The First Collier (16 page)

T
heo’s favorite hunting ground for finding voles was a patch in the very middle of the island where a large circle of birch trees grew. But as Theo approached, he sensed something different. And then he heard it—a strange chanting. He perched for several minutes behind the thick clusters of needles on an interior branch of a very bushy pine tree. Listening intently, he realized what it was he was hearing.
Great Glaux, it’s the brothers! The Glauxian Brothers!

For years, the Glauxian Brothers had lived in widely dispersed ice holes and caves on the H’rathghar glacier, but he supposed the fighting had gotten too intense there and they needed a retreat where they could be safely together. The brothers were renowned for their studious ways. When they were not chanting, they were studying or writing; when they were not studying or writing, they were silent—for the most part. They had taken vows of silence so they might contemplate more deeply the mysteries of the owl universe.

Theo’s feelings about discovering them here on what he had come to think of as his and Grank’s island were conflicting ones. Theo admired the brothers greatly, and at one time had considered becoming one. Like the brothers, Theo did not believe in war. Furthermore, the brothers believed that the curse of the hagsfiends had been visited upon the N’yrthghar because the owls of this Northern Kingdom had lost their faith in Glaux and in reason. They believed that this loss of faith and reason had created a tear, a rip in the very air of the owl universe, and it was through this tear that these creatures of rage, superstition, and nachtmagen had gained their evil powers. It had pained Theo greatly when Grank had asked him, begged him to make that first pair of battle claws. He had only done so because Grank had revealed to him that the egg, whose well-being he was charged with, was that of King H’rath and Queen Siv.

But now he felt a horrible tearing within him. He hated making those battle claws as much as he loved Grank—Grank, who had taught him so much. Yet he knew that he himself was not at all like Grank.
Am I not of a more contempletive nature? Am I not more like these brothers? And yet…
Theo paused in his deliberations.
And yet, I am devoted to Grank and to dear little Hoole. How could I think of abandoning them for the brothers?

But the thought would not leave him entirely. Not for a long time, he knew, and perhaps never. Still, he must get on with the business of hunting down a plump vole for Hoole, and he could not do it here near the chanting brothers. He must do nothing to betray his and Grank’s and Hoole’s presence on this same island. Although the brothers were no threat, Grank had been adamant. “No one must know we are here!” How many times had he said that? The N’yrthghar was vast, yet word traveled fast in the bird world. Grank would be distressed when he heard that the brothers had set up camp on this island. But they could not move. Not until Hoole learned to fly. And they would probably have to shut down their fires. There must be no trace of smoke coming from their end of the island. Of course, the brothers might have already spotted it, for all Theo knew. In any case, he would now have to go elsewhere for a vole.

“Hello there, little one!” Theo said as he flew into the hollow with a plump vole in his talons.

“Umm-yum! May I lick the blood first?”

“What do you say to Theo, Hoole?”

“Oh, thanks, thanks.”

Grank stopped himself just before saying, “A prince must be gracious to both vassal and servant.” It still wasn’t safe to tell this chick his true heritage at this point. Nothing would be more dangerous.

“Hey, check my right shoulder, Theo. Do you think I’ve budged any since you’ve been gone?”

“I’ve only been gone a little while, Hoole. Nothing happens that quickly.” Grank was observing Theo and could tell almost immediately that something was disturbing the young Great Horned Owl. He would wait until dawn when Hoole would fall into the thick sleep of a chick with a full belly and tightly packed gizzard. Then they could talk.

Hoole’s little body gave a tremendous shake as the bones, fur, and teeth of the vole he had just eaten lurched their way down to the second stomach, his gizzard. A drowsy, beatific look crept into his eyes. He yawned widely and then nestled into the down of his sleeping nest. “Tell me one more time, Uncle Grank, when is the soonest you think I can fly?”

“I told you, young’un. It usually takes Spotted Owls at least forty-two days before they can fly after hatching out.”

“How long ago did I hatch out?”

“Barely ten.”

“So is ten a far way from forty-two?”

“Go to sleep, Hoole.”

“But I don’t understand what forty-two is exactly.”

“l’ll explain tomorrow at twilight when you wake up.”

Finally, the little owl gave a huge yawn and fell sound asleep.

“So, we are no longer alone,” Grank said wearily, and clamped his beak shut. The first streaks of the dawn had spilled into the dark hollow, suffusing it with a rosy cheerful warmth—except Grank was far from cheerful over this news. “Well, we certainly can’t leave until Hoole can fly. That’s at least a moon cycle away and even then his flight skills won’t be good enough nor his wings strong enough to go far.”

“Look, Grank, I don’t want to sound like a fool but, really, think about it. Sooner or later someone was bound to come here. We should be thankful it’s the Glauxian Brothers. They are owls of great devotion. They would never betray our secret. For Glaux’s sake, they take vows of silence. And although they hate war, they also hate Lord Arrin. And they had great faith in King H’rath and Queen Siv. They would do nothing to endanger the heir.”

“They must not know that he is the heir. Never! No one must know that.” Grank paused and thought a moment. “I know what you say is true, and I don’t for one minute doubt their loyalty or their devotion. But you know as well as I do how word travels. They are bound to find us before we can get away, and even if we appear just what we are—two owls with an orphan chick—word will get around that there is a chick without a mum being tended on the island.”

“The brothers will hardly ever leave the island. You know how they are. Too busy studying, meditating.”

“‘Hardly’ is not never.” Grank sighed again. “Well, I suppose the first thing we should do is damp down the fires in the forge. If they haven’t spotted our smoke by now, they certainly will soon. So you better get on with that. Be sure to keep the embers healthy so we can take them wherever we’ll be going and start the fires anew.”

“Yes, sir,” Theo said.

He flew down and began to damp the fires in the slot of the immense boulder that they had used as a forge. The slot, with its natural updraft and slightly slanting walls, had proven to be perfect for creating intensely hot fires for the increasingly refined metalwork with which Theo had been experimenting. But now as he shut down these fires, he wondered why he was protecting the coals. Grank said new fires in some new place.
But new fires for what? To make more battle claws?
Or perhaps they were just for Grank’s firesight. Grank was a flame reader. He could see things in fires that no other birds could. Things that were happening elsewhere—or were yet to happen. Firesight was as valuable to Grank as any nachtmagen.

Once again, Theo began to think about the Glauxian Brothers and their quiet scholarly lives. It was said that the Glauxian Brothers had learned how to inscribe things on pieces of special ice known as issen bhago. But these “bhags,” as they were called, were heavy to transport. So they had decided to transcribe the bhags into books with pages written on the cured hides of the small animals. So now, before eating, they skinned whatever rabbit or rat or mouse they ate. It was an odd diet not having the fur and the skin, but the brothers were accustomed to making sacrifices.

Theo thought of all this as he smothered the fires while carefully putting aside the live coals in small, specially forged iron boxes that would keep them hot.

And for the first time in the months since Grank had been on the island, smoke did not curl up into the air above the tree and the hollow where he lived.

“Inside, Hoole! Immediately!” Grank said.

“But I just got out here!” Hoole was perched on the tip of a branch. “You promised, Uncle Grank, that today would be the day for branching. My first flight feathers, remember? At last I have budged them.”

“Back in the hollow,” Theo said sharply.

This stunned Hoole. They never spoke this way to him. What had he done wrong—already? All he ever thought about was flying and now it was to be his first time and they hadn’t even let him out on a branch! He must have messed up. But how? He poked his beak out a tiny bit.

“In!” Grank hissed.

Hoole had caught a glimpse of something flying overhead. He heard a stirring in the thinner branches high in the tree. Was some owl actually landing here?
Incredible!
Except for Grank and Theo, he hadn’t ever seen any other owls.

Of course, the damping down of the fires had been in vain. Theo had smothered the fires only three days before, and now a brother was arriving at their campsite.