To Be a King

by Kathryn Lasky

  Theo blinked. He had never thought of these enormous creatures with their thick fur and tough hides as being ticklish.

  “Then at the end of the firthkin where the ice piles up, there is a cave. That is where you can find Svarr.”

  “And you say it is close to where Lord Arrin has his stronghold?”

  “Yes. But it’s not the closeness. It’s the smee holes that are important.”

  “Smee holes? Why are they important?”

  “We polar bears love smee holes. We love the hot steam that comes from them and the lovely thermal baths that surround them. Svarr especially loves them. He’s getting on a bit and has a touch of stiffness in his shoulders. The hot water helps. Anyhow, a long time ago, polar bears discovered that smee holes conduct sound very easily. Svarr is a nosy sort of fellow and he found it interesting to listen in on various conversations, if indeed any were going on while he was soaking. I went to visit him myself several moon cycles back on behalf of Siv to learn what Lord Arrin was up to. Svarr will be able to help you.” She paused. “And, by the way, give him my best and tell him that in two years we can meet up again. Same time, same place.”

  Theo thanked Svenka and spread his wings. Just as he was about to loft himself into the air, he heard the cubs. “Mum, can we swim with him just to the end of the firthkin?”

  “Oh, all right, but don’t you dare go out into the big firth. Promise?”

  “We promise!” they chorused.

  Theo flew low and the cubs, swimming on their backs below, babbled on the entire time.

  “Don’t you think it’s unfair that Mum won’t let us see any battles?”

  “Yeah, she never lets us do anything except sit at seal holes and bash them when they come up.”

  “It was fun at first, but then it got boring.”

  “Have you ever fought in a battle, Theo?”

  “Well, yes, and I didn’t much like it.”

  “How come?” Rolf asked. “Were you scared?”

  “Of course I was scared. You’d have to be yoicks not to be.”

  “Yoicks?” Rolf asked.

  “You remember, Rolf, Auntie Siv used to say that all the time. It’s like polar bears say ‘blairn,’ and owls say ‘yoicks.’”

  “And now,” said Theo, “for this owl it is time to say good-bye. Be good cubs and turn around and swim back.”

  “All right.” They both sighed. “Bye, Theo.”

  “Bye, Rolf. Bye, Anka.”

  It was close to midnight by the time Theo reached the end of the tickle, and it was narrow. But just before the end, he spotted the most immense bear he had ever seen. Could this be Svarr? The bear was sitting upright and looking down at something. Theo flew lower. The bear heard him, raised a paw, made a soft patting motion on the air, and then drew the paw to his muzzle as if to indicate quiet. A dark head emerged from the hole and then there was a sudden thwack that reverberated into the night and caused the waters of the tickle to slosh violently. Blood spread across the ice before the bear had even hauled the seal from its hole.

  “Be with you in a minute,” he said as he proceeded to rake his middle claw down the seal’s belly and neatly peel back the skin. He began scooping out the blubber.

  “Mmmm-mmm, that is one tasty seal.” He turned to look at Theo. “What can I do for you?”

  “Are you Svarr?”

  “Oh, no! What’s she up to now?”

  “Who?”

  “Svenka.”

  “How’d you know?”

  “Svenka has become quite social of late. Most un-bearish. She seems to consort with owls.”

  “Well, from what I understand, you know quite a bit about owls yourself,” Theo said.

  “Indeed, I do. But they don’t know about me.” The great bear looked amused.

  “What interests you so about owls?” Theo was genuinely curious.

  “Their politics, their wars, their scheming blairney ways. Very entertaining.”

  “Well, I count myself lucky for meeting you,” Theo said amicably.

  Svarr looked up for the first time at Theo. “I’m glad you didn’t take offense.”

  “No offense. It’s true. I really don’t care for the politics myself. Or the war.”

  “So, why are you here, and where do you come from?”

  “Originally, I come from the Firth of Grundenspyrr, not far from here.”

  “Good sealing up there.”

  “Yes. But now I come from another place in the S’yrthghar—the Southern Kingdoms. I come as an emissary of King Hoole.”

  Svarr put down a bloody hunk of blubber and opened his eyes wide. “You do, do you?”

  Theo nodded.

  “I hear the young king is a good sort. Fought bravely at the battle in Beyond the Beyond. And got some sort of magic ember. Maybe he could knock out the hagsfiends with it. Now that would be a blessing of Ursa!”

  “You hear a lot, Svarr, and that is why I have come.”

  “Why’s that?” Svarr was suddenly alert.

  “What you hear could help our young king.” Theo went on to explain Hoole’s plan to have a network of slipgizzles that could keep him informed.

  “Well, you know polar bears, we’ve never taken sides. But these owls and their hagsfiends are a bad lot. I heard Svenka herself got caught in a fyngrot back before her cubs were born.”

  “Oh, that reminds me. I have a message from Svenka. She said in two years she would meet you. Same time, same place.”

  Svarr rolled his huge dark eyes. “What’s a fella to do?” He sighed, and when he exhaled, it nearly blew Theo off the ice outcropping on which he perched. “So you want me to keep an ear open by the old smee holes?”

  “Yes. Find out if Lord Arrin is planning a counterattack of some sort. How many troops does he have? Any new hagsfiends?”

  “Whooo-hee!”

  Again Theo had to grip with his talons on the ice. He wished that Svarr did not indulge in such windy exclamations. “You, my fine friend, are behind the times. These days, Lord Arrin hardly has two yarped pellets to rub together.”

  “What?”

  “You heard me.”

  “That last battle shattered his forces. They split like ice fields on a summer’s day.”

  “You mean they’re gone?”

  “Not gone. Regrouped. They’re all fighting for the spoils. It’s a feast for vultures up here in the N’yrthghar. Before the Battle in the Beyond, Lord Arrin had taken old King H’rath’s Ice Cliff Palace on the H’rathghar glacier, but now some upstart, with a force double the size of Arrin’s, laid siege to it and drove Lord Arrin’s forces out. Then Ullryck, a horrible hagsfiend if there ever was one—and Lord Arrin’s best assassin—well, she up and starts a division of all her own hagsfiends. No owls at all.”

  “New alliances, eh?”

  “Yes, new alliances. They are all struggling for power. There is even a gang of old gadfeathers who have decided to fight.”

  “Gadfeathers fighting?” Theo was aghast.

  “Shocking, isn’t it? They don’t call themselves gadfeathers anymore. They call themselves kraals. They’re not so much interested in power or killing. They just like to steal, mostly.”

  “Kraals.” Theo repeated the word. It must have come from the old Krakish word “kraalynk,” which meant to attack for treasure.

  “They’ve traded in their gaudy bits and bobs for paint and live in ground nests out on the tundra. They figured out how to make colored paints from berries, mosses, and the like. You’ve never seen anything like them. All painted up. Makes a gadfeather look plain, I tell you!”

  “And you say that some other group has taken over the palace on the H’rathghar glacier?” Theo asked.

  “Yes. Can’t remember the fellow’s name. And he has hagsfiends with him. Young ones, from what I hear.”

  Svarr had definitely heard a lot, Theo reflected. But the most important piece of information was that the N’yrthghar was in shambles. A feast for vultures, indeed, with outl
aws and kraals and hagsfiends and tyrants all competing for the spoils. He needed to visit the Ice Cliff Palace now to find out just how many owls and hagsfiends were holding it.

  “Oh, I nearly forgot,” Theo said shortly before he left. “Have you heard of a Spotted Owl named Emerilla?”

  “Emerilla, daughter of Strumajen and Hurthwel?”

  “Yes! Yes!”

  “Oh, indeed I have. She was said to be one of the finest young soldiers in the Ice Regiment, but it is thought she was lost in a battle. Never heard from again.”

  “You know nothing further of her?”

  “No. But they talk about her all the time. Lord Arrin is obsessed with her. I think he’d like her for his mate. Some say she’s gone off with the hagsfiends. Others claim she’s with the kraals.”

  “Well, thank you, Svarr. You have been most helpful. And if you hear anything, might there be a way you could get news to us?”

  “Well, as you know, we are a solitary sort. But I suppose I could get word to Svenka.”

  “That would be fine, because we will be checking in regularly with her.”

  “She’s a good lass. I miss her sometimes. Tell her I’ll look forward to our meeting in two years. Wish her well with the cubs.”

  “Would you like to send a special message to Rolf and Anka?”

  “Rolf and Anka? Now why in the name of Ursa did she name them that? Those are the two most un-bearish names I’ve ever heard. We are always called good north-country names like Sven or Svarr.”

  “Maybe she just wanted to try something different, original,” Theo suggested.

  Svarr crinkled one eye shut and pawed at his chin fur. “You know, sometimes I think these females try to be just a little too original, don’t you?”

  “Oh, I wouldn’t know, really. But is there anything you want to tell the cubs?”

  “No, not really. Cubs rather bore me.”

  Theo blinked. No doubt, polar bears were an odd species. He thanked Svarr again and took off. Now, he wondered, should I fly on and see them, Mum? Da? Shadyk?

  The mere thought of his father made him flinch and his wings feel heavy as stone.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Home?

  The Firth of Grundenspyrr was as crooked as a wolf’s hind leg, and it was one of the few firths that had trees. Just as the dawn was breaking, Theo spotted the N’yrthfyr birch that had been the tree where his family had its hollow. Theo was unsure exactly how to announce his arrival. His mother was a frail sort and he didn’t want to shock her. He wondered if Shadyk was still there. He thought it might be best to fly around to the back of the tree where there was a tiny hollow that had not been used in years. If it was empty, he would just slip in and listen to what was going on with his own family for a while.

  He could hear voices as he approached the back of the tree: one male and one female. He squashed into the hollow, which was more suitable for an Elf or Pygmy owl than himself. His mother had always had a tiny, meek voice, but now there was an earsplitting din coming from his family’s hollow. And shrill peals of laughter.

  “By my butt feathers, that’s the funniest thing I ever heard,” the female said.

  “But Philma, it’s true!”

  Philma! That was Theo’s mum’s name, but he had never heard her laugh, let alone speak so coarsely. And the other voice was definitely not his father’s, nor was it Shadyk’s. What in Glaux’s name is going on here? Theo wasted no time in wondering. He immediately flew out of the tiny hollow and around the tree, lighting down on a branch. “Mum!” The word was swallowed in gales of raucous laughter. “Mum! Mum!” he shouted out. The laughter stopped. Two bright, sparkling yellow eyes peeped from the hollow. Atop her head were the fluffy ear tufts that his mum was so proud of because they were fuller and lovelier than those of most Great Horned Owls. It was indeed his mum!

  “Theo!” she hooted. “Theo, lovey! I can’t believe it! Theo’s come home! Wyg, get out here. It’s Theo!”

  Wyg? Who’s Wyg? Theo racked his brain. Theo’s father’s name was Hakon. Another Great Horned stepped out onto the branch. “Mum, where’s Da?”

  “Oh, dear. How to break this to you.”

  “Now, now, Philma.” Wyg was preening her ear tufts with what seemed to Theo an overly familiar gesture.

  “Your da, I regret to say”—although there did not seem to be much regret in her voice—“has done passed on, Theo.”

  “You mean died? He’s dead?”

  “Yes, dearie. I know how much he meant to you.”

  She’s got to be kidding! thought Theo.

  “What happened?”

  “Well, when Shadyk went off to fight in the wars…”

  “What? Shadyk went off to fight?”

  “Yes. Can you believe it? He’s made quite a name for himself. But I’ll tell you about that later. Come on in the hollow. We just got some fresh-killed lemmings.” She turned and blinked rapidly at Wyg. “Wyg is such a hunter.” She flew up and tweaked one of his ear tufts. Then they nuzzled a bit. At this point, Theo could have been knocked over by a feather.

  “You were saying about Da?” Theo asked.

  “Oh, yes, dear. I do get distracted.” She giggled.

  Has there ever been a jollier widow? Theo wondered.

  “Well, when Shadyk went off to the glacier battles, your father, you know, never one to be outdone—especially by a son whom he’d always considered the runt—well, he decided to go, too.” She paused and tried to rearrange her merry face into a somewhat more doleful expression.

  “Yes,” Theo said, “and what happened?”

  “So he went off and got himself killed—right off the twig, practically. Hardly had a chance to raise his ice blade.” She cast her eyes down mournfully, made a sound halfway between a whimper and a sigh. Then she looked up, her eyes beaming as Theo had never seen them. “But now I have a new mate. And he don’t swat me—no, not never—like your da sometimes did.”

  Theo was astonished beyond anything. “Well, I’m so happy for you. And what’s this about Shadyk? You said he’s gone off to the wars?”

  Now Philma’s eyes grew large. “Oh, my goodness, he certainly did. And he’s not so little anymore.” Her voice dropped. “Theo, dear, you’re not going to believe this, but Shadyk started himself up a regiment. And guess what?”

  “What?” Theo was afraid to ask.

  “They have captured H’rath’s old Ice Palace.”

  This was truly beyond belief. Theo blinked his eyes several times. “The Ice Palace of the H’rathghar glacier?”

  “The very one.” Philma nodded.

  “But Mum, that was King H’rath’s. He was a good king.”

  “Well, you know how these things go, dear,” his mum replied.

  “No, Mum. I don’t know.”

  “Well, King H’rath was defeated, and that awful Lord Arrin came and took it over. But he doesn’t know how to run anything, Shadyk says, and it’s a shame to let that beautiful palace go to waste.”

  “To waste? Mum, Shadyk has to be a king to live there. What in the world does Shadyk know about running anything?”

  “He’ll learn, dear. He’ll learn. And you know he has the nicest group of young hagsfiends.”

  “Hagsfiends! He has hagsfiends?”

  “Why, yes, dear. You know, they’re not as bad as you might think, especially the young ones. He’s training them, bringing them up right and proper.”

  Proper hagsfiends? Madness! There were tens, hundreds of questions Theo was dying to ask. Had Shadyk or his mum no loyalty to Siv or H’rath? To Hoole? They had certainly heard about Hoole and the Battle in the Beyond. Had Shadyk no reservations about hagsfiends? But as soon as Theo found out about his brother’s alliance with the creatures he knew that these questions could not be asked. And even more important, he knew that he must not under any circumstances reveal that he was an ally and close friend to King Hoole, the rightful heir to the throne of the N’yrthghar.

  “We go up there all t
he time to the Glacier Palace,” his mother continued. “They treat us like royalty.”

  It was all Theo could do to keep from yarping. But suddenly, he realized this was his chance. He composed himself as best he could. “I would love to see Shadyk again.”

  “Well, we could all go for a visit. What fun!” Philma lofted herself straight up into the air and beat her talons together in a gesture of utter joy. Theo was stunned. Imagine celebrating a son who was consorting with hagsfiends.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  A Stench Most Foul

  “Keep a sharp lookout for smoke,” Hoole said as he, Phineas, and the Snow Rose flew in a southeasterly direction over the Forest of Ambala. The three owls had been in the Southern Kingdoms almost two moon cycles now. At the moment, they were looking for the telltale signs of a blacksmith’s forge, or Rogue smith, as these independent ironmongers had already come to be called.

  The news had quickly spread throughout the S’yrthghar of the powerful new weapons that Hoole and Theo and a few others had fought with in the Battle of the Beyond. In the few moon cycles since then, Hoole was amazed to see several of the hireclaws who had fought for Siv trying their luck diving for coals and building fires. A few of them had actually become proficient at it. But then they were faced with the harder task of trying to figure out what seemed like magic to them—melting rock into metal and making weapons from it. But most important, the new Rogue smiths and colliers were all passionately devoted to the late Queen Siv. Loners by nature, they avoided settling down. That did not mean they were completely unsociable. They genuinely liked it when visitors stopped by their forges and admired their fires or their ironwork. And they became positively chatty when discussing blacksmithing.

  Hoole quickly ascertained that Rogue smiths would make excellent slipgizzles. Every owl now craved battle claws and came to them in hopes of procuring a set, so the smiths heard plenty of news. A forge could yield as much information as a grog tree these days. Hoole decided early on that they would not directly ask the owls if they wanted to be slipgizzles. He would first determine a smith’s loyalties and secondly assess if he or she had the wits and instincts for collecting information and passing it along. Invariably, they did have these qualities and were thrilled to be of service to the noble young king. Hoole recognized many of them from the battle, but luckily they did not recognize him in his gadfeather disguise.