Wednesdays in the Tower (12 page)

I’ll help you get him back to your room,” Pogue said, after he and Celie had wrestled Rufus down from the window-sill. “Will you be all right after that?”

“I guess so,” Celie said.

She had both arms around Rufus’s neck, and her heart was still thumping. The Spyglass Tower was at the northernmost point of the Castle, and from the north window, which Rufus had been about to leap out of, it was a sheer drop to a rocky gully. Rufus’s golden body would have been a broken heap on the rocks far below, and it would have taken Celie nearly an hour to reach him. Of course, he might have been able to open his wings all the way and fly, but he was still so young and so clumsy that she doubted it.

“It’ll be fine,” Pogue said.

But he said it in a sort of frantic way, as if he were only trying to reassure her before he went off and had hysterics
himself. He ran down the stairs ahead of her and Rufus, and checked to see if anyone was in the corridor. When he saw that it was clear, he signaled to her, and she and Rufus hurried after him.

“I’ll just get you to your room,” Pogue went on, leading them down the corridor at a fast clip. “And then I’m going to see Bran about something.”

“Oh, okay,” Celie said.

She felt like she and Pogue had just bonded, and now he was going to leave her? Now that Rufus had gotten the urge to try flying, she didn’t know how she was going to keep him contained and amused, and she had been hoping that Pogue would stick around to play with him until he fell asleep.

“Don’t worry,” Pogue said as they ducked around a corner and hurried down another staircase. “I’ve got an idea that might help you.
And
Rufus.”

And with that he left her at her door and went off to the main hall. Celie took Rufus into her room and locked the door. She went to her table to sort through what sketches she’d been able to make, when she realized that Rufus had gone upstairs to his tower. She couldn’t remember if the shutters were latched or not, and raced after him to check.

They were latched, but Rufus was trying his best to get them open. He was ready to fly, and it seemed that nothing would deter him.

“Oh, sweetheart,” she said. “Come here.”

Something about her voice interested Rufus more than trying to get out of the tower, and he came over and leaned
lovingly against her. He was the size of her old pony now, and she put her arms around his neck and sighed. If he grew as big as the griffins in the tapestries they’d found, he would be large enough for even a grown man to ride, and as difficult as a horse to hide.

“What am I going to do with you?” she murmured.

“You’re going to train him properly,” Bran said.

Celie wheeled around, clutching her chest. “Why does everyone keep sneaking up on me?”

“Sorry!” Bran said, almost as startled. “Sorry! I didn’t mean to scare you!”

Rufus looked at Bran over Celie’s shoulder and hissed.

“I didn’t mean any harm,” Bran said to Rufus. He held up his hands in a placating gesture.

“How are we going to train him?” Celie asked, surprising herself when she had to choke back tears. “What are we going to do? He needs to fly, but I’m so scared!”

“It will be all right,” Bran said. He tried to hug Celie, but Rufus hissed again and he drew back. “Pogue found something that might help you, and he’s working on it right now.”

This diverted Celie from her tears. “What is it?”

“He’s found a harness among the things in the Armor Gallery that we’re certain is for a griffin,” Bran said eagerly. “It looks exactly like the one the griffin is wearing on those cushions from Rolf’s room that you showed me. But it’s a bit big, since it’s for a full-grown griffin, so Pogue took it to the forge to see if he could cinch up some of the straps and repair a broken buckle.”

“A harness?”

“You can use it like a leash and collar, to guide him,” Bran began, and then his face scrunched up. “Aaaaand … it looks like they also used it like a saddle … but at the very least we can guide him better.”

“A saddle?”

“No, Celie,” Bran said. “It’s not a real saddle.”

But Celie was thinking of the tapestries, and the griffins flying through the air with riders on their backs. The griffins were wearing some kind of harness, so that their people could hang on to them. The poem that she’d transcribed about the battle between the griffins and the Hathelockes had talked about fearless griffin riders, guiding their steeds through the sky.

“Do you think I could really train him?” Celie asked Bran. “And ride him?”

Bran looked alarmed.

“Listen, Celie,” Bran began.

Someone knocked on the door.

Celie and Bran froze. Rufus started to investigate, but Celie dragged him across the room and shut him in the water closet, just in case it wasn’t Pogue. When she opened the door she was glad that she had, because it wasn’t Pogue; it was Rolf. Celie threw Bran an accusatory look—was the spell on her door wearing off? And then tried to summon a smile for her other brother.

“Yes?”

Rolf wasn’t smiling, however. He looked grim. When
he saw Bran standing behind Celie, he gave a small nod and stepped into the room.

“Oh, good. You’re both here,” Rolf said. “Celie, I found that book you were talking about, the one with the epic poem that mentions griffins. Bran, you’ve got to do something about Wizard Arkwright.”

“Why, what did he do now?” Celie demanded. “And where’s the book?”

“That’s just it,” Rolf said. He walked over to a chair and sat down heavily. “He took it from me.”

“He … took a book from you?” Bran said, puzzled.

“Yes,” Rolf replied shortly. “Did you know that he hates it that Celie and I are collecting things with griffins on them, and putting them in the holiday feasting hall? He’s in there all the time, rummaging around, moving the cushions, tripping over the tapestry and telling me that we really should put it back on the wall in the corridor before someone gets hurt or it gets ruined.”

“It’s true,” Celie said, seeing the skeptical look on Bran’s face. “I don’t know what it is, but he interrupts us all the time. He wants the things we’ve gathered put back where they came from, and immediately.”

“Well,” Bran said, looking doubtful. “I mean, you can see why your project would be interesting to anyone. You took the anvil from the village forge, Rolf!”

“I only borrowed it,” Rolf protested. “And they have another one. Besides, that anvil used to be here, in the Castle. So it really does belong here.”

“Why did he take the book away from you?” Bran said.

He was trying to sound patient and grown up, but Celie could tell that even Bran couldn’t entirely excuse the other wizard’s taking of a poetry book.

Rolf ran his fingers through his hair. “I was in the library, trying to find anything about griffins we’d missed. I mean, it’s so strange: Lilah has twenty-three books about unicorns just in her room—twenty-three! But there’s nothing about griffins in a castle that has griffins on its banners? How do we even know what a griffin is if there’s no books or pictures, just a few tapestries that no one but the family or the maids would have seen? Anyway, I had asked Master Charles if he knew of any books, but you know how he is. He always thinks you’re just there to scribble rude words in the margins of ancient scrolls or something.

“Anyway, Pogue popped his head in to tell the old man that he was going to take some book home—and by the way, how come Pogue gets to borrow whatever he likes, but I get the evil eye? I’m going to be Glower the Eightieth, for heaven’s sake!”

“Get on with the story,” Celie cried out in frustration. She was starting to hear Rufus scratching and scrabbling at the door to his tower.

“All right!” Rolf threw up his hands. “When Pogue asked what I was looking for and I said, anything about griffins, he led me right to that epic poetry tome you described, Cel, and Charles actually let me borrow it. He also suggested some poet I’d never heard of … Caras? Anyway, I tried to
bring the book I had to the holiday feasting hall, but Arkwright was standing right outside the library door. Scared me half to death! He said he was in great need of some bedtime reading, took the book right out of my hands, and disappeared to his rooms with it! Pogue is my witness,” Rolf finished, holding up a hand as though swearing an oath. Then he frowned. “Er, he’s my witness when he comes back from whatever errand he was running. He was in rather a hurry, muttering something to himself about buckles.”

Bran and Celie exchanged looks.

“That’s hardly sinister behavior,” Bran said. “I mean, Arkwright’s behavior. I’m sure I … don’t know what Pogue is doing.”

“Noooo,” Rolf said. “Not really that sinister. But when you take into account all the times he’s popped up, out of nowhere, to comment on our little project or to try to interfere, it starts to look like Master Wizard Arkwright does not want griffins talked about in the halls of Castle Glower!”

Rufus squawked. Loudly.

Celie sighed. Clearly they would have to tell Rolf. Bran gave her an encouraging nod, and Rufus started to scratch at the door as Rolf got to his feet.

“I feel better getting that off my chest,” Rolf said, stretching. “I think I might have a bit of a snack before dinner.” He cocked an eyebrow at Bran. “If you’ll promise to get that book back for me? And keep an eye on Arkwright?”

Bran opened and closed his mouth a couple of times before saying yes.

“I’m not asking you to spy on a fellow wizard,” Rolf said, moving toward the door to the corridor. He walked right past the door to Rufus’s tower without looking at it. “But I swear, there’s something off about him.”

“I agree,” Celie said faintly.

Had Rolf gone mad? Did he not hear the racket that Rufus was making now? Did he not notice the large iron-bound door that had not been in Celie’s room the last time he’d been there?

“It’s true that he wasn’t supposed to be here at all,” Bran said. His voice sounded normal, but he was staring at the door that Rolf didn’t seem to be able to see. “And a lot of wizards are nosy, but he mostly ignores Father and does seem awfully curious about what you and Celie are studying with Master Humphries.”

“Exactly!” Rolf said, pointing a finger at Bran. Then he tweaked Celie’s hair ribbon and walked out of the room, whistling. “See you at dinner,” he called over his shoulder as he went down the corridor toward his own room.

“That was … he didn’t … He walked right by the door,” Celie finally managed.

“I’ve never seen anything like that,” Bran said. “It wasn’t me; it must have been the Castle, which tells us something.”

Celie was too stunned to puzzle it out by herself. “What?”

“The Castle really did want Pogue to see Rufus,” Bran said. “But it definitely did not want Rolf to.”

Chapter
17

He can’t see,” Celie fretted. “It’s too dark! He’s going to run right into a wall!”

“We really don’t have much choice,” Bran said. “And look how eager he is; he’ll be fine.”

It was true: Rufus was about to leap out into the cold night air, never mind how dark it was. They were in the tower where he had hatched, since it had nice wide windows and was on a side of the Castle where there weren’t any bedrooms. They didn’t want some late-working councilor to look out his window and see Rufus learning to fly.

“There’s Pogue with the lantern,” Bran said, pointing.

Far below them, a small light bobbed up and down, signaling. Pogue was standing in the empty back corner of the stable yard, which the new stable had blocked off. The only way to get to it now was to go through the new stable,
which had taken Pogue longer than it had taken Celie and Bran to drag Rufus up to his hatching tower.

“I hope the harness isn’t too heavy,” Celie said.

She ran her hands over the leather straps and steel buckles one more time. The harness went around Rufus’s chest and across his back, fastening under his belly and leaving his wings and legs free. There were two loops of leather at his shoulders that looked like handles for a rider to hold, but there was nothing resembling a saddle attached to it. Still, Celie thought that she would be able to hold on and sit comfortably behind his wings. If Bran would let her.