of them to stone Sooz thought he was joking, but with Schmendrick you never knew. He told her King Lír was not mad, or senile; he was Lír still. She noticed the change in him when Schmendrick spoke of one unicorn who loved him. He had not seen her since he became king, Schmendrick told Sooz, but he is what he is because of her. When they spoke of her, or said her name, which they had not yet done, then he was recalled to himself, as they often had to do for her, so long ago. Sooz did not know that unicorns had names, or that they loved people, and Schmendrick explained that they did not, except this one. Her name was Amalthea.
When Sooz next saw the king he was so changed that she froze in the doorway and held her breath. Three men were bustling around him like tailors, dressing him with his armor. He looked like a giant. When he saw her he smiled, and it was a warm, happy smile but it was a little frightening, too. It was a hero’s smile; she had never seen one before. He asked her to come and buckle his sword. She managed to do so, and he swore to her that the next time that blade was drawn it would be to save her village.
When Schmendrick complained that it was four days’ ride, and that there was no need for armor until he faced the griffin, the king reminded him that he went forth as he intended to return; it was his way. Molly, seeing him in his armor, could only exclaim how grand and beautiful he was. Molly wished she could see him. The three of them stood there for a long time, then the king looked at Sooz and said, “The child is waiting.” And that was how they started off for Sooz’s home, the king, Schmendrick, Molly, and Sooz.
Sooz rode with the king most of the time. Lír assured her that his skittery black mare would be at her best when the griffin swooped down on her; it was only peaceful times that made her nervous. Sooz still didn’t like the mare much, but she did like the king. He didn’t sing to her, but he told her stories, real, true stories about things that happened to him. She knew she would never hear such stories again.
Lír told her many things, but when she asked him why the castle fell down, he wouldn’t exactly say. His voice became very quiet and faraway. “I forget things, little one.… I try to hold on, but I do forget.” She could never get him to say a word about the unicorn.
Lír’s mind kept moving in and out. Frequently at night he would wander away, and often Schmendrick or Sooz would bring his mind back in focus by mentioning the unicorn. One day he charged at a rutting stag that was pursuing them, and that night he sang an entire long song about the adventures of an outlaw named Captain Cully. Sooz had never heard of him, but it was a really good song. Lír apologized for putting her in danger; he had forgotten she was with him. Then he smiled that hero’s smile of his, and said, “But oh, little one, the remembering!”
They reached the village on the fourteenth day, and Schmendrick told Sooz it would be better to tell the people that this was just the king’s greatest knight, and not the king himself. She had to trust him; he always knew what he was doing. That was his trouble.
Sooz did as she was told, but her father was not happy about it. Just another knight would be dessert for the griffin; you could be sure the king would never come there himself. He might have cared once, but now he was an old man, and old kings only care about who is to be king after them.
The next morning when Sooz came to the camp, Molly was helping the king put on his armor and Schmendrick was burying the remains of the last night’s dinner. Sooz ran up to Lír and threw her arms around him, like Lisene, begging him not to go. The king kept trying to pet her with one hand and push her aside with the other. He said,
“No, no little one, you don’t understand. There are some monsters only a king can kill. I have always known that—I should never, never have sent those poor men to die in my place. No one else in all the land can do this for you, and for your village. Most truly now, it is my job.”
And he kissed her hand, just like he had kissed the hand of so many queens.
Molly came to her then and took her from him, telling her that there was no turning back for him now, or for her either. It was her fate to bring this last cause to him, and his fate to take it up. Neither of them could have done differently, being who they were. She must be as brave as he is, and see it all play out. Or rather she must learn about how it all plays out, because certainly she was not coming into the forest to see for herself.
They all of course had to say goodbye. Molly said she knew they would see each other again, and Schmendrick told her she had the makings of a real warrior queen, only he was certain that she was too smart to be one. King Lír said to her very quietly, so no one else could hear: “Little one, if I had married and had a daughter, I would have asked no more than that she should be as brave and kind and loyal as you. Remember that, as I will remember you to my last days.”
And then the three of them rode into the wood, only Molly looking back to make sure Sooz was not following. And perhaps she would not have followed, had it not been for her dog, Malka. Malka should have been with the sheep, of course; that was her job, just as being king and going to meet the griffin was Lír’s job. But to Malka Sooz was a sheep, too, the most stupid, aggravating sheep she had ever had to guard, forever wandering into some kind of danger. What Malka did was jump up on Sooz until she knocked her down, and then take the hem of her smock in her jaws and start tugging her in the direction the dog thought she should go. This time, though, after knocking Sooz down Malka stared past her at the wood with all the white showing in her eyes and making a sound Sooz didn’t think she could make. The next moment Malka was racing into the wood with foam flying from her mouth and her big ragged ears flat back. Sooz had no choice but to follow. Lír, Schmendrick, and Molly all had a choice, going after the griffin, but Malka did not know what she was facing, and Sooz could not let her face it alone.
Sooz ran and walked and ran again, following the hoofprints and the dog tracks, when all of a sudden the forest exploded a little way ahead of her. Malka was howling, and Schmendrick or the king or somebody was shouting, although she couldn’t make out the words. Underneath it all was something that wasn’t loud at all, a sound somewhere between a growl and that terribly soft call, like a child. Then just as she broke into the clearing she heard the rattle and scrape of knives, as the griffin shot straight up with the sun on its wings. Its cold golden eyes bit into hers, and its beak was open so wide you could see down and down into the blazing red gullet. It filled the sky.
And King Lír, astride his black mare, filled the clearing. He was as huge as the griffin, and his sword was the size of a boar spear. He shook it at the griffin, daring it to light down and fight him on the ground. But the griffin stayed out of range, circling overhead to get a good look at these strange new people. Malka screamed and hurled herself into the air again and again, snapping at the lion’s feet and eagle claws, but coming down each time without so much as an iron feather between her teeth. The last time she leaped the griffin swooped and caught her full on her side with one huge wing, so hard she couldn’t get a sound out. She flew all the way across the clearing, slammed into a tree, fell to the ground, and after that she did not move.
Molly told Sooz later that that was when King Lír struck for the griffin’s lion heart. Sooz did not see it; she was flying across the clearing herself, throwing herself over Malka in case the griffin came after her again. She did hear the griffin’s roar when it happened, and when she could turn her head she saw the blood splashing along its side. Lír threw his sword into the air, caught it, and charged in for the kill, ignoring Schmendrick who was standing by yelling, “Two hearts, two hearts!” until his voice split with it. Sooz didn’t know what happened right then; all she was seeing and thinking about was Malka, feeling her heart not beating under her own. Malka, who guarded her cradle when she was born; Malka, on whose ear she had cut her teeth.
King Lír wasn’t seeing or hearing any of them. There was nothing in the world for him but the griffin. When it flopped and struggled lopsidedly in the clearing, he got down from his black mare and went up to it, and spoke to it, lowering his sword until
