Book 12 - The Golden Tree (6 page)

were learning at astonishingly accelerated rates.
Hatchlings rescued from forest fires were learning bow to read almost before their flight feathers had fledged, Fritha, a Pygmy Owl, was wel into a 62 74 study of higher magnetics, reading texts that had stumped Otulissa when she was much older.
Al this should have warmed Otulissa's gizzard. But she had felt a creeping dread. Because along with al this knowledge too many of the owls of the tree seemed to be growing more and more
obsessed with the ember. The knowledge was not il uminating but seemed shadowed in a strange way - shadowed by the glow of the ember, if such a thing could be. This in itself was somewhat of a puzzle, a conundrum for Otulissa. For like al owls she valued the dark, the shadows. Darkness, the night, shades, and shadows had always been il uminating for owls. They did not fear the times when the moon dwenked to nothingness. They reveled in the long winter nights when the days shortened to mere hours. But now she was begining to think of shadows as dangerous things. She herself had begun to read deeply into philosophical texts about

begun to read deeply into philosophical texts about
the meaning of light and the absence of light, of darkness in the world of owls.
From her perch in the hol ow, she glanced about and caught sight of Eglantine peering with an intensely worried look at her best friend, Primrose, who had been asked for this ceremony to fly with a thimbleful of ashes shed by the ember. The little Pygmy Owl was doing a very good
63 75 job of it as she turned and banked in a tight circle around the "en-hol owed" ember, casting its ashes in what Otulissa had heard was cal ed the "flight path of Elevation." She had no idea what that meant. Every day there seemed to be a new ritual to be named, to be enacted, to be fol owed in service to the Ember of Hoole. What does it al mean? Otulissa thought. Why have shadows become dangerous? Why is the world of owls being turned inside out? She remembered how Soren and Gylfie had told her about the horrors of St. Aggie's, where owls were forced to sleep during the night and work during the day. St. Aggie's had been an inside-out world. Was that what was happening here at the tree? Her gizzard lurched fiercely.

Otulissa suddenly decided that this kind of
contemplation and theorizing was impractical. She needed to think back and try to pinpoint when the changes had started. Even before the Band left she realized now that many of the owls had become very concerned about the wel -being of the ember. Then, within nights of their leaving, Gemma had introduced the idea of moving the ember to a "safer" place where the watch that Coryn had appointed could better guard it. This suggestion did not seem al that unreasonable at the time. Coryn's hol ow was smal . Only so many owls could keep an eye on it. It was Elyan who had come up with the notion, despite
64 76 Coryn's orders that any guard should be representative of al the creatures of the tree, that, within the watch, there must be an "inner guard," an honor guard. Otulissa, Bubo, Eglantine, and Ruby had voted against this. Fleemus had abstained. But stil the measure passed. Then al of a sudden they decided an honor guard wasn't good enough. There had to be an even higher level that had certain military powers, but not an army exactly: a militia that they cal ed the Guardians of the Guardians of

the Ember, or the GGE. The creation of the GGE
had not been voted upon by parliament. It had just happened. No one was sure how, and now there was this Elevation! Elyan, Gemma, and Yeena, members of the militia through some complicated procedure, had been "Elevated." Otulissa, in reviewing the course of events, realized it had begun to accelerate with a visit from Trader Mags, The magpie trader had discovered some new ruins of the Others and had arrived with, a load of her cheap and tawdry gewgaws, including funny- looking hats that no owl could actual y wear. One of these had become the "sacred ash bin" for the cold ashes scraped from the ember's container. Mags also had brought scraps of ermine that Madame Plonk immediately claimed. "Ceremonial, dear! Them's the robes of state," Mags kept, saying. "Yes, I real y lucked out this time. One of them queens or kings of the
65 77 Others had kept a stash in this
place."Souvenirs from coronations, from rituals of the Others' churches ,piles of cloth stitched with silver and gilt thread provided enough to start yet another guild among the nest-maid snakes, a fine

embroidery and sewing guild. Mags had hired a
dozen helpers to transport al the loot. She had helpful y brought along some pictures of a queen and her attendance as wel as many of the Others church leaders al dressed up for celebrations of their own Glaux, so that the owl's of the tree could see the costume and pomp of Others
Oh how Otulissa rued the day Mags had arrived with al this junk! What would that sweet-faced queen with her kind blue eyes have thought of a bunch of owls flapping through the air wearing al her royal crappings? We 're owls, for Glaux's sake,not Others!
Again Otulissa clamped her beak shut for fear the words might escape.
The Procession was quite a spectacle. She saw a smal company of Nothern Saw -whets and Pygmy swopp down from above. On their heads the owls wore ivory thimbles,like the one that Primrose had flown with. They deposited the thimbles in a row near the ember. Some ashes were poured into the thimbles. Near them was a set of decorated teacups and some more ashes were placed in

these. Analysis of the ember's sparks and ashes
had become a favorite field of study for many owls, especial y among the
78 GGE. A ritual had even been invented that involved the dusting of ashes on the wing tips of those owls about to be Elevated to the position of High Owls of the Ember. It was al just too ridiculous to even imagine owls doing. But the problem was someone had imagined it. And not just one owl, but several. Were they so bored in these times of peace and prosperity that their minds had turned to this senseless veneration, this worship of a coal? Of course Otulissa knew that it was no mere coal. Indeed, it was an ember that possessed great powers that could be used for good or for evil. That was the lesson of the legends. And it was true that one must be vigilant not to let a graymalkin get close, an owl like Nyra, to be precise. But nowhere did legends suggest anything more than vigilance. How had al this veneration come about? And so quickly? The Band and Coryn had barely been gone a moon cycle. How she wished they would come back soon. Then perhaps al this would end. But would it? Otulissa felt her gizzard tremble.

would it? Otulissa felt her gizzard tremble.
67 CHAPTER NINE
Coryn Sneaks Out
Luckily for Coryn, the hol ow where he artel the Band had settled was not. that far from the. Shadow Forest, And the winds had eased up. So he hoped he could make quick work of this. He would go back to the region near the pond where be had spent the better part of a winter after escaping from. Nyra and the Pure Ones. It was there that he had first encountered the rabbit. As he flew in the broad light, of clay, he kept a sharp lookout for crows but so tar had seen none. And as he approached the old fal en tree trunk where he had lived., he felt a flutter in his gizzard. Would the rabbit stil , he there? It seemed almost, impossible that, a rabbit in these woods thick with owls could have survived so long - .....even a mystic one. The scene was stil so vivid in Coryn s mind. He had seen the plump, succulent rabbit, sitting perfectly stil , as if transfixed, in front of a beautiful spiderweb, The rabbit was studying the

designs in the web, "reading" them, lie said. Their
conversation came back to Coryn now.
80 "I'm a mystic of sorts," the rabbit had begun to explain when Coryn asked him what he was doing. "I see certain things where others don't." "In a spiderweb?"
"Precisely. I'm a web reader." But right now as Coryn flew across the pond, the rabbit was nowhere in sight. Coryn spent several hours scouring the surrounding region. He knew time was running out. To fly back to the hol ow in the fir tree in Silverveil he would now have to fly against the rising wind. The Band would be worried, possibly furious. The sun was sinking fast, tie knew he could not spend any more time. He made one more circle around the pond. Stil no sign of the rabbit. So he climbed high above the forest, turned toward Silverveil, and flew on.
He had not been flying long when he picked up a raucous din on the edges of the wind. "By Glaux, that sounds like a grog tree. Soren had told him that

grog trees had begun to reappear in the Southern
Kingdoms shortly after the Battle of the Burning in. the canycnlands. He had never been, to one and he thought this might just be the time. What better place to pick up gossip? But would he be recognized? Most assuredly so. The scar that slashed across his face was a mirror image of Nyra's. They knew that he was not Nyra, but. they also knew that he was a king and the inheritor of 81 the ember. Gadfeathers! The word exploded in his brain and sent his gizzard into a tizzy. Hadn't Soren also said that gad-feathers were returning? Maybe he could disguise himself!
Gadfeathers, known for their singing as wel as their garish ways, festooned themselves with al manner of discarded feathers from other birds, twigs, strands of ivy - whatever was available. But what if they ask me to sing? Coryn blinked. He had no idea if he could sing. He wasn't a Snowy or a Boreal Owl, who were known for their fine voices. He supposed he could try. The whole idea was a bit overwhelming. Then a strange quiver moved through his gizzard as he remembered that in the last of the legends, King Hoole had gone in

last of the legends, King Hoole had gone in
gadfeather disguise.
He alighted in an oak tree overgrown with lovely ever-ivy. a variety that stayed green year round. He could drape some over his head to disguise the scar. There were even some scarlet winter berries growing on a vine as wel . But could he sing? He shut his eyes tight and tried to remember one of the old songs from the legends that the Snow Rose, a very famous gadfeather, had sung. It was about wandering and freedom and might appeal to the crowd at a grog tree. He tried a few lines of the song.
I'l find a feather for your ruff
fly away with me til dawn.
70 82 Fly away then we'l be gone.
Hol ows we shal leave behind,
fly to places they' I! never find.
For a Barn Owl he didn't sound al that bad. Granted, he was no Madame Plonk-but he wasn;t a total disaster either. Wel , here goes, he thought as

he tore off length of ivy and draped it across his
face and tucked bright red winter berry twiglets into his tail feathers. He launched himself off the oak branch feeling ridiculous but resolved, and headed towards the grog tree. The north side of the tree, a sycamore with dozens of
low-spreading limbs, was vacant. Al the owls had congregated in the lower branches on the south side of the tree. He soon saw why. Soarkling in the setting sun were the bright and gaudy wares of none other than Trader Mags. She had spread her goods on a deep purple velvet cloak. "Oh , yes , dearie ,"he heard her saying ."this here represents my new discovery. Bubbles, go fetch them ermine trimmings like I sold Madame Plonk.
"Oh, Madame Plonk bought some of these? "Coryn heard an owl ask. Madame Plonk was known throughout the owl kingdom not only for her magnificent voice but for her glamour.
"Yes, darlin', and this purple cloth with the tufts of ermine would look fabulous on you.

83 "She's getting on - ain't she now? I'm surprised
she can haul this stuff around on her back while she sings."
"She ain't as young as you, darlin'." Trader Mags was loathe to bad-beak her most devoted client. "She mostly wears it in her apartment for high tea. Speaking of which, some time ago I sold her my last coronation teacup. But I might have a line on where I can get another."
Coryn hid in the shadows of the tree. He had a perfect view of the goods and it was not the "gewgaws," as Otulissa cal ed Trader Mags's glittery wares, that, attracted him but a tattered old book off to one side. The cover was made from lemming skins. There was only one place where lemmings lived and that was in the Northern Kingdoms, or the N'yrthghar, as it had once been cal ed. On the front of the book an odd design had been etched. Coryn's gizzard grew stil and then twisted violently. It was the image of a strange, bird - a cross between an owl and a puffin. A puffowl! The result of a monstrous experiment - the creation of that supreme hagsfiend -- Kreeth, That was her book! The Book of Kreeth!

book! The Book of Kreeth!
72 CHAPTER TEN
The Nature of Hadsfiends Is discussed
Look, I know you are al angry with me for sneaking off," Coryn turned his head and looked slyly at the Band, "but it isn't as if I invented sneaking off. Didn't I spend my first day of this expedition listening to stories about the four of you sneaking off from the great tree?" "Point wel made," Soren conceded. "But why? Why did you do this and leave us al worried to death?" Gylfie pressed. "You're not just any owl, Coryn. You are the king."
"Yes, exactly. I am not just any owl." He hesitated. "But it had nothing to do with my being king." Soren suddenly wilfed and felt an alarming tremor in his gizzard. He's not going to tel them ... is he? At that moment Coryn seemed to almost read Soren's mind and spun his head toward his uncle. "They have to know, Soren. It's time."

73 85 "Have to know what? Time for what?"
Digger asked. Digger, Twilight, and Gylfie nervously exchanged glances.
Soren closed his eyes and tried to stil his gizzard. Perhaps Coryn was right. Perhaps they did have to know, and maybe bringing it out in the open would lessen Coryn's obsession with his mother. "I think my mother, Nyra, is a hagsfiend." Digger, Twilight, and Gylfie wil ed. Even burly Twilight was a mere misty shadow of his former self. "That can't be true," he whispered hoarsely. Soren stepped forward. He had to say something. "Don't deny it, Soren!" Coryn said. There was a sharpness in his voice that the others had never heard before.
"It's not a Question of denying. We have no proof- only suspicions. It is more complicated than Coryn suggests," Soren spoke softly.
"I am sure it is," Digger said. Digger was the most philosophical of the Band, fie did not accept

the surface meaning of things but, as his name
suggested, seemed compel ed to dig deeper to find an unexpected truth.
"If Nyra's a hagsfiend, then you ,., wel , look, you either are or you aren't!" snapped Twilight. Then suddenly the Great Gray was taken aback by his own words. "I mean, it's not like we don't like you.' 74 86 "Oh, shut up, Twilight!" Digger barked in a most unphilosophical tone of voice.
"I'm only saying it's action not words that count. And Coryn doesn't act haggish."
Digger blinked, "Why, Twilight. That's an astounding insight. I couldn't have said it better myself."
"Wel , then quit tel ing me to shut up. I said it in half the words you would have used, Digger." "'But is there more, Coryn?" Digger added. "Tel them," Soren said in a quiet voice that he hoped belied his desperation.