//------------------------------// // Chapter 12: Gilda // Story: The Last Migration // by Starscribe //------------------------------// Gilda could smell Kios before she saw it. By no means was it a bad smell, though the scent was so strange and intense she actually slowed down in her flight, taking a deep breath. It was cooking meat—a luxury she had often dreamed about, but rarely been able to experience. Any doubt that these birds were really the ancient ancestors of her own people vanished before she even penetrated the clouds. She tucked her wings close to her sides, angling downward for a dive. It was a pony maneuver, but one that still worked well enough for a griffon. She wouldn’t get the dramatic trail following her down the way a pegasus might, but she wouldn’t have wanted it anyway. She certainly didn’t want to announce her arrival to a whole city—this mission would be quite pointless if she did. Gilda wasn’t the only one in Griffonstone who wanted to know what their ancient brothers and sisters had become. She was just the one brave enough to actually come here. It can’t all be true. Ponies probably said stupid things like that about Griffonstone too. She could still remember the reaction she got the first time she visited Ponyville. This would be like that. As she broke through the clouds, Gilda got a good look at Kios for the first time. Though to call it a city might be a bit generous just now. The streets suggested little in the way of order—it seemed as though the griffons didn’t care much about how non-flying citizens would get around. Gilda was struck first not by anything in the city itself, but what it had done to the forest all around. The surrounding forest in every direction had been stripped bare. Not harvested as ponies did, bringing in the largest trees while allowing the youngest to grow the next generation. Here, there were only rows and rows of stumps. That doesn’t look like a good idea. The city was positioned beside a large freshwater lake—a fairly desirable spot, though she understood that few ponies had tried to live here. There were dangerous animals in the lake, and more in the forest. Too much trouble for ponies, but perfect for a race who enjoyed a little challenge. The lakeshore was littered with bones. It looked like thousands of fish had decided to swim to the coast and drown themselves. Why, Gilda couldn’t imagine. As strange as all that might be, it seemed that Kios was lively enough. The closer she got the more voices she heard, and the more birds she saw moving about. This one town had a larger population than all of Griffonstone several times over. I wonder how they get enough meat. Gilda picked a wide, public-looking street to land, and found she attracted surprisingly little attention here. Most of those passing on the street were not birds, but zebras or minotaurs or other things. Those few birds she did see were dressed in expensive-looking robes, of an old open-faced style she had recently learned was called a “toga.” “Hey,” Gilda said, stepping up to the nearest vendor and pointing at the strange food he was selling. A stripped wooden stick, with bits of meat and vegetables stuck along its length. The smell was fantastic. “Do you take bits?” The bird behind the stall looked a little old so far as griffons went. Old enough that most of the feathers on his face had gone white, and one of his eyes looked like it didn’t focus right. He nodded warily. “Sure, sure. Changing over to the slave currency before we’ve even been here one winter, why don’t we. Our young have no spine anymore…” He glanced down at something on the counter, something Gilda could just barely see. Some kind of currency information? Yet at a glance, she couldn’t see any words written there, only a few crude pictures and some scratch marks. “Three bits.” “Only… three…” Gilda shut herself up before she could give away how excited she was, practically throwing them at him. She couldn’t help but notice something else as she waited for him to prepare one of the meat sticks for her, seasoning each piece with a slightly different powder. She could feel eyes on her back, lingering on her satchel. The bag contained only a few dozen bits she’d brought for travel expenses, and maybe to bring home a history or two for other Griffonstone birds to read over. “Here.” The old bird offered the stick to her. “Pork, salmon, veal. Enjoy your kebab. And next time bring some real money.” Gilda didn’t know what “veal” was, but one sniff and she didn’t care. She took the kebab and ate as she walked, searching for anyone who looked like they were selling books. The sensation of being watched developed into something a little more serious—she was conscious of a few shapes following behind her as she made her way through the marketplace. Trying to stay hidden, though she could catch them moving just out of sight whenever she turned to look. She spotted a bookseller at the end of a strange and twisting hallway of increasingly dense stalls, more than a few of which had little crowds wearing restraints gathered around behind them. I guess the newspapers were right about slaves. But she didn’t stop to question them and walked as quickly as she could past their stalls. They weren’t why she was here. Until she got to the booksellers. There weren’t many of them—compared to pony cities, books seemed more of a curiosity to griffons than an essential. So not unlike Griffonstone in that way. But there were a few shops, selling strangely dark books with sturdy covers that she could smell even as they were arrayed on the shelf. “Yes?” The bird behind the stall was a female this time, with strangely splotched feathers and speckles perched on her beak. “Which house sent you?” “None,” she answered, approaching the books, and squinting at their covers. She had been afraid the old language would have changed too much for her to read it—but apparently it hadn’t. Gilda was not a particularly strong reader, of course—but she knew as much as the public school required her, of the griffon script and the pony alphabet. “I’m here to shop for myself.” The bird inspected her for a long, angry moment. The eyes seemed to be searching for something on her. “If you are the sort of bird who can afford what I am selling, you wouldn’t dress like you had just flown out of a forest.” Gilda glowered at her, puffing out her chest a little. “I’m not from here, birdbrain. I flew here from Griffonstone. We don’t do things the way you do.” We’re more civilized, she wanted to add, glancing back the way she’d come. She could hear shouts from out there in the market—extolling the virtues of chained individuals as they were led up onto the block one at a time. She saw no ponies there, but she did see birds. I wonder what someone does to get made into a slave. “I see.” The merchant adjusted her spectacles, looking Gilda up and down again. “You’re an Endurance fledging then, eh? Come to see what birds can do when they don’t sell their souls to ponies?” She gestured around with one wing. “Well, take it all in. Too bad you didn’t visit when we still lived in Accipio. These poor hovels wouldn’t have been suitable housing for slaves a few months ago.” “Endurance,” Gilda repeated the word, which sounded important for some reason. Had she read it as a child, maybe? Or seen it carved? “I think we had an old king by that name… once? It was a long time ago. We lost something important, the—” The merchant cut her off with a grunt. “Your souls aren’t dependent on some object, little fledging. You can’t claim to me that you lost some magic stone and your soul went with it. Every bird from Victory to Virtue knows the story. Don’t come seeking absolution from a bookseller. We have priests for that. Or keep living on in cowardice. Maybe you’ll be born a donkey in your next life. Or worse, a pony.” Gilda puffed herself up again, spreading her wings. What was it about this bird that made her want to punch her squarely in the mouth? But she resisted the urge—she couldn’t help thinking about the market, and the griffons for sale there. Attacking someone did seem like a way to end up put onto the block. “I want to buy a book on Accipio. Something to bring back with me and show the other birds in my home. We would like to know more about our old history. The birds we used to be.” Gilda would go to a priest, whatever that meant. But first she would accomplish her task. “You’ll want this one.” The merchant lifted a particularly weighty-looking tome from one shelf, its cover scratched and beaten from many readings. But then, every book for sale here looked like it had survived some kind of disaster. They did, stupid. Everyone in Accipio had to escape a volcano. “Lady Caprice Inksworn’s comprehensive Defeats of the Empire. Even has a few interviews with some of the birds of Endurance after they were made captive in Equestria. You can have it for… twenty bits.” Gilda reached into her satchel, counting out the requisite amount and setting them down on the merchant’s cart. She seemed a little amazed as she stared down at the bits, as though she had expected something from Gilda that she hadn’t done. The merchant made the bits vanish into her cart, removing another smaller book from the shelf and setting it on top of the first. “And since I’m in a generous mood, take this as well. It’s not expensive… we use these in schools to teach young birds. You might have use for it in Griffonstone.” Gilda glanced down at the cover. Honor of Beak and Claw had a much more mass-produced look to it, with ink stamped hastily onto the pages. It didn’t have a cover of the strange-smelling material either, but plain paper. More a pamphlet than a book. She tucked them both away in her satchel, sealing it again. She would have to be careful with her bits from now on. “What is a priest?” The merchant explained, though her explanation didn’t make a whole lot of sense. In the end, Gilda found herself wandering the streets again, up towards something called the ‘palace district.’ There was apparently a monastery there, someplace where priests lived. They would answer her questions, even if she wasn’t from the city itself. Gilda smiled to herself as she finished off the kebab, enjoying the flavor of each new piece a little more than the last. The palace district had no palaces, though it seemed like the birds were working very hard to make it look like they did. But they did all this in just a few months. Many of the wooden mansions still had work crews laboring around them, dragging materials, setting foundations, or doing other construction that Gilda didn’t understand. Just about every bird she passed here wore those same strange robes, and they all looked at her with scathing disdain. There was one good thing about coming to the richer part of the city—the more constables she passed, the less she felt like she was being followed. Whatever opportunity the undesirables of Kios had been waiting for, apparently it hadn’t come. At least none of their constables actually tried to stop her as she reached the steps of the monastery. She recognized it from the description the merchant had given her, and the smell of incense coming from within. The merchant had explained that all four elements would be represented prominently on the grounds, and she could see them now. A modest garden of wilting flowers and sad saplings, a little fountain of dirty water, a blazing pyre. And the white flags were meant to catch the wind. Not only that, but the multiracial society of Accipio did not extend to its holy places. Past the fence were nothing but birds, all naked save for their jewelry. One of them met her by the gate—apparently, he had been watching her stare. “Why are you here?” “I… don’t know,” she said. “I want to know what it means to be Accipion. I want to know how you have survived so much and stayed so strong.” The bird smiled in return, as though that were exactly the right answer. “Then come inside. We will show you.”