Guardians of Ga'Hoole 09 - The First Collier

difficult decision. I could not explain outright to the sisters what had happened to them. As you might recall, I earlier wrote that the orders of the Glauxian Sisters and Brothers believed that hagsfiends existed due to owlkind’s desertion of reason and loss of faith in Glaux, that it was this loss of both reason and faith that had allowed the hagsfiends to enter into our world. If I told them how a spell had been cast upon them by a powerful hagsfiend, it might have destroyed them. They might believe they had wavered and this occurred because of their lack of faith. I decided I could not tell them what had happened. It was evident that they were oblivious to the stench of crow. I was probably aware of it because of my newly enhanced senses. No, it was best to keep my own counsel about this. I simplycould not reveal to these selfless sisters of Glaux that they had fallen prey to the powers of the hagsfiends and their magic. So I made up a story about the weather. I told them that when the N’yrthnookah blows, a deep, trancelike sleep can afflict some owls. It was a complete lie, but a lie told with the best intentions.
    We talked for a long time. I had things I needed to know. And of course, they had questions, too. It was with great patience I explained who I was and where I had come from.
    “So,” the Glauxess finally said, “I do believe I remember Siv talking of you that summer she came to visit. The three of you were great companions, is that not so?”
    “Yes, indeed, Sister, and that is why I have now come. You have heard that good King H’rath died in battle?”
    “Oh, yes, indeed. And I grieved for my dear cousin’s loss. Might you know where she has gone?”
    “I was about to ask the same of you, madam.”
    “Me?”
    “Yes, did you know that she and H’rath were expecting their first chick?”
    “No!” Rorkna gasped, and there was a soft tittering among the other sisters.
    “Yes, it is true. I thought she might have soughtrefuge here, but she didn’t?” I paused. “As far as you can remember?”
    “I don’t think so. But what with this odd sleep that overtook us”—she looked about—“do you suppose that those berries we stored from last summer could have gone bad on us, Sister Lydfryk? I mean, I know Grank thinks it was the N’yrthnookah, but it could have been the berries.”
    I tried to steer her gently back to the subject. “But you don’t think that Siv could have come here recently with her egg?”
    “Oh, no.” She twisted her head. “I certainly would have remembered if my cousin had shown up here with an egg.” She gave a soft churring sound of laughter. But then a tiny little Elf Owl spoke up.
    “You know, I don’t remember Queen Siv, but I do seem to have a dim recollection of a gadfeather coming here.” She turned to a Barred Owl who stood beside her and who was still a bit bleary-eyed. “Do you, Sister?’
    “Now that you mention it, yes. And didn’t she sing us a song?” This seemed to cause a ripple of excitement among the sisters.
    They began remembering the gadfeather with a lovely voice coming and singing them a song.
    “Something about the sky is my hollow,” said one.
    “Yes, and how they need no perch, no home. Very pretty. Slightly impractical, but a beautiful song,” said another.
    So Siv had not been here. How had I been so wrong? I turned now to Rorkna. “You knew Siv well, madam. Where would she go if she were all alone and with an egg, the egg of her first chick?”
    Rorkna blinked and clamped her beak shut as she thought. “In truth, my dear, I would have thought she would have come to me. But if not here…well, I do remember that summer when she came to visit, she told me, and I took it as a great compliment that she would confide in me this way, that she and you and H’rath had discovered a marvelous hideaway in some ice cliffs.”
    The Ice Cliff Palace! Why, of course! Why had I not thought of it? Sister Rorkna must have noticed the look in my eyes. The elation.
    “You know what I am talking about?” she asked.
    “Yes, madam!” I exclaimed. “I do indeed!”
    “Well, go to her and please tell her if she needs our help we are here for her. These are dangerous times, but I doubt anybody would ever attack our retreat.”
    “No, never,” the others murmured in agreement.
    “Oh, no—never,” I added for good measure. Although I crossed two of my talons for the lie I had just told—with the best of intentions.

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