The River of Wind (9 page)

W
e treat them like children.” Tengshu spoke in a whisper. “They don’t know any better. This…this way of life, this passivity has been bred into them. It is better this way, believe me.”

“They don’t mind?” Ruby asked, for what she was seeing was to her mind simply outrageous. Ruby was dumbfounded as she looked on the scene before her. The nine owls were perched on a glistening crystal balcony. Indeed, the entire Panqua Palace of the dragon owls was made from what the sage called geodes—mysterious rocks split open to reveal cavities lined with crystals of luminous colors ranging from pink to sapphire blue to purple and white. Each color was a precious stone with names that the owls had never before heard, like jasper, chalcedony, and agate. The inhabitants of this resplendent, jeweled hollow were known as the dragon owls.

Like Tengshu, their plumage was composed of varying shades of blue. But unlike the sage, they never seemed
to have molted. This lack of molting had allowed their feathers to grow to such extraordinary lengths that they swept behind them like cloaks. Flight was impossible. In fact, there were only two ways these owls could travel through air, which was either with assistance from smaller owls who appeared to be servants or with the help of the qui. By hanging on to the string with their talons, they could lift into the air. But if by any chance they were to be separated from their qui, it meant instant death. Their wings were so laden with long heavy feathers they would immediately plummet to the ground. Mostly they walked slowly back and forth across the floor of the palace, with bearers lifting their trains of feathers.

“How did this happen?” Soren said. There was something awful, perverse about seeing owls in this condition. They were dazzlingly beautiful, but their beauty was in such stark contrast to the true nature of owls, or any bird: They could not fly, and despite their splendor, there was something revolting about them.

“It is complicated to explain, but they do not molt naturally.”

“But how do they prevent molting?” Otulissa asked. “And why?”

“It is not simply that molting is prevented. That is only part of it. As you know, we owls all have a preen gland
at the base of our tails, which provides the oil with which we preen and clean our feathers and that keeps them supple. These particular owls have been cursed with abnormally large preen glands. The extra oil makes their feathers grow faster, but this growth seems to slow actual molting. See how long their tail feathers grow? Quite dazzling, aren’t they? It’s as if these dragon owls have become transfixed by their own beauty. To maintain it, they are required to stimulate this growth even further by a very complicated method of pruning their undertail coverts. It’s almost an unwritten law, a law enforced by their own vanity really, that they do this.” Indeed, many of the dragon owls’ tail feathers grew to unbelievable lengths.

“Do they like to be this way?” Otulissa asked.

“They don’t mind. They accept it. It is part of their phonqua.”

“Phonqua?” Digger asked. “What is phonqua?”

The sage shook his head. “It is difficult to explain to owls who are not from our world. It has to do with consequences due to an owl’s previous actions, their will for power. They failed to realize that to pursue power only for the sake of power is a transgression against all of nature, beginning with their very own as owls, as creatures of the sky and of the earth. And thus it is a violation of all that Glaux has given us. If one pursues such a course,
it skews one’s fate. Indeed, they become the victims of power—the power of phonqua.”

“You mean this is their fate, their destiny?” Otulissa asked.

Digger felt a quiver in his gizzard. He squinted his eyes.
Consequences due to an owl’s previous actions…a transgression against all of nature.
The words threaded through his mind.
Could these owls be…? No…no.
But Digger observed how their feathers, though beautiful, flowed in ragged streams from their bodies.
Imagine them
, he thought,
as black feathers—not turquoise nor sapphire nor sky nor midnight blue—just glistening black. Could these dragon owls in some past generation have been hagsfiends? And perhaps,
Digger thought,
it is fortunate that they have been made powerless by their very vanity. And would not this pomp and luxury give them the
illusion
of power?
A shiver went through his gizzard, and he even wilfed a bit, which Tengshu noticed.

“Do not worry, my friend.” The sage turned to Digger. “These owls are perfectly harmless. They are listless, dull of wit. But very vain. All they really care about is preening and living in this beautiful palace. They are like poor invalids. I bring them qui and show them how to make their own. But they are easily bored and distracted. Difficult for them to concentrate long enough to finish a task.”

None of these words set Digger’s mind at ease.
Suppose,
the Burrowing Owl’s thoughts continued,
that hagsfiends had come to the Middle Kingdom in the wake of Theo. Could it have been Theo’s idea to install them in absolute luxury and distract them with the illusion of power, thus making them essentially harmless? Through some gradual alchemy had their hideous black feathers metamorphosed into this panoply of gorgeous iridescent hues ranging from sea green to turquoise to sapphire?
The sage had spoken of the old court and how useless it had become. Digger recalled Tengshu’s words when they first met.
Once we did have a court, but it became useless and, in its uselessness, even dangerous.
So possibly it was Theo who had given the court another use, another function, and at the same time ensured that it would never be a threat. Was this what had been explained in the Theo Papers as part of the way of noble gentleness? Do not kill your enemies; render them impotent through their own delusions of power.

“And now,” Tengshu continued. “We must go see the Dowager Empress. It is time for tea. These owls love ceremony and ritual. It fills their nights, passes the time.”

“Passes the time to what?” Ruby mumbled.

The flight to the dowager’s quarters in Panqua Palace was not a long one. As they approached, Tengshu nodded toward a large opening in a cliff. It appeared from the outside to be a very ordinary-looking cliff, and they
expected to fly into a large, very ordinary cave, one such as bats might roost in. But with the first wing beat into the cave such notions were quickly dispelled. Never in their lives had they seen such a dazzling sight. The walls sparkled with threads of glittering rock that wove through patches of exotic stones and crystal formations. “Is this quartz? Mica?” Otulissa wondered aloud. A page with a ten-foot-long train of feathers swept out from what appeared to be a tree entirely composed of pink crystals.

“Welcome to the Hollow of Benevolence and Forgiveness. The Dowager Empress awaits you.” The page then sidled up to Tengshu. He spoke in rapid Jouzhen, and although Otulissa tried to pick it up, she only understood a little. Tengshu, however, looked alarmed.

Martin whispered to the others, “I thought everything was always just perfect here—lazy, listless owls. It’s suppose to be glaumora. What’s the problem?”

“Something about a defection,” Otulissa whispered. “And the Dowager Empress is upset.”

Tengshu turned to Otulissa. “You’re right, and this is most unusual. The empress is eager to meet you because she feels that since you come from the Five Kingdoms you might know something, or have seen something of this errant owl.”

“Believe me,” Twilight said. “If I had seen a blue owl with such long tail feathers I would have said something by now.”

“Well, she’s a bit upset. This is not an emotion that she is used to, nor one that these owls handle well.”

“Oh, Great Glaux,” Gylfie whispered as they approached a throne made of purple chunks of amethyst on which a huge owl with a mixture of cobalt blue and lighter turquoise feathers was perched. Behind her, a special frame held her tail feathers, and to each side were additional frames on which her wings rested. Even her facial-disk feathers were so long that they fell like a screen, veiling her eyes. On her talons, which appeared shriveled and dull, she wore several rings. Her body heaved with sobs.

“Tengshu, he’s left! He’s left! What will this do to our phonqua?” Otulissa was trying her best to translate this for the rest of the Chaw of Chaws. The empress then turned to the owls. The movement of her feathers caused a wind to stir through the hollow.

“She wants to know if you have seen this owl,” Tengshu translated.

“We certainly would have noticed,” Coryn said. “Tell her we have not.”

Tengshu turned again to her and spoke rapidly, then translated the exchange. “It seems that this owl, Orlando,
managed to secretly stop plucking his undertail coverts. A servant was bribed to keep the secret, and then after he had stopped new growth he managed one night to chop off a great quantity of his long tail feathers. A pile was discovered in the Hollow of the Eternal Feathers; this act is considered the gravest of insults. Of course, little can be done now.”

“But how could he fly with so little experience?” Ruby asked.

“Poorly, I would imagine,” Tengshu said drily. “But if he found the reverse current of the River of Wind…”

“And what about that phonqua?” Digger asked. “This…this notion of fate and consequences?”

Tengshu looked at him darkly. He began to speak and then hesitated. “I…I don’t think that one dragon owl’s actions could disturb the phonqua of our entire kingdom. It would not seem fair, would it?” He spoke with a forced cheerfulness.

Digger blinked and waited to speak. “Nor would it seem fair for it to disturb the phonqua of our five kingdoms. But some say that the flutterings of one butterfly can disturb the universe.”

“Yes, it’s a part of weather theory,” Otulissa began, “discovered by a very distinguished relative of mine, the renowned weathertrix, Strix Emerilla.”

“I was speaking of this, Otulissa, in a more philosophical sense,” Digger interrupted. “The notion that the smallest variations of what philosophers call the initial condition might produce large variations in the longterm behavior of the system.”

The Dowager Empress was poking at Tengshu with her scepter while she studied Digger. It was obvious that she wanted to know what he was saying.

“This will indeed
disturb
the empress unnecessarily, I fear,” Tengshu said, and then turned to the empress and spoke some Jouzhen that none of them understood. But they did hear the word “phonqua.” From the manner in which she settled back on her throne, they assumed that Tengshu had assuaged her fears concerning phonqua and the fate of the owls of the Dragon Court. But there were others who were not so relieved, in particular Digger and Mrs. Plithiver.

No words needed to be spoken between the Burrowing Owl and the blind snake. They both sensed that something greater was at stake than the peace of mind of the empress.

M
rs. P.,” Digger started suddenly. He had been in deep thought in the crystal cocoonlike cavity that he had been shown to in the Panqua Palace.

“I didn’t mean to disturb you, dear.”

“I couldn’t sleep. Don’t worry about it.”

“I know,” Mrs. Plithiver replied.

Digger blinked. “You do?”

“Well, I know that something is disturbing you and that sleep would be hard to come by.”

At that moment, Gylfie flew in from a connecting cave. “You can’t sleep, either?” Digger asked.

“No.” She shook her head. “I think Martin is up, too.” Within two minutes, all eight owls had crammed into the cavity with Digger. They all seemed agitated.

“It’s this phonqua business, isn’t it?” Mrs. P. said.

“It’s very weird—the phonqua, this whole place,” Martin said.

“And it’s not just that,” Soren added. “I’m worried about this defector.”

“Yes, the defector,” Digger said in a hesitant voice, and then he seemed to gather strength. He was suddenly happy that he could share these feelings and the frightening thoughts he had had when the sage first told them all about the dragon owls. “The dragon owls appear weak, vain, ridiculous, and powerless. But how did they come to be this way?” He swiveled his head slowly, searching each owl’s face for an answer. But none was forthcoming. “What have they done to earn this life, which is hardly a life?”

“And yet it makes the rest of the owls of this sixth kingdom safe from them,” Otulissa said. “Assuming, of course, that they had previously been brutal or evil owls.”

Then Soren very tentatively took a step toward Digger. “Are you imagining these owls in another…another…” He searched for a word. “…guise, Digger?”

Digger could scarcely breathe. “I must be honest.” He shut his eyes.
Just say it. Just say it,
he told himself silently. “I have had thoughts of hagsfiends.” There was a gasp from the owls.

“What kinds of thoughts?” Soren asked.

Digger took a deep breath and began to speak slowly.
“I began to think about hagsfiends when Tengshu spoke of phonqua, their fate. They accept this pathetic excuse for a real owl’s life because they are paying a debt in hopes of redeeming themselves. But something has gone wrong with this defector. He has desires. A will that is alien to his nature, to his phonqua, and the others are now fearful that it has skewed everything.”

“Yes, the butterfly that disturbed the universe,” Mrs. P. replied softly.

“What’s to be done?” Digger asked.

“It is not our fate to deal with. Not our world.” Mrs. P. said.

“But what if he goes to
our
world? What then?”

“I don’t know, Digger. I honestly don’t know.” Mrs. P. sighed, then coiled up and swung her head toward the owls. “We cannot solve any of this right now. So all of you go back to your day nests in those cavities and try to get some sleep.”

“I don’t know how one is supposed to sleep in all that glittery rock,” Ruby muttered. “The whole place just buzzes with too many colors.”

Digger turned and looked at Ruby. “You’re right. This is the most resplendent place I have ever been to. It is what I once might have imagined to be glaumora, but it is truly hagsmire, Ruby. Truly hagsmire.”

I have to go back! Now. I have to go back. I’ll find the Zong Phong. She’s in danger…I know it.
Before they could stop him he was off, and suddenly he was back in his own world on the familiar side of the Unnamed Sea. But he had landed, oddly enough, in Kuneer. The hot desert thermals were rising. She was trapped beneath the sand, young, little, and vulnerable. A blue feather floated up in the desert air. Soren shreed, “
I will help you…I promise…if it’s the last thing I do…I will help you.
”

“Wake up! Soren! Wake up!” Twilight and Ruby were both shaking him fiercely. “It’s just a bad dream.”

“Starsight? Here?” Gylfie asked. “Even with all the constellations being different?”

“It was so real,” Soren said, shaking his head. “Someone is in trouble…I can’t remember who, though. I think we have to go back.”

Starsight was a phenomenon in which the stars in the sky in some mysterious way illuminated Soren’s dreams. Most creatures thought that during the day, when nocturnal animals slept, the stars vanished, but for some they did not. The stars became little holes in the fabric of their dreams, and through these holes they saw things happening far away, or in the future, things that often came true.

“I just have this terrible feeling in my gizzard.”

“I do, too,” Digger said.

“Do you think we should go back?” Soren asked.

Digger shook his head. “No. I am afraid I feel quite the opposite. I think it is imperative that we stay. Stay and figure things out.”

“Do you think we are in danger of some sort from this new world?” Coryn asked.

“Not exactly. I mean, I think we have been brought here as a part our phonqua. I truly believe that Tengshu is a good owl.”

“
Our
phonqua?” Otulissa asked.

“I think, in fact, Otulissa, that the universe is about to be disturbed,” Digger replied.

“A butterfly?” Gylfie asked.

“No, a dragon owl.”

“Huh?” Ruby said.

At that moment, there was a noise outside the hollow where Soren had been sleeping. A long, low hoot was heard and Tengshu alighted. “The Dowager Empress’s qui bearers are coming. She wants to meet with you. She’s in a very agitated state. You can’t imagine. She rarely leaves the Hollow of Benevolence and Forgiveness. She will be here any second.”

The owls of Ga’Hoole came out of the hollow into the wide passage that was lined with rich purple crystals of
jasper. It was a stunning sight to see this immense owl towed by a qui. Her wings and tail feathers spread across a frame suspended from the superstructure of silk cloth and paper. There were perhaps a half-dozen bearers, normally feathered owls handling the strings. Various instructions were being called out that guided the operations of the strings to control the qui. She did not really fly, but hovered a few inches above the floor of the palace. As the strings were reeled in, the qui floated down and so did the empress. Her body was heaving with sobs. She called Tengshu to her side and began speaking rapidly. He held up a talon to halt this rush of words, then turned to Coryn.

“I must translate for the empress. She urgently wants you to understand this unfortunate, nay, tragic situation that has occurred with the defection of the owl known as Orlando.” There was another rush of words from the empress. “She feels that this defection has twisted the phonqua of the dragon owls of the Panqua Palace.” Tengshu began to stammer a bit and it was apparent that he was reluctant to go on. He and the Dowager Empress exchanged glances. There were some desperate whisperings between them. Tengshu then turned to the owls of Ga’Hoole. “There are some things that, though shared between our cultures, have diverged and taken different paths. These things cannot really be explained.”

Cannot or will not?
Soren wondered.

“The dragon owls here in the Panqua Palace are servants…”

Servants!
The word exploded silently in the heads of all of the owls of Ga’Hoole. These owls served nothing. They existed only to be served. They could not even fly on their own. The notion of them serving others was absolutely preposterous.

“But what are we supposed to do?” Digger asked.

“How can we help?” Coryn stepped forward. “You speak of twisting the phonqua, but we hardly understand the meaning of this word, let alone what your phonqua is.”

“You must go to the owlery. A messenger has already been sent to the first master of the pikyus, requesting an audience for you with the H’ryth.”

Otulissa blinked. “What did you say?”

“The H’ryth,” Tengshu repeated. “It is the holy one of the owlery. That is what we call him, the H’ryth. He must be consulted on all matters of phonqua.”

“Yes, of course,” said Otulissa, and clamped her beak shut. The owls of Ga’Hoole swiveled their heads toward her. This sudden silence was not normal behavior for Otulissa. She was usually more than ready to share her thoughts, her opinions. Digger looked at her thoughtfully.
What is she not saying?

The Dowager Empress was departing now with her cadre of bearers. The wind in the amethyst corridor stirred as she was borne back a few inches above the palace floor on her qui to the Hollow of Benevolence and Forgiveness, but within this wind, Mrs. Plithiver detected a tinier riffle of a breeze. It was as if the wings of a butterfly had stirred the air. The universe was about to be disturbed.