Capture (12 page)

They must keep the dream of flight alive in their minds. They must feel it in their gizzards and in that way they would learn to fly. Gylfie repeated the words of her father to Soren: "He said, Soren, that 'you can practice forever and still never fly if you don't believe.' So it's not just practice, Soren. We must believe, and we can because we are not moon blinked."

"But moon blinked or not, we have to have feathers. And I am still short of flight feathers," Soren replied.

"You are going to have them. You will have enough by the next newing."

"Well, that's just the problem. That's when the vampire bats come back."

Gylfie looked at Soren gravely. "That is why we must learn how to fly before the next newing."

"But I won't be ready. I won't have enough feathers," Soren said.

"Almost, though."

"Almost? There's a difference, Gylfie, between almost and enough."

"Yes. The difference is belief, Soren. Belief" The little Elf Owl said the last word so fiercely that Soren took a step back. "You have a large and generous gizzard, Soren. You feel. I know this. You feel strongly.

If any owl can do this, you can."

Soren blinked in dismay. How could he not believe it if this owl, who weighed no more than a wad of leaves, believed so much. It was Gylfie who had the enormous gizzard, not himself So the two little owls began to think constantly about

flying. They discussed it whenever they could. They shared memories of their parents lifting out of their nests into the sky. They argued about wing angles and drift and updrafts and a dozen other things they had seen and almost felt as they had watched other owls. They pondered endlessly the stony maze of the canyons and ravines that made up St. Aggie's. They knew that the only way out was straight up, requiring the most difficult of flight maneuvers, especially now that they had no access to Hortense's stone outcropping high in the hatchery. There could be no gradual glide for a takeoff Still, they knew that when they escaped, it was essential to find the highest point possible, the point closest to the sky. And Gylfie continued to feel deep in her gizzard that the library would offer such a place, and that within the library they would discover the secret of the flecks, and in some way this secret would become vital to their escape.

One unseasonably warm day, Gylfie had returned to their station in the pelletorium from a run for new pellets. She was barely able to conceal her excitement. "He's back," she whispered to Soren. "Grimble's back! Get on the next shift with me for new pellets."

That would be easy. It was a snack shift, and if you were

on a new pellet run you missed the snack. So no one ever really wanted to go.

Just as the sun reached its high point, Soren and Gylfie stopped walking forward in the Big Crack. They, of course, continued to move their feet as if they were still marching, and the stream of owlets parted around them and moved on as they remained in the same place. Soren blinked. He did not have to look up to feel the piece of blue sky flowing above them. He had passed this point on the trail many times now, and each time he felt refreshed by the very thought of this small wedge of sky so close. He would close his eyes and feel it. When all the owlets had passed, Gylfie gave the signal and they turned down the smaller crack toward the library.

Gylfie marched ahead. Soren was trembling with fear. What if Gylfie's suspicions about Grimble being imperfectly moon blinked were wrong? What if Grimble sounded an alarm? What if they were both seized for the next laughter therapy session? Soren winced and felt a twinge flicker from his down fluff to his brand-new primaries.

Grimble stood in front of the opening to the library. There seemed to be no other owls about. Soren, however, felt the air stir and suddenly realized that it was a breeze. A wonderful thrill coursed through him as it had when he was on the stone outcropping of Hortense's nest. Grimble now turned and blinked at them. Then commenced one of the strangest conversations Soren had ever heard.

"So you are here," Grimble said.

"So we are," replied Gylfie.

"You are conducting yourselves in a dangerous manner," the Boreal Owl said carefully.

"Our lives are not worth two pellets here. We have nothing to lose," Gylfie replied.

"Brave words."

"Not so brave. Wait until you hear my questions. Then you'll know I am brave."

Soren nearly fainted. How could Gylfie even say the word!

Grimble began to shake almost uncontrollably. "You dare say the Q!

"Yes, and I am going to say the what, the when, and the why, and every other word of a free and unmoon-blinked owl. For we are like you, Grimble."

Grimble began to gag. "Whhh-what?"

"What am I talking about? Is that what you wanted to ask? Say it, Grimble. Ask how I know this. Ask anything you want and I'll tell you with one answer: I feel it in my gizzard."

"Gizzard?" Grimble's face grew dreamy with memory.

"Yes. Gizzard, Grimble. Ours still work. And we know, we sense it -- that you are not moon blinked.

You're faking it just as we are."

"Not completely." The owl blinked. A thin transparent eyelid swept across his eye. Soren knew about these winking eyelids. His parents had told him that when he began to fly, he would find them useful, for they would keep his eyes clear in flight and protect them from any airborne bits of debris. But Grimble was not in flight. No, Grimble was hardly moving. So why was his wink lid flickering madly? Then Soren noticed huge tears gathering at the far 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."

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 at the Boreal Owl, who towered over her.

"Ah! One simple question, one not quite so simple. The purpose of St. Aggie's is to take control of every owl kingdom on Earth."

'And to destroy it?" asked Soren.

"You can be sure the kingdoms shall be destroyed, but control is really what they want. And for the kind of control they want they must moon blink. That is their main tool, for moon blinking destroys will, erases individuality, makes everyone the same. The flecks, however, are another kind of tool, a weapon for war."

"What can flecks do?" Gylfie asked.

"No one really knows. I am not entirely sure. The flecks do have powers if certain things are done to them."

"What kind of powers?"

'Again, I am not certain. They seem to be able to pull things toward them, sometimes. When I am working in

the fleck storage area of the library, sometimes I think I can feel their force."

Soren and Gylfie were mystified. "How strange," Gylfie said.

"Teach us to fly, Grimble! Teach us to fly." It was Soren who blurted out the words. The idea half formed seemed to explode at once in his head, sending tremors all the way down to his gizzard. There was a stunned silence. Gylfie and Grimble both looked at Soren and blinked but remained wordless.

"But you know, Soren, and you know, Gylfie, I can tell you what to do, and I can help you practice, but I cannot do everything. It's very strange with flying. A young owl can do everything just perfectly but if you don't believe ..."

Gylfie and Soren both blinked at Grimble and together said, "If you don't believe, then you'll never fly."

"Yes, yes. I see you understand. And, of course, that is why none of the owlets in the glaucidium will ever fly. It is not only that the vampire bats quiet their stirrings and cause their feathers to turn brittle, but if an owl is moon blinked it, of course, has no notion of what it means to believe."

"But we aren't moon blinked," Gylfie said. "And I don't believe you are either, Grimble."

"You give me hope, you two young ones. I thought all of my hope had been destroyed, but you give me hope. Yes, I shall try. Here is what we must do."

So Grimble explained to them that he was in charge of organizing the products of the pellets -- the teeth, the fur, and the flecks -- after each day's work. "I store them in the library and keep lists, inventories. I can get you a pass to help in the listings. I work mostly in a small area off the library and then take them in when I get enough. When I don't do that, I am on day guard of the library. You will never be permitted in the library, but I can try to teach you how to fly in that small space. It isn't ideal but it is the only place we have. It connects to the library, which is larger, but you can't go in there because when I am in the inventory area someone else is guarding the library."

"I thought the library had books," Gylfie said.

"It does. But we store these materials there, too. Near the books that supposedly explain them."

"Gylfie feels somehow deep in her gizzard that the flecks might help us escape."

"Don't depend on such things," Grimble said sharply. "Your own belief in yourself will help you much more than any fleck ever will."

And so it was arranged. Gylfie and Soren would be given passes to help in the inventory area, the inventorium, each night during the newing and on various nights until the moon was full again and all owlets were required in the glaucidium for moon blinking. Their first lesson would begin that very evening.

To Fly

More flap, deeper flap. Your wings must almost meet on the upstroke of the flap ..." Grimble directed.

Soren and Gylfie were exhausted. This was much harder than anything either one of them had ever seen their parents or oth er siblings try to do.

"I know you're tired, but the only way out of here is straight up. You have to build your muscles. That's why I am not even having you practice hopping or branching. You do not have the luxury of gliding gently down from a nest. You have to develop your power-flight skills. So try it again."

"But once we're outÂŤ" Soren asked, "how will we know what to do?"