Morgain's Revenge - Laura Anne Gilman [21]
The stone of the walls was smooth-textured, cream-colored, and lit by sconces set into it. The dark yellow candles inside burned brightly, without any smoke or soot, and gave off a delicate odor of wax. There were a few other doors along the hallway similar to hers, but she chose not to try any of them. Instead, she went to the end of the hall and pushed open a pair of heavy, carved doors.
“Rrrrrrrrr…”
Startled by the sound, Ailis almost turned on her heels and ran, but the thought that it might be better to be eaten by a beast than die of boredom in that room kept her where she was.
“Rrrrrrrr?”
The noise changed from threatening to inquisitive, and she was able to slow her heartbeat enough to actually look at the creature confronting her.
It was the size of a plow horse, but no horse had ever been so fabulous. The head was that of a great hawk, black eyes shaded by a tuft of golden-yellow feathers, the cruelly curved beak dark as jet. But instead of a bird’s body, the hawk’s head was attached to the crouching form of a great cat, the tail lashing back and forth tufted not with fur, but a clutch of small golden feathers.
Ailis walked around the beast, carefully keeping her distance. The hawk’s head turned to follow her movements, its tail slowing its movement as the creature went from surprised hostility to curiosity.
She wished that Newt were there with her. He grew up with beasts—dogs and horses, admittedly. But he dealt well with the dragon they had encountered, under that same beastish logic. And that dragon had been a thinking, speaking creature!
“Do you…can you speak?” she asked it. Best to be polite, rather than risk offending a creature that could tear her flesh with one pounce. The great clawed forepaws twitched, but the creature did not make another noise.
“That might be a no, then. Or it might be that you’re choosing not to speak. Which is it?”
The beast shifted to follow her movements, and Ailis jumped back, stumbling and hitting her shoulder against the wall in her surprise. Not because the creature moved, but because of what that movement revealed.
Wings. Great, thick-feathered wings, folded against the plush fur of its body.
“Aren’t you lovely!” she exclaimed.
“Rrrrrr?” Ailis took the sound to mean that although the beast might not be able to speak with its beak, it understood her words. Or at least her intentions.
“Such a lovely creature,” she said, keeping her voice modulated normally, not resorting to the high-pitched tones some of the ladies of the court used when speaking to their lapdogs. Those whines annoyed her, and she couldn’t imagine it wouldn’t annoy a creature with the acute hearing of a bird.
“May I pet you? I promise not to muss your feathers.”
The beast watched her, then lowered its head to the floor, resting its beak on the carpet. One eye kept watch on Ailis but the gesture seemed a clear invitation, so she took a step closer, then another, until she was close enough to reach out and touch the golden pelt.
The fur was thick and rougher than she had been expecting, but warm and pliant, the muscles underneath flexing and relaxing under her touch.
“Oh, you are such a lovely. Are there any others like you? I have heard of dragons and bridge trolls, and everyone has heard of unicorns, of course. But I’ve never heard of anything like you.”
And then she noticed it at the same moment she felt it vibrating under her hand. A massive purr rumbled up from deep within the creature. Delighted laughter filled her throat and for the first time in