Sword of Ice and Other Tales of Valdemar

dashed it to the ground.

But why would such an experienced flyer (judging from its enormous wings) have taken such risks? Leryn saw the carcass of a deer still clutched in the gryphon's claws, and realized with a shock that it—she? The gryphon was slender enough to be a she—she, then, could only have been bringing food to her offspring. But where was her mate? Didn't gryphons mate for life?

Ah well, there wasn't anything he could do. Even if he could, by some wild chance, find where she'd hidden her young, there wasn't any way he could help them. Leryn shook his head (his own loss, his Elenya, and the child who had died with her—No!) and turned brusquely away. But then he turned again and hesitantly approached the dead gryphon.

'I hate to rob you, but I need this more than you.'

His belt knife wasn't the best tool for the job, but at last, wincing at the messiness of the whole process (remembering days at home, when servants bought and butchered and served his meat to him), Leryn managed to cut off a good hunk of venison. What could he wrap it in? Leaves, yes, nice broad leaves like these ... there. It made a squishy package, slung over his back like this, but at least he wasn't going to starve right away.

Feeling a bit foolish, Leryn saluted the gryphon. 'Thank you. You've given me life.'

He headed on, picking his careful way through a tangle of rocks.

But then something wriggled away from him. Some-

thing screamed in alarm, a Jong, shrill skree of fright that shot right through Leryn's head.

'What in the name of—'

The terrified screaming broke off abruptly at the sound of his voice. A bright-eyed, curved-beaked little head poking up out of the rocks. 'A gryphon!' A gryphon cub, rather, or pup or—or whatever the babies were called. 'You belonged to that poor creature, didn't you?' Leryn murmured, and the baby stared. 'Poor little one, you can't possibly understand that she's dead.'

The baby trilled softly, such a quick, inquisitive little sound that Leryn smiled in spite of himself. 'You've never seen a human before, have you? No, you're probably far too young for that. Probably never even left the nest before—before this.'

The gryphon trilled again, impatiently this time. I'm hungry I the sound seemed to say. I'm hungry and lonely, and what are you going to do about it?

What, indeed?

You shouldn't feed it, Leryn warned himself. You'll only be postponing the inevitable.

But the baby trilled yet again, wriggling out of the rocks. Leryn froze, enchanted. What a funny, chubby, furry little thing! It was about the size of a hunting hound—though no hound ever bore those silly little downy wings or that spotted, striped, yellow-brown-tan baby fuzz. The gryphon must be very young, indeed, because it was still just a touch unsteady on its too-big-for-its-body paws.

Damn. / can't just walk away. 'Uh, well, I do have some meat,' Leryn told the baby. 'I only hope you can eat solid food.'

Gryphons didn't nurse their young, did they? No, not when even the babies sported those sharp, curved beaks! Leryn unwrapped the slice of venison, and the baby let out its ear-splitting scream.

'Hey, stop that! I'm moving as fast as I can!' Using his belt knife, Leryn cut off a tiny sliver of meat, wondering aloud, 'I hope you don't need your food regurgitated, the way birds feed their chicks. There are limits.'

Judging from the way the little gryphon practically tore the sliver of meat from his hand, that wasn't going to be a problem. It paused only long enough to gulp down the fragment, then started to scream again.

'Hey, hey, I told you, I'm cutting it up as fast as I can!'

That didn't stop the ear-splitting complaint. Leryn tapped the baby gently on the beak with the tip of his knife, and the astonished gryphon fell silent, staring at him in innocent wonder. The man winced.

'Oh, don't look at me like that. I'll give you a good meal, but that's it. After this, you're on your own.'

The baby continued to stare.

'Stop that! Don't you understand? I can't stay here to take care of you, and I can't take you with me; you'd never be able to keep up. Ha, you can barely walk steadily as it is!'

But the gryphon continued to watch him even as it gulped down meaty sliver after sliver. At last it seemed to be full, its little belly gently rounded. With a satisfied little churr, the baby collapsed on Leryn's feet, staring adoringly up at him.

'Wonderful. Just wonderful. Now what am I going to do with you?'

He reached a tentative hand down to the spotted baby down, wondering if the little beast would let him touch it. When it didn't even flinch, he stroked the gryphon gently, enjoying the fuzzy feel of it. The baby smelled faintly of spices—cinnamon, was it?—and of that delicate newness that all young things seem to have in common.

And for a moment, Leryn's hand paused in its stroking as he remembered another baby, and Elenya—

Not I will not—No! 'Ah, gods,' Leryn murmured to the gryphon. 'I can't leave you here to die.'

The baby churred again, almost as though it understood, and Leryn sighed. Maybe this would work. The little thing was about dog-sized, after all, and he doubted it weighed much more; a creature meant for flight couldn't be too heavy. Leryn sighed again, knowing he'd already come to a decision.

'All right, baby. We travel together, at least till I can find an adult gryphon to take care of you. Assuming the creature doesn't try to rend me apart first as a baby-thief!'

Ah, well, one problem at a time. The gryphon had curled up on his feet, sound asleep. Leryn continued to stroke the warm, fuzzy fur. And after a tune, he realized, much to his astonishment, that he was smiling.

He stopped smiling about midway through the next day. The gryphon had tagged along after him nicely enough for a while, but it was a baby, with a baby's limited attention span and lack of sense. First, Leryn had to rescue it from a pond into which the little thing had fallen while chasing a butterfly. Then he had to pry it out from between two rocks which were just a bit too close together to allow the gryphon to pass. In between, the baby would plop itself down with a baby's suddenness, instantly sound asleep, or complaining with ear-splitting pathos that it was hungry.

Leryn glanced at the rapidly diminishing chunk of venison and winced. It wasn't going to stay fresh much longer or, for that matter, judging from the gryphon's appetite, last much longer.

And what do I do when it's gone? I'm no hunter; I'm not even carrying a decent knife! Gods, I don't even have any way of starting a fire!

At least, now that that spectacular, deadly storm was past, the weather remained dry. But the air was cold, and it grew colder as night fell. Leryn tried to sleep curled up in as tight a ball as he could manage, struggling to ignore his aching, hungry body, but the earth was as chill as the air. And for all his weariness, he couldn't get comfortable enough to sleep.

But then a fuzzy little body, warm as a furnace, pushed itself against him: the gryphon, whimpering softly. Leryn drew the baby to him, glad of its warmth, and the two lonely beings at last slept

* * *

Leryn sank wearily to a rock, head down. The gryphon pushed against him, trilling anxiously, but the man ignored it, too worn to care.

How many days had it been of endless walking, of hunger and aching muscles and skin chafed raw from the clothes he couldn't change? How many nights of broken sleep and cold, never-ending cold? The last scraps of the by-now-barely-edible meat had been devoured by the baby a day ago, and though the gryphon had managed to snap up enough bugs along the way to feed it—or at least keep it from that ear-splitting complaining—there hadn't been anything for a human to eat. Leryn had tried to fill his complaining stomach with spring water, but the water had been so cold it chilled him to the bone.

You knew it was going to come to this sooner or later. You knew you didn't have a chance of surviving. . . .

'I just didn't know it was going to take so long.'

The gryphon cut into his bitterness, pushing anxiously against him, trilling and trilling in panic till at last Leryn roused himself from thoughts of death. He stared at the small, frantic baby. And slowly it came to him that he