Guardians of Ga'Hoole 03 - The Rescue

rang in his ears. The letters rearranged themselves in his mind’s eye. Their true meaning turned in the deepest part of his gizzard.
    The old blind snake seemed to sense all this. “Yes, Soren. You’re getting the picture, aren’t you?”
    “Huh?” Gylfie said.
    “Lyze of Kiel, Gylfie. Rearrange some of letters and it spells Ezyl.”

CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Octavia Speaks
    Y es, my dear, the ‘ryb’ was added after we arrived here and the owls knew that the greatest of scholars and warriors had come to the Great Ga’Hoole Tree.” She paused. “You know him as Ezylryb.”
    At that moment, Digger entered the secret chamber. He was frantic. “I called and called trying to warn you. I tried everything to distract her. I’m really sorry.”
    Octavia swung her head toward the Burrowing Owl. “Don’t worry. For a long time I have felt that Soren was up to something. Since that first night of the harvest festivities. I would have found out sooner or later.”
    Soren remembered now how Octavia had slithered out onto the gallery to help Madame Plonk, who had passed out from the milkberry wine. Everyone else had been distracted by the comet’s appearance. It was the perfect distraction, camouflage for their leaving. But just as Soren was sweeping from the Great Hollow, he had felt the gaze of the sightless snake boring into him. She didhave extraordinary powers, even if she had not been born blind.
    “You won’t tell anybody, will you, Octavia?” There was almost a pleading tone in Soren’s voice.
    “No. What good would that do? It wouldn’t help get Ezylryb back.”
    “Do you think that his disappearance has something to do with his past—with someone who wants to get even?”
    Octavia coiled up and extended her head directly toward Soren. He had that same feeling again as if her gaze were penetrating his deepest thoughts. “Who told you that?”
    “The rogue smith.”
    “Of Silverveil?” Octavia lifted her head slightly. “Yes, I might have known. She’s quite different from her sister, isn’t she?” It was useless asking this snake how she knew anything—she just seemed to know.
    But how come she doesn’t know where Ezylryb is? Soren asked himself.
    Now Octavia picked up her feather duster and began whisking the film of dust off a stack of books on a desk near the claws. Gylfie gave a little sneeze. “Allergies, don’t worry. Go ahead, Octavia.”
    “The place is a mess, isn’t it? It’s hard for me to come in here and tidy up. Too many memories.”
    “Of course,” Soren said softly, but he had a feeling that Octavia was about to recount some of those memories, and perhaps moving about, keeping busy with this simple task of dusting, would loosen her forked tongue.
    “You see, young’uns,” Octavia began as she neatened a stack of papers and continued dusting Ezylryb’s desk. “Ezylryb and I go way back, back to the time when he was known as Lyze, the almost legendary warrior of the War of the Ice Claws.”
    The three young owls hardly dared to breathe as the chubby old snake began her tale.
    “This War of the Ice Claws was the longest in history. It was well into its second century by the time Lyze was hatched. He was groomed, trained, raised to be a warrior, as were all the young owls from the Stormfast Island in the Bay of Kiel in the Everwinter Sea. His father, his mother, his grandparents, his great- and great-great-grandparents all were superb soldiers. Every single one of them had been a commander of an air artillery division. They were learned, too. Knew how to fight with their minds, not just with their talons. But it was soon apparent, as soon as Lyze first fledged and took to the wing, that this was one extraordinary young Whiskered Screech Owl. More brilliant than any of his siblings, which was later to cause trouble in the nest. He soon became the youngest commanderof an air artillery division and shortly thereafter began in earnest to train colliers.
    “Now you are probably wondering where I came in. Well, on the island of Stormfast there were, of course, nest-maid snakes. They were blind. But there was another breed of snake called Kielians, and they were not blind. They didn’t have rosy scales, but the blue-green ones like my own. I am a Kielian snake. We are known for our industry and wit. More muscular than the blind snakes and extremely supple.”
    Octavia paused for a moment. “This isn’t all fat, you know!” She twisted her head about and patted her body