Impossible Creatures: List 2

It was madness, extraordinary, impossible, he thought; he had woken that morning, pulled on his jeans, and slung his crows’ string around his neck with no inkling that he was going to an enchanted island.

Above their heads, three birds flew; eagle-sized and fire red, with tails a foot long. He recognized them, instantly, for what they were. “Phoenixes,” he said.

The horns of the largest [unicorns] were as long as a walking stick, and opalescent. The horns on the smaller unicorns looked like solid silver.

The man turned his bloodshot eyes on him, and he felt himself grow hot under their burning skepticism.

“Please,” said Mal. The look on her face was half entreaty, half glare. “Just — please! For love of the Immortal, let us stay!”

Sailors, Christopher knew, share the ship’s biscuits grudgingly; when they do, it means something.

At that moment, Nighthand appeared. “Breakfast,” he said. He rubbed bloodshot eyes. “I have a headache the size of a western island. But I will not have it said that I don’t feed my illegal stowaways.”

He nodded, a brusque up-down of the huge head. “Goodbye then.”

The largest chair was occupied by a man in his fifties with dark brown skin, a scholar’s gown, and a formidable look of power.

Mal and Christopher tried to surge with the crowd — heads down, Gelifen hiding inside Mal’s coat, as inconspicuous as they knew how to be — but were stopped by a senatorial guard in a dark jacket with golden braiding.

“I can’t go!” said Irian. “Please — you’re the last resort.”

“They won’t attack on sight,” said Irian. “They’re not like that. They’re never impulsive. They’re ancient; they have rituals, and laws, and considerations that are beyond our reckoning. They always ask their riddle first. If anyone would know what this sickness is that’s taken hold of the glimourie, it would be them. Them, or the dragons, but dragons are not scholars.”

The quay was largely deserted, boats stowed for the night, except for a cluster of men on the quayside, drinking coffee from a thermos.

Nighthand looked bemused. “I have never in my life been at a loss for words.”

They were close enough now to make out shapes. There was, at the water’s edge, a cluster of square stone buildings. None had their complete allocation of walls and ceilings.