Wingless Like Me (Revised Edition)
By James, Magus d'Ocllo, The Mage Tower
The Gargish culture fascinated me. There were three old wives' tales about them. First, that they were demons. That one I did not believe. Second, that they ate their children. I didn't really believe that either. Third, that they were just people, albeit with wings. I resolved to find out, and, through some shrewd trading of "relic fragment items," wangled myself an invitation to meet with the queen.
==
"To have an audience with the queen," I said to the guard. Fearfully I eyed the intriguing weapon he carried -- a two-hand melee weapon that could be used while flying.
The guard grimaced -- his equivalent of a smile. I'm using the masculine pronoun only for convenience. I couldn't tell "he" from "she" for any gargoyle, or even whether they had those things. He gestured me along.
The queen stood upon a slightly raised dais, behind a lectern. "To have read thy petition for audience, human..." she eyed me. "Orc?" I'm sure she would have raised eyebrows, had she had any.
"Long story," I smiled.
She smiled too, by which I mean she made a frightful grimace that displayed her lower tusks. "To ask, in own words, what to be wanted."
I began, "To want to know of wingless gargoyles. To not see any in Ter Mur. To want explanation of this."
Her eyes narrowed. "To not be gargoyle. To not give outsider this information lightly." She paused a moment in thought. "To tell thee, if to agree to be as wingless gargoyle one day."
"To agree," I said.
She gestured, and my throat went numb. "To not speak, the wingless," she said -- and indeed, I could not speak. She gestured again, and four burly guards stepped forward, tossed me in a net, ... and whoosh! We were flying through the sky.
Despite being trussed up, I was able to turn and look at the ground below. So this is what it was like to fly! Everything so small it looked like an architect's model... but with things moving upon the landscape!
My wonderful flight was over all too soon. I was dumped, unceremoniously, at the feet of a big winged gargoyle who was equipped with a hoe. The guards exchanged a few words with him in gargish, and smiled. The big farmer smiled too, and waved as the guards left.
"To be Farmer Krill. To grow things," he said. "To grow things," he repeated, louder and more slowly. He pointed at some rows in the field. "To do rows." He pointed again and again. "To prepare row here, here, here." He repeated this several times, each time more loudly and more slowly.
He handed me the hoe, and gave me a quick slap. "To do rows!!"
I got the idea and got to work. I hoed, while Farmer Krill did the same at another spot in the field. After twenty minutes or so, he came back. "To be crooked! To make straight!" His face was redder, if that were possible. He slapped me, hard this time. "To make straight!" He pantomimed a straight line, then did it again, and pointed. I got to work.
Hours passed. He brought me a bit of flatbread and meat -- I was not sure what the meat was, but it had small crunchy bones in it. During this interlude, another gargoyle dropped by -- literally, from the sky. He and Farmer Krill did some hissing in gargish, then Farmer Krill brought out a bag of grain and gave it to the other gargoyle.
Farmer Krill looked at me. "To give freely to all who need." He repeated this several times, slowly.
I'd finished preparing my rows. Farmer Krill came by to inspect. I pantomimed enlarging the field, making more rows.
For a moment I thought he was going to hit me again. "To not be truly wingless one. To take from land only what to be needed," he hissed. "To live in harsh land, to be guided by Control, Passion, Diligence, to live." He faced the foothills which hid the Shrine of the Singularity, and made an odd gesture.
"To plant," he said. He handed me a small sack of seeds, and proceeded to push some into the ground, at regular intervals. "To plant," he mimicked pushing seeds into the ground, then he gave me a rough shove. I got the idea, and got to work.
Blackbirds appeared, and I saw them scratching at the ground, looking for the seeds I'd planted! I ran at them, waving my arms. Farmer Krill saw this, and threw ... a boomerang! It skimmed over the birds, frightening them, and they flew away. The weapon returned to his hand. He waved at me and mimicked pushing seeds into the ground. I got back to work.
Long day... Farmer Krill brought me a bit of a reddish tuber, and more of the flatbread. The four guards appeared in the sky, landed, and exchanged words with Farmer Krill. Unceremoniously again, I was trussed up and in the net, with Farmer Krill waving below. "Farmer Krill to have enjoyed day," I heard his voice calling.
I was dumped before the queen. She gestured, and my throat felt normal again.
"To have spent one day as wingless?" she asked.
"To have learned from virtues of Direction, Feeling, Persistence, Precision, and Achievement. To know these keep Order to survive in a harsh land," I said. I bowed low, although this was not a gargish gesture.
"To want to learn secret of no wingless?" she asked.
I shook my head. "To not need to know. To spend one day as wingless, to not truly BE wingless."
The queen smiled (the affect was very gruesome). "To have become wiser than was planned. To be pleased with thee."
She threw two things at me, which I barely, and clumsily, caught. Books -- "The Book of Family." "The Book of Administration."
==
And so I turned to go. The gargoyles -- so very much like the Britannians, and yet so very different! I was glad I'd spent a day learning about them, and glad too, that I did not have to spend the rest of my life as one of them. And I'd put to rest, in my mind, the old wives' tales. They were certainly not just people with wings. And they loved their children -- and they were sad, so very sad, so awfully sad, that the harsh conditions the Void had imposed on them meant that they could not keep their children.
