A Perjury of Owls

by Michael Angel

  My grin vanished like a sun gone behind a cloud. With all that had happened, between trying to find out what had happened to Thea, my date with Esteban, and bringing Shelly back from the barrio azul, I hadn’t given it a single iota of thought!

  Chapter Thirty

  “Um,” I declared eloquently, “I’m going to need more time to think it over.”

  “What? Oh, that can’t be, that can’t be! There are royal artisans all over the castle who will be dishonored if they do not show the King their new designs before the day is out. They have been paid to remain on site here at the palace the last two days, and if funds are indeed tight, that is money that cannot be paid back!”

  “All right, fine, let’s figure out something now,” I said, nettled.

  I really wasn’t in any mood for this right now, but Herald was really getting bent out of shape. For all I knew, maybe there were artisans on the royal payroll who’d end up with a black mark on their records, and in Andeluvia a black mark could easily mean anything from not getting hired again, to being flogged in public.

  “Allow me to assist,” Herald said smoothly, comfortably back in his element. We sat down in a pair of chairs at the table as he pulled over the huge leather-bound book he’d left with me last time. He opened it and began thumbing through pages, all while Galen looked over our shoulders with scarcely concealed amusement. “Everything has meaning, even the tincture of and division of your sigil’s field.”

  “Tincture meaning ‘color’, right?”

  “Shade of color, Dayna,” he corrected me, as he flipped to a page with about thirty different swatches of green. A combination of numbers had been written in below each swatch. “What do you see here?”

  In truth, it looked rather like a brochure for day-gloss paints at the local home improvement store. But rather than compound my rudeness from earlier, I simply said, “Multiple shades of green. I don’t see how that’s relevant.”

  “The shade itself connotes different things.” He pointed to one swatch that was a light, seafoam green, and then one that was a darker, pool-table green. “This first shade adorns the shield of a knightly family that lives close to the Weatherglass Sea, so the green is reminiscent of seawater. The second is the darker green of pine trees, so it is claimed by one of the lords whose demesnes constitute woodland.”

  “Okay, I get it. What about the ‘division’ of the field?”

  “Many knights and lords prefer a single color, symbolizing purity. Others will split or quarter their shields with different colors in order to broadcast an express alliance, marriage, or even a coalition.” As he spoke, he flipped through a series of pages showing examples of sigils divided into two, three, four, and even one that had seven divisions carved into a shield emblem like slices of Technicolor pie. “After all, our own kingdom’s colors are crimson and coal. This symbolized the joining of two families to create our first royal line.”

  “I’m still following.” In spite of myself, I was finding this interesting. “What else do I need to select?”

  Herald turned the pages at a faster pace now. “You can select multiple emblems, symbols, or letters to place atop your sigil’s field or fields. The custom is to select one central symbol, with no more than one supporting image per division. Otherwise, the design might look too cluttered, and who likes an overly cluttered picture?”

  At least the images recorded in the books helped spur ideas on. Many had animal figures as the central symbol. I saw great golden eagles with spread wings, roaring bears, sinuous snakes, or proud griffins. Some used objects like crossed swords, silver goblets, or even a bejeweled crown. Still others went for more abstract patterns, mostly put in as the ‘secondary’ symbols: a checkered grid, a spiral, even an upside-down ‘V’ that I think was meant to be a mountain.

  I thought back on my time in Andeluvia. I didn’t have any power-marriages to speak of, but I did have friends that I counted on like family. And from what I’d seen in my travels and my investiture, the award of my demesne…

  My mind did one of it peculiar clicks, and I knew what I wanted.

  Galen had left several blank sheets of parchment on the table from his work of last night. I found one that hadn’t been spattered with ale and then pulled a ballpoint pen from my cloak. I quickly sketched out my idea for a central symbol atop a quartered field. Then I flipped through the book, selecting the colors and adding in their numbers into each quarter-chunk.

  “Here,” I said, pushing the finished result into Herald’s hands. “Tell me if that runs afoul of any of your office’s conventions.”

  The Lord of the Pursuivant checked my selections against the paint-swatch pages and then the quartered shields. His face beamed as he looked up at me, and I knew the answer.

  “It does not,” he pronounced. “I think it is a rather impressive design, actually.”

  And with that, he closed up his book, tucked it under his arm, and left at a near run to deliver my sketch to the royal artisans.

  I leaned back in my chair, tucked my pen away, and let out a sigh.

  “That’s done, at least,” I declared to Galen. “For a tower room, it seems that I don’t get a lot of privacy here.”

  That was the cue for another damned knock.

  “Galen,” I said, as I put my head in my hands, “Please, just bar the door or something.”

  “I would certainly comply with your wishes,” Galen said, with a wry tone. “Except for the fact that the knocking is coming from one of the windows.”

  “What the–” I began to say, before Galen threw open the shutters nearest to him.

  Xandra fluttered into the room, knocking a dusting of snow from the window ledge as she did so. She dropped a little cloth package on the table in front of me before settling on the back of the chair Herald had vacated. She shook off yet more flakes that clung to her head.

  “As much apology as this one can muster,” Xandra said, sounding even more out of breath than when she’d begged me to meet her in the Grove of the Willows. “This one’s youngest offspring of her clutch asked us to bring this to you.”

  I halfway knew what I would find as I unwrapped the cloth, but it hurt to see it all the same. Tucked lovingly into the folds was an achingly small bundle of downy wing feathers. Each tiny feather was the color of orange sherbet.

  I closed my eyes and willed myself not to cry again.

  “Was it…how did he…” I struggled to ask.

  “One’s beloved son passed away as last night’s full moon crested the heavens. This one flew under bough of tree, scud of cloud, and through dark tunnels to bring the package. It was not done with intentions as casual as a flight of pass-by friends.”

  “You had to sneak it out of the Roost,” I realized. “Why?”

  “One fears the healers of the Noctua. They used chant and herb and unguent to help this one’s offspring. But through all their skill, the one in ill health only sank deeper into the mire. The Noctua are not ones who fail lightly. Embarrassment must have claimed their pride, for they took the deceased’s body as swiftly as a taloned foot grabs a mouse.”

  I felt an all too familiar ugly chill deep inside. Had the Noctua been embarrassed? Or had they taken Perrin’s little body as quickly as possible for some other reason?

  Yes, that was the forensic examiner voice speaking again. Seeing murder in every overturned stone, every red-tinged knife, at the bottom of every drained drinking glass. Which should have bothered me.

  Except that voice had been right a hell of lot more than it had been wrong.

  “We shall all weep for the little one, when we are able,” Xandra continued, sounding ever more serious, even in her whispery nun’s voice. “Hours do not exist for more important deeds and thoughts for now.”

  Galen threw me a glance that was equal parts alarmed and confused. Even I was still trying to figure out Xandra’s ultimate meaning. But for her to push aside her grief over her son, something big was definitely in the air.

  “W
e of the Hoohan have bided our time, moving in the darkness, waiting to strike. And now the stars are aligned, for today is the right time.”

  “What do you mean, Xandra?” I asked. “Please, take your time and explain. We need to make sure there’s no misunderstanding between us on this.”

  “So this one shall. The visit of the one who rides a griffin as a friend was noted and bruited about widely among those of the Roost. All who spoke of it concluded the same: She-from-another-world did the impossible.”

  “The impossible? What did I do?”

  The female owl fixed me with a grateful look. “She-from-another-world reached out to one like Perrin, like the Albess. Reached right into the realm of madness and changed the little one so that he died happy and comforted, enveloped in our wings.”

  I didn’t know what to say to that. My eyes definitely began to brim up again. Without a word, Galen handed me a clean cloth to dry my eyes before they spilled over.

  “This one’s people agreed on one thing: that if she-from-another world can accomplish the impossible, that maybe the Hoohan can also do an impossible thing!”

  “What would that be?”

  “Why, one speaks of bringing back the sacred heart of the Hoohan!” Xandra said, with an air of defiance. “One speaks of rescuing the Albess from where the Noctua still imprison her!”

  The world spun crazily under my feet for a second. My ears weren’t deceiving me, I was sure of it. Yet there was no way that I couldn’t ask the obvious question.

  “You mean…Thea is still alive?” I asked desperately.

  “Only for the moment,” Xandra cautioned. “But such time is like the final grains sifting through the neck of the hourglass. One is sure that the Albess shall be no more very soon, as surely as this one’s son perished at the Noctua’s tender mercies.”

  Chapter Thirty-One

  In all the fantasy literature I’d read, wizards were the kind of people who wielded devastating magic but were weak as newborn kittens when it came to raw strength. For all I knew, Galen was on the lightweight end of the scale for centaurs as well. But compared to a human, centaurs easily fit into my personal category of ‘damn strong’.

  With a flex of his muscles, Galen easily hefted the giant slate board from its wheeled frame and laid it flat on my table. Then he handed Xandra a piece of chalk. Easily balancing on one foot, the Parlimentarian began sketching out maps and diagrams.

  “One knows that the Albess has been laid to unhappy rest in the stony deeps of the Holy Order’s Sepulcher of the Eight Talons,” she said, between scribbles. “It lies close to the Roost of the Star Child, between the winds of ice and the setting sun.”

  “Wait, what the heck does that mean?” I asked, frustrated.

  I had to force myself to remain calm. The uniquely owlish way of speech could get extremely trying. I normally didn’t mind it too much, but I felt every tick of the clock and it was getting hard to figure out what Xandra was saying.

  “I believe that I may have an inkling,” Galen stated, in his best professorial manner. “Xandra, the ‘Winds of Ice’ are the chill ones that come from the north, correct?”

  “One cannot but say yes.”

  “And the sun sets in the west, does it not?”

  “Even a newly hatched chick knows that it does.”

  The wizard turned back to me. “So, I’d say that this Sepulcher of the Eight Talons is to the north and west of the Roost.”

  That got a rueful chuckle out of me. “Maybe I should let someone else try to solve all the mysteries around here.”

  “Banish the very thought!” Galen said, aghast.

  Xandra finished off the rest of her map showing the Sepulcher at the base of a series of cliffs looking as if they’d been shaved perfectly flat by a straightedge razor. She looked up at me, owl eyes blinking.

  “One wishes to know if the map is as clear as rain water,” she intoned.

  “Yes, it’s clear,” I said. “But I also want to know about these ‘stony deeps’ you mentioned. In my world, a ‘sepulcher’ is a tomb, or a burial vault. Is this place underground? And is it big enough to get lost in?”

  “Most assuredly, the sepulcher is beneath the ground, for it is where holy relics are kept. Also, one feels that it is difficult for one to lose one’s sense of place within.”

  “Well, that’s good.”

  “However, for those who lack wings or cannot see in light dim enough to be mistaken for night, it is very possible to lose all sense of one’s place within.”

  “Why am I not the least surprised by that?” I groused. “You better draw me a map of the inside, then.”

  Galen rubbed his chin in thought. “I wonder. Why would the Noctua choose to build in such a deep and shadowy place?”

  Xandra looked up from where she’d already begun her next sketch. “The Noctua sense that the time of the Past War is drawing near. One heard of rumors all through the Roost. Of talks in the shadows with the ones who are now arisen from the dark.”

  The wizard looked grim at that. “That is troubling, to say the least. For now, as I have heard Dayna say, let us ‘put a pin’ in it.”

  “Only when we get the Albess back do I want to find out more about that,” I agreed. “Xandra, are your fellow owls ready to move?”

  “Those of the Roost are but waiting for this one’s word,” she replied. “However, one cannot expect help from more than this one dwelling.”

  “What? Why not?”

  The Parlimentarian fluffed her feathers out, looking indignant and ashamed at the same time. “One’s people do not willingly attack the Noctua! It is forbidden to raise a talon to the members of that holy order!”

  “Not even to save the Albess?”

  “One’s people are not aware of the black night of the Noctua’s treachery, save those who believe in what this one has witnessed. And even then, it was only the example set by she-from-another-world who enkindled their spirit to stand like stone against the tide.”

  I nodded wearily. “I understand. Your Roost is taking a very dangerous action by doing this.”

  “The ones who dwell in the lair of the Star Child are not warriors of the Noctua’s caliber, but we shall do what we can, by the strength of our wings and the bite of our talons.”

  “Whatever help you can give, I’ll take it.” I stood back from the board and took a breath. “And while I gather what I need, please finish the diagram of the Sepulcher. It may be the critical piece we need.”

  “One shall do so with alacrity.”

  I touched the medallion that hung at my neck as I turned to speak to Galen. “Luckily, I have several charges left on this. That should be just enough to handle what I need to do.”

  “And that might be?” he asked.

  “I need to blip back to Los Angeles and pick up some supplies. That’s going to take time, and we need to make our move before night falls. None of us save for Xandra and her friends see well in the dark, while all the Noctua do just fine. That’ll give them an advantage we can’t afford.”

  “Agreed.”

  “Once I get what I need, I’ll spell myself directly back here. Can you contact Liam at the Grove of the Willows?”

  “Assuredly. I can also bring him here.”

  “Even better. What about Shaw? Not only will we need our griffin friend, he’ll complain about missing all the opportunities for a glorious death if we don’t bring him.”

  “Most assuredly he would,” Galen snorted. “Luckily, obtaining Grimshaw’s participation will be easy. He returned last evening to the palace and is even now busy depleting one of the royal kitchens of all its fresh meat. I shall bring him here to wait for you.”

  “Good. Give me...” I did some calculations in my head and said, “Let’s say about four hours to meet you back here.”

  “That already puts you into the middle of the afternoon,” Galen cautioned. “It is possible that you may be cutting it close to the edge of darkness.”

  “Maybe, but
I’d rather be a little late and ready, rather than early and unprepared.”

  “And if, perchance, I should need to see King Fitzwilliam, shall I tell him of our plan?”

  I thought on that for a moment. I shook my head resignedly.

  “No. If you tell him, he’ll want to mount an expedition, maybe send some knights with us. With all the eyes and ears Raisah has around the castle, it’ll be sure to give us away. Better to wait until the following day, and then ask for him to send his knights out against the Noctua, fully prepared to engage an enemy that has declared war on Andeluvia.”

  Galen looked aghast at my words. “What are you saying?”

  “Neither Shaw, Liam or I have any value to the Noctua as prisoners,” I said bluntly. “If we don’t come back from this attempt, then we’re as good as dead.”

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  I arrived with a flash and a lurch of my stomach as I stumbled across my living room rug. Once I steadied myself, I peeked in the door of the guest bedroom. Shelly had rolled over onto her side, but she still let out snores that would have done credit to a ripsaw.

  Next, I went into my own room and swapped out my Andeluvian clothes for my mundane twenty-first century clothing. Aside from looking less like a refugee from Ye Olde Medieval Times dinner theatre, it was also thirty degrees warmer here in Southern California. I lovingly set Xandra’s specially delivered bundle atop my dresser as I pulled on a short-sleeved top.

  Since I hadn’t even had the luxury of Fitzwilliam’s bread, butter, and salt, I went to the kitchen to quickly put together a quick brunch. I had a feeling that I wouldn’t find any time to eat for the rest of the day. I pillaged the embarrassingly high stack of leftover takeout boxes in the fridge. A few minutes of scraping things onto plates and nuking them in the microwave followed.

  At least I wasn’t kidding when I said that Shelly would have a stack of things to wash when she woke up, I thought. Then I filled up on hungover Thai drunken noodles, a quarter cup of creamed lentils, and a brick-hard vegetarian samosa the size of my fist. I grabbed a watery two-day old container of iced tea to wash it all down and then dug out my car keys from where I’d hidden them under the napkin holder.