Guardians of Ga'Hoole 14 - Exile

running, well, there are simply more books around.”
    “Around to be burned,” Bess said grimly.
    “Yes,” Otulissa replied.
    “This is truly awful.” Bess sighed. “Given how I live, the solitary life I pursue, it is not surprising I had not heard of this.” She blinked. A horrified light filled her eyes. “Otulissa, it is more important than ever that the Palace of Mists remains a secret.” There was a raw desperation in the Boreal Owl’s voice.
    “Yes,” said Otulissa. What, indeed, would happen if the beautiful old stone palace deep in the Shadow Forest was discovered? What then?
    Unbeknownst to the Striga when he left the great tree, he had been followed at a very discreet distance by Doc Finebeak. The Snowy was a tracker of great repute and the new mate of Madame Plonk. Doc Finebeak was as angry and upset as he ever had been. The frinkin’ blue owl had convinced Coryn to forbid Doc’s mate, the magnificent singer of the great tree, to sing. And then shortly after this there was the trouble with the grass harp’s strings. When Plonkie, as those closest to her affectionately calledher, could not sing, she sank into a terrible spell of the gollymopes. It was just so wrong. He wanted to know what this blue creature—a very poor excuse for an owl in Doc Finebeak’s mind—was up to.
    So he followed him. The blue owl was a strong flier, given the threadbare condition of his wings. But he was noisy and messy, leaving several clues in his flight track. Doc Finebeak eased himself into the flight groove of the blue owl and followed it right into The Barrens, a treeless landscape due north of Ambala. As with many such landscapes, there were signs of Burrowing Owls. These owls preferred living in ground nests or burrows that they dug with their strong, long, featherless legs. Although the land appeared empty, Finebeak knew there were plenty of places for the Striga to hide. He soon noticed that some other owls had joined the Striga, and he observed that they all sported a single blue feather tucked somewhere into their plumage.
    They soon lighted down in an area that Finebeak knew as the “boulder garden.” There were many immense boulders that extended for a distance in every direction. Burrowing Owls liked to burrow underneath large rocks and boulders; perhaps it made them feel fortified to have their holes right up against the stone. Doc wasn’t sure, but he was able to creep close enough to listen in.
    “You say that right here there are offenders?” the blue owl asked one of the others.
    “Yes, Striga. Vanities abound.”
    “I would think that in this barren land, there would be no fripperies or ornamentation.”
    “It ain’t ornamentation so much as books,” said a Horned Owl. “Ever since that printing press got started, them books—why, they’s like a blight, a disease that’s spreading.”
    “Yes, it spreads,” said the blue owl. “I think we need to strike now. Make an example. You say you have a target, an offending burrow?”
    “Yes, sir,” said a Screech Owl. “Not a quarter league from here and we already found a good pyre.”
    Pyre , thought Doc Finebeak. What in hagsmire is a pyre? He had never heard that word. He felt something crinkle in his gizzard. He suddenly had the most dreadful feeling that a pyre might be a haggish sort of thing. He was crouching behind a bramble of cotton bush. The soft white fuzzy buds opened at this time of the year and provided a perfect camouflage for the Snowy. What is going on here? he wondered.
    Doc Finebeak would learn all too soon as half a dozen of the twentysome owls gathered rushed into a burrow not far from where Doc was concealed.
    “Kalo!!!” An anguished scream split the air. Then pandemonium struck. Owls from nearby burrows poured out. Cries of “It’s the Blue Brigade! The Blue Brigade!” came from all sides.
    “You were given a warning to turn in your books or be raided,” the Striga addressed the crowd. “Prepare to light the pyre.”
    Now Doc Finebeak saw exactly what a pyre was. How clever! This blue owl and his helpers were using plants that grew here naturally to make a fire. There was a large huckleberry bush and right next to it an immense creosote bush, two of the most combustible plants in the entire Southern Kingdoms. And since there were no trees in this region, there was no threat of forest fires. But still, fire was fire and it could destroy. Finebeak watched in horror as the objects for destruction