Guardians of Ga'Hoole 08 - The Outcast

fabric fragments there. Beads, rocks there. Teacups.” But Bubbles had hardly finished before Nyra had found a basket of scraps torn from paintings.
    “These are interesting,” she said.
    “Oh, yes, Mags does like them eye paintings,” Bubbles said.
    “Oh, my goodness, a green eye.”
    “Yes, them Others, why, their eyes came in all colors, you know.”
    “But green, how unusual,” Nyra said.
    “Oh, sort through them, take your time.”
    “Thank you, my dear.”
    Bubbles thought how much more soft-spoken this owl was from most Rogue smiths, who tended to be rather rough in their ways.
    Nyra remembered that the dire wolves of the Beyond were said to have green eyes. This would be the perfect gift. She began picking through the scraps and sorting out the green ones. After a bit she turned to Bubbles.
    “Might I trade you my silver for these green eyes and, say, a bauble or two?”
    “You mean, you just want some old painted eyes and not silver? It seems sort of unfair to you. Mags said we should trade silver for silver.”
    “Oh, don’t worry about being fair to me, dearie. Just think of it as art for art.”
    “Well, yes, I suppose so.” Bubbles paused. “I don’t know. Mags is mighty particular about her eyes.”
    Oh, dear, Nyra thought. She hoped this magpie wasn’tgoing to be difficult. She didn’t want to have to kill her. Then she had an idea. Flying with all this equipment was difficult. What if she would trade her the tongs along with the silver? “What would you say if I threw in the tongs?”
    “Your tongs? But you need them, don’t you?”
    “Oh, I have more back at the forge. And quite frankly, I’m thinking of retiring.”
    “Well…” Bubbles cocked her head and tried to think this out. “I guess it’s all right.”
    “Then, it’s a deal.”
    “Yes, ma’am, it’s a deal.”
    “You what?” Trader Mags shrieked when she returned from the palace. “You traded all my green eyes. I only had three sets and they took me forever to collect.”
    “And the tongs, we got the tongs, ma’am, along with the silver.”
    “Tongs? What kind of Rogue smith trades her tongs?” And then another thought burst into Trader Mags’s head. What kind of Rogue smith works with silver? Only one! “Let me see that silver.”
    Bubbles flew nervously over to the church pew where she had put the silver spiral. She was certain that when Mags saw how beautiful it was, she would not be so mad.
    “It’s art!” Mags said when she had flown back with it.
    Bubbles breathed a sigh of relief. “Yes, ma’am, that’s what I say, art for art.” But her relief was short-lived. Mags was shrieking again.
    “There is only one Rogue smith who makes art, only one who lives near silver to melt down. And that is the Rogue smith of the Silverveil. She would NEVER trade this for a scrap of painting—never. You ninny! How could you not have seen that something was wrong? Something terrible has happened to the Rogue smith of Silverveil. I must go. Go right away.”
    “It warn’t my fault, ma’am. Really, it warn’t my fault!” Bubbles was crying as Trader Mags flew out of the chapel. “Be careful of crows, ma’am, do be careful!”

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Of Sky and Trail
    L ochinvyrr.” Coryn repeated the strange-sounding word. “So that is what you call it, that moment when a wolf and the dying animal look at each other.”
    Hamish nodded. “Our ways are odd, I know.”
    “It is odd, but it’s beautiful. It’s as if the animal is giving permission for its death.”
    “Yes, and the killer acknowledges that it is a worthy life he asks for.”
    “Asks. Not takes.”
    “No, we never take. And therefore the spirit of the animal we killed will follow the spirit trail of stars to the cave of souls in the sky.”
    “That sounds like our owl heaven. We call it glaumora. But it is just the sky, I think, and not a cave.”
    “You are a creature of the sky. So it makes sense.”
    And Hamish and his clan, Coryn thought, were creatures of the trail. He had never seen animals move as these wolves did, so swiftly. So steadily and never seeming tobreak their stride, even Hamish with his lame leg and his limp could run steadily for hours, although he was not the fastest of the clan.
    “Is lochinvyrr another lesson you will teach the little Coryn who shall be king?” Hamish asked.
    “I think it would be a good lesson,” Coryn replied.
    “Look, the clan is beginning to move. We should get ready.” Duncan