Viriconium by Michael John Harrison

the eye.”
    Cromis dismounted and gave his horse into the care of the guard. His limbs were stiff from the fell journey, and the cooking smells of the encampment had made him aware of his hunger.
    “Much more,” he said. He hefted the lammergeyer, as if to fly it from his arm. “Repeat your message,” he commanded it. Birkin Grif raised his eyebrows.
    “tegeus-Cromis of Viriconium,” began the bird reedily, “should go at once to the tower of Cellur, which he will find—”
    “Enough,” said Cromis. “Well, Grif?”
    “A flock of these things has shadowed us for two days, flying high and circling. We brought one down, and it seemed to be made of metal, so we threw it in a river. A strange thing, that you might be good enough to tell me about while you eat.”
    Cromis nodded. “They are unlikely to trouble you again,” he said. “Their purpose, apparently, has been fulfilled.”
    He allowed the lammergeyer to flap from his arm, and, massaging the place where its talons had clung to him, sat down next to Grif. He accepted a cup of distilled wine, and let it heat his throat. The camp had become quieter, and he could hear the mournful soughing of the wind about the ridges and peaks of Monar. The Minfolin murmured around the piers of the bridge. He began to feel comfortable as the warmth of fire and wine seeped through him.
    “However,” he said, “I should advise your men to shoot no more of them, should any appear. This Cellur may have odd means of redress.”
    From a place beside the fire, the lammergeyer cocked its head, presenting to them a blank red eye.
    “You did not find Trinor, then?” said Grif. “Can I tempt you with some of this?”
    “Grif, I had forgot how revolting you are. Not unless you cook it first.”
    Later, he showed Grif the Ring of Neap, and related how Methvet Nian had given it to him; told him of the events in Bread Street, and of the curious desertion of Carron Ban; and narrated his encounter with the lammergeyer in the Cruachan mist.
    “And you have no desire to follow this bird?” asked Grif.
    “Whatever Cellur of Lendalfoot may think, if Viricon goes down, everything else follows it. The defeat of the Moidart is my priority.”
    “Things have grown dark and fragmented,” mused Grif. “We do not have all the pieces of the puzzle. I worry that we shall solve it too late for the answer to be of any use.”
    “Still: we must go up against the Moidart, however unprepared, and even though that would seem not to be the whole of it.”
    “Unquestionably,” said Grif. “But think, Cromis: if the fall of Viriconium is but a part, then what is the shape or dimension of the whole? I have had dreams of immense ancient forces moving in darkness, and I am beginning to feel afraid.”
    The lammergeyer waddled forward from the fire, its wings opened a little way, and stared at the two men.
    “Fear the geteit chemosit ,” it said. “tegeus-Cromis of Viriconium should go at once to the tower of Cellur, which—”
    “Go away and peck your feathers, bird,” said Grif. “Maybe you’ll find steel lice there.” To Cromis, he suggested: “If you have eaten enough, we’ll go into the town. A search of the taverns may yet bring Trinor to light.”
    They walked the short distance to Duirinish by the banks of the Minfolin, each occupied by his own thoughts. A low white mist, hardly chest high, covered the Leedale, but the sky was clear and hard. The Name Stars burned with a chilly emerald fire: for millennia they had hung there, spelling two words in a forgotten language; now, only night-herders puzzled over their meaning.
    At the steel gates, their way was barred by guards in mail shirts and low, conical helmets, who looked suspiciously at Grif’s gaudy clothes and the huge bird that perched on Cromis’s arm. Their officer stepped forward and said:
    “No one enters the city after dark.” His face was lined with responsibility, his voice curt. “We are bothered constantly by