A Tale Concerning Miss Chadwick, of London, in which knowledge is conveyed concerning the Particular Customs of the City of Quaroun.
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Miss Anne Chadwick, of Jarrold Square, London, a spinster of three-and-thirty years, was seated in the gardens of her brother's house on an evening in the autumn of the year 19__, reading a volume of modern poetry, when the Gryphon of Lust descended from the moonlit sky and presented itself before her. There were a number of peculiarities in this scene, not least that a lady of Miss Chadwick's refinement should be seated alone outdoors at that hour, but nonetheless, such was the nature of the event.
Miss Chadwick put her book of poetry aside and assessed the creature before her. She considered the idea that she should flee in terror, but that response seemed foolish. For the gryphon possessed both formidable claws and the beak of a giant raptor, and had come to that place swiftly on its vast wings; if it wished her ill, it would surely have struck directly upon her from above and snuffed out her life in an instant. Rather, it appeared to be examining her with an enigmatic but not aggressive air.
Hence, acting on a curiosity which she had been told was unfeminine, Miss Chadwick examined the gryphon in return. She was uncertain of her points of comparison, as mythological creatures were rare in the better parts of London in those days, but it appeared to her to accord with all she had read or heard in passing of its species. At first, it had stood face-on to her and fixed its gaze upon her, but as she stepped forward cautiously to inspect its golden-brown plumage, it turned flank-on and sank to a recumbent posture. The implication of this act seemed clear, as it raised its wings to grant her access to its back.
Miss Chadwick was uncertain of the best response. To accept the creature's implied invitation might be considered rash, but to refuse might be considered impolite. Concluding after a moment that the wrath of a gryphon might be more harmful than the disapproval of society, Miss Chadwick stepped forward and carefully mounted the creature. Fortunately, the skirts which she was wearing were those which she had selected to facilitate her eccentric hobby of bicycling, and so were full enough to permit this action without discomfort or loss of dignity.
As soon as she was comfortably seated upon its back, the Gryphon of Lust rose once more to its feet, and in a continuous motion, leaped upwards, extending and beating its wings so that they carried it swiftly back into the sky. Thus was Miss Chadwick conveyed from the garden of her brother's house on Jarrold Square, observed by none save one passing off-duty footman, who thought it politic to say nothing of this matter, then or later.
The gryphon, and Miss Chadwick upon it, soon rose high into the sky, whereupon it turned its aquiline face to the south and east and flew on. Miss Chadwick attempted briefly to give it directions, but it simply ignored her, and she thus ceased the attempt lest her dignity be diminished by the attempt. The creature had a sense of purpose to its flight, and still showed no signs of hostility to its passenger, and so she simply relaxed and determined to admire the infinite variety of the moonlit cloudscape below her. Occasional partings in the clouds showed her dark forests and glittering seas.
It seemed to Miss Chadwick that flight granted a peculiar sense of timelessness. She could not say how long the journey took, and she did not think that she slept, and yet she felt no exhaustion or boredom when the sun arose on the horizon ahead of her and to her left, and the clouds below thinned to reveal a golden-yellow landscape that she assumed must be desert. Surveying the scene, she observed what was clearly a city some way off. It was clearly a fine community of stout towers and graceful domes, lit at that moment by the ruddy light of desert sunrise, and she decided that she would like to study it more closely.
Miss Chadwick was pleased when her motions and verbal encouragements now persuaded the gryphon to turn toward the city and attempt an approach. However, when the gryphon was still some leagues short of this destination, a dry and forceful headwind sprang up, strong enough that even the well-muscled gryphon could make no headway against it. The creature began circling the city, and it seemed to Miss Chadwick that the wind continued to press against it and encourage this, wherever it flew, keeping it at a specific distance. Looking down once more, she observed what was clearly a tent pitched upon the desert sand, and squinting against the desert sun, she also observed a string of camels, tethered hard by the tent. Deciding that fellow travellers might be able now to assist her, in one fashion or another, she induced the gryphon to descend in that direction.
As the gryphon came to rest on the sands, two men emerged from the tent, one perhaps a little younger than Miss Chadwick herself with fine, dark features and glittering eyes, the other somewhat older, a little lined by life and with a beard streaked with distinguished grey. Both appeared to Miss Chadwick to be fine, vigorous fellows. Both bowed courteously, and Miss Chadwick took care to dismount from the gryphon as elegantly as possible.
"Good morning," she said, "and I hope that I am not inconveniencing you by this visit. I fear that there is no-one to make correct introductions here, and so I must declare myself. I am Miss Anne Chadwick, of Jarrold Square, London." As she finished speaking, Miss Chadwick was startled to realise that she was speaking neither in her native English nor in her school-room French, but in an unfamiliar tongue which the men clearly comprehended. She did not yet know that it is one of the gifts of the Gryphon of Lust to enable communication in important matters by those who ride upon it.
"And hail to you also, o sorceress," said the younger man. "I am Numa the Merchant of the Three Oases, and this is Hanno the Drover of the Wild Sands, my partner in a trade-enterprise. Pray enter our humble tent and share coffee and salt with us."
"My thanks," said Miss Chadwick, stepping forward - for she remembered reading in tales of desert lands that hospitality, in the giving and the acceptance, was held sacred in those places, and she was a polite woman who rarely sought to give offence. "But I am no sorceress. Pray consider me only as Miss Chadwick."
"As you command, my lady Miss Chadwick," said Numa, and then he shared a smile with Hanno as Miss Chadwick entered their tent. If this visitor wished not to be thought a sorceress, it was only courteous and politic to humour her, but she had descended upon them riding upon a gryphon, which in truth was as unfamiliar a sight in the desert as in the better parts of London. Further, she was a woman of stern handsomeness, with strangely pale skin and dark-golden hair, wearing clothes in a bizarre and unfamiliar style that was surely too uncomfortable for any mortal creature. Logically, she could only be a puissant sorceress.
Within the tent, when all were seated on fine rugs, the men served Miss Chadwick strong coffee in beaten silver cups, salt, unleavened bread, and dates and olives. Miss Chadwick, who only ever breakfasted lightly, found this delightful, and expressed sincere appreciation.
"But tell me," she enquired politely, "which city, pray, is that nearby? I fear that I have been wandering without maps."
"That is the city of Quaroun," Numa the Merchant replied.
"Thank you," said Miss Chadwick. "It is quite strange, but the city appears to be suffering from most inconvenient weather. The gryphon seems unable to make headway against its winds. Is this common here?"
"That is the Warding of Quaroun," Hanno the Drover explained. "It is an ancient arrangement. No man or woman may enter the city, by any means, without performing the appropriate rites."