The Capture

corners of his large yellow eyes. "Oh, if only I were perfectly moon blinked. If only I were --"

    "Why, Grimble?" Soren asked softly. "Why?"

    "I cannot tell you right now. I shall come to you tonight in the glaucidium. I shall arrange for a pass for you. They won't mind as it is now the time of the newing. But let me tell you right now, what you are doing is terribly dangerous. What you are doing could invite a fate much worse than death."

    "Worse than death?" Gylfie asked. "What could be worse than death? We would rather die."

    "The life I live is worse than death, I assure you."

CHAPTER TWENTY

    Grimble's Story

    I thought I was being so smart," Grimble said. He had led them into another crack in the canyon wall that was off the large one that led from the pelletorium. "You see, the snatching patrols had just snatched one of my young ones as I was returning with my mate from hunting. It was little Bess. She was my favorite, I have to admit. I swooped in and attacked ferociously. It was actually a cousin of Jatt and Jutt who had Bess in his talons. His name was Ork. He was considered very dangerous and, well, I killed him. The other owls were stunned. They shrank back from me, but then Spoorn and Skench flew in. They saw what had happened. Oddly enough, they were thrilled that Ork was dead. You see, the previous leader of St. Aegolius had died the year before and since then a bitter power struggle had gone on between Ork and his forces and those of Spoorn and Skench. Skench and Spoorn were so happy that they said they would spare my family, never
    come by our nest again, if I would agree to return to St. Aegolius and join them. They wanted me for my fighting skills. I had killed Ork with no battle claws at all, just my bare talons and beak. They needed me.

    "Well, it seemed that there was no choice. I looked at my dear mate. There were three other young ones in the nest. I had to do it. I had to go. My mate begged me not to. She swore that we could go elsewhere, far away. But Skench and Spoorn laughed and said they would find us no matter where we went. So I joined them. My mate and our owlets promised they would never forget me. Spoorn and Skench promised that I could visit them thrice yearly, which, at the time, seemed very generous. I should have' suspected something right away. But I didn't know about moon blinking then, either. The visits would become meaningless if I were successfully moon blinked. My family would not recognize me nor would I have any feeling for them. This is because moon-blinked owls have no real feelings, and without our feelings we become unrecognizable over time to those who do have feelings. That is the evil genius of moon blinking.

    "So I was determined, like you, to resist and to pretend I was fairly successful. Skench and Spoorn had valued my fighting skills so much that they allowed me to earn a name. I had been number 28-5. But I became Grimble." And now ..." Grimble began to shake again.
    "Something has changed."

    "What do you mean? You resisted," Soren said.

    "Yes, to a point."

    "To a point? You either are or you're not moon blinked," Gylfie said.

    "After every few newings, we are required even as mature owls to be reblinked. I think something has begun to change. It seems that although I resisted, now I am losing something. The faces of my dear mate, my little Bess, have begun to fade. When I used to visit them, my old voice came back. The call of Boreal Owls is like a song, some say like the bells that used to toll in the churches, but now it has become flat. Eight or so newings ago, when I made one of my visits home, I called out as usual as I approached, but no one recognized my call. Then two newings ago, when I arrived, neither my mate nor Bess recognized me."

    "Unbelievable," Gylfie whispered.

    "And now they are gone," Grimble said.

    "Gone?" said Soren. "You mean they left?"

    "They left, or perhaps they were killed by Skench and Spoorn or perhaps ..." Grimble's voice dwindled off

    "Perhaps what?" Gylfie pressed.

    "Perhaps they are there and I simply cannot see them at all, nor do they recognize me. I think I have become like air -- transparent, like nothingness. Is that not the ultimate savagery of being moon blinked? I would say that in another few newings I shall be the perfectly moon- blinked elderly owl."

    "But why? Why do they do this? What is the purpose of St. Aggie's?" Soren asked.

    'And the flecks, what are they about?" Gylfie looked straight up