Capture (9 page)

Soren indulged Gylfie and let her run on. "Well," she began, "they have the battle claws that fit over their talons but they don't make them themselves. They can sort of repair them but basically they have to scavenge them from other places, other battlefields."

"But what other battlefields? Look, Gylfie, I didn't live long in Tyto but I never saw or heard my parents talk about any battles. Did you ever hear your parents talk of any?

Gylfie thought hard. "No. No, I didn't," she said slowly. "And when we were snatched they weren't wearing them."

"They would hardly need them for us. We were nestlings. Our own talons were not even hardened off"

Gylfie blinked at Soren as if he had just said something astonishing. She remained silent for a moment.

"That's just it, isn't it, Soren? They didn't need them for us. No. But they needed us and these battle claws for something bigger ... much bigger. Remember in the third legend of the Ga'Hoolian cycle when the sea serpents that could walk upon the land and swim in the sea started to form their plan? Remember how they wanted to drag the entire world of owls and birds into the sea, so that they could reign on both land and sea?"

"Yes," Soren said quietly.

"I think they are planning something big like that."

Soren started to say that the story of the serpents was just a legend and not true, that such sea creatures did not exist. But then he realized deep within himself it didn't really matter. These owls did exist and maybe they wanted just what the imaginary creatures of the legends wanted. Soren had a horrible vision of the entire forest kingdom of Tyto and the desert kingdom of Kuneer and all the owl kingdoms being swirled into this stone world of St. Aggie's.

"So," Gylfie continued, "when we do escape, Soren, we must know as much as we can. We must know about flecks and why they are more precious than gold, and what they plan to do to the kingdoms of owls. It is going to be our duty to warn the rest of the owl kingdoms. Don't worry about flying now.

Think about how much we are

learning. Look, we know the pelletorium inside out, we've been on cricket detail, now battle claws; the last area we have to crack -- pardon the pun -- is the eggorium and that broody place."

"Top secret. Remember."

"As if 12-8 would ever let us forget. Oh, Glaux, here she comes now. Hang on, Soren, I'm going to try some of my charm." Gylfie winked and then the dull light of a moon- blinked owl stole into her eyes.

Soren watched as Gylfie, in the semblance of the perfectly moon-blinked owl, trotted up to Hortense.

"12-8, you appear calm and satisfied from the perfection of performing your duty well. I cannot imagine that your Specialness ceremony is far off"

"I do not need a ceremony to feel special. For you see, 25-2,I am entrusted with the most sacred and vital of tasks for our beloved St. Aggie's community."

"Yes, that must be so. 12-1 and I would feel it an honor to serve in such a manner. But then again we do not have the qualifications, the obvious talents of you, 12-8. Ah, to be the vessel of such trust."

12-8 seemed to swell with pride before their eyes. A pit monitor suddenly swooped down. "Humbleness correction, humility check, dear." It was a smallish, whiskered Screech Owl. Her amber eyes blinked a warning out of her bristly face. 12-8 seemed to shrink to half her size instantly. "Oh, I beg your pardon. It is pride in my work, not pride in myself. I remain a humble servant to a great

cause.

"Yes, a great cause." Gylfie repeated the words, and although it was a statement, Soren really heard a question at the center. What was this great cause?

"Yes, that's better, dear." The whiskered Screech Owl nodded and floated off to a higher perch in the stone pit.

Gylfie felt that the moment was right. "You are the last owl in the world that I would ever say lacked humility, 12-8. You are for my friend and myself a perfect example of humility You are beyond humbleness! You are ..." Gylfie was madly searching for a word. What's she going to say next? Soren couldn't imagine. He had never seen such a demonstration of outrageous fawning. "You are subglaucious" 12-8 blinked at the word as did Soren, who had no idea what subglaucious meant. "We, my friend and I, only wish that we could serve in the eggorium and thus attain such humbleness as yourself."

"Your words are kind, 25-2. I shall hope that they might encourage me in my continuing quest for humility while in service to a great cause." She wandered off looking a tad more moon blinked than before, if that was possible.

"What in Glaux's name is subglaucious? Soren said as soon as she was out of earshot.

"No idea. I made it up. We've got to get into that eggorium and the hatchery," Gylfie replied, and the twinkle returned to her eyes.

The Eggorium

The following day, Soren was back at his post in the pelletorium. Indeed, he had been promoted to a second-degree picker and was now appalled to find himself reciting the exact same words to a new owlet that 47-2 had said to him upon arriving. "I am 12-1. I am to be your guide for the pelletorium.

Follow me." He spoke in the same peculiar manner. The hollow, clipped sounds came naturally to him now. So when Gylfie came up with a tray of fresh pellets, he was perhaps more than ready to listen to her suggestions of a possible new worksite.

"The eggorium. I think I found us an entry-level position. Egg sorting. Fellow in the pellet storage area told me about it. Mite blight in the hatchery"

"So what does that mean?" Soren asked.

"I'm not sure. All I know is that they had to take owls off duty in the eggorium and put them in the hatchery."

"I still don't really understand what they do in either one of those places. Not to mention, what are these flecks

that the first-degree pickers pick? It's like a puzzle that never seems to quite come together. It's as if we have all these pieces of things, but are we any closer to knowing what this place is about and how to get out of it, or if we'll ever learn to fly?" Soren was getting more and more agitated as he spoke.

"Try to keep calm, Soren. I just have a feeling that we're close to something."

Soren and Gylfie stood in a small antechamber. Above them perched a large Snowy Owl.

"Welcome to the eggorium!" the Snowy hooted deeply. "To work in the eggorium and the hatchery is the highest of honors. You have been given temporary top secret clearance. We are in a bit of a bind these days as we have had an epidemic of mite blight. For this reason you shall not be given a DNF, or Destined Not to Fly ranking, but you shall have to undergo a procedure at the end of your term, which, although not painful, shall make you forget the information that you shall be exposed to here."

"Moon scalding," Gylfie whispered. "But we know how to handle that."

"Right." Soren was still weak with relief over not being a DNF.

"And now into the eggorium. Please follow me." The Snowy hooted softly.

There was a collective gasp from all the owls. For even a perfectly moon-blinked owl could not help but be stunned by the scene before them. Thousands upon thousands of eggs were being sorted, eggs of all sizes and all pure white, glistening now in the moonlight. And as they sorted, they sang a song.

By these eggs we set a store

We sort them out and ask for more.

Vygmy, Elf, Spotted, and Snowy

Make our gizzards get allglowie.

Barn Owls, Great Grays, Barred, and Screech

Give our hearts an extra beat.

The work's top secret, that is true,

But we are the best -- the eggorium crew!

Don't give a hoot that no one flies

For upon these eggs the future relies.

Such is our noble destiny

To guard St. Aggie's through eternity!

The instructions were simple. For this first phase, each of them was to look for eggs of their own species, as these

would be the easiest for them to identify. Thus Soren was to sort out Barn Owl eggs and Gylfie was to sort out Elf Owl eggs. They were to roll the eggs into a designated area. From there, they would be transported by larger and more experienced owls to the hatchery.

Soren was simply aghast. This was exactly what he had overheard his mother and father talking about --

egg snatching. "Unspeakable!" That was the word his mother had used. Unspeakable. But here it was, right before his very eyes. He began to tremble. There was a sickening feeling in his gizzard.

"Don't go yeep on me," Gylfie hissed.

"How can I go yeep? I don't even know how to fly yet."

Going yeep, as every owl and bird knew, was a term for when one's wings seemed to lock, when a bird lost its instincts and could no longer fly and would suddenly plummet to the ground.

As loathsome as the work was, it was pretty easy. However, Soren could not help but wonder with each Barn Owl egg he found where it had come from in Tyto. Did his parents know this owl egg's parents?

Luckily, the Barn Owl egg station and the Elf Owl station were not that far apart. So as Soren and Gylfie arrived at their respective stations, rolling their eggs, they would exchange a word or two. "I haven't seen 12-8, Hortense," Soren said.

"She's not here. She's in the hatchery. That's where the broodies are -- they sit on the eggs. We've got to get in there."

"How do you plan to do that?" Soren asked.

"I don't know. I'll think of something," Gylfie said.

Just before their shift ended, Gylfie thought of something.

"You!"

"Me what?" Soren asked.

"You're a perfect broody."

"What? Me a broody? Have you gone yoicks? I'm a male owl. Male owls don't sit nests."

"They do occasionally -- in very cold climates sometimes."

"Well, this isn't an especially cold climate. Why not you?

"They don't need an Elf Owl now but they do need a Barn Owl. I heard them talking and, by the way, they have plenty of male owls up there sitting on nests."

"What do you mean by 'up there'? Up where?"

"Up there, Soren. I think it's higher than the library....

I think its very close to the sky. I think ..." Gylfie paused for dramatic effect. "We could fly from up there." Soren felt his gizzard give a lurch. "I'll go\" "Good fella!" Gylfie gave Soren a friendly cufÂŁ

although she was so short she could hardly reach his wing. But it seemed like a really male owl thing to do and she wanted to assure Soren that, although he was going to be a broody, he was still one tough little owl. 'And I myself plan on getting promoted to moss tender."

The Hatchery

It was Soren's second night on the job. He actually worked a shift with three other Barn Owls, one of whom was male. When it was a night shift, he did not have to report to the glaucidium. It wasn't quite as humiliating as he had thought. There certainly was a constant stream of food. Broodies were well tended. Someone was always coming by, clucking, "How about a nice fat worm, just flown in from Tyto, a bit of snake, a vole, red squirrel." No, the eating was definitely good in the hatchery. Gylfie did manage to get herself in as a moss tender. And if their shifts coincided, there was plenty of time to talk, as Gylfie made extra trips to tuck moss and bits of fluff into Soren's nest. Soren had four eggs in his nest, which seemed a tad crammed. He thought mostly there were two or three eggs to a Barn Owl's nest. But then again, what did he know? Just as he was beginning to think on this, the second night, that it wasn't so bad, the Barn Owl on the nest

next to him spoke in that empty moon-blinked voice, "Crack alert! Crack alert. Egg tooth visible."

Two Barred Owls came hustling over. Soren felt his gizzard twinge with excitement. He leaned out of his nest to take a peek. The egg was giving those familiar shudders -- just like Eglantine's egg had, which now seemed so long ago. But no one seemed at all excited. No one was gasping with joy, saying, "It's coming! It's coming!"

The egg was rocking now. Soren could see the little hole and the egg tooth, pale and glistening, poking out.

"All right," said the first Barred Owl in a cool voice. "Enough with that egg tooth. Lets crack it." And with that, the two Barred Owls gave solid thwacks with their talons. The egg split. Then one of the Barred Owls hooked the slimy white blob with its talon and firmly pulled it out while the other one turned the shell up. "Bottoms up!" the owl said crisply, and she dumped out the hatchling.

Soren was so shocked he could barely breathe. No one exclaimed "It's a girl!" No one said "adorable" or

"enchanting." No one said anything except "Number 401-2."

The other Barred Owl nodded in response. "So we're into the four hundred sequence with the Barn Owls, now."

"Yes, what an accomplishment," sighed the one who had numbered this little owlet. Soren felt a rage, Accomplishment! This was the most horrid, despicable thing he had ever witnessed. A coldness that began in his gizzard seemed to creep through Soren from his new tail feathers up to his wing tips and down to his talons. He realized that he would rather see this little owl dead than alive in St. Aggie's. They had to get out. He and Gylfie had to get out. They must learn to fly Where was Gylfie? She was on this shift. He wished she could come by and see this. He craned his head about but there was no sign of the little Elf Owl.

It was the stillest time of the moonless night, and on break Gylfie had stepped into a large crack in the rock, perfect for hiding an Elf Owl. She was watching Hortense. Hortense had proven herself to be such an exceptional broody that she had been given a big nest on a large outcropping of stone somewhat away from the others, where there was more room. She had become very adept at spreading herself over several eggs at a time. It was a change in shift for moss tenders in Gylfie's area so it would be a while before any came by.

And now the Spotted Owl, who was indeed large for an owl her age, was doing something rather odd.

She had actually stepped off her nest, and it appeared to Gylfie as if she were trying to dislodge an egg from the nest. Gylfie

blinked and blinked again. Gylfie nearly gasped out loud as she saw 12-8 gently roll the egg to the edge of the stone outcropping. Then, out of the blackness of this moonless night, there appeared a spot of dazzling white -- just a spot like a tiny moon floating in the darkness, a tiny feathered moon! Gylfie's eyes widened. It was the head of a bald eagle. She had seen them in the desert. This one was huge and had a wingspan that was immense. It alighted on the ledge and silently picked up the egg in its talons.