Ariel by Steven R. Boyett Page B

head toward the fence.
     
    * * *
     
    We made preparations to get out of Atlanta. If someone had offered a reward for Ariel's horn, staying in one place would probably get us killed—Malachi, too. So I cleaned myself up and began packing gear away in my backpack while Ariel kept me company. We went into the living room when I finished packing. Malachi had already sponged the blood off himself and shouldered a backpack of his own. He'd had it ready for years, just in case he had to get out in a hurry. "We all ready?" he asked.
    "You shouldn't come with us," said Ariel. "We don't need to cause you more trouble than we already have."
    "Trouble doesn't bother me. I'm sworn to your service, if you'll remember."
    "I'd not ask you to endanger yourself when it can be avoided by my leaving."
    "There'll still be a reward for you, for your horn. People will still look for you."
    "It won't be so bad," I said, "if we keep on the move. We've never liked to stay in any one place too long; it won't make that much difference. Except maybe to make life more interesting."
    Malachi's face was stony. He adjusted a shoulder strap. "Let's go," he said.
    "I'll walk with you for a while," said Russ. "But I'm staying here." He shrugged. "Atlanta's my home."
    "You've helped more than enough," said Ariel. "Thank you."
    We shouldered our packs and went outside. It was near noon and very hot. "So," I said, "I guess we're going to just set out and—" I stopped.
    Emilio stood at the front gate. There was a large, white bandage across his nose, with a large red blotch in the middle. It looked absurdly like a Japanese flag.
    "What the hell?" said Russ, frowning. "You should have killed him when you had the chance." Asmodeus shrieked. "Quiet, babe." He patted her claws, gnarled as the stumps of old bonsai trees.
    "I wonder what he wants," said Ariel. "You'd think he'd have learned his—"
    "Malachi!" We turned as one when Emilio shouted. "Malachi Lee!"
    "You don't think he wants to take you on again?" I asked.
    "One way to find out." He headed toward the gate.
    "No," said Russ. "Wait. Let him come to us. If he's got back-ups, so much the better. We can get them as they come through."
    Malachi scratched the back of his head. "I want to know what kind of game he's playing." We stood on the front porch, watching Emilio at the gate. Malachi folded his arms, silent.
    "You're dead," Emilio yelled. "You're dead." He held onto the bars of the fence and laughed.
    "I don't get it," said Russ. "I don't see anyone else around."
    Faust had been sitting beside Russ's leg. Now he stood, the fur on his back bristling. He growled: low, throaty, and threatening. Asmodeus spread her wings and shrieked. Both animals were looking toward the front gate. Malachi glanced back at them, then turned back to where they were looking. There was motion behind Emilio, and what I saw heading toward us made me react—funny I could still remember the sensation—as if I'd stuck my finger in a light socket.
    Coming down the road toward Malachi Lee's house was a griffin.
    Nine
     
    Do not confuse "duty" with what other people expect of you; they are utterly different. Duty is a debt you owe to yourself to fulfill obligations you have assumed voluntarily. Paying that debt can entail anything from years of patient work to instant willingness to die. Difficult it may be, but the reward is self-respect.
    —Robert A. Heinlein, Time Enough for Love
     
    My Webster's New Collegiate Dictionary says this about griffins: "griffin n . Also griffon, gryphon. A mythical beast with the head and wings of an eagle and the body of a lion." The description doesn't do it justice.
    The griffin heading down the road toward us didn't look anywhere close to mythical to me. It was the size of a tank. A big tank. A man rode on its back in some kind of saddle, weaving from side to side in time with the beast's odd walk.
    It stopped in front of the fence. From the porch I could see the rider's face clearly; his lips