The River of Wind

by Kathryn Lasky

  Then two terrible words slithered up through the rock. “Slink melf.” Eglantine and Primrose felt their gizzards turn to stone. Slink melf was the Pure Ones’ expression for assassination squad. Eglantine signaled Primrose. In wing talk she indicated that now, while Nyra and her cohorts were in the burrows, they should make a brief reconnaissance of the nearby region. “To determine how far this encampment goes and pick up on other voices,” Eglantine signaled. They would have to find out what kind of force Nyra had in readiness and somehow get word to Soren and the others.

  They again flew low and close to the ground. Primrose, like so many tiny owls, was an expert low-altitude flier. Her skimming flight could take her mere inches above the ground. Eglantine flew a few feet higher. The combination was formidable. Between Primrose’s skimming flight and Eglantine’s superb hearing, they gathered a wealth of information not only pertaining to the extent of the Pure Ones’ encampment but also to the intentions of their leader. Nyra had lusted for the Ember of Hoole since Coryn retrieved it from the Beyond. To have the Chaw of Chaws separated from the tree in a far and distant land was perfect. It was obvious that she had somehow raised a substantial army and hidden them here. Kuneer was riddled with bunkers. As Eglantine and Primrose listened carefully, they picked up the hum of throngs of owls chattering beneath these desert sands in this, the most isolated region of Kuneer. It had to be the Pure Ones.

  If Nyra follows Coryn, Soren, and the others to this faraway place of blue owls, and attacks them…Eglantine cut off the thought. She signaled Primrose. “We have to warn them.”

  “But how? We have no idea how to get there.”

  “The Palace of Mists!” Eglantine signed. “Soren said if anything happened, we should go and seek Bess at the Palace of Mists.”

  “We have to get out of here now! We have to warn Soren.” Eglantine’s wings trembled as she tilted them to signal.

  “What about Bell?” Primrose signed back.

  “We can’t take her back, just the two of us. They’re not going to hurt her now. They’ve got their information. They’re going to hold her hostage. She’s going to be their bargaining chip, but hopefully we’ll be able to get her soon. We’ll need to send a message back to the tree.”

  “Through Gwyndor?”

  “Whomever we can get.”

  Just at that moment they spotted a Great Snowy overhead—a Great Snowy sporting a black feather.

  Doc Finebeak!

  They took off immediately to tell him what they’d discovered.

  Several minutes later, behind a cluster of cactus a good distance from the rock, Doc Finebeak listened to Eglantine and Primrose’s story. When they had finished, he blinked and sighed, then plucked the black feather from his back and broke it in half. “Here, take this, I can always get another. It will protect you. You’re going to have to fly night and day.”

  They said a quick good-bye. As the three owls lifted off in flight, Finebeak heading back to the great tree to raise troops and Eglantine and Primrose to the Palace of Mists, they all had one thought: They had beaten the Pure Ones in the canyonlands in the Battle of Fire and Ice. They had beaten them in the Beyond. Although this would not be as big a battle, for the forces would be fewer on both sides, it could be the most significant battle of all. The question was not the size of any army. They had to act now and with great force in a place that was strange to all of them. Could the Guardians do it again? Never had so much been at stake—the ember, the king, and an owlet!

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  The Dragon Court

  We 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.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  The Butterfly that Disturbs

  Mrs. 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.”