Wednesdays in the Tower by Jessica Day George Page B

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 leanedlovingly 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. Whenhe saw Bran standing behind Celie, he gave a small nod and stepped into the room.
    “Oh, good. You’re both here,” Rolf said. “Celie,