The Owl Keeper

by Christine Brodien-Jones

  Rose's voice was low and breathy. "I thought you went to prison. Did you escape?" In her eyes Max could see a look of stunned admiration--eyes, he realized, that were once again clear and watchful.

  "Yes, I managed to escape," Gran replied. "But that's a story for another day."

  Gran's eyes, Max noticed, were a pale silvery blue--like old glass, he thought, glinting in the sunlight. He remembered her eyes being a much darker, stonier shade of blue. Had the light from the silver owls changed her eyes? How could that be?

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  "You sent the silver owl to me, didn't you, Gran?" he said, holding his little owl against his chest. "I thought she was the last silver owl in the world!"

  "Yeah," piped up Rose. "Me too."

  "In a sense, she is the last silver owl," said Gran, reaching out to smooth the owl's feathers. "She is the last remaining owl who remembers the ancient OwlSong. The other silver owls are still alive, but they have fallen silent. Hunted down and attacked by the dark forces, their powers are diminished, and they have lost their ability to sing the OwlSong." Gently she stroked the owl's curved beak. "One dark night I heard this small owl singing outside the window of my prison cell. I knew then there was still hope. I wrote a message to you for her to deliver, knowing she was brave and loyal and determined--like you, Max."

  Max beamed. Gran had paid him the highest compliment, comparing him to the silver owl. He thought how wise and kind Gran was, how he had missed her all these years.

  "She turned up in the owl tree with a broken wing, all covered with snow," he told Gran. "I was afraid of her at first, but then we became friends. She really is a brave owl." At this the owl fluffed her feathers a bit. Max looked up at Gran. "She helped us find our way here."

  "I've no doubt the path was long and treacherous, but you never gave up, did you? You kept going."

  Max kicked at the snow, uncertain of how to respond. He hadn't done any of it on his own. "I'm only here because of Rose and the silver owl," he said. "The owl fought off skræks and plague wolves, and Rose saved us from the Misshapens! Lots of

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  times Rose couldn't see, but she believed we'd find our way; she said the path would take us here and she was right."

  "Hmmm," mused Gran. " 'Blind child comes leading ..." I am honored to meet you, Rose." She bent down and hugged her.

  "I never thought I'd ever meet you," whispered Rose, hugging her back.

  Gran turned to Max. "You had everything of which the Silver Prophecy speaks--Rose, the silver owl, your own courageous heart--and together they led you here."

  "Max says he isn't brave, but that's not true. He's braver than any person I know." Rose jutted out her sharp chin. "He fought off the Misshapens and plague wolves and skræsks, and a lunatic doctor! It was really scary, but he got us here in the end."

  Embarrassed, Max stared at the tops of his boots. No one had said such nice things about him in a long time.

  "Just because there were times you were frightened doesn't mean you weren't brave," said Gran, placing a hand on Max's shoulder. "Without doubt, it is the greatest act of courage that is often the most fearful."

  He smiled up at Gran, thinking how she had been his first teacher in these matters. Everything he knew about bravery he had learned from her.

  "You's different, Rose!" Miranda squealed. Max looked over to see the young girl covered head to foot in snow, her cheeks glowing red. "Your eyes is bright!"

  It was true: Rose's eyes were luminous. Max could see they shone with a silvery green light.

  "Rose told me she was struck by a poisoned arrow," said Gran.

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  "She feared she was going blind. I thought of the Seraph Shell-- a sacred shell with magical properties--and I transferred some of its healing power into Rose's eyes."

  Max glanced at Rose again. She looked radiant, but even so, all these things Gran was saying sounded a bit highbrow and mystical to him.

  Rose gave a lopsided smile. "Now I can see auras. I see them everywhere! Your aura is beautiful, Granny Unger." Gran smiled. "Thank you, Rose."

  "Mrs. Crumlin and Dr. Tredegar plotted against us!" said Max, feeling the old rage build up inside him. "Tredegar told my parents I was allergic to the sun, but it wasn't true!"

  "Everything that quack told you was a pack of lies," said Rose with a sniff, "and that witchy old Crumlin brewing you up poisoned hot cocoa!"

  "They tried to make me forget about you, Gran!" said Max. "They gave me drugs to make me think everything I learned about the Sages and silver owls were fairy tales!"

  Gran held up one hand. "I think you'd better slow down, both of you. My head is spinning--"

  But Max couldn't stop talking. "Mrs. Crumlin was a spy for the High Echelon! She turned you in, Gran! She and Tredegar tried to trick me into becoming a Skræk Master!"

  Rose gave a little cry. "Max, you never told me! And skræks kill silver owls!"

  The silver owl shuddered. Max, aware of her distress, stroked her, calming her down.

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  Gran gave a ragged sigh. "I knew your life would not be an easy one, Max. I knew from the moment you were born."

  Max watched snow sift down, melting on Gran's hair and cloak. Overhead, a ray of sunlight broke through the clouds. He studied his grandmother's face, expecting to find bitterness or regret from her years spent in prison, so far from the people she loved, yet he saw only a calm serenity. She was still Gran from long ago, of course, yet he knew she was far more: healer, enchantress, a keeper of owls.

  Was she the Owl Keeper? He wasn't sure.

  "I knew you were a Night Seer, Max," Gran continued, "capable of great things." She tousled his shaggy hair, something she used to do when he was small. "If only I could have kept that fact from the authorities. Unfortunately that was impossible: you were identified by the High Echelon at birth."

  Capable of great things? Max blushed, hearing such an extravagant phrase used to describe him.

  "Why does the High Echelon hate Night Seers so much?" asked Rose.

  "Centuries ago the Night Seers were half-magical beings who lived in the forests," explained Gran. "They had a special bond with the silver owls because they spoke the language of the owls. The High Echelon has been trying to break this connection by sending Night Seers to work underground, where they won't be able to communicate with the silver owls."

  "I hate the High Echelon," declared Max, clenching his fists, thinking of the heartache and pain they had caused.

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  "I'm a Night Seer too," boasted Rose. "Can you tell, Granny Unger?"

  "Oh yes, Rose, I can. It is a marvelous gift." Gran glanced over at Miranda, who was leaping in the air trying to catch a silver owl. "This child is also a Night Seer, though perhaps she is unaware."

  "I's what?" Miranda stopped dead in her tracks, flicking her tongue over her lips and frowning.

  "It's nothing to be afraid of," said Max, seeing the girl's worried expression.

  "You're a Night Seer, not a ghostie or an ice-mummy!" added Rose. "It's a talent you were born with."

  Miranda's too young to know what it means to be a Night Seer, thought Max, watching the little girl clap her hands and throw her hat into the air. Helios leapt straight up, ears flopping like a comic-book dog, catching Miranda's hat in his mouth. But one day ... one day, he told himself, she'll find out how special she is.

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  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

  [Image: The tall woman and the owl.]

  Max heard the groaning of the massive wooden door as it swung open to reveal the entryway to the owl tower.

  The tall woman with flowing white hair ushered the three children and their dog inside. Eyes bright, the silver owl hovered close to Max. She had a certain look, he noticed, as if she was returning home from a long journey. Had she been to this tower before? he wondered.

  The winter sun danced through diamond-paned windows, setting the rooms and passageways alight. Max was charmed by everything: the courty
ard of brick and cobblestones; the tables

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  and sideboards of gleaming rosewood; the blazing lamps and fires; the cavernous kitchen that smelled of lemon and nutmeg, a jade tree growing up through the middle. He felt instantly at home beneath the high arched ceilings inlaid with stars and in the rooms painted in shades of blue and poppy and emerald.

  What impressed him most were the hundreds of books that Gran kept here--more books than Max had ever dreamed existed. Everywhere he looked there were bookshelves reaching to the ceilings, lining the walls and hallways, tucked beneath eaves, set into niches and vaults.

  "Books salvaged from libraries, before the burnings," explained Gran, looking pleased that Max was so taken with them. "I had assistance getting them here, of course. Books weigh far more than one might imagine."

  She guided Max, Rose and Miranda down corridors, pointing out stone terraces and balconies, tapestries and roofed halls, and secret places beneath the dormers. It didn't seem to bother Gran that Helios was dripping snow everywhere, shaking wet flakes from his fur as he trotted about sniffing around the hearth fires and woven carpets.

  "Here in the owl tower you will find an ancient magic," said Gran as she led them from room to room. "It runs true and deep, kept alive by Sages and silver owls for centuries."

  Max looked around, sensing that very magic in the snow-covered ground the tower was built on, in the dreamy light of the stones; he felt it in the blues and greens of the windows, and in the vast silver tree with its enigmatic owls.

  Gran led them through a room of hanging dried peppers, down

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  a long passageway and up a spiral staircase to a circular room where silver feathers floated in the air. There were nests and roosts and hollowed-out spaces deep within the stone. Directly below the eaves, Max could see small round windows, carved just big enough for owls to fit through.

  "This is where the silver owls sleep," explained Gran. "They arrive here in a weakened state, some of them barely alive. I do all I can to restore their strength and energy, which they need to guard the city. But despite all I've done, they make no sound. They have forgotten the OwlSong."

  She passed around a battered leather book with rough-edged pages. "I keep track of their progress--a daunting task, since new silver owls are arriving daily. Sadly, some are so weakened"--her voice caught--"they do not survive. I've buried them in a small graveyard behind the tower."

  "Oh, those poor little things," said Rose quietly.

  The owl quaked against Max and he held her closer, feeling protective. A lump formed in his throat as he listened to her shaky sounds of sorrow.

  Gran pointed out leather-bound books on the feeding of owls. She showed the children a medical chest for owl ailments, bottles of clary sage oil to keep feathers sleek, tweezers for extracting thorns and thistles. Max watched Miranda scrutinize each bottle, each implement.

  "Perhaps when Miranda is older," said Gran, "she can help look after the owls." She called to the little girl. "Those are tools for repairing aeries, Miranda, and different kinds of wood for constructing owl roosts."

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  Miranda nodded solemnly.

  Afterward, in the old-fashioned kitchen with hanging copper pots, the children sat at a round table spread with durum wheat bread, pots of honey, and fruit piled into ceramic bowls.

  Max watched Gran make buttered toast and sprinkle it with cinnamon and sugar--his favorite. She carried it on a tray to the table, along with pewter mugs of honey-clove tea. Helios stretched out before a blazing fire; the silver owl fluttered down and landed on the dog's back. Moments later, both owl and dog were asleep.

  "When you were in jail," said Rose, munching, "maybe you bumped into my mother? She's real tall and her name is Violet Silvertree-Eccles--that's hyphenated--and she writes me letters from a high-security prison in the Low Dreadlands." She swallowed. "Well, she used to."

  Max felt a pang in his heart. What if Rose got her hopes too high and they came crashing down? He was furious with himself for telling her that the Owl Keeper could fix everything. It had been a thoughtless thing to say, since he knew virtually nothing about the Owl Keeper's powers.

  "I'm afraid I never met your mother," said Gran. "I was in the eastern hills, you see, a stone prison with six cells. Fortunately I wasn't there long."

  "Oh," said Rose, disappointed. Max knew Rose well enough by now to tell that she was devastated. But, as usual, she put up a brave front.

  "I know her by reputation, of course," Gran added on a more hopeful note.

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  Rose's face brightened. "You do?"

  "We heard a rumor via the underground that Violet Silvertree-Eccles led a prison uprising in the Low Dreadlands not long ago," Gran went on. Max leaned forward, listening intently. "Many political prisoners escaped."

  "My mother too? She got away?" Rose looked hopeful. "Max, do you know what that means? My mom could show up any day now looking for me and we'll go spring my dad out of jail! You can come with us if you want!"

  Max exchanged a worried look with Gran.

  "Don't get your hopes too high--not yet, my dear Rose." Gran placed a sympathetic hand on Rose's arm. "In time we'll know more details, but until then ..."

  Rose stared down at her toast, suddenly quiet, and Max felt terrible. Then his thoughts turned to his own parents. "I never said goodbye to my mom and dad," he told Gran in a quavering voice. "They don't know where I am, they don't even know if they'll see me again!" The thought of his parents going off to the domes without him filled him with sorrow and regret.

  "Oh dear, you poor, poor children." Eyes glistening with tears, Gran reached over and took Max's hand. "Your father is my only son--I miss him and Nora terribly. This is why the Owl Keeper has been summoned: we are in the time of Absolute Dark, as foretold in the Silver Prophecies, when evil stalks the land and families are torn apart."

  "Is that why you hid the poem for Max to find?" asked Rose with a sniffle. "So he'd bring the silver owl?"

  Gran nodded. "Five years ago, when I knew I'd soon be arrested,

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  I hid the Silver Prophecy in your closet, Max, away from prying eyes such as that Mrs. Crumlin's. I trusted you would find it when the time was right."

  "Actually, I was the one who found it," said Rose loftily. Max couldn't help smiling, thinking how typical a Rose remark that was.

  He looked over at the silver owl and saw her open her eyes. She launched herself off the sleeping dog and landed on the table next to his mug of honey-clove tea. Miranda reached over, offering the owl a crust of toast.

  "Nobody told us you were the Owl Keeper, Granny Unger!" said Rose. "That was a really big surprise!"

  "Ah, but you are mistaken, my dears." Gran gave an enigmatic smile. "I have been tending to the owls until the Owl Keeper arrives." She leaned toward the owl, stroking her feathers with the tips of her long fingers.

  Max sat back in his chair, astounded. How could Gran not be the Owl Keeper? Hadn't she kept the tower going all this time and cared for the silver owls? Wasn't she the wisest person he had ever known in his life?

  Miranda crammed another slice of toast into her mouth. "You's not the Owl Keeper? My grampy says you is."

  "Then if it's not you"--Rose tapped her knife against her plate--"who the heck is it?"

  Granny stood, eyes shining, her bright garments swirling around her. "As the time of the Owl Keeper nears, Sages and silver owls are making their way to Silvern. It is a long and arduous journey, but Absolute Dark is upon us and we can wait no longer.

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  The powers of evil have multiplied, spreading dark tendrils throughout the country. But now, at long last"--she looked pointedly at Max--"the Owl Keeper is here."

  Max dropped his toast. Disconcerted, he stared at Gran. Why was she looking at him like that?

  "I sent the silver owl to bring you here, Maxwell Unger, because you are the Owl Keeper. You were born with a gift, a power. This has been yo
ur destiny since the day of your birth; you cannot turn away from it, Maxwell Unger. The power has been bestowed. All you can do is accept it."

  The small owl gave a silvery hoot, fluttering to Max's shoulder. His blood quickened. "I--I don't understand," he whispered, pushing his hair out of his eyes.

  "Nothing of consequence can happen here without the Owl Keeper," said Gran. "The Owl Keeper's task is to bring together Sages and silver owls to destroy the dark forces. He must make the tower indestructible. The Owl Keeper combines the warriorlike qualities of the silver owls with the wisdom of the Sages. He is of the Ancients--he is the spiritual force that holds everything together."

  The room fell silent.

  "Hold on, you're making a big mistake!" said Max, unnerved by the way Rose and Miranda were staring at him. "I'm not special, I'm just a kid! I don't know how to fight against the dark powers!"

  "According to the Prophecy, the Owl Keeper is a Night Seer, small in size and generous of heart." Gran smiled. "He--or she--must be born at exactly seven minutes past midnight, on the seventh day of the seventh month, during an eclipse of the moon-- or moons, as the case may be. His love for owls has no bounds."

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  Max dug his fists into his eyes, trying to make sense of her words. Inside his chest his heart thumped wildly. Was Gran losing her mind? Elderly people often got befuddled, he knew, so maybe she was mixing her stories up.

  "The Prophecy says the Owl Keeper will undertake a long and dangerous journey," she continued. "Along the way he will be tested, forced to choose between the Silver Teachings and the hollow promises of the Dark."

  Max felt delirious. A thousand urgent questions swarmed through his head. His owl rubbed her beak against his face, trying to get his attention, but he was too distracted to respond.