins being cured by holy men, but not by wizards."

"This might be a special case."

Kedrigern scowled. "Kings always think their problems are a special case."

Placing her arms akimbo, Princess gave him a straight look. "My father was a
king."

Kedrigern was willing to give a bit, but not too much. "I'm sure he was a very
nice king. But I never met your father. Most of the kings I've met have been . .
. well, just look at that note! The arrogance of the man! As if he need only
snap his fingers and I'm to drop everything I'm doing and run off to hold his
griffin's talon and pour syrups down its throat. I've just come back from
working a very difficult counterspell, and he --"

"If you're going to call yourself a master counterspeller, you can't complain
when someone asks you to work a counterspell."

"It's the way they ask."

"Well, if Tyasan's an old friend --"

Kedrigern flung up his hands in frustration. "He's not! That's what annoys me
most, this pretense that we're old pals. He didn't say a dozen words to me when
I was there last, and now he tries to sound like a boyhood chum."

"Don't be impatient with him. The man's desperate. It's possible to become very
fond of a pet."

"My dear, no one knows better than you that I'm a patient man. The soul of
kindness. I am filled with love for all living things, griffins included. But
only a very silly man keeps a griffin as a household pet, and I resent being
summoned to the aid of a silly man because the consequences of his silliness
have finally caught up with him."

Princess raised an eyebrow, but said nothing. She returned her attention to the
scroll.

In a milder tone, Kedrigern went on, "I don't like to refuse help to an old
client -- even when he's presumptuous and demanding -- but I don't know anything
about healing sick griffins."

"Tyasan says that the griffin might be spelled. You know about despelling
victims of wicked spells."

"I'm sure the reference to a spell is a desperate guess on the part of the
physicians. It's highly unlikely that Cecil has been spelled. If anyone with
sense wanted to discompose the royal family, they'd put the spell on them, not
on their griffin."

"Would they?" said Princess. She pointed with a delicate fingertip to a
handwritten addendum far down in the parchment, below the point to which
Kedrigern had unrolled it. He rose, grumbling, and joined her at the table. The
postscript read:

 *
Please come, Dear K. The children will be heartbroken if they lose their Cecil.

Your old comrade, Tyasan.

Kedrigern gazed long at the message. He looked up helplessly and sighed.

Princess let the scroll furl and tapped the ends into neat alignment. "I'll tell
Spot to start packing. We'll leave in the mornings" she said.

"We?"

"You don't think I'm going to pass up a chance to visit a royal court, do you?
Even if it means sitting up with a sick griffin."

The castle of Contrecoeur was five days' unhurried ride from the cottage on
Silent Thunder Mountain, and the weather was ideal for travel. The skies were
clear, the sun bright. The roads had dried after the spring rains, but summer
had not yet encumbered the land with heat and dust and small insects and crowds.
Traffic, in fact, was nonexistent. The woods were splashed with shadings of
green highlighted with the brightness of flowers. Fragrance and birdsong filled
the air. All appeared tranquil, but Kedrigern felt increasingly ill at ease.
Finally, on the morning of the fifth day, he reined in his horse and dropped
back to Princess' side.

"There are people nearby," he said.

"It's the season for traveling."

"I know it is, and yet we haven't seen a soul on the road so far. Now I sense a
large crowd, and they're not in a friendly mood. Probably robbers and
marauders."

"Are you sure? There's not much to rob out here, is there?"

"There's us."

Princess looked thoughtful. "Well, I'm sure you can handle a band --" she began,
when an arrow whistled between them, others zipped overhead, and a loud shout
came from the wood.

"Let's go!" Kedrigern cried, casting a quick shielding spell around them as he
dug his heels in. They galloped to the last bend in the forest road, where a
barrier blocked their way. No sooner had they halted than a score of archers,
bows at the ready, emerged from the surrounding wood and six pikemen advanced on
them, led by a swordsman.

"It's all right, my dear. These are Tyasan's men," said Kedrigern.

"Stand and unfold yourselves!" the swordsman demanded.

"We are friends to this ground, come at the request of King Tyasan. I am the
wizard Kedrigern, and this lady is my wife and colleague."

At the name, the swordsman sheathed his blade and said, in a much more cordial
tone, "Welcome to the Kingdom of the Misty Marshes. You are fortunate indeed to
have come this far in safety."

"We encountered some bandits in the forest."

"Not bandits, wizard, but enemies of the kingdom. Alas, since the sickness of
the Chief Defender of the Realm has become known, our enemies have grown bold.
Three outlying hamlets have been raided. An invasion may come at any moment."

"Tyasan didn't mention that. We'd better hurry."

"I will provide you with a guide."

"No need, no need. I know the way," said Kedrigern, urging his horse forward.
"Just raise that barrier."

They reached the castle in the early afternoon, and were welcomed to Contrecoeur
and the Kingdom of the Misty Marshes by Tyasan himself. The king was wreathed in
smiles, and greeted them warmly.

"My good old friend, we knew you would come. Our troubles now are over," he
said, embracing Kedrigern. "And this must be your wife, as famed for her magical
talent as for her beauty and wisdom."

Princess rose from her saddle with a flutter of her gauzy little wings and flew
lightly to Tyasan's side as the king looked on in astonishment. She curtseyed
gracefully.

"We have heard you praised for many qualities, my lady, but we knew nothing of
your ability to fly, "said Tyasan.

"It's just something I picked up on a quest," she said with a delicate gesture
of dismissal.

"The royal children will be delighted to meet someone at once so lovely, so
charming, and so gifted. You must be kind to them. They are much troubled by
Cecil's condition."

"How old are they, Tyasan? They weren't even born when I was here last."

The king beamed upon them. "I remember the occasion well. I had only recently
wed my fair queen Thrymm. She was sorely afflicted, but you came to her aid, old
friend."

"What was her problem?" Princess asked.

"Spiders."

"Isn't it customary to call an exterminator?"

"These spiders popped out of Thrymm's mouth every time she spoke," Kedrigern
explained.

"It was especially unpleasant when she talked in her sleep," Tyasan said with a
slight shudder of distaste. "A single oversight in drawing up the guest list,
and it caused us no end of inconvenience and distress. You can imagine how
punctilious we were in sending out invitations to the royal christenings."

Kedrigern, not having received an invitation to either christening, was about to
speak, but Princess silenced him with a stern glance. He held back his retort
and instead asked, "This problem with the griffin, Tyasan. How long has . . .?"

Oblivious, Tyasan went on, "Ah, those were the good old days, were they not? How
I miss those long walks, those stimulating games of chess, those late night
conversations over a goblet of excellent wine, with the fire roaring. Many a
time have we seen the sun rise after a night of fine talk." He heaved a
nostalgic sigh and clapped Kedrigern warmly on the shoulder. "We really must
keep in touch, old friend."

Tyasan's cozy memories were pure fiction. Kedrigern again started to speak, but
Princess asked, "And what are the ages of the little prince and princess, your
highness?"

"Please, my dear, call me Tyasan. Better still, call me Ty. All my close friends
do, and I count you both among my closest friends."

"And your children?"

He gave her a puzzled look. "I count them as family."

"I meant their ages. How old are they?"

"Ah, yes, of course. Their ages. Eldry is the older by a year. She'll be about
eight or so very soon. And that would make Ashel about seven. Give or take a
year or two. Yes, that sounds right."

"And they're fond of this griffin?"

"My lady, they dote on the creature, and he is devoted to them. Cecil was a
christening gift to . . . one or the other. I can't recall now. The three of
them have grown up together."

"An unusual christening gift, isn't it?"

"A most unusual gift indeed, my lady. He was sent by a distant cousin from the
land of the Scythians. They have many strange customs in that part of the
world."

Kedrigern, recalling that one of the nastier Scythian customs had something to
do with feeding unruly children to a griffin, felt a twinge of alarm. "Your
cousin, or Queen Thrymm's?"

"Mine. Charming old fellow, Gulberan. Soul of generosity. Immensely fond of
children. Everyone loved him. We were very close."

Tyasan's word were reassuring, but Kedrigern wanted more. "Have you many
Scythian relatives?"

"None at all. Never did. Gulberan only went to Scythia for the climate. That and
the gold. Gold all over the place in Scythia, you know. Common as grass.
Peasants thatch their hovels with it. Birds use it to build their nests. But
enough small talk. You must come inside. Thrymm is around the palace somewhere.
She'll want to meet you, unless she's resting. This business with Cecil has her
depressed. Makes her sleepy."

"The prospect of invasion must be upsetting for her," said Kedrigern.

"Oh, that. Yes, I suppose so. No cause for concern, though. Once Cecil is up and
about, the neighbors will quiet down and there'll be no more talk of invasion."

Kedrigern nodded. He tried to look confident. This was a far more serious matter
than he had anticipated.

Tyasan took Princess' arm and said in a confiding way, "You'll meet Thrymm when
we dine, in any event. I expect you'd like to wash up and take a nap before
dinner. Travel is so fatiguing, and we've got quite a night planned. Feasting,
dancing, music. Jugglers, tumblers, performing dogs. Just like old times. eh,
Kedrigern?"

Princess brightened at every word Tyasan spoke. By the time he was done, she was
fluttering a full hand's breadth off the ground. "It sounds wonderful!" With a
sharp glance at Kedrigern, she added, "One does sacrifice certain amenities when
one lives in isolation on a mountaintop."

Kedrigern did not share her exhilaration. If he could not cure Cecil, he knew,
he would be obliged to help defend Tyasan's little kingdom against invasion, and
he disliked such work. It was always unpleasant. Sometimes it was downright
nasty. "I'd better have a look at Cecil."

"He's in his shed on the wall, next to the north tower."

"I'll go now, if you don't mind. Care to come along, my dear?"

"I leave it all in your hands," said Princess, practically glowing. "I have a
thousand things to do to get ready for this evening."

Cecil Dwelt in a spacious,well-constructed shed on the lee side of the tower. As
Kedrigern approached, he saw a boy and a girl sitting beside the entry. From a
distance, their posture suggested dejection; up close, their expressions
confirmed it. But the moment they caught sight of him they sprang up and ran to
his side to welcome him with joyous shouts.

The girl cried, "You're the wizard Daddy sent for! Aren't you? Tell us you are!"

"Of course you are! You'll make our Cecil well again so he can go out and tear
our enemies to bits!" said the boy, taking Kedrigern's hand and tugging him
toward the shed.

Clearly these were Eldry and Ashel. Kedrigern was impressed by the children's
perceptiveness. He made it a point to dress plainly and avoid displaying
indications of his profession. It avoided complications. "I'll do everything I
can. How could you tell I was a wizard?"

"Daddy sent for a wizard. You had to come," Ashel said.

"And besides, nobody but a wizard would dare to come near Cecil. The others are
all afraid of him. Especially the physicians."

"You don't seem afraid of him," Kedrigern said.

"Cecil is our friend and protector. He's really a very nice griffin. He always
sounds cross, but he's not the least bit nasty, not really."

They stopped at the entry and the children released his hands. "You'd better go
in alone," Eldry said. "We'll be right outside."

"Don't be afraid," said Ashel. "He won't hurt you."

Cecil lay sprawled on a thick bed of straw. His breathing was a loud wheeze. His
mouth, once red as a roaring furnace, was a pale pink. His eyes, big as basins,
were glazed and bloodshot. The plumage of his head and wings, brilliant no
longer, appeared dusty and faded and very patchy. Flies clustered about sores on
his tawny hide. His ribs were clearly visible. Huge black, red, blue, and white
feathers were scattered everywhere. He appeared to be in worse condition than
Tyasan had claimed.

His disposition, however, was still griffin-like. As soon as he became aware of
the wizard's presence, he raised his head, opened his fierce hooked beak, and in
a grating voice said, "What do you mean, bursting in here like that? Go away! If
I catch you prowling around my lair again, I'll dismember you !"

Kedrigern was unintimidated. "King Tyasan has asked me here to see what can be
done about your condition."

"Get lost, butcher. I'm in perfect health."

"I will not leave until I've examined you."

Struggling unsteadily to his feet, Cecil said, "That's what you think. Try to
take one drop of my blood, and you'll lose your own. All of it."

"I'm not a physician, I'm a wizard."

"Prove it: make yourself disappear."

"Tyasan thinks there's a possibility you've been spelled."

Cecil gave a quick snarling laugh. "Fat lot Tyasan knows. I can take any spell
they throw at me. I'm a griffin."

"All the same, I have to check." The griffin hissed and snapped his beak, but
made no further hostile move. Kedrigern drew out his medallion and inspected
Cecil through the Aperture of True Vision. He found no trace of enchantment.

"All right, you checked. Now run off and collect your fee."

"I want to do a few more tests," Kedrigern said. He reached out to give Cecil a
reassuring pat.

"Lay a hand on me and your name is Lefty."

"Cecil, you have to cooperate. Tyasan is worried. The queen is distraught. The
kingdom is in danger. Eldry and Ashel --"

Cecil raised a thick foreleg and flexed four wicked-looking talons. "Leave those
kids out of it, you hear? Anybody messes with those kids, he answers to me."

"I'm here for their sake, Cecil. They're worried about you."

"Shut up."

"If anything happens to you, they'll be heartbroken."

"Shut up, I said! All I need is a good rest. Go away and maybe I can get it."

Kedrigern could see that he was going to get no more out of Cecil. He had
already learned that no magic was involved, and that was useful to know. And
Cecil was apparently as fond of the children as they were of him. That might
provide an approach. But griffins are short tempered; to press Cecil further
would probably do more harm than good. "All right, Cecil, I'll leave you now,"
the wizard said. "But I'll be back."

"Don't hurry."

"I'll be back tomorrow."

"Maybe I'll be lucky and die in my sleep." Cecil slumped down in the straw,
turned his back on the wizard, and almost at once began to snore.

Once outside, Kedrigern was confronted with two expectant, hopeful faces.

"Is he well? Did you make him better?" Ashel demanded.

"It's too soon to say. But I've learned a few things. Maybe you can help me."

"We are at your service," said Eldry with queenly dignity. "Anything for our
dear Cecil."

"How long has he been like this?"

"Since the spring," Eldry said, and Ashel nodded and added, "Early in the
spring."

"Has it ever happened before?"

"Never," they said in one voice.

"Did he eat anything unusual? Catch a chill? Sustain an injury? Did you observe
any odd behavior?" the wizard asked, receiving an unequivocal negative each
time.

Eldry began, "He was perfectly fine. At the end of winter he gave his lair a
thorough cleaning and built himself a lovely new nest of fresh straw --"

"And then he got sick," Ashel broke in.

Kedrigern nodded and stroked his chin thoughtfully, doing his best to convey an
impression of confidence. "Thank you both. You've been a help."

Ashel tugged at the wizard's sleeve. "Do you know what's wrong?"

"Can you fix it?" Eldry asked.

"I've narrowed my field of inquiry. I'll be back to see Cecil in the morning.
Perhaps then I'll be able to determine the exact problem."

"Please do it, wizard. Save our Cecil," Said Ashel, looking up with moist eyes.
He turned away, unwilling to let his tears be seen, and Eldry whispered to
Kedrigern, "You must. Poor Ashel would never get over it if we lost the dear
creature. And we'd be invaded, besides."

"I'll do everything in my power. And if I can't help Cecil myself, I'll do my
best to find someone who can. Now let's all go back to the castle and have a
nice snack, and let Cecil get some rest."

There was no time, and little inclination, for shop talk before dinner.
Throughout the evening, over one elaborate and superbly prepared dish after
another, amid the singing of minstrels and the whirling of dancers and the
tumbling of dogs and acrobats, the drinking of toasts and the bursts of merry
laughter, Kedrigern pondered the case. He was able to do so without
interruption; Princess, looking her loveliest, was the center of all eyes. No
one paid attention to a moody wizard, nor to the haggard, dusty messengers who
turned up at frequent intervals with urgent messages for the king.

Kedrigern had much to ponder. Griffins were famed for their rugged good health.
He had never read or heard of griffins' ailments, and knew no griffins
personally, so he had no ready source of information. Griffins, so far as he
knew, were not prey to sickness. And yet Cecil was definitely sick. Could he be
some odd species of griffin? Had he succumbed to an illness unknown in Scythia?
Was he getting the proper food? Enough to drink? Could the climate of the Misty
Marshes be affecting his health? These were all questions to be asked tomorrow.

Princess settled beside Kedrigern, breathless and happy. "I haven't had such a
delightful time in ages! The courtiers are charming. And the musicians are
excellent. And everyone dances so well."

"I notice you've been dancing every dance."

"Yes. And you haven't left your seat."

"You know I'm a terrible dancer, my dear. And I'm worried about Cecil. He looks
awful, and he's not the least bit cooperative."

"Griffins aren't, as a rule, are they?"

"I don't like to think of the children losing their pet and then having the
kingdom invaded."

"Is he that bad?"

"I'm afraid so. Come and see for yourself tomorrow."

She rose and took him by the hand. "I will. And I'm sure you'll think of
something. Now come and dance. It will do you good."

"Oh, I really don't . . ."

"Come. It's a very easy one. You'll pick it up in no time."

They slept late next day. It was mid-morning when they climbed to the platform
where Cecil's shed stood. Kedrigern had expected to find the royal children
awaiting them, but Cecil was alone.

"You again. I told you to keep away," he said in welcome.

"Tyasan gives the orders here, and he wants me to look after you."

"Who's this? Your assistant?"

"I am a princess," said Princess with dignity.

Cecil yawned. "Good for you. Who asked you to butt in?"

"There's no need to be rude, Cecil. We're here to help you. We want to get you
back to normal."

"If I were feeling normal, I'd be a lot ruder. Now go away and leave me alone.
It's bad enough to feel rotten without having nosy intruders barging in on my
privacy."

Kedrigern was not to be put off. "Where does it hurt, Cecil?"

"None of your business."

"I'm just going to keep asking until I get an answer."

Princess frowned at Kedrigern. "Don't be so inconsiderate to the poor dear
creature." She turned to Cecil and said in her sweetest voice, "You're very
brave, Cecil. I'll bet your poor head is aching terribly, but you don't
complain."

Cecil glared at her for a moment, then muttered, "I can take it."

"Oh, you poor brave thing," she said.

"Stop pooring me, lady. I'm a griffin. We're tough."

"Of course you are. Tough, and brave, and decent. And loyal to King Tyasan. And
devoted to the royal children. And all this time your head is throbbing,
throbbing, throbbing." Princess wiped her eyes.

His voice somewhat less rasping, Cecil said, "Not really. The headache comes and
goes. It's the loss of appetite that bothers me the most. And the general
lassitude."

"Dear good Cecil," said Princess. She reached out cautiously to stroke the
griffin's forehead. He did not shrink from her touch. She dug her fingers into
the feathers and scratched the broad expanse. Cecil closed his eyes and made a
sound like a kind of creaky purring. "Don't you want anything at all to eat?"
she asked.

Dreamily, Cecil said, "Not a thing, lady. Just keep scratching. Get the back of
my neck."

With a quick wink to Kedrigern, Princess leaned closer and applied both hands to
her work. Cecil sank down, his eyes closed contentedly, and his purring grew to
a reverberating drone that filled the shed. Princess knelt at his side and
scratched. After a time, Cecil said sleepily, "You know, lady, I could go for a
nice basin of horse meat broth. Maybe they could put a few chunks of meat in
it."

"We'll have it brought up right away."

"Send the wizard. You stay here and keep scratching."

She turned to Kedrigern and shrugged. He nodded and tiptoed from the shed.

On his way to the kitchen he met Eldry and Ashel. They looked at him accusingly,
and Ashel said, "You're late."

"Your father does not encourage early rising on the part of his guests. And I've
made progress. Cecil has asked for a basin of broth."

"Is that all?"

"He'd like a few chunks of meat in it."

The children exchanged a solemn glance. Eldry said, "That's a good sign."

"He let my wife scratch his head. And he's purring."

"Is your wife pretty? He likes to have his head scratched by pretty ladies."

Kedrigern smiled at the image of Princess, resplendent this morning in a deep
maroon gown trimmed at wrists and neckline with gold embroidery; no jewelry but
a golden circlet around her gleaming black hair and a long gold necklace that
hung to her waist. "She's very pretty indeed. Look here -- why don't you
supervise the making of the broth? You know how Cecil likes it. I'll go back and
keep an eye on him."

They were off at a run, and Kedrigern returned to the hut. He stood in the
doorway for a time, looking on in silence as Princess scratched Cecil's great
neck and his upper back between the shoulders. Her treatment was working
wonders; he had shown improvement from her very first touch and was now
reclining peacefully, snoring with a faint, not unpleasant, whistling sound.

It was strenuous work for Princess. She was forced to lean forward awkwardly.
From time to time she paused to ease her back and flex her fingers, but the
pauses were brief and she quickly resumed her work. She was a picture of
selfless dedication, and Kedrigern felt proud of her. Not many princesses would
be so considerate of a griffin.

But why was it working? Surely mere head-scratching, even by the hand of a
princess, could not be the cure. As Kedrigern watched` he noticed that as
Princess bent over Cecil, her gold necklace lay against the griffin's side.
Something in the scene tugged at his memory, but he could not quite grasp it.
Something about griffins . . . and gold. . . . Griffins and gold . . . Scythia .
. . thatching . . . and the making of nests.

And that was it.

He hurried to Princess' side and whispered, "You can stop scratching. I'm going
to put your necklace around Cecil's neck. He'll be all right now."

"He will?"

"For a while, anyway."

"That's not a magic necklace, you know."

"It's gold. That's all that matters."

She rose stiffly and wrung her hands. "Good. I wouldn't want to do that for much
longer. Cecil has very rough feathers."

He took her hands gently in his. "You won't have to do it again."

"I take it you've figured out what's wrong with him."

"I'm pretty sure. Whether or not we can fix it depends on how much Tyasan thinks
of his griffin."

They gathered in an antechamber just off the throne room. Tyasan and Thrymm,
having heard the wizard's explanation and Princess' anecdotal support, exchanged
a long silent glance. Tyasan turned to his guests.

"A nest of gold?" he said.

Kedrigern nodded. "That's what it will take."

"A nest for Cecil would require a huge amount of gold. I wouldn't have anything
left to pay your fee."

With a generous wave of his hand, Kedrigern said, "We're willing to accept gems
and silver. Your Cecil is suffering from acute gold deprivation. If you want him
to be his old self, you'll have to provide him with a nest of gold."

Tyasan looked pained. "Are you absolutely sure?"

"As soon as Princess' gold necklace touched him, Cecil relaxed and his appetite
returned. That's when I realized."

"Couldn't it have been the scratching of his neck? Maybe if all my subjects took
turns scratching. . . ."

"It wasn't my scratching that did it," Princess said, "although I'm sure it
helped. Long after I had stopped, Cecil finished his basin of broth and called
for a haunch of horse meat."

"He spoke of flying out to the borders tomorrow, and seeing what the neighbors
are up to," Kedrigern added. "I think you can stop worrying about an invasion."

With a sigh of relief, Thrymm said, "Cecil's himself again."

"But it won't last unless he stays in contact with a substantial amount of gold.
Once griffins reach a certain age, it's essential to their health. That's why
they use gold for nesting material back in Scythia," Kedrigern said.

"They only use it because it's so easily available. There's gold lying all over
the place in Scythia. Everyone knows that," said Tyasan.

"Everyone may be wrong. How much gold did your cousin Gulberan amass during his
stay?"

Tyasan reflected for a moment, then looked at them with an expression of
discomfort. "None, as a matter of fact. Poor old chap died penniless." When
neither Kedrigern nor Princess made reply, he went on desperately, "What if we
used brass? I'd have it polished up. It could pass for gold if we kept it
polished."

"Griffins are rude, but they're not stupid. Cecil wouldn't last long, and he'd
be a mighty angry griffin toward the end."

"Couldn't you hypnotize him, or create an illusion of some sort?"

Kedrigern shook his head. "It has to be real gold. Substitutions won't work."

They sat in silence, pondering the problem, and Princess looked up brightly and
said,. "Just as a temporary measure you might try gold leaf."

"Or maybe a nice cloth of gold blanket," Kedrigern added. "But only until you
can get enough gold together for a nest."

"We'll demand reparations from our neighbors," said Thrymm. "They ought to do
something to make up for all the annoyance they've caused with their talk of
invasion."

Tyasan stared dejectedly at the ground, slowly shaking his head. "They haven't
got a thimbleful of gold among them. All we'll get from that lot is hides and
firewood."

The four sat silent for a time. Thrymm raised her eyes to the heavens and said,
"Why couldn't Gulberan have sent the children a dog?"

"Maybe there are no dogs in Scythia."

The queen shrugged. "All right, a cat. Even a monkey would be less trouble."

"As protection, Cecil is worth a brigade of guards. He's devoted to Eldry and
Ashel. They couldn't have a better companion. Once he has his strength back,
he'll be able to take them flying. Dogs and cats can't do that," Kedrigern
pointed out. "Or monkeys."

"But all that gold. . . ."

Princess said, "It's not as though he'll eat the gold, or squander it foolishly.
It will all be right there in his shed."

"That's true," said Thrymm without much enthusiasm.

"And well guarded," Princess added. "Too well guarded," said Tyasan.

"If you really need it, Ty, I'm sure Cecil will let you have some," the queen
said.

Tyasan looked at his wife, his face a mask of gloom. "I know you're trying to
console me, Thrymmie dear, but it's unpleasant for a king to contemplate asking
household help for a loan. It's demeaning."

A long silence followed, broken at last by Kedrigern. Putting his fingertips
together, gazing into the middle distance, speaking in the manner of one
expounding an interesting speculation, he said, "Since Cecil is in the
nest-building mood, it probably won't be long before he's ready to settle down.
He'll return to Scythia to seek a mate --"

"What will I do for protection?" Tyasan cried. "Without Cecil, I'll have to hire
an army! Either way, I'm ruined."

"Cecil will be back. He's very content here, and I doubt he'd leave the
children. With a family to look after, he'll want to build a bigger nest. That
means --"

"That means I'll have to find even more gold!" Tyasan wailed, burying his face
in his hands.

"Griffins are proud creatures. He'll go out and get it himself. Lots and lots of
it. Griffins know where to find gold. And if Eldry and Ashel ask him nicely --"

"He'd do anything for the children," Thrymm said.

"-- I'm sure he'll bring back a barrel or two for them. . . ."

Tyasan looked up. His expression was that of a man who had clutched at the last
straw and caught the whole bale.

". . . And their parents," Kedrigern concluded.