“It’s a snable. A snake table. The late Mrs. Plithiver invented it,” Otulissa offered.
“We’re quite flexible.” A voice came from the center of the platform. “You see, we can inflate ourselves so that we become fatter, providing more surface area for you to eat from. Do come up. We have some more sugar gliders, as we understand you like them, and milkberry pudding. Quite fortifying. And it’s the season of the Copper Rain—best milkberries of the entire year!”
Milkberries, the bears would learn, were the mainstay of the owl diet at the tree, for the tree itself yielded these glistening berries all through the year, but each season’s berries had their own special flavor. The Copper Rain season was said to produce the sweetest berries of all.
No sooner had the bears seated themselves at the snable than Otulissa launched into a description of what the bears needed to learn before they set out for other parts of the Hoolian kingdoms.
“The first order of business will be to familiarize yourselves with the chaws of the tree. Chaws are small teams of owls. Each chaw has a special talent. Colliers dive into forest fires to collect coals—coals for the tree’s blacksmith, coals for cooking, coals for lighting our candles.”
“They dive into forest fires!” Third said. “How do they do that without killing themselves?”
“Very skillfully,” Otulissa replied curtly. “Then there is the navigation chaw—all masterful flyers, and they work closely with the search and rescue chaw. The weather interpretation chaw works closely with the colliers. In all, there are seven chaws. You shall also have courses in geography so you can find your way to the various regions of this southern world. There are basically five major areas—Ambala, Tyto, the Shadow Forest, Silverveil, and Beyond the Beyond, where the wolves live. There are some other minor regions as well, and you will learn about them too. Now, how are your reading and writing skills?”
“Terrific!” Jytte replied.
“Passable,” Stellan said.
“Well, which is it?” Otulissa asked.
Stellan and Jytte exchanged a glance. Their mum, Svenna, had begun to teach them letters and sounding out words. And then when they had escaped from Taaka and stumbled into the strange town of Winston, where the others had lived, they found signs with peculiar words like WINSTON GAS ALL NIGHT, WINSTON 5&10, and CALL 675-2327 (BEAR).
“Jytte and Stellan taught us,” Froya replied, tipping her head toward her brother, Third.
“But we learned from our mum, Svenna,” Stellan said.
Cleve’s and Otulissa’s eyes opened wide. “Aaah, Svenna. Of course!” Otulissa said.
“You know her?” Jytte gulped. Could this be possible? She steadied herself and looked into the spotted owl’s luminous brown eye.
“No, not personally, but you see, I am, among other things, the tree historian, and I know that your mum, and therefore you, is descended from the noble bear Svenka, who saved Queen Siv during the wars with the hagsfiends for the N’yrthghar!” She lofted herself into the air of the dining hollow, then, flipping her head back, commanded the bears, “Follow me. The lessons will begin in my study immediately, in the hollow of the great sage of the tree. Ezylryb, or Lyze of Kiel, as he was once called!”
Ugh! Jytte thought. What lessons did they really need for war? They had already battled hagsfiends, dragon walruses, and toothwalkers. Stellan had the scar of a toothwalker on his haunch, and she had one from a skunk bear on her face. Wasn’t that proof enough that they had been in combat and come out alive? They had had experience—real-life experience. Why did they need to study books and maps?
Winter had advanced rapidly in the Nunquivik. Svenna had been alternately swimming and walking to put as much distance as possible between herself and the bears of the Ice Clock. But she knew that there were always small bands of Roguers on the lookout for rebel infiltrators from the Northern Kingdoms of Ga’Hoole, and most likely looking for her. Possibly an Issengard unit had been dispatched on a special mission to hunt her down. If they found her, she would be dragged off to a black ice ort and tortured.
She now surfaced again. Inhaling deeply, she realized something was different. It was the air. Gone was the sulfurous smell of the two volcanoes Pupya and Prya. The ashes and fumes of their periodic explosions saturated the region of the Ice Cap, the Ublunkyn. She took another deep sniff. She climbed out of the water onto an ice floe and scanned the sea ahead of her. She knew her swimming days and nights were over. This was the last open water. Traveling would become instantly more perilous, as she would be exposed. She would have to make her way very carefully so as not to be spied. Perhaps she would need to vatsapoose. This was the old Krakish word for traveling on one’s belly. It worked beautifully, especially on klarken ice, the very smooth and almost transparent ice. And this was klarken ice that had formed not far from Oddsvall.
The days were growing shorter, the nights longer. It was the end of the Ice Growing Moon and soon it would be the jumble moon. So far, the sealing had been good. She had become fairly skillful at water kills as opposed to still-hunting, where one sat near a breathing hole and waited, often for hours on end. That was simply too dangerous. She had learned how to follow the water track of a seal. She could detect the current of their flippers, and she learned the scent of their urine. She had no idea they urinated so often underwater. But mostly she learned to listen. She began to pick up their sounds. She was amazed how chatty these creatures were beneath the surface of the ice. They emitted a variety of noises, from a chug, chug, chug to trills and squeaks. As soon as she picked up a trill or the chug or a squeak, she was on it. The seals, however, had one distinct advantage over her. They could stay underwater for as long as thirty minutes. Thirty minutes, forty seconds, three milliseconds, she once guessed, then chastised herself. Stop it, Svenna! You are free! You are no longer a slave of the Ice Clock.
Svenna was now a bear with a plan. And the most important part of that plan was to find her cubs. She had a feeling some moons ago, when some cubs were spotted near the Ice Clock on the ice spines, that they might have been hers. It was perhaps irrational. If these cubs had any sense, they would have fled the region. Certainly no cubs had been captured. Of this she was sure. There would have been talk if they had been. Cubs simply arriving on their own in the region of the Ice Clock was unheard of. Nevertheless, those cubs who were spied had escaped the Roguers, and just maybe they had been her cubs. Jameson, the dying blue seal, had told her he had met her cubs somehow shortly after she had left them with Taaka. He said they had shed their common birth names, First and Second—their birth order—that all cubs were given for one year at least, and now called themselves after the wandering stars Jytte and Stellan.
She had to start her search somewhere now that she had escaped, so logically the first part of her plan was to go back to Taaka’s den, where she had left them—good gracious, she thought they would be yosses by now! Since the time she left the cubs with Taaka, Svenna had sensed that there was something slightly odd about this cousin of hers. She could never quite put a claw on what it was. But at the time when the Roguers came for her, what choice did she have?
She had to push on—literally on her belly.
Svenna had made good time, and in her third night, she discovered an open lead, where the ice had not yet formed. Halibut swam through it. They were enormous slow-moving fish that swam along the bottom. The lead was shallow, and it was easy to catch them. She feasted. It made her, of course, think again of the cubs. How those little chunkins loved halibut. Chunkins was a word she had made up for them. For indeed, in their first few months, they were like little chunks of ice. Their legs weren’t very long, and when they waddled about, it made her laugh. It appeared as if chunks of ice had suddenly been animated. That time had been brief, but it was the rest of the time when she had not seen them growing up that she mourned. It would always be like an open wound for her. The time she had missed with those darling cubs.
It wasn’t until she climbed out to eat her
second halibut of the day that she realized that in fact she was very close to Taaka’s den. But so far, she could not track that elusive life scent that bound a mother to her young. Shouldn’t there be some sort of shreds of it, remnants? It could not be completely erased. Or could it? It seemed so wrong that she should live on in a universe where her cubs did not exist. She saw a fox slinking by where the lead ended on the coastline. It was a female. She supposed she could ask. The fox might be Taaka’s hala. A hala was a fox who had attached itself to a bear, following it and eating the scraps left behind from seal kills. In the moonlight, the shadow of the fox stretched across the white landscape and seemed to beckon her. But Svenna resisted. She didn’t want to mess with another bear’s hala. It went against bear etiquette, for one thing, and most of all, she felt she had to be very careful in how she approached Taaka. She wanted to conceal her presence until she could confirm that indeed she was very near the den and that it was still occupied by Taaka. She swam farther up the lead. There was a convenient chunk of jumble ice anchored in shallow water that she could hide behind. No bear on land would see her there, and the fox had disappeared. She knew for certain now that this was Taaka’s den, even though she had not seen her. Svenna would be patient and wait, however.
The moon was riding high in the sky. It began to slip away, and then the blackness of the night was total except for the stars. She peered up at the skipping stars, Jytte and Stellan. There they were, dancing above the head stars of the Great Bear. Naughty little stars, she chuckled to herself—not following as they should behind the heel and knee star for which she and her mate Svern had been named.
She heard a bellow. Definitely a male bear. She peeked around the corner of the huge chunk of jumble ice. The night had faded. The scrap of sun that would rise for only a brief sliver of time, perhaps an hour at most, was beginning to gild the coastline. Two immense shadows were approaching the den.
“Gretschwig!” A greeting was called out. A greeting Svenna had not heard since her time at the Ice Clock.
Svenna opened her eyes wide. She stopped breathing. A rising spear of sunlight illuminated their chests, which were emblazoned with stripes of blood. Roguers!
How long had she held her breath? How long had this horror lasted until she could recover her wits? It was as if a blyndspryee, that savage wind that came from afar, had blown through her mind. She had lost consciousness for several seconds. Her heart was now pounding so loud in her chest that her entire body seemed to quake. This was no place for her or any decent bear. She could smell the Roguers from where she crouched. It was the unmistakable smell that they carried with them—the scent of the two volcanoes at the Ice Clock, Pupya and Prya! She would know it anywhere. Now she prayed that her cubs were long gone from this den.
Svenna would wait and watch. She found herself hoping that it was not Taaka’s den. But she did not have to wait long to be disabused of this notion. For in less than a minute, Taaka crawled out of the den. Svenna could not hear their conversation, but it was obvious that they knew one another well. However, when the Roguers turned to leave, three words sailed out clearly: “Patek velklynck”—Blessed be our Patek! Taaka was blessing the Grand Patek! She had left her cubs with this she-bear. A horror filled Svenna.
Svenna had to think. Should she confront Taaka? Could she? If she did, she had to wait until the Roguer bears were far away. If there was any sound of a confrontation, any violence, they would hear it. The ice was growing thicker. The lead was closing up fast. The conditions were becoming perfect for still-hunting. There would be a good chance that Taaka would go out for seal. If the winds were right, Svenna could follow her and meet her not in her den but out on the Far Ice.
Taaka had been traveling for several hours through the short light, as it was called during the long dark of winter. The wind shifted, and she lifted her muzzle. A new scent alerted her. But was it new or something old and yet strangely familiar? She continued across the ice. She began to have an eerie sensation that someone was following her. But she saw nothing, except it did seem as if a chunk of jumble ice she had passed some time ago was closer. How could that be? The air was so dry. No meltwater, so it couldn’t slide on its own. But supposing it is not on its own?
Just then a figure came out from behind the jumble ice.
“Hello, Taaka, I’m back for my cubs.” Svenna began advancing.
“Wh-wh-what cubs?”
“Mine, Taaka. How quickly you forget.”
“Oh, them.” There was something in her voice that was like grit in Svenna’s heart.
“Yes, them!”
“Svenna, why would you ever think they would still be with me? They must be yosses by now. Out on their own.”
“Do you know where?” There was no response. “Would your visitors know where?”
“What visitors?” Taaka managed to ask.
“The two Roguer bears.”
Confusion swam in Taaka’s dark eyes. It was as if she was weighing her options but sensed time was running out. She lowered her head, emitted a hissing sound from her nostrils, and then charged. Svenna dodged but not enough. Taaka smacked into Svenna, setting her off balance. Before Svenna could think, Taaka was on top of her. She heard the creak of Taaka’s jaws opening. The first move in any bear fight was the krakyaw. But females seldom fought. Still, she should have known. She felt Taaka’s fangs sink into the top of her head. Better than my neck! Svenna thought. She shut her eyes. She felt a surge of energy, not pain, run through her. She bunched her shoulders against the enormous weight of Taaka, and curled up. Summoning every muscle, every fiber in her body, she bucked. She felt the weight fall off. Taaka was now sprawled on her back.
Perfect! Svenna thought. With one jump, she could tear open Taaka’s exposed chest and rake out her heart! Svenna leaped, but at the same moment, Taaka rolled. She was now staggering to her feet again and in her left paw she held a skylblad! This was a weapon carried by the most elite of the Roguer unit. The most dangerous of all weapons of the Ice Cap; it was made of ice, oddly enough forged in the mouth of extinct volcanoes. So this was what Taaka had become—an elite Roguer herself? Or at least in league with the tyranny of the Ice Clock? And this bear was now advancing on her. Taaka was limping and seemed to move crookedly, as if her hindquarters were not aligned. Svenna realized that she must have hurt her in some way. But was it good enough? She knew that skylblads, although deadly, were limited in the number of times they could be used for killing before they became useless. But one stab and the victim was dead. More than dead, she had once overheard an Issengard say at the Ice Clock. Where had Taaka tucked it away when she had gone out to still-hunt? How had it just suddenly appeared? There was no time to think.
Svenna crouched down. The two bears had locked their gazes as they moved around each other slowly, growling and gauging each other’s strength. Taaka gripped the skylblad in her teeth. The light of the moon glinted off its icy edge. To use it, Taaka would have to stand up. It appeared as if she was on the brink of doing just that. Taaka began to rise. In the next second, she lunged. The two bears rolled as Svenna clawed at her neck. Taaka roared in pain. The skylblad slid across the ice. They both scrambled for it. Their paws grabbed it together. Flat on their bellies, they wrestled with the lethal weapon between them. Then, suddenly, Taaka screeched. She dropped her paw. The knife fell. Svenna seized it and immediately stabbed Taaka. A terrible odor engulfed them. The fur where she had been stabbed seemed to smolder as Taaka’s eyes rolled back in her head. Dead. She’s dead, Svenna thought, and in that same moment, the shadow of a fox slid over the blood-streaked white fur of Taaka.
Svenna looked down at the ice. The skylblad was gone. She looked around. Where had it gone? There was not a trace of it. This must have been its last stab.
“Gone,” a voice yipped. “Its last stab. Last murder. Just gone.”
It was the voice of a fox. But when Svenna looked around, the fox had vanished.
Had Illya really gone that far? All the way
to the Ice Clock at the Ublunkyn? If she had, was there any chance she would still be alive? Lago had smelled the scent of her sister on that female bear. The one who survived the fight she had just witnessed. There was actually a tangle of scents on that bear in addition to the horrible scent of the dead bear, the one called Taaka. She knew Taaka. She had followed her for several seasons. However, she was a mean bear, so Lago finally had stopped following her. Then it dawned on her. That bear, the one called Svenna, was the mother of the cubs who had been left with Taaka. That was one of the other scents she had picked up in that tangle. She had tried to help the cubs when they had lived with Taaka and she was treating them so brutally. They had even spent a night in Lago’s den.
Lago’s head whirled. “Too many scents,” she muttered. “Too many.” There was the noxious scent of the Ice Cap that came from the skylblad, and then strangely the smell of her sister, Illya, on the bear called Svenna. But that made no sense whatsoever. How could a bear carry the scent of a fox—unless of course she was a shape-shifter like in the Ki-hi-ru stories that had so obsessed her and her sister.
Although Lago was hungry, she was too tired to go mousing, and besides it wasn’t really mousing territory here—mostly voles, and then there were the disgusting ice borers, ratlike creatures who bored through the ice with their heads. Their meat was revolting. No, Lago decided she would tuck in, rest up, and try to think about what she had just experienced. That bear Svenna—there was no way she was a shape-shifter. She fought like a bear. A fox might be able to change her shape, but could it fight like that?
It had been so long since Illya had left. But she had to admit she had never ceased missing her. It was an unending grief.
Would she ever forget the day Illya vanished?
The Keepers of the Keys Page 5
