Sins of the Father: Chapter Twenty One (Patreon)

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Chapter Twenty One

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Krek strolled through the streets of Kartaros, savoring the awed stares and gawping gazes of the various slack-jawed locals. He was quite certain that while the city saw occasional gryphon and dragon visitors, never had they seen a gryphon with armor like his. It was, after all, the most extravagant gryphon armor in all the world. Or at least, he liked to imagine it was. Krek had no way to verify that, after all. At the very least, in all his many travels as spy, diplomat, assassin, and more, never had he seen a gryphon in finer armor. His armor was the single finest gift Kathlyn had ever given him. Well, he thought, right after sharing her heart with him, at least.

Every aspect of his armor was exceptionally finely crafted, as befit a gryphon as magnificent as he. From the black feathers adorning the scallop-edged helmet, to the golden gryphon runes upon his silver gauntlets, to the ebony gryphon upon the breastplate, Krek’s armor was nearly as gorgeous as he was. The less showy details were just as impressive, and perhaps even more important. The thick, leather and cloth padding beneath the armor’s angled plates and chain ensured that even after weeks of flight, the armor remained comfortable to wear. Well, at least as comfortable as being smothered in metal and padding could be, Krek thought. But he’d happily take flattened feathers and worn-out wings to callouses and chafed skin and sores.

Most importantly, despite the armor’s ornamental appearance, it was exceedingly functional, capable of deflecting arrows, blades, and dragon’s claws alike. At least, it would deflect most dragon’s claws. Krek feared there was little in all the world that could truly withstand the wrath of The Wind That Carries, but he would worry about crossing that particularly raging river when he reached it.

For now, the gryphon relished getting to show himself off for once. Though he’d had the armor for years, it was often rare for him to have cause to wear it. And it was rarer still for him to have a chance to simply stroll around town whilst clad within his elegant, silvery shell. Back in the capital, though his existence was often considered an open secret, he rarely set foot in the city in the daylight. And when he did occasionally venture out at night, it was only ever to select locations, and never in his battle gear. Furthermore, when he bore his armor on missions, it was either because he wished to make a striking impression as Kathlyn’s diplomat, or because he anticipated bloodshed. In neither such case would he have cause or time to simply strut the city streets, displaying his splendid self as a gryphon should.

To that end, Krek made a point to walk everywhere in the city. Though he was not under the same restrictions as his draconic companions, he nonetheless took his time, hoping to allow Kartaros’ every resident a chance to get an eyeful of the glorious gryphon bearing his equally glorious armor. If they thought the damn urd’thin was an exotic visitor, just wait until they got a look at him.

After parting ways with the others, Krek first stopped at Kartaros’ most famous eatery, The Mountain of Mutton. Krek could only assume the place was named because of the literal mountain’s worth of meat that smoked every day. That, and an owner who enjoyed alliteration. Where they got a mountain of meat, the gryphon did not know nor care. All that mattered to him was that it was delicious, and they were happy to allow gryphons and dragons to eat it. Or at least, they were happy to take a poor hungry gryphon’s coin. Whether or not they enjoyed his company, let alone that of his scalier companions, he did not know. And much like the source of their meat, he also did not care.

Krek had made expensive arrangements to ensure the others were greeted with open arms, and given all the food they could fit in their bellies. With any luck, they’d still be gorging themselves by the time he returned to their group. If not, it wouldn’t be the first time a poor, lonely gryphon was forced to eat his dinner all alone.

After paying for their meal in advance, Krek visited several different shops and storefronts. The gryphon had stopped in the city enough times over the years to have developed a few reliable, trustworthy connections amongst the local merchants and craftsmen. He visited each of them, chatting a bit to put them at ease. He made purchases from everyone, and always tipped exceptionally well. Over his long years serving as a spy, Krek had learned that a friendly chat, a few laughs, and a great pawful of gold helped to ensure that loyalty lasted.

In addition to picking up various supplies for himself, Krek also hired a number of craftsmen. Some of them were assigned to cobble together new safety harnesses for Alia and Vatch. Without exact measurements, he asked them to create something that could be cinched or buckled down at different sizes. That would also make it easier to adjust them if Alia ever had to ride upon him, or if Vatch rode a dragon into the sky.

Krek had porters deliver all their existing gear to the craftsmen’s workshop. There, he tasked another group of them with sifting through everything to search for signs of wear and tear brought on by weeks of travel. The gryphon instructed them to repair what they could, and replace the rest with something sturdier. In addition, the gryphon purchased a number of bags and satchels that were already available, and paid to have their straps replaced with something more appropriately sized for larger creatures. Cost, he assured them, was not a factor in any of their work. Krek assured them he would happily pay whatever they required, so long as the work was done expediently, and of the utmost quality.

Krek had left Illandra with damn near a treasury’s worth of coin stuffed beneath his armor. He doubted the others realized just how money he’d actually brought on this grand excursion. Much of it was from Krek’s various hidden emergency funds. Some were stashed away in the castle, others in his various safehouses like Wing’s Rest. More satisfyingly, a large portion of it was stolen from the poorly guarded living quarters of certain nobility, before Valyrym’s escape. After all, Krek could think of no better purpose for the ill-gotten gains of Armadine and his kin than to help save Kathlyn’s life. Besides, Krek thought, he’d already burned down the man’s office, he might as well help himself to the contents of his not-so-secret safes as well.

Normally, the gryphon was less likely to make a show of flashing around his wealth, but what where they going to do? Rob him? Hell, Krek would welcome a few would-be brigands trying to strong arm their way to his coin purse. Actually, Krek thought, shaking his hind end, his ‘coin purse’ was quite well secured beneath his armor. For that matter, so were his actual coins. Nonetheless, he’d have savored getting to put a few attempted thieves with poor judgement through a wall or two. Not that he expected any humans to be foolish enough to try and rob a heavily armored gryphon.

The gryphon knew the others needed to resupply and make others purchases, as well. By the time they were finished with their meal, it would likely be too late to conclude all their errands. But that was fine with Krek. Though the gryphon had not yet told them, he planned to stay near Kartaros for at least another day. That way, Valyrym could continue readjusting to life amongst the living, and the rest of them would have plenty of time to browse not only the lines of storefronts, but also the many shops and stalls of the open air market.

Truth be told, they were already making excellent time on their journey. Krek had long since calculated roughly how much ground they had to cover each day to reach Kathlyn before she entered dangerous lands. Thanks to Valyrym’s stubborn insistence on ignoring his own withered body’s limitations, they were well ahead of schedule. Krek, however, had no intentions of telling them. For one thing, the sooner they caught up to the Queen, the better. For another, the harder he pushed the aged dragon, the more strength Valyrym would eventually regain. Or so Krek hoped. If the worst happened, and they were forced into battle with The Wind herself, then it was important for Valyrym have to cast off as much atrophy as possible.

With all those preparations completed, Krek had only one destination remaining. It was, however, his most important stop whilst in Kartaros. Unlike most of the city’s shops, Krek’s stopping place was set well away from the main thoroughfares. Krek turned onto a side street, which soon led him to another, and another. There were fewer people here to gawk at him, but he still received plenty of shocked stares and duly impressed gazes from shady taverns and alleyways. Krek found it a great shame he lacked the time to visit those particular taverns, for the shadier they were, the more fun he usually had.

As Krek ambled along, his mind drifted back to his earlier conversation with Valyrym. Krek knew the dragon was right. The surest way to keep his beloved safe was to convince her not to continue her journey at all. Krek ground his beak, then lashed his tufted tail. Kathlyn had refused to listen to him alone, but perhaps with the help of the others, she might forced to listen to reason. And if not, well, there were reasons that Krek kept back-up plans for his back-up plans. Still, additional back-up plans required additional groundwork to be laid. And Krek was about to lay everything. The gryphon paused at that thought, tilting his head. A smirk parted his beak, splaying his ears at the sides of his helmet. Krek found it a great shame he didn’t have time to lay everything in the more pleasant sense of the term.

The distant cawing of ravens drew Krek onwards. He soon turned down another street. This one was shady, with towering trees growing ramshackle and looming above old buildings. A patchwork of emerald mosses slathered the roofs where the sunlight rarely touched the crimson tiles. Barrels and crates were stacked in narrow alleys. Gutters ran from roof corners into drains, clogged with fallen leaves. Only a hazard collection of paving stones remained in the muddy streets, like stepping stones across the muck. The scent of old, wet decay clung to the street. Where the mud came from, Krek did not know. It hadn’t rained here in weeks, he was certain, and yet somehow this particular street was always damp.

Krek picked his way down the street, trying to avoid the mud. He hated to befoul his armor almost as much as he hated dirtying up his own paws, and feathers. Doubly so when he questioned the origins of the singular’s street’s muddy appearance. At least it didn’t smell like urine, he thought. More likely, he thought, some old pipe or storage basin was ever so slowly leaking into the earth, just enough to leave the shadowy lane permanently muddied.

The street was less busy than most of the others, but a few people still went about their business. They gave the armored gryphon a wide berth, their eyes wider still. Ahead of him, a trio of children played in the road, swinging sticks at one another like makeshift swords. Just beyond the children, ravens cawed again. They perched in the boughs of the sprawling willow tree that grew in front of his destination.

“Whoa!” One of the children shrieked when they finally spotted Krek, though whether it was a sound of alarm or excitement, the gryphon did not know. The child, a boy with brown hair and muddy clothes, pointed his stick squarely at Krek’s head. “A dragon!”

Krek gave a great, indignant squawk. Only his armor prevented him from fluffing himself up in outrage. “I am not a dragon!”

A little girl gasped. “A talking dragon!”

“I just told you, I am nota dragon!” Krek stomped a forepaw for emphasis.

The third child, another boy, waved his stick around. “Breathe fire, dragon!”

Krek took a slow, calming breath. “Again, I am not-”

“Wings, four legs, and big as a pony!” The first boy crossed his arms, grinning. “That’s a dragon!”

“Big as a pony?” Krek tossed his head, squawking again. “I’m far larger than that! Hell, I could eat a pony!”

The little girl covered her mouth with a hand, horror in her eyes. “That poor pony!”

“No, I didn’t say I did eat a pony!” Krek had, in fact, eaten a pony. But he wasn’t about to tell the children that. “I said I could eat a pony!”

The third boy lashed his stick in the air, as if pretending to strike the gryphon with it. “You’re a mean old pony-eating dragon!”

The gryphon gave an irritable chirrup. “I am none of those things! Well, some might call me mean, and I’m not getting any younger…” Krek shook himself, his armor rattling and clanking. “But I’m damn sure not a dragon, or a pony-eater! At least, not regularly.”

“Whoa!” The first children looked at his friends, seemingly as excited now as he was when he first laid eyes upon the gryphon. “The dragon can make bird noises!”

“Do an owl, dragon!” The girl giggled, bouncing on her toes.

“I’m not making bird-”

“I can do an owl,” the girl said. “Hoo! Hoo!”

Soon, the other two children joined in. “Hoo, hoo! Hoo!”

“Oh, lord.” The gryphon groaned, tossing his head. “What are you three doing, auditioning to be the next village idiot? Congratulations, you’ve all clearly won the part.”

The children ignored his perfectly phrased jest, in favor of continuing to make bird noises at each other. After a few moments, the third child tossed his stick away, no longer interested in playing swordfighter. “Do a warbler, dragon! Do a ruby-crested warbled!”

“I don’t even know what that is, child.” Krek lashed his tail, his patience wearing increasingly thin. “And for the last time, I-”

“It’s me mum’s favorite bird!” The boy craned his neck back as if trying to imitate the look of such a bird. “They sound like this! Woo-woo-wabooh!”

Krek glared at the child, his tone flat. “How exciting for them.”

The girl stepped closer, giggling. “Can you make that noise, dragon?”

“I,” Krek said sharply, a growl creeping into his voice. He placed a paw against his chest. “Am a gryphon.”

The three children fell silent. They looked at each other, then back at Krek. Finally, the first one spoke up. “What’s a gryphon?”

“I am!” Krek stomped his forepaw.

“Yeah, but…” The child looked him over, then rubbed his nose. “Are you a dragon with feathers?”

“No!” Krek wanted to toss the little whelp into a barrel. “I’m a gryphon! A gryphon!”

“You, gryphon!” A woman’s voice cut through the alley. “Stop pestering those children!”

“What?” Krek jerked his head towards the new voice. “They’re the ones pestering…” He trailed off when the voice’s familiarity struck him. He sighed, deflating a little. “Hello, Magpie. I suppose you’re the one who sent those whelps to bar my way and pepper me with inane accusations?”

“Hardly.” Just down the street, beneath the willow tree, a woman in a striking, black and white dress stood on the front stoop. “I just heard you yelling at them and came to shoo you away.”

“Miss Magpie!” The girl turned around, waving at the woman. “Look! There’s a dragon in town!”

“That,” Magpie said, gesturing with a large, black feather quill. “Is not a dragon. It’s a gryphon.” She paused a beat, and just when the children began to speak up, interrupted them. “And a gryphon is a small, feathery dragon with a beak.”

Krek groaned, hanging his head. “You know, Magpie, words hurt.”

“And sticks hurt worse, if they smack you in the beak. So, if I were you…” She waved at the kids. “I’d stop antagonizing them.”

“I am not antagonizing-”

“Say, children,” Magpie said, once again raising her voice above the others. “There are two real dragons visiting the city right now, as well. Why don’t you go see if you can find them, instead? They’ve got to be more interesting than some pompous old oversized starling. Even if the starling is looking especially shiny today.”

Krek glared at her. “Don’t you start up with that starling nonsense. I look nothing like one.”

“Two dragons?” The kids gasped and waved at Magpie. “Bye Magpie! We’re going to find the dragons!”

The gryphon gaped at them as they ran off. “What, just like that? Listen, you little brats, I can assure you that a gryphon in extravagant armor is far more interesting than a couple of lizards with limps!”

Nearby, Magpie folded her arms. “Did you or did you not want to get rid of them?”

Krek tossed his head. “Of course I did, but not at the expense of my ego! How do you think it makes me feel to not only be confused for a dragon, but then ignored in favor of them?”

“Your ego could use the bruising.” Magpie folded her arms, chuckling. “It’s good to see you again, Starling. However unexpected.”

Krek snapped his beak, hurrying down the street. “I thought I told you not to start that starling rubbish again. I look nothing like one. If you don’t wish to call me by my name, you can at least call me Black Bird.”

Magpie arched a single eyebrow. “I wasn’t aware I was allowed to use the Queen’s code names.”

“You’re allowed to use whatever I tell you.” Krek shook himself, his armor rattling. “Anyway, it is a pleasure to see you again as well, my dear.”

As Krek approached Magpie and shop, ravens cawed from the willow boughs. Krek glanced up. Dozens of them perched within the tree, as well as the gutters and crimson eaves of the old stone building in which Magpie’s business was located. Magpie kept and trained a whole host of such birds, along with a bevy of others. Krek was never quite sure how many of the birds in the area belonged to the woman, and how many were just locals here to socialize and help themselves to the free food.

The gryphon paused just beyond the willow’s reaches. “Do please tell your birds not to shit on me, this time.”

Magpie gave him a blank look. “Those weren’t my birds.”

“Nonetheless,” Krek said, lashing his tufted tail. “If any of them do, I’m going to make you scrub every inch of my armor until it shines like the gods-damned sun.”

Magpie whispered. A few ravens cawed as if in answer. She idly waved at the gryphon. “No one shit on the oversized starling.”

Krek clicked his beak. “You know, for someone who’s named herself after a bird, you sure as hell can’t seem to tell them apart. Again, I look nothing like a starling.”

Magie only smiled at him. “And for someone who’s life so often depends on his ability to read others, you really can’t seem to tell when people are only saying something to tease you. And I’m sure as hell not scrubbing anything of your armor, bird shit or otherwise.” As the gryphon approached her, she descended the steps, and circled around him, examining it. “It is gorgeous armor, though.”

“Yes.” Krek would have puffed himself up if not for the compression of the armor in question. He stopped beneath a few branches notable devoid of feathered residents. “It is.”

“It’s actually even prettier than you described.” Magpie reached out and brushed her fingers across ebony gryphon embossed upon the silvery breastplate. “I can only imagine how much coin I could get for this breastplate, alone.”

Krek growled, his ears flat. “That isn’t funny.”

“Neither is threatening to make me scrub bird shit.” Magpie shrugged, turning away. Her black and white swished around her. “If you do take that off and give it to me, I can’t guarantee every piece will make it back to your fuzzy little paws. Something might get lost in the shuffle.”

Krek glowered at her back. “You will do no such-”

Magpie waved him off. “Oh, we both know you’re never going to take it off and give it to me, anyway. Now, come inside. Unless, of course, you aren’t here to see me.”

Krek glanced at the birds again, then followed after her, his wings tight to his armored body. “I damn sure wouldn’t be picking my way through mud and dodging bird shit if I wasn’t.” He lashed his tail again. “And just why is your street always so muddy?”

“I’ve no more idea now than I had last time you asked that question.” Magpie ascended the stairs towards the door of her shop. “Now, hurry along. I’ll have Geppert make us some tea.”

The gryphon studied Magpie as he followed her. She still moved with the same casual grace he remembered. Every step and motion was filled with confident elegance, the way a dancer might conduct herself. Or in Magpie’s case, someone trained in a far more dangerous profession. Krek idly wondered just how many knives she was hiding beneath her striking dress. Its stark whites and deep blacks stood out in the muddy lane as did his armor. A few more streaks of gray had found their way into her reddish hair than before. She kept it pulled behind her head, with a hairpin like a black and white feather.

A sign staked up alongside the small stairway announced her shop as Magpie’s Myriad Marvels. Like her namesake bird, Magpie made a habit of collecting all sorts of trinkets and curious, some vastly more valuable than others. She owned a shop which both bought and sold such items, along with offering fair appraisals and others services. Magpie held a wealth of knowledge about a vast breadth of items and artifacts, and she enjoyed passing that onto others. For a price, of course. Krek, however, was here in need of her other services, available only to a select clientele.

There was a time in which Magpie understood a similar sort of employment to Krek himself. He’d met her years ago, at a time in which they were both working towards a similar goal, albeit for different reasons and employers. Where Krek served the Queen, Magpie’s handlers were often more nebulous. Despite the often-shifting ties and alliances inherent to her secretive craft, Magpie had always placed a high value on personal loyalty. Krek respected that immensely, and found himself drawn to her as a friend even as their respective spy craft roles sometimes pulled them in opposition directions.

These days, Magpie was her own boss now, in charge of her own myriad web of various assets. Krek was ever so pleased to have maintained such longtime, friendly ties with her. The gryphon considered Magpie to be one of the most trustworthy of all of all his many contacts. Which was good, because she was also one of the most dangerous people Krek knew.

A green-painted door festooned with colorful bird’s, and set in an arched limestone frame led the way into Magpie’s shop. Krek pulled his wings tight against his armored body, squeezing through the door. Stone scraped against his wings. He shifted them, easing himself through carefully to avoid scratching his armor. The doorframe was always a tight fit, but with his armor on it was tighter still. Not that he was at all surprised. After all, Krek was certain he was the only gryphon among Magpie’s special clients. Hell, he thought, he was probably the only gryphon who ever visited her shop in any capacity.

The narrow stone entry corridor soon gave way to a larger room lined with overstuffed shelves. Threadbare rugs covered the floor, all of them in desperate need of replacement. A musty scent clung to the place, though not an entirely unpleasant one. It was akin to the smell of ancient books, and aging libraries. A few lamps with opaque glass fixtures provided a dim, faintly orange light. Krek had always wondered if Magpie kept her shop poorly lit on purpose, in order to make it more difficult to ascertain the difference between trash and treasure. She certainly had plenty of both on offer.

“Do mind your tail, bird.” Magpie gave him a little wave as she led him deeper into the shop. “If you break anything-”

“I’ll buy it, I know.” Krek ground his beak. “Once that happened. Once!”

“And it took you months to pay for it!” Magpie clucked her tongue. “Just a friendly reminder.”

Krek ground his beak. Years back, in the midst of a heated discussion, he’d angrily lashed his tail into of her many overpacked shelves. The impact sent several different curios flying, including a crystalline decanter that shattered upon the cold, stone floor. It was just the gryphon’s luck that the decanter was a genuine antique, the only thing of real value on the entire shelf. He’d eventually repaid her for it’s value, and yet she’d never let him live it down. Krek paused to glance behind himself. Just to be safe, he tucked his tail low.

The gryphon glanced at the long rows of shelves they walked along. Each one was loaded with a haphazard mix of mismatched trinkets and other potentially intriguing items. In one cursory look, Krek saw everything from a set of bejeweled golden rings, broaches with elaborately carved stones, an old pair of scissors, and a rusty spade. Upon the opposite shelf, the gryphon spotted a pristine hymnal for an ancient religion, a guidebook to a city that no longer existed, a bottle with a handful of withered dragon scales inside it and some kind of dirty picture book. Further along was an ornate, crystalline animal skull, an ornamental dagger with a golden snake curled around its hilt, and a box with several large, dead insects pinned inside it. Krek knew from experience that every one of the many, many shelves in Magpie’s shop presented its own similarly random collection of so-called marvels. Labels and price tags were randomly located, or often completely absent. Despite the frequent lack of visible information available, Krek was well aware that Magpie could drone on about each and every item in her possession, as well as offer a fair assessment of their value. Krek had long since discovered that her listed prices often came in far above her personal assessments.

“A shame I never brought you my old carved ghost stones.” He lifted his ears, beak parted in a gryphon smile. “You’d have enjoyed ogling them, and trying to talk me into selling them to you, if nothing else.”

“Carved ghost stones, you say?” Magpie glanced back, grinning. “Those would have looked lovely on my shelves.”

“No, they wouldn’t,” Krek said, shaking his head. “They’d have so lost amidst your dragon’s hoard worth of disorganized junk that no one would have ever seen them anyway.”

“Oh, they would not.” Magpie made her way around the long, wooden countertop at the back of her shop. Logbooks were piled high atop it, alongside glass spheres and empty bird cages. A bright green lizard clambered up a stick, propped up near a lamp. Behind her, an actual magpie perched atop a bird feeder designed to look like a pine tree. “Though with my luck, some poor Aran’alian would visit, cut themselves on a knife they were looking at, and then pick up the stones. They’d blow up my whole damn shop.”

Krek grunted at that, glancing from the lizard, to the magpie, and finally, to Miss Magpie. “You know, I genuinely cannot tell if these animals are your pets, or if they’ve just wandered in here and taken up residence.”

Magpie braced her elbow on the counter, the propped her chin against her hand, grinning. “Nor shall I elucidate you. So, I take it you don’t have those ghost stones any longer? What happened to them?”

The gryphon smiled, his ears perked. “I used them to break a dragon out of prison.”

Magpie straightened, laughing. “Oh, now that sounds like fun. I’m sorry I missed that.”

“As am I!” Krek settled back on his haunches, still grinning. “You’d have really loved it when I burned down Lord Armadine’s office.”

“Did you?” Magpie laughed, slapping her counter. The lizard skittered away. “I do hope the little worm was in it, at the time.”

Krek warbled, ears perked alongside his helmet. “I wish I could say he was! But…” He tapped his paw against the countertop. “The dragon I sprung from prison?” His beak parted further as his smile grew. “Took the bastard’s arm off.”

Magpie laughed harder, her eyes alight. “Wonderful! I don’t suppose the world has the good fortune for him to have bled to death too?”

Krek thumped his tufted tail against a tattered green rug. “Alas, no. His man whisked him out of there. I’m sure Enric and the Prince have their own top men hunting him down, but I’m sure he’s long gone by now. Probably fled back to his bastard father’s embrace.”

“Most likely.” Magpie arched a brow. “Oh, is that why you’re here?”

The gryphon shrugged his wings. “The thought crossed my mind to have you pull some threads, and see where they lead, yes. I would love to be able to send the princess some hard information on Armadine’s whereabouts. Not exactly as a peace-offering, but…” He growled under his breath, claw tips slipping free. “No one was more betrayed by that wriggling little shit-worm than Elvir.”

Magpie nodded, turning towards a door. “I’ll see what I can do.” She raised her voice. “Geppert! Geppert!”

“Mind you,” Krek said. “That’s not the only reason I’m here. I’ve much bigger plans to prepare for, just in case.”

Magpie folded her arms, leaning back in her chair. “I see. Well, one thing at a time, then.”

A moment later, and the door swung open. A mountain of a man emerged from it, barely fitting through the doorframe. Muscles roiled beneath his elegantly tailored black and blue clothing. A few poorly hidden weapons bulged against his silken shirt. Short-cropped black hair covered his head. He glanced at Krek, his expression stoic, and unreadable. Well, almost unreadable. Mirth danced in his dark eyes, and a smile tugged at his lips when he spotted the gryphon.

“Bird,” Geppert said, nodding once.

“My gods, Geppert,” Krek said, tilting his head. “Have you gotten bigger?”

“Probably.” He ran a hand over his belly. “Been drinking the dark ales, lately.” His smile widened, ever so slightly. “Nice armor.”

“Why, thank you.” Krek held his head high, feathers struggling to fluff in pride beneath his armor’s padding. “Just a little something my lover got me.”

Geppert scratched his short hair. “Hell of a present. Wish my lover got me something like that.”

Magpie rolled her eyes. “That armor likely cost more than this city’s entire treasury holds.”

The immense man only shrugged. “So? S’the thought that counts.”

Magpie folded her arms. “So, if I purchased you a shabby, beaten up old cuirass that was otherwise destined to be melted down for scrap, you’d be happy?”

Geppert rubbed his chin. “Define happy.”

Magpie chuckled. “You’ve got enough armor, anyway. Make us some tea, would you?” She glanced back at the gryphon. “What do you fancy? Scarlet Fire? Black Spice? I think we’ve got some Denorian Gold Leaf left, as well.”

“Perhaps not the last one.” Krek clicked his beak. “The Denorian Gold Leaf is actually considered an aphrodisiac to gryphons.”

Magpie smirked at him. “I know.”

Krek chirruped laughter. “You devious thing.”

“Don’t get too excited,” Geppert said, before amending himself. “Or do, I guess, if you drink the tea. But she probably just thinks it’d be funny to see you waddling around, all uncomfortable in that fancy armor.”

“That sounds about right, yes.” The gryphon rustled his wings, then tilted his head. “Do you have any Purple Dragon Star, actually? I haven’t had that in an age.”

“I think so.” Magpie waved towards the door. “Make him that, if we have it, and make me a cup of Black Spice, would you? And while they’re brewing, fetch me Blank Book Number Four. I’ll make preliminary notes for the bird’s request, and then he can tell me what else he’s here for.”

Krek set a paw upon the counter, lowering his voice. “I’m afraid you’re going to have to open the vaults, for that.”

Magpie pursed her lips. “As you wish. One thing at a time, though.”

Geppert vanished through the back door again. Somewhere back there, Magpie kept a number of secret and inaccessible vaults. Krek believed the building to have once been a bank, storing not only coin but all manner of other valuable belongings within a large number of hidden safes tucked away in a labyrinth of intersecting corridors and dead ends. These days, Magpie, Geppert, and their associates were the sole proprietors of perhaps the most secure storage in all the city.

Magpie herself made exclusive use of some of the safes. The rest she sold to the most select of all her clientele. Krek doubted he was even the only spy who made use of her services. He sometimes wondered if anyone had ever considered trying to break into all of Magpie’s special vaults, if only to get at the wealth of information and blackmail materials likely held within. As far as he knew, no one had ever dared. After all, any such attempt would bring down absolute hell upon any would-be thieves, and their associates. If Magpie’s network didn’t get to them first, the various vault owners and their assorted people would.

Krek had long ago secured the indefinite use of a large number of the secure storage spaces. Each has its own collection of valuables and secrets inside, some more dangerous than others. Every vault in turn had its own unique locking mechanism. In addition, Magpie required a separate passphrase for each vault, along with number of other security precautions. Though Krek rarely had cause to access the things he stored here, when he did Magpie often allowed him to bypass most of the identifiers and precautionary puzzles. After all, it was not as if someone could simply impersonate him.

Geppert soon returned with a mug of steaming tea in each hand, and a book tucked under his arm. He set the mugs down on the counter, and then handed the book to Magpie. It was bound in rough leather, and with no visible sign of the number or title she’d used to ask for it. In fact, it had no discerning features at all aside from the sturdy metal band and lock that kept it shut. Geppert retrieved a tiny key from a hidden pocket, and presented it to Magpie, as well. She inserted it into the lock, and snapped it open.

“Can you drink from that?” Geppert waved at Krek’s mug. “I can get you something bigger, if you prefer.”

Krek narrowed his eyes, his ears flat. “This had better not be leading up to a ‘bird bath’ joke.”

Geppert only shrugged. “Just wanted if you wanted a bigger mug. We don’t really have cups for gryphons.”

“We call them drinking bowls.” Krek relaxed, his ears up and beak parted in appreciate smile. “But in that case, I’ll manage just fine, thank you. I am a Queen’s diplomat, after all. I’ve had tea before.”

Geppert leaned against the counter. It creaked over so slightly. “I thought you were the Queen’s assassin.”

Krek’s smile only grew. “I’m whatever the Queen needs me to be.” Or at least, the gryphon thought, he used to be. No sense in telling all his contacts everything. He delicately plucked the mug up, tilted it to his beak, and took a careful sip. The tea was unusual, slightly tart, slightly sweet, with hints of blackcurrant, and roasted nuts. It was just as Krek recalled it, and a far cry from the foul, medicinal ditch-water the healers forced him to drink back in the castle. He gave a happy warble, took another sip, and set the mug back down. “See? Nothing to it.” He waved his paw over the mug. “This is quite good by the way. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” He jerked his thumb at Magpie, who was busy thumbing through her book. “She’s gonna want another as soon as that one’s done. You want me to start another cup for you, too?”

The gryphon nodded. “Might as well.”

“Right.” Geppert opened the door, glancing back before slipping through. “On it. Lemme know when you’re ready for more.”

“Thank you, Gep.” Magpie sipped her own tea, still paging through the book.

Most of the pages were blank, though every so often Krek glimpsed lines of ciphers and codes strewn across them. He appreciated her trust in allowing him to see inside the book, though he also knew he couldn’t read her damn code ciphers any better than she could read his. Nor did he understand her seemingly random page assignment system. When she finally reached the blank page she was looking for, she retrieved an elegant, silver-feather quill.

Krek canted his head. “Is that one of my feathers?”

“It was.” Magpie circled the quill in the air, indicating the edge of Krek’s wing, where the black feathers bled into silver. “You’ve got plenty more. Don’t complain.”

The gryphon’s wing twitched as if fearful Magpie meant to pluck another feather. He pulled it tighter to his body. “Hardly the point. I don’t recall giving you any of my feathers, let alone permission to make them into utensils.”

“You were drunk.” Magpie fetched an elegant, obsidian inkwell. It was carved in the likeness of a gryphon, with the quill dipped into its waiting beak. “Extremely drunk.”

“That does sound like me.” Krek ground his beak, watching as Magpie dunked the quill into the inkpot a little too enthusiastically. “Are you just trying to make me uncomfortable?”

Magpie shrugged. “Not really. If that was my aim, I’d use my other gryphon inkwell.” She smirked at him over the counter, her tone half sharpened threat, half silken purr. “You should see where the quill goes in that one.”

“I think I’d rather not,” Krek said, shaking himself. His armor clanked. He picked up his mug, and took another sip of tea. As the heat faded ever so slightly, the faintly fruity flavors intensified. “This really is quite good.”

“Yes, I’m a fan of that Purple Dragon too.” Magpie took a drink from her own mug. “Not as much as my Black Spice, but that unusual, berry sort of flavor is quite refreshing sometimes.” She set her mug back down, looking up at the gryphon. “So. Armadine?”

Krek sneered at the mere mention of the cruel, manipulative little vermin. He’d have liked to crush that bastard’s skull between his paws to see what popped out first, his eyes or his brains. Still, if anyone got to maim that little monster, he was glad it was Valyrym. Now, he just hoped someone else would get a chance to finish the job. Even in absentia, he’d proven himself too much a danger to Kathlyn to simply let him vanish. Besides, Krek doubted Armadine would let his own ambitions go simply because he’d been found out.

“Yes.” Krek growled low, grinding his beak. He repeated the name as though he were spitting some especially foul phlegm. “Armadine. Last seen in the capital city of Illandra, on the evening of the dragon’s escape. Lost his arm, or nearly so, to said dragon. Vanished into the city, but I’m sure he did not stay long.” The gryphon shifted his weight, physically uncomfortable with the idea of Armadine still on the loose, somewhere. “Unfortunately, I fled the city with the dragon the same night, so my personal knowledge is fairly limited.”

Magpie nodded along with his words, scribbling indecipherable notes in coded cipher. “Just give me whatever you can.”

“I am certain the Prince’s top man, Enric, is on top of the investigation.” Krek drummed his fingers against the ragged carpet. “Technically, he works directly for Kathlyn, but with her on a diplomatic journey, authority falls to the Prince. Normally, Enric wouldn’t share a word of his findings with your people, but I can give you a few code phrases that’ll let him know I’ve asked him to loosen his tongue. Especially when he hears I’ve employed your people to search on the Prince’s behalf.”

Magpie arched a brow. “Have you?”

Krek clicked his beak. “I’m about to.”

“Continue then,” she said, chuckling. “What else can you give me to work with?”

“Armadine’s man, Traval.” Krek’s fingers stilled. His stomach twisted, a cold torrent pouring through his guts. If there was one person who truly worried him in Armadine’s entourage, it was his bodyguard. Traval was every bit as highly trained and dangerous as someone like Enric, but without the scruples holding his murderous talents in check. “He’s good. Very good, and he’ll not hesitate to kill your people if…” He scrunched his face, ears flat. “No, scratch that. He’d capture them alive, and see what he can learn.” His tufted tail tip swished several times. “Don’t let them get caught. No unnecessary risks.”

“Right.” Magpie scribbled down a few more lines. “I’ve added a specific warning about him.” She glanced up. “I am aware of the man, by the way. But I appreciate the caution, just the same. I’ll assume it’s thanks to him that Armadine only lost an arm, instead of his life.”

“Undoubtedly.” Krek’s tail twitched again. His gaze wandered, and for a moment, he found himself locking eyes with the actual magpie perched behind the woman who shared its name. It squawked at him, and Krek warbled back at it. “Same to you, you little bastard.”

Magpie spoke without looking up. “Don’t mind him.”

Krek could not tell which of them she was speaking too. He decided it was better not to ask. “To further address your comment, Armadine ventured into the dragon’s dungeon with an entire contingent of bodyguards. As far as I know, only Traval and Armadine made it back out alive.” He grunted, giving his tail an irritable thump against the poorly carpeted floor. “I’m sure Traval whisked him out of town as quickly as possible, after that. Hell, in light of my own arrival in Illandra, I suspect Traval already realized they were about to be outed as Her Majesty’s betrayers to the Prince. They would have either had to make a move on me, or flee the city before I laid out my discoveries to Elvir. The injury simply forced their head. The moment Armadine was stable enough, they’ll have sped him out the city as swift as the wind.”

“That would be my conclusion too.” Magpie dipped her quill in the inkpot. “You mentioned his father, earlier. Are you certain that’s where they went?”

“Certain?” The gryphon shook his head. “No. But I’d wager my whole coin purse they fled back home. After all, ensconced by their own personal army is about the only place they’d be relatively safe from the Prince’s wrath.”

Magpie wrote down another coded phrase. “Your real coin purse?” She gestured with her quill towards Krek’s hind end. “Or your gryphon coin purse?”

Krek chirruped gryphon laughter. “Oh, please. One of those is far more valuable than the other.”

“Agreed.” Magpie dipped her quill again. “The one with money in it.”

Krek hissed, narrowing his eyes. “How dare!” Indignity bristled his feathers under his armor. His silver crown feathers tried so hard to rise that they nearly lifted his helmet off. “The other pouch is absolutely invaluable. I’d never dare wager it.”

Magpie only shrugged. “Wouldn’t garner much of a return, anyway.”

Krek squawked loud enough to startle the bird perched behind Magpie. It flapped its wings and hopped about. “Now you listen here-”

“I’ve appraised enough trinkets to know the old, worn-out ones are rarely worth anything.” Magpie refused to meet Krek’s glare, but her lips twitched and her shoulders trembled as she held back laughter.

“Oh, you’re hilarious.” Krek glowered at her, but she continued avoid his gaze. Eventually, he made a show of stretching a wing, and preening a few feathers. “Can we just get back on topic?”

Magpie finally lifted her countenance to offer a friendly smile. “Just waiting on you.”

Krek heaved a great, put upon sigh. “Why must everyone always insist on teasing the poor gryphon?”

Magpie flipped to a new page in her logbook. “Because you make it so easy. Now, continue.”

“You’re all just envious of my own magnificence.” Krek slowly retracted his wing, shaking his shoulders. “Moving on, then. I can provide specific details on Armadine’s family assets in the Twenty Fourth Province, including their holdings and their private military forces, but I suspect you’d prefer to hear those separately.”

“I would.” Magpie paused to finish her tea. She took a long drink, then glanced at the gryphon. “Let’s discuss that later, when the rest of your business is concluded. You can help me fill a few gaps in my knowledge, as part of your payment.”

Krek plucked his own mug up. “Acceptable.” He drained it, then set it back down.

“Geppert!” Magpie finished off her own tea. “Refills, please.”

A moment later and Geppert reemerged, carrying two fresh, steaming cups. “Here you are. Lemme know when you need vaults accessed.”

“Soon.” Magpie exchanged the empty cups for the full ones. “And thank you, Geppert.”

“No problem.” Geppert took the empty cups with him back through the door.

Magpie idly worked the quill across her fingers. “Is it possible they’re still on their way to the province? It’s an awfully long journey, from Old Illandra to the heart of Aran’alia.”

“Theoretically possible, of course.” Krek curled his tail around his paws, idly tapping his tail tuft against his foreleg. “But I doubt it. I suspect they had help from my brethren.” He stretched his wings to emphasize his point.

Magpie looked up at the gryphon’s outstretched feathers. “The Flock? Didn’t think they worked for Armadine’s family. Or did you mean someone else?”

“The Flock.” Krek folded his wings again. “While most of their members may have little love for Armadine’s family lineage, they do share a love for coin.” He clicked his beak. “Of which, Armadine’s family has an ocean. If they were available, they’d be the fastest way to cross the continent.”

“We’ll certainly look into it.” She added a few new ciphers to the page. “Flying gryphon-back might actually make them easier to track. People are more likely to remember seeing a group of gryphons carrying riders than, say, a carriage.” Magpie smirked. “How certain are you?”

Krek pinned his ears. “Not certain enough to wager my anatomy, if that’s what you’re implying.” After a moment, he relaxed again. “But fairly certain, just the same. On the way out of Illandra, we stopped by Wing’s Rest. It was mostly empty, save for Jirr. During one of our private chats, she intimated certain members of The Flock may have been by on Traval’s payroll, of late.”

“If that’s the case, perhaps we can buy them out to give up their sources.” She wrote down a few more lines, then scrunched her face in thought. “From what you’ve given me, this definitely sounds like there might not be a lot of actual tracking involved. We’ll investigate, but I’d say we really just need to confirm he’s made it home alive. What about after that? If you expect us to try and snatch him for you, that’s going to be very costly. We’d have to move a lot of assets. And that’s before we even discuss the extremely high hazard pay requirement for something like that.”

The gryphon kneaded his tail tuft in a forepaw. “Not yet. That would be extremely dangerous for your people.”

Magpie nodded once. “Hence the exorbitant hazard pay.”

After a moment, Krek gestured with a wing. “Should the opportunity present itself to snatch him safely, I’m absolutely certain the Prince will pay whatever you ask to deliver Armadine to him. However, I think it should suffice to confirm his location, and then if possible, keep track of him. Once he’s found, I want you to relay that information back to Prince Envir and his men through the aforementioned contacts. At that point, if you’re willing, I suspect the prince will take over both instructions and payment for the operation. Whether he will want to work with your assets, send his own, or something else entirely I cannot say.” He held a paw up. “I will say, however, that he is an honest man, and you can take him at his word to make good on any payments settled upon. Hell, if things work out, you may even find yourself a new benefactor.”

Magpie wrote in silence for a few moments, before chuckling. “You know we don’t do state sponsors.”

Krek shrugged his wings, a casual gesture. “And Illandra doesn’t employ gryphons, or hire its spies and wet-work assets on the black market.”

“Fair point.” She scribbled down a few more lines, then glanced up. “I feel I need to address the cost of this operation, now that we’ve got the gist of it. While I know you’re good for it, I do wonder if you’ve actually got that kind of coin with you.”

Krek only smiled. He reached to his side, and carefully undid one of the oversized buckles strapping angled plates to his body. While some parts of his armor required assistance to don, and remove, other parts were easily accessible to the gryphon. He opened a second buckle, and soon pulled an plate loose, leaving it hanging by the remaining straps. Beneath it was one of the many pouches he kept hidden on his person lately. He undid it, and set it upon the counter with a heavy, metallic clank. The coins within were a rare special mint. While they were legal tender all across Illandra, they circulated mostly amongst banks, treasuries, armies, and the extravagantly wealthy.

“That depends.” Krek gryphon slowly opened the pouch. Something silvery glittered within. “Do you accept the Queen’s platinum?”

“Mother of shit!” Magpie leaned forward, peering into the bag. “Is that all platinum? That’s gotta be worth thousands.”

“Ten thousand, actually.” Krek leaned back onto his haunches, his ears splayed in smug gryphon smile. “I broke into my emergency stash.” He chirped laughter. “And Armadine’s.”

“You sneaky bird!” Magpie laughed with him, shaking her head. “Using his own coin to have him hunted down? I love it.”

“I thought you might.” Krek’s smile grew. “Now, when you’ve picked your jaw up off the floor, let’s discuss what else I’d like to spend that bastard’s money on.”