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bat-wings, fangs, ape-like arms, and all.
"Hi," he said, extending his hand cautiously (the creature did have some formidable talons, after all).
"My name's Eric Banyon "
"Sieur Eric, Knight and Bard to the court of the Queen of Elfhame Misthold, don't you mean?" the
creature asked, in a thick accent that was part Bronx, part Irish, and all cheerful, raising what would have
been an eyebrow if it had any hair on its uniformly granite-colored exterior. It took his hand in its for a
firm but not overly aggressive handshake, and stepped through the window. Its hand was surprisingly
warm and dry, though rough and hard as granite.
"Or is it that you aren't much of a one for titles and all?" It didn't wait for an answer. "I ain't, so that'd
be all right with me. Greystone, at your service. Glad you whistled, Eric me fine laddybuck. I was trying
to figure out how I could do my job without you noticing that I was moving. Or gone; sometimes, y'see, I
got to leave, and I figured you'd catch on that I wasn't there pretty quick."
The gargoyle released his hand, and Eric blinked. "Job?" he said carefully, then woke to his duties as
a host. "Please, would you like to sit down? Can I get you anything? A drink? It's pretty hot out there."
So what do I offer a gargoyle to drink? I'd think they'd get kind of tired of water.
"Yes and yes, and me thanks t'you." Greystone plopped himself down on the floor and stretched his
wings luxuriously. "Water more of yon yuppie-water, if you please. Take the acid taste of the
smog-wash out of me mouth."
Just goes to show I shouldn't jump to conclusions. Eric fetched two more bottles of a different
(and more expensive) variety of water. The best he could offer would be nothing compared to the waters
of Underhill, after all, and any gargoyle he met would be more than familiar with Underhill, after all. At
least it ought to be.
Greystone accepted his offering with a grin and an appreciative smack of the lips as he drank about
a third of the bottle in a single gulp.
"Ah!" he said with enthusiasm, while Eric took a seat on the couch. "Now that's more like it! Clean,
clear you wouldn't believe what city rainwater tastes like these days."
He drank again and put his bottle down on the floor beside him. "Well, Eric Banyon, and did you
think you'd come to live in this grand building all by accident? Not hardly. Yon cold-spell was an amusing
little conceit, but I'll admit I didn't think you'd have the balls to make a calling-on song; that took some
brains and some moxie, I'm here to tell you."
Eric took a careful sip from his own bottle before replying. He had the feeling that he needed to
phrase his questions carefully. "You say I didn't get this apartment by accident?"
The gargoyle nodded.
"So why did I end up here?"
"The building chose you, lad, what do you think?" Greystone nodded wisely. "That's the long and the
short of it. No one comes here that Guardian House doesn't want; that's the way it was built. It felt you
enter the city, and it made its own calling-on song to bring you here. That's why you went for a walk, and
that's why you found the building and saw the sign. The building manager just serves the building's needs.
When it has a vacancy, Ms. Hernandez waits until someone shows up who can see the For Rent
sign not everyone can, but you've probably guessed that by now. That's why it's called Guardian
House. One of the reasons."
A building that picks its own tenants? Boy, that's a new one! "Why choose me?" Eric persisted.
He wasn't alarmed; he was quite certain that if there had been anything ill-omened about this place, Kory
would have sensed it. And the name Guardian House sounded as if it were a force for Good, at least.
"Is it because of the magic?"
Dharinel had warned him it would make him visible to all kinds of creatures that didn't have the time
of day for an ordinary mortal, but Eric had already had a taste of what that was like.
"A bit." Now Greystone seemed to be picking his words carefully. "Most people who live here
aren't witches, sorcerers, or even mages not the way you are, me lad they're just people with a very
singular talent for living, and certain gifts to be nurtured. Most of 'em are artists, but not necessarily the
way most people think of artists. Oh, there is a fair crop of painters, writers, musicians and dancers, but
there are others who do things like like putting exactly the right people together. Or who can make
computers do things that'd bug your eyes out. Or who've got the gift of healing the mind and body
together. The city needs people like that, and this building this House needs them too. They make
things and people around them happy, and the House lives on that happiness. It's a living thing, not just a
bunch of plaster and stone, and happiness is food and drink to it. So it shelters the special people it finds
and protects them in exchange for their happiness it's like that arrangement with the little fish and the
seaflower."
"The clownfish and the anemone?" Eric hazarded, out of his memories of some half-forgotten
National Geographic special, and Greystone nodded.
"What about the people who live here who are mages. Do they know about the House? About
you?"
"Only four of them do. Ms. Hernandez's one, of course. And, no disrespect intended, boyo, but
each one of the four of 'em could blow you into powder and not have to think about it."
Greystone waited to see what Eric's reaction was, but Eric just shrugged. It was hardly news to him
that there were other magicians out there who were much more powerful than he was. What surprised
him was that four of them lived in the same building, as mages tended to be as touchy and egotistical as...
well, as professional musicians.
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