Guardians of Ga'Hoole 14 - Exile

us?” she whispered desperately. “We know that in your tracking days you met all sorts of owls, including hireclaws.”
    Almost before Otulissa had finished speaking, he was heading to fetch the black feather that allowed him to fly freely any time of the day, safe from mobbings by crows. It was mid-morning. Most of the tree was asleep and it was the perfect time for him to leave. He did not even say good-bye to Plonkie. Better that she not know.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Once Upon a Time
    H e knows?” Pelli gaped at Mrs. P. “Coryn knows, and he isn’t angry, Mrs. P.?”
    “Only at himself, my dear. You see, his gizzard is awakening, stirring.”
    “He can’t let the Striga know.”
    “Of course not. He must play dumb, as you have done. But he feels terrible and he is ready to help in any way he can.”
    “Did you tell him about what we are doing?”
    “Not yet. I only said that I would consult with you and Otulissa.”
    “How do you account for it, Mrs. P., his awakening, as you call it?”
    “Well.” She sighed. “It could be one of several things. When I went in the hollow he was staring into the fire in the grate.”
    “Flame reading,” Pelli said suddenly. “He probably hasn’t done it for a long time.”
    “Yes, but I don’t think it was just that. A young Burrowing Owl arrived several nights ago, begging to see Coryn. He finally got in to see him. I have felt that young owl’s extreme agitation ever since he arrived. I saw him leave Coryn’s hollow and it was precisely in that moment that I got my first inkling…glimmer of the stirrings in Coryn’s gizzard.”
    “You are remarkable, Mrs. P.!” Pelli said.
    “Well, you know, it comes with the scales.” Her rose-colored scales seemed to shimmer as she said this.
    While Mrs. Plithiver conversed with Pelli, Coryn stepped out of his hollow for the first time in a long while to explore the great tree. It was nearly a moon cycle since he had gone beyond the branch outside his hollow. Things had changed drastically. First of all, there were many new owls, owls he didn’t recall seeing before. But there were other changes as well. He flew into the Great Hollow and up to the gallery of the grass harp. He tottered as he settled on a perch. “What in the world?” he muttered. The lovely curving frame of the harp was blank and its strings lay in a tangled pile. He remembered talk about damage to the harp and recalled that the Striga said they should not rush to repair it. And then it burst upon him. His gizzard was racked with fear, shame. Great Glaux! He realizedthat it had been many, many nights since he had last heard the voice of Madame Plonk. He rushed out of the Great Hollow to find her.
    On his way, he saw more signs of the terrible changes that had occurred. Peeking into Mainz, the press hollow where the printers could usually be heard chatting softly, he found all was silent. The inkwells were caked with dried ink. The press itself was strung with cobwebs. He rushed on to the hollow of the lacemakers’ guild. There was no sound of the caller chanting the instructions for the particular designs. Absent was the soft whirring of the bobbins, unfurling thread as the four pairs of lacing snakes wove the thread through a series of patterns. Their perches were empty.
    He heard a stirring coming from a corner in the lacemakers’ hollow. It was a very young nest-maid snake. “What happened here?” Coryn asked.
    “Not much!” the nest-maid fumed. “I got here less than a moon cycle ago and was told that the lacemakers’ guild had been disbanded. Everything’s changed here. At least from the way it was.” The snake sighed again. “Once upon a time…” Then the nest-maid seemed suddenly alert. “Hey, who are you?”
    Coryn felt a flutter in his gizzard. This nest-maid wasnew and probably never had met him before. But nest-maids were keen and this one seemed to realize he was someone special.
    “Oh,” Coryn quickly said, “I’ve been away, too, for quite a while. Yes, things seemed to have changed.”
    “It’s not just the lacemakers’ guild that has been disbanded, but the weavers’ and the printers’ guilds, too. No pun intended, but even the Band seems to have been disbanded.”
    Coryn’s gizzard clenched so painfully, he groaned.
    “You all right?” the snake asked.
    He coughed. “Yes, I’ll be fine. You are right. Once upon a time, things were very different here in this great tree.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Flames