While all this was transpiring, Ygryk began to diminish in size; hagsfiends were twice as big as the largest of owls. It took but a short time for this transformation to be completed. And when it was finished, she began talking rapidly to the minute half-hags in the peculiar language of hagsfiends and their parasitic companions. Ygryk was giving them the revised flight plan instructions. With her new body, a new flight formation was necessary for the half-hags. Again Pleek’s eyes gleamed with pride. What a creature she was! And if it worked, if indeed they could capture the young son of King H’rath and Queen Siv and change him into a true hagsfiend—not merely an owl with a haggish appearance as he himself had become—if it worked, there would be no limit to their power. Although Lord Arrin had granted them the possibility of keeping this chick for their own, neither Lord Arrin nor any of his top lieutenants knew of the charm that dear Ygryk possessed to transform the owl prince into a hagsfiend. Had they known they would have never permitted the adoption. For Lord Arrin would countenance nothing that might threaten his own power. Secretly, Pleek believed that the reason he had not been permitted into Arrin’s inner circle until now was because the lord feared him. He surrounded himself with noddy owls: owls who nodded in constant agreement with him. But now Lord Arrin needed them because he wanted Siv as his consort as much as Ygryk and Pleek yearned for a chick of their own.
“Ready?” Pleek asked Ygryk.
“Yes.” The two birds lifted off the island and set their beaks for the island in the Bitter Sea where the half-hags had tracked Siv.
Siv herself had begun to have odd sensations in her gizzard as she was approaching the Bitter Sea. She was not sure what it was but she felt in some way that she was being followed. The Bitter Sea’s westernmost edge lapped the shores of what was called the Nameless, and she decided to fetch up there for a while on a high cliff. The cliffs were notched with deep crevices that were perfect for observing without being observed. She was surprised, however, when she lighted down on the cliff to see an immense Snowy stick her head out from one of these niches. Few birds ever came to the Nameless. It was considered inhospitable and there was a dearth of game. And this was not just any Snowy, but the Snow Rose, the gadfeather she had seen at the gathering at the mouth of the firthkin a few nights before. She was certain she would have noticed a gadfeather passing her in flight, especially this one who wore a strand of red berries woven through her feathers along with silvery tufts of reindeer moss and a dazzling blue plume of a bird she herself had never before seen. The plume was stuck in at a jaunty angle in her head feathers. This was not a bird one could miss.
“Beg your pardon,” the Snow Rose asked, “but didn’t I see you at the gathering for gadfeathers at the firthkin?”
“Yes, and I heard you sing. Your voice is lovely.”
“Oh, thank you.”
“I could never forget it. I have never heard such a voice.”
“How kind of you to remember.” The Snow Rose blinked. This Spotted Owl seems different from most gadfeathers, she thought. She had a kind of elegance that went beyond the moss and various feathers she had tucked into her plumage. Indeed, her gadfeather costume, or gaddis as it was called, was not very special at all. No, there was something else that suggested a deeper elegance, an indefinable grace. “You wouldn’t mind, would you…” The Snow Rose hesitated for a moment.
“Mind what?” Siv asked.
“If…if…”
“Yes?”
“If I joined you for a bit on your wanderings?”
Siv truly did not know how to answer. Yes, she would mind, but the Snow Rose was so nice and lovely she hated to appear unfriendly. She had hoped to have some time alone with her son but maybe that was not even a very good idea. She would not be tempted to reveal her identity as his mother with another owl around. She cocked her head and looked at the Snow Rose. “Yes, how nice. I am heading to the island where I understand the Glauxian Brothers have a retreat.”
“Do you plan to visit them?”
“Oh…” Siv hesitated. “Perhaps. They keep to themselves, you know. Vows of silence and all that. Rather studious, I think.”
“Yes, but I once sang for them.”
“You did?” Siv was shocked.
“Oh, yes. They enjoy music very much, you know.”
“No…no, I didn’t know,” Siv answered.
“And they be quite welcoming to visitors.”
Perhaps, Siv thought to herself, this is not a bad idea at all. If we are with the Glauxian Brothers for a few days it might be easier for me to get away from the Snow Rose to see my son. But might the Glauxian Brothers remember her from the times they visited in court even disguised as she was?
But I have changed so much, she thought somewhat wistfully. She had been young then, her plumage a rich dark brown with the whitest of spots, not to mention whole wings. No, they would never realize that this dull brown bird with moss and feathers tucked in here and there as if trying to disguise her shabbiness, was in fact Queen Siv, mate of King H’rath.
So at First Black, the two owls rose in the air on a heading for the island in the middle of the Bitter Sea. It was a moonless night and the stars shone brighter because of it as they reached the island. Perhaps if it had not been moonless, Siv would not have spotted the curls of smoke that smudged the deep black of the night. She felt her gizzard quicken. This must be the place! It has to be one of Grank’s fires! Joy sang through her hollow bones.
“Do you think that’s a fire over there?” the Snow Rose asked. “Do you see that smoke?”
“Yes.”
“We should go see what’s happening.”
“Oh, I’d prefer not. I’m tired. You know, this wing gives me trouble and the wind has changed and we’re flying against it. I’d like to get to the Glauxian Brothers as soon as we can.”
“Oh, yes, I understand…er…” The Snow Rose hesitated, then continued. “Don’t think me rude. But if we are to be fly mates might you tell me your name?”
Name, name, Siv thought in a panic. What’s my name? “Elka!” she said suddenly. She remembered that her dear servant, Myrrthe, who had been killed by hagsfiends, had a sister named Elka.
“Elka, a very nice name,” the Snow Rose replied.
CHAPTER TWELVE
So Near But Yet So Far
Beneath that curl of smoke in the night sky, Grank perched by the forge, peering into the fire. He simply did not understand. Had he lost his firesight? Oh, he could see images, but they were weak, unclear, and impossible to read. How had this happened? Was it old age? Had his eyesight simply dimmed? His eye tubes shortened up? Had his third eyelids thinned out, letting too much flight debris scar his eyes? It was a mystery and a frustrating one at that for although he could not read the images, the blurry suggestions of contours and shapes set his gizzard trembling. He felt that danger lurked nearby but the images themselves seemed too frail to show him more. It was almost as if the life had been sucked out of them, rendering them hopelessly obscure. When he did see something, it seemed nonsensical. Right now lurking in the bottom part of one very weak flame, he saw what appeared to be a truly immense tree and there were the images of owls hunched over a book of some sort. But what did it all mean?
What Grank had surmised was true. The fire had for him been leeched of its power. For there was another who had firesight. A fire can only yield its images to one fire reader, and it offers them to the reader with the strongest sight. And that was Hoole. For even though his sight was undisciplined, it was amazingly powerful and what was left for Grank were only dim shadowy shapes. Each morning when Grank and Theo slept, Hoole flew down to the forge to watch the image that stirred his gizzard with emotions he had never experienced. He was so obsessed with his vision that he had ignored the other images in the fire.
But had the fire not been drained by Hoole, Grank would have seen much to disturb him. There was no telling if he would have recognized Siv clad in the geegaws of a gadfeather but he certainly would have reco
gnized Pleek and would have surmised that the Horned Owl with whom he flew was none other than Ygryk. Grank knew of the “guise charms,” as they were called, of which hagsfiends were capable. And he also knew no other female Great Horned Owl would dare to fly with Pleek since he had taken Ygryk as a mate. He would have also seen Ullryck the assassin following well behind Ygryk with two powerful Great Grays. Indeed, he would have been so agitated that he would have made plans at once to flee this island in the Bitter Sea for Beyond the Beyond. But Grank saw none of this. Yes, he had vague and disturbing feelings in his gizzard but nothing was clear enough to suggest a course of action. He only hoped that his firesight had not left him for good.
“Ah, the Snow Rose!” Brother Fritzel exclaimed. “Our pleasure, madam.” A shiver of delight stirred the Snow Rose’s white plumage and set the red berries woven through them to jiggling prettily. She had forgotten how polite these brothers were. Treat me like a queen they do. Might as well be Queen Siv herself.
“Thank you, brother,” she replied.
“You’ve come at a wonderful time—not a time for silence. So we would love to hear you favor us with a song. And your traveling companion?” Brother Fritzel gave a small bow to Siv.
“Elka,” the Snow Rose offered.
“Elka, pleased that you have come here.”
Oh, Glaux, thought Siv. Why couldn’t it be a time of silence? She didn’t want to answer questions. But she did know that the brothers were familiar enough with the ways of gadfeathers that they knew better to ask questions about where they had come from or where they were going. So asking her name might be their only question. Still, she was uneasy. She, of course had dozens of questions she wanted to ask them. What did they know of the fire at the end of the island? Had they seen a Spotted Owl, older than herself, near it? Was he accompanied by a young owlet, also a Spotted Owl?
How could her son possibly be so near but yet so far?
Beyond these immediate questions, there was the library that they were in the process of making. The brothers spent countless hours in what they called the cold hollow copying their old inscriptions from ice slabs onto scrolls of birch bark for their books. She would have given anything to poke around in both the cold hollow and the library where they took them once the slabs had been copied. But a gadfeather who could read? A gadfeather even interested in literature? Never. She would betray herself instantly if she showed the least bit of interest in reading.
A second spring storm had begun to lash the Bitter Sea shortly after Siv and the Snow Rose arrived on the island. The retreat of the Glauxian Brothers offered them a safe and cozy refuge. If only Siv could have gone to the library to read, it would have been almost perfect. Then again she was anxious to fly to the other end of the island where she had spotted what she was certain was Grank’s fire. Even though she had arrived at a time when vows were relaxed, the brothers were not by any stretch of the imagination a talkative bunch. Still, the first two days she had spent with them had been fruitful. She had picked up a few scant references to three owls at the other end of the island with whom a Brother Berwyck had made contact. A Great Horned Owl, an older Spotted Owl, and a very young Spotted Owl. Her gizzard leaped when she first heard those words “a very young Spotted Owl.” But they were known as loners and only Brother Berwyck had been welcomed as a visitor.
“Is Brother Berwyck here now?” Siv tried to sound casual as she asked the question of an elderly Great Gray.
Brother Cedric answered, “He went on his pilgrimage.” Most likely, Brother Cedric suggested, through the Ice Narrows to the Southern Kingdoms. At this time, the Southern Kingdoms were hardly kingdoms at all but rather disorganized regions of clanless pioneer owls who, for one reason or another, decided to seek a life in the unknown forests, barren lands, deserts, and prairies to the south. There was no ice there, hardly any snow, unpredictable winds, and a vast and tumultuous sea laced by storms called hurricanes. To go there took courage, but for some to stay on in the Northern Kingdoms with their constant wars and throngs of hagsfiends also took courage. The immense sea of the south never froze and was therefore safe from hagsfiends. But there were no ice weapons, either. Ice was the element on which the lives and culture of the N’yrthghar was based. Life without ice was almost unimaginable. The owls of the N’yrthghar had hundreds of words for ice because there were as many varieties of ice as there were flowers in the Southern Kingdoms. Each type of ice had special qualities. There was issen blaue, blue ice from which special lenses could be ground to protect the eyes even better than the third eyelid when flying through ice storms; there was deep ice, or ice vintygg, for making reflective surfaces; there was a special kind of hard ice that was used for certain weapons; and then the ice from the middle part of the H’rathghar glacier on which the Glauxian Brothers inscribed their books. For most owls of the N’yrthghar, life in the Southern Kingdoms seemed impossible.
So when Brother Cedric said that Berwyck had most likely gone to the Southern Kingdoms for his pilgrimage, Siv replied, “How daring!” As soon as the two words were out she knew she had made a grave mistake. No gadfeather worth her feathers would ever think a flight to the Southern Kingdoms was daring. Gadfeathers knew no boundaries. They went everywhere. They were comfortable in any sky, over any sea. Brother Cedric blinked at her, but asked no further questions. At the same moment, the Snow Rose appeared and said that she was on her way to the upper ring to give a concert.
The retreat of the Glauxian Brothers was a circle of tightly clustered birch trees that stood in the center of a forest that rose on a slight hill in the very middle of the island. The birches were riddled with hollows of all sizes. Some of the hollows were used for study. A very large one had been made into the library. There were hollows for sleeping, small and spare, and then at the very top of the circle of the trees, called the upper ring, the branches of the trees intertwined to form a wonderful platform for various gatherings. It was here that the Snow Rose would give her concert. And so she began.
Like a flower at the avalanche’s rim
Like a snowflake in the wind
Like a frost picture in the night
Like a star burning, oh, so bright
Again the song was one of yearning, of longing, of love and loneliness and wandering. There was a sad twang in the Snow Rose’s voice and something deep within Siv began to respond, to vibrate. And though there was no ice harp here at the retreat of the Glauxian Brothers, it was as if the slivered icicles of such a harp were within her, trembling in some sort of harmony. It’s like she’s singing that song for me! Siv thought. She knows my pain, but how could she?
Siv knew that she could not wait much longer. She had heard some of the brothers muttering under their breaths about hagsfiends in the region. She had tried to dismiss the idea. Why would they dare fly over so much open seawater? But she knew the brothers were wise and did not indulge in idle speculation. She had to act fast. She must fly to the other end of the island. She must see her son. And if there were hagsfiends, she must somehow warn him. Warn him without scaring him to death.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
“I Know You!”
On the Tridents, the spring gales lashed furiously, and Ygryk glowered as she watched her tawny brown feathers darken and felt the small elegant tufts above her ears grow longer. The charm had worn thin. Waylaid by the headwinds of the gales, they had been blown back to the Tridents three times as they attempted to cross over to the Bitter Sea. And now although the gales had subsided, she knew she must wait at least another three days to try again. Charms—particularly those of transformation—could not be used promiscuously. If so, the transformations were sloppy. She could appear with the ear tufts of a Great Horned Owl and the black shaggy feathers of a hagsfiend. It was also very difficult to use the hypnotic spell of the fyngrot when the spell was weakened.
Meanwhile on the island, Siv watched one of the low-flying storm clouds roll overhead. Hoping not to be seen leaving in the middle of the Snow Rose’s c
oncert, she had waited until the cloud bank swept over and then lifted off silently, dissolving into the mist. Within a short time, however, the cloud bank had dispersed, and she found herself flying through a clear and windless night, the newing moon no bigger than the finest filament of down.
The words of the song streamed through Siv’s mind as she flew out from the upper ring. A lovely evening for meeting one’s son. No, not meeting, Siv corrected herself. Seeing. I just want to see him. That’s all, she promised herself. That’s all.
But, of course, it would not be quite all. There would be more. Siv had planned to fly toward the end of the island where she had spied the smoke rising but as she flew over a cove on the southwest side of the island, she thought she heard the splash of a fishing bird. A Fish Owl? she wondered. And being cautious, she thought she should stop and make sure exactly who was about. From hearing the brothers talk, she had thought that there were no other owls except themselves and the three at the very southernmost tip of the island. So Siv alighted in a spruce tree, its branches dense with needles. She watched as she saw not a Spotted Owl nor a Great Horned Owl but a tiny Pygmy attempting to dive for fish in the cove.