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As he walked towards Bagdagül, Barnabas could tell from her face that she didn’t think much of his mission. But before she could say so with her usual forcefulness, he held a box out to her. Sounds of scraping and whispering came from it.
‘Figlings,’ explained Barnabas. ‘Vita found them on a shelf in the supermarket. We’ve kept them at MÍMAMEIÐR for a while, but Norway is simply too cold for them. Can you find room for them somewhere?’
Bagdagül peered under the lid of the box, and took it from Barnabas with a smile.
‘Of course,’ she said. ‘Although most of our caves have too many inmates now. I’ll soon have to ask your stone-dwarves to carve a few more in the rocks.’
She put the box on the passenger seat, and handed Barnabas the black casket inlaid with intarsia work that was standing on the back seat. ‘I’ve brought what you asked me for. But I don’t have to tell you what I think of this quest! I hear that Inua has warned you at length about the beings you’re thinking of approaching. Are you sure there really isn’t any other solution?’
‘Yes, I am. Although Inua can imitate the attacking cry of a griffin most impressively,’ replied Barnabas. ‘We simply have no time, and the sun-feather is our only hope. Or do you have a better idea?’
Bagdagül stroked back her hair. It was grey now, but in her eyes Barnabas still saw the girl who had gone looking for salamanders with him. The only difference was that she was older and wiser these days, and knew more about the world.
‘Even if you do find griffins, Barnabas,’ she said, ‘and I have no doubt that you will… they’ll bite your head off just for not bowing low enough to them! They think the earth and the sky belong to them, and they certainly don’t want to see a winged horse in that sky!’
‘I know, I know,’ replied Barnabas, sighing. ‘And I really am most grateful to you for letting me have this family heirloom. It’s probably worth more than all of MÍMAMEIÐR,’ he added, glancing at the casket that Bagdagül had given him. ‘And I’m sorry to say it’s very unlikely that you will get this treasure back.’
‘Who cares?’ said Bagdagül, with a dismissive gesture. ‘The use that’s to be made of my father’s old paperweight would make him very happy. Don’t look so incredulous; that’s what he generally did with the casket. And if the Feathered Kings, as griffins like to call themselves, will really take it in payment for the feather, and the treasure it contains saves three unborn Pegasus foals – well, what better purpose could it serve?’
Treasure. Seeing Bagdagül again made Barnabas aware again of how many treasures he had found in his life already, but his were human treasures. He opened the casket. The ends of the gold bangle inside it were shaped like two griffins confronting each other with menacingly ruffled plumage. There was a similarly fine example in the British Museum in London, but Bagdagül’s bangle was older and contained more solid gold. The eyes of the griffins were tiny rubies, their wings were set with pearls.
‘I can’t thank you enough, my dear Bagdagül,’ said Barnabas. ‘You’re a treasure yourself. This is truly princely payment for a feather. Inua says you mentioned something else that might make griffins look kindly on our request, if offering gold doesn’t work. But he was leaving it to you to tell me about it.’
‘Kindly? Griffins?’ Bagdagül laughed. ‘Inua is a joker. I guess he wouldn’t tell you himself because he doesn’t want to be the one who put the idea into your head. But I’m sure that even you, with your passion for Pegasi, wouldn’t pay that price.’
Barnabas put the casket and the bangle in his backpack. ‘Now you really are making me curious.’
‘Or then again, there’s always the possibility of throwing yourself to them as food.’ Bagdagül stroked the cloud-dog’s pale grey coat. Such dogs were said to be able to pick up the scent of evil. ‘Inua says you could offer them a duel with your dragon. Any griffin would give you a sun-feather for that opportunity. They boast of being the only fabulous creatures that can easily defeat a dragon in single combat. But they last had the chance to prove it over six hundred years ago.’
Barnabas did not reply. It was a price that he would not pay even for three Pegasus foals. He was extremely glad that they had lied to Firedrake about the purpose of their quest.
‘Who won the fight over six hundred years ago?’ he asked.
‘The griffin. He killed the dragon and adorned his nest with its scales. So let’s hope that the griffins will accept the bangle as adequate payment. It’s said that they grow sun-feathers only after doing many heroic deeds. So they’re certainly not going to give one up easily.’
Barnabas had read that story himself. ‘We’ll do it!’ he said. ‘And you must come to MÍMAMEIÐR once the foals have been born!’
‘That sounds like a good plan!’ Bagdagül smiled, but she still looked concerned. ‘Griffins can smell gold miles away, Barnabas. They’ll probably just kill you instead of negotiating for the bangle.’
That seemed only too likely to Barnabas himself. But what choice did he have if he wanted flying horses to live on in this world?
‘Do you know where to look for them?’ Bagdagül asked. ‘All I know is the rumour that a pride of griffins has settled somewhere in Indonesia. That covers hundreds of islands!’
‘Seventeen thousand at the last count,’ replied Barnabas. ‘Although the rising sea level is said to have drowned several of them already. We have a rat pilot who is an excellent scout, and I’ve thought of a way to find a guide. But you’re right, it won’t be easy.’
Bagdagül smiled. ‘We’re used to that, aren’t we?’ she said. ‘What we do is never easy. But sometimes luck is on the side of those who mean well.’
CHAPTER ELEVEN
One Heart, Two Places
There ain’t no way you can hold onto something
that wants to go, you understand? You can
only love what you got while you got it.
Kate DiCamillo, Because of Winn-Dixie
