Guardians of Ga'Hoole 13 - The River of Wind

asked.
    Digger cocked his head. This was a most interestingphilosophical question. There could be no name if there was no object to be named, and the eight owls plus one nest-maid snake had never in all their days seen anything like this contrivance, this “qui,” as Tengshu called it.
    “This one is called the qui of the dancing frog.”
    What in the world were these qui contrivances for? Why was Tengshu blue? And how had he known they were coming? Questions swirled in the minds of the owls like the flurries of snow that had begun to blow.
    “Come…come to my hollow.” Tengshu motioned to them and took the qui of the dancing frog in his talon with its string and tail neatly bound up. They followed him, flying through a narrow fissure between two sheer cliffs of stone. Beneath them as they flew, a valley opened out and the floor of this valley rose as they flew on, until it ended just beneath a series of ledges on which a small grove of trees grew.
    “Trees growing out of rock,” Soren said. “I’ve never seen such a thing.”
    “Oh, our trees are tough here. They can grow from anything,” Tengshu said.
    It was in one of these tall, twisted, old trees that Tengshu the knower, the sage, lived. The owls of Ga’Hoole, however, were in for yet another surprise.They could clearly see that the tree had hollows, but from its branches several platforms were suspended with vines.
    Tengshu alighted on one of the platforms. The eight owls followed, stepping tentatively toward a small table already set with cups made from an odd material that they did not recognize. Mrs. Plithiver slithered off Soren’s back. She began to coil herself up and then slipped a bit awkwardly to one side. She was not accustomed to dealing with the shortened length of her body.
    “Oh, pardon me,” she said softly. “Lost a bit of my tail. You know. Rough flight.”
    Tengshu cocked his head. “I am sorry, but perhaps I can help you with that. I have some herbs that are quite good for healing breaks and ruptures of all sorts. The windkins can be hard, I know.”
    “You can say that again,” Martin muttered under his breath.
    “But the ones at this end of the stream are not so bad, are they?”
    “Not bad at all,” Otulissa replied.
    “You see, when you fly out of the main current, the Zong Phong, as we call it, it’s just an easy descent at this end. And my qui strings make for a good path. Now, excuse me for one moment, please.”
    A few minutes later, Tengshu returned with a steaming bowl. “Mountain tea. And I beg your indulgence for just one more moment,” he said, setting down the bowl. He then returned with a second bowl and placed it next to Mrs. Plithiver. “Just put the end of your tail in that, madam, and I think you will find it quite soothing.” He then turned and said, “Welcome to my hollow.”
    The owls nodded politely, but this wasn’t exactly a hollow.
    Coryn stepped forward. He blinked. “First, we would like to present you with a gift from our side of the world, that of the Five Kingdoms. In one region, a special kind of moss is plentiful and is highly valued. We call it rabbit’s ear moss because it is as soft as the fur that grows inside the ears of rabbits. We hope you will enjoy it.” Coryn placed a botkin of the moss on the table.
    “That is most kind of you, honorable owl of the Five Kingdoms.” The sage bowed deeply. “A bit of softness is always a welcome thing.”
    Coryn continued, “We have seen many new things in the short time we have been here. Everything seems so new and different to us, and we have many questions. Can you tell us why you call this your hollow? We are not inside a tree but…but…” Coryn looked around. “This, I believe, is another object for which we might nothave the correct name. We would call this a platform. We have one for taking tea in the branches of the great tree.”
    “It is a platform, you are right, and as you see, we are taking tea. But it is really my moon-viewing platform, and on the other side of the tree, from which I can see the Guanjho-Noh, is my wave-viewing platform.”
    “Guanjho-Noh?” Otulissa asked. “‘Noh’ means ‘sea,’ doesn’t it?”
    “Yes, indeed it does. It is the sea that lies between the Middle Kingdom and where you come from—the Fifth World of owls. ‘Guanjho’ means ‘vastness.’ We call it the Sea of Vastness. You are good with languages, I see,” he said, nodding at Otulissa.
    “Yes. I am considered