Guardians of Ga'Hoole 11 - To Be a King

dreamed of.”
    As soon as Strix Strumajen left, Hoole sent for Phineas and Theo. He was fluttering around in great agitation when the two young owls arrived. Hoole briefly explained his idea for a network of slipgizzles, some of whom might be gadfeathers and polar bears, spread throughout the owl kingdoms. He finished by telling them the sad story of Strix Strumajen’s daughter, Emerilla, who had fought so bravely in the skirmish at the Ice Fangs. Hoole glanced at the ember. “It will take strategy, planning, and cunning to bring war to the enemy—not mere magic.”
    “But Hoole,” Grank interrupted. “You should not go to the Northern Kingdoms. It is still too dangerous for you there. But you’re certainly right about the Snow Rose. She might be useful.”
    Grank seemed unduly agitated to Hoole. He was perched near the ember and, instead of draining the Spotted Owl’s energy as it had done long ago, it seemed to be infusing him with a nervous excitement.
    “Nobody will want the Snow Rose to leave the tree,” said Theo. “They love her voice too much.”
    “A small sacrifice for a great cause. This is what we are about here. Phineas, you could accompany her. You are not known in the Northern Kingdoms. And perhaps Theo could go to the Southern Kingdoms.” Grank spoke rapidly.
    “And I, as well—to the Southern Kingdoms,” Hoole said firmly. He observed how Grank with this new nervous energy was taking over the planning and could not help but wonder if the ember was somehow influencing him. As he began to speak again, he watched the others to see if there were any noticeable differences in their behavior. “Also, I feel that it would be better if Phineas came with me to the Southern Kingdoms. He is, after all, from the Shadow Forest there. He knows the territory.”
    “Yes, you are right,” Grank said immediately.
    “And owls in the Northern Kingdoms really don’t know me that well,” Theo said. Theo’s background was somewhat shrouded in mystery. He came from a remote firth, the Firth of Grundenspyrr off the Firth of Fangs, and only rarely mentioned his family.
    Grank, appearing somewhat calmer, began to speak again. “If you are to be gone all that time, we will need to set up a system so I can get messages to you.”
    “How would that work?” Phineas said. “You won’t know where we are.”
    “Dead drops,” Grank answered.
    Hoole and Joss blinked. Neither of them had even heard the words before.
    “Dead drops?” Phineas asked in almost a whisper. “Aren’t they dangerous? Haunted, some say.”
    “Nonsense! Just old owl tales. Dead drops”—Grank turned to Hoole and Joss to explain—“are seemingly healthy trees that fall in the prime of their life for no particular reason. Many owls are very suspicious of them—nachtmagen, they think. It is no such thing. I have made a study of dead drops, which I shall not bore you with now, but there are structural reasons for them to crash. In any case, they are the perfect spot for coded messages to be left. I will make up a map of the ones that I know throughout the various forests of the S’yrthghar. You must check them regularly. Cuthbert and Gemma on the watch branch are strong fliers. We can use them as messengers in addition to Joss.”
    “Excellent ideas, Grank. Thank you so much.” Hoole was relieved that his old friend seemed to be himself once again. But when he regarded the others, they seemed to have a somewhat distant look in their eyes. Were they daunted by the task he had set for them? They appeared to be not quite focused. They needed to pay attention to what he was about to say. It was of vital importance.Hoole inhaled sharply, then began to speak slowly and most gravely. “But there is one thing.”
    “What is that?” Grank asked.
    “Time is not on our side. We must strike first, and by Short Light at the very latest. The Long Night will be our best ally.” Long Night was the longest night of the year and it was preceded by the shortest day, Short Light. During the time surrounding these two days, the sun never rose more than a sliver above the horizon.
    “But Short Light is hardly three moon cycles away,” Joss said.
    “I know,” replied Hoole. “There is much to be done. And it will be done.”
    “By Short Light, then.” Grank nodded.
    “By Short Light,” the other owls echoed.
    They echo my thoughts but do they really agree? Hoole wondered. There was something mechanical in their response. Was this