Guardians of Ga'Hoole 14 - Exile

building in him, and it was that the Band in particular, and consequently the great tree, was in some sort of peril. It was just a feeling. He had no evidence as he had for the dragon owl’s flight, but his uneasiness had been growing steadily. He had never traveled to the Hoolian kingdoms, but his mother had done so hundreds of years before. As the qui dong of the Luminous Pearl Gates, it was his job to welcome any owls who found their way across the River of Wind. Very few ever had. He led a very reclusive life, one of contemplation. He pursued his poetry and his painting and, when called upon, he could fight. But this was seldom. He realized now, however, as the sun broke over the low clouds, that he must act soon. It suddenly became clear to Tengshu that he could not meditate, equivocate a moment longer. He must go. To remain a recluse at times like these was a terrible self-indulgence. He thought of his mother, Bao. She had madethis same trip for reasons he had not completely understood at the time. She had gone without a minute’s hesitation. His father had been left to care for Tenghsu and his siblings. Enough of this! he thought to himself. Without another second wasted, Tengshu spread his wings and lifted into flight. Following the qui lines to the windkins, he effortlessly soared over them and joined that spectacular and boisterous river of wind. In my mother’s wing prints , he thought. The wing prints of Bao!

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
The Imperiled Ember
    P unkie Night had arrived. Everyone was overjoyed that this night that had been celebrated for countless years had not been cancelled as the Harvest Festival had been. The mood of the tree had lightened considerably. Many concessions had been made for the evening’s entertainment. Madame Plonk had been permitted to sing as she always had on Punkie Night in her fabulous gadfeather costume. Pelli was watching from the gallery in the Great Hollow as Madame Plonk began yet another wonderful ballad. Doc Finebeak was looking upon his mate rapturously. Despite his misgivings and his decision to leave, he felt it would be unfair to deny Plonkie this chance to sing. He had not told her yet that he thought they should leave immediately after Punkie Night. Pelli herself was relieved. She sensed that Finebeak was so distressed over his mate’s silencing by Coryn that he had been considering leaving the great tree. He had said to Pelli that he had something he must speak to her about, but after Punkie Night.
    Madame Plonk was singing a very old ballad from the Northern Kingdoms. Doc Finebeak’s gizzard trembled, for the song his mate sang was portentous to say the least.
Fly away with me ,
Give my loneliness a break .
Fly away with me ,
So my heart will never ache .
Fly away with me this night .
Fly away with me .
    Would she have really left? Pelli wondered. What a loss! Then, suddenly, something caught her eye. She wasn’t sure what. A gesture of some sort from the blue owl? How he had bent his head toward Coryn as he whispered to him? Her hearing was as fine as any Barn Owl’s. What was it? She began to observe more closely the Striga and Coryn as Madame Plonk’s magnificent voice swelled into the Great Hollow with the accompaniment of the newly repaired grass harp plucked by the nest-maid snakes of the harp guild. There was no doubt about it, the Striga was uncomfortable with this extravagant display of what he must have felt were dangerous vanities. She also watched Coryn, who seemed to be furtively glancing at the Striga as if taking his measure. Coryn, she couldtell, was extremely worried. Not worried about the tree, nor about the owls who seemed finally to be lifting out of the depressed mood that had enveloped the tree since the Harvest Festival. No , Pelli thought with sharp alarm. He’s worried about the Striga! Then it came to her with great clarity. He’s made a deal with the Striga. Let us have Punkie Night and then…and then what? What did the Striga demand in return? The very question sent a chill through her gizzard. The ember! She was certain: The ember was in danger. She had to find Bubo immediately. But how? Everyone was wearing masks. Owls were so starved for celebrations that even the older ones who never dressed up were all wearing masks. How would she ever figure out which one was Bubo?
    Frantically, she spun her head around, scanning the gallery for Bubo. There was a Great Horned nearby in the mask of a Spotted Owl with a cloak of spotted