you’re in a lot of trouble.”
4
Rannagon
T he rest of the raid was fairly straightforward. Once Craddick and Rose had been escorted out and taken to the prison district, Arren helped the guards to empty out the cellar. They carried the goods into the dining room, shoving the furniture out of the way, but in the end there were so many they had to carry a lot of them into the front garden. A crowd of people gathered to watch, and Bran sensibly posted a pair of guards to stop them looting the contents of the crates. Eluna stayed with them, watching the onlookers menacingly. Two other guards bundled up the dead man in a pair of sacks and quietly removed him through the back door. His body would go to the prison district to be searched and then kept safely until his family came to collect him.
The cage containing the griffin chick was one of the last things to be carried out. Arren insisted on taking it personally. The chick looked well enough: undernourished and sensitive to the light, but uninjured. He fed it some dried meat from a sack and watched as it gulped it down. “How long have they been keeping you down there?” he muttered.
Bran noticed the blood soaking through the bandage on Arren’s arm. “Yeh should see a healer about that, sir.”
“I’ll be fine,” said Arren. He straightened up. “I’m going to have to take him back to the hatchery, and fast. But I’d better have a look at some of this stuff first.”
“Don’t worry about that, sir,” said Bran. “I’ll pick out a few things for yeh and send ’em along to your place, how about that?”
Arren paused, and smiled. “Thanks, Bran.”
“I’ll make sure there’s some oranges,” Bran added, grinning.
“Thanks. And if there’s any decent leather there, I’ll take some of that, too.”
“Righto, sir.” Bran glanced at the floor, where the dead man’s blood was soaking into the wood. “There’ll be an inquiry about this, sir.”
“I know. Leave me to deal with that.” Arren picked up the cage. “But I sincerely doubt anyone will care much about what happens to a griffin thief.”
“Doubt it, sir.”
Arren left via the front door, carrying the covered cage in his arms. Eluna was waiting for him and silently fell in beside him.
“Where are we going?” she asked.
“To the hatchery.”
She fluttered her wings, apparently pleased. “I would like to see Keth again. Why are we going?”
Arren looked grim. “Those men stole a griffin chick. We have to take it back.”
Eluna stopped dead. Arren watched her carefully. The griffin nosed at the cage. “I can smell—”
Arren lifted the cloth, revealing the chick. It peered out at Eluna, and she laid her beak against its beak. Then she looked up at Arren. He looked back stonily.
Eluna screamed. The noise was loud and furious, and she reared up and screamed again. “Thieves! Scum!”
Arren patted her to calm her down. “I know, Eluna, I know. It’s all right, we got them.”
“ I got them,” Eluna rasped. “I killed the one who attacked you.”
“Yes.” Arren pulled the cloth back over the cage and walked on, trying to hold it steady as the chick shifted inside. Neither of them looked at the bloody bandage on his arm.
The hatchery was on the edge, next to the market district. Arren and Eluna both knew the way there, but even if they hadn’t, it would have been fairly easy to find. There were dozens of griffins flying over it.
The hatchery itself consisted of a collection of wooden buildings, which were some of the biggest in the city. They had to be. Around them there were pens full of animals—mostly goats—feeding on racks of hay. The griffins circled lazily overhead, enjoying the morning sun. Most of them were young, smaller than Eluna. The air was full of their screeching voices and the bleating of the goats.
Arren and Eluna went along the walkway between the pens. A man paused in the act of refilling one of the water troughs and waved. “Hello, Arren.
4
Rannagon
T he rest of the raid was fairly straightforward. Once Craddick and Rose had been escorted out and taken to the prison district, Arren helped the guards to empty out the cellar. They carried the goods into the dining room, shoving the furniture out of the way, but in the end there were so many they had to carry a lot of them into the front garden. A crowd of people gathered to watch, and Bran sensibly posted a pair of guards to stop them looting the contents of the crates. Eluna stayed with them, watching the onlookers menacingly. Two other guards bundled up the dead man in a pair of sacks and quietly removed him through the back door. His body would go to the prison district to be searched and then kept safely until his family came to collect him.
The cage containing the griffin chick was one of the last things to be carried out. Arren insisted on taking it personally. The chick looked well enough: undernourished and sensitive to the light, but uninjured. He fed it some dried meat from a sack and watched as it gulped it down. “How long have they been keeping you down there?” he muttered.
Bran noticed the blood soaking through the bandage on Arren’s arm. “Yeh should see a healer about that, sir.”
“I’ll be fine,” said Arren. He straightened up. “I’m going to have to take him back to the hatchery, and fast. But I’d better have a look at some of this stuff first.”
“Don’t worry about that, sir,” said Bran. “I’ll pick out a few things for yeh and send ’em along to your place, how about that?”
Arren paused, and smiled. “Thanks, Bran.”
“I’ll make sure there’s some oranges,” Bran added, grinning.
“Thanks. And if there’s any decent leather there, I’ll take some of that, too.”
“Righto, sir.” Bran glanced at the floor, where the dead man’s blood was soaking into the wood. “There’ll be an inquiry about this, sir.”
“I know. Leave me to deal with that.” Arren picked up the cage. “But I sincerely doubt anyone will care much about what happens to a griffin thief.”
“Doubt it, sir.”
Arren left via the front door, carrying the covered cage in his arms. Eluna was waiting for him and silently fell in beside him.
“Where are we going?” she asked.
“To the hatchery.”
She fluttered her wings, apparently pleased. “I would like to see Keth again. Why are we going?”
Arren looked grim. “Those men stole a griffin chick. We have to take it back.”
Eluna stopped dead. Arren watched her carefully. The griffin nosed at the cage. “I can smell—”
Arren lifted the cloth, revealing the chick. It peered out at Eluna, and she laid her beak against its beak. Then she looked up at Arren. He looked back stonily.
Eluna screamed. The noise was loud and furious, and she reared up and screamed again. “Thieves! Scum!”
Arren patted her to calm her down. “I know, Eluna, I know. It’s all right, we got them.”
“ I got them,” Eluna rasped. “I killed the one who attacked you.”
“Yes.” Arren pulled the cloth back over the cage and walked on, trying to hold it steady as the chick shifted inside. Neither of them looked at the bloody bandage on his arm.
The hatchery was on the edge, next to the market district. Arren and Eluna both knew the way there, but even if they hadn’t, it would have been fairly easy to find. There were dozens of griffins flying over it.
The hatchery itself consisted of a collection of wooden buildings, which were some of the biggest in the city. They had to be. Around them there were pens full of animals—mostly goats—feeding on racks of hay. The griffins circled lazily overhead, enjoying the morning sun. Most of them were young, smaller than Eluna. The air was full of their screeching voices and the bleating of the goats.
Arren and Eluna went along the walkway between the pens. A man paused in the act of refilling one of the water troughs and waved. “Hello, Arren.
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