Part 4 (1/2)

”Yes, Your Majesty.” The head scholar walked up, holding a piece of paper in his claws. ”But before we go, Your Majesty, do you wish us to circulate the new list of wanted birds that Hungrias issued?”

Maldeor was about to snap ”No!” but changed his mind. ”Read off the names.” He listened intently. Suddenly the words ”013-Unidentified” made him jump. Yin Soul, my mentor, spoke of this bird! Yin Soul, my mentor, spoke of this bird! he thought. ”Yes, 013-Unidentified, I want him!” Maldeor barked. ”Double the reward of acorns and pine seeds. Make sure you put a sketch of his face on the posters. What crime did he commit?” he thought. ”Yes, 013-Unidentified, I want him!” Maldeor barked. ”Double the reward of acorns and pine seeds. Make sure you put a sketch of his face on the posters. What crime did he commit?”

”He yelled openly at Hungrias and escaped against Hungrias's wishes.”

Maldeor nodded and stored this information in his head. One thing at a time, One thing at a time, he thought. he thought. Next, Kauria. Next, Kauria. He spun around, turning to the chief of the scholars. ”All right then, what do you know about Kauria?” He spun around, turning to the chief of the scholars. ”All right then, what do you know about Kauria?”

The old archaeopteryx blinked in surprise. ”Kauria? It is a legend, my lord, a mythical island where snow never falls and the flowers never fade, ruled by a phoenix, Pepheroh. But it is a just a story. n.o.bird with any learning thinks it truly exists.” He faltered a little under Maldeor's stern glare.

”It exists,” Maldeor said fiercely. ”And I will find the way there. Search your books and scrolls. Tell me anything you find. All of you!” His gaze traveled across the group of birds.

”Your Majesty, here is a yellow Leasorn gem, which Kawaka had brought.” The head scholar raised the gemstone that had been stolen from the kingfishers.

The words are in Avish...I must learn the language in time and decode them, Maldeor thought. Feeling better, he thundered on. ”Now then, anybird you meet, soldier or slave, who knows anything of Kauria-I want to speak to that bird. Let that order go out to every archaeopteryx in the land. Is that understood?” Maldeor thought. Feeling better, he thundered on. ”Now then, anybird you meet, soldier or slave, who knows anything of Kauria-I want to speak to that bird. Let that order go out to every archaeopteryx in the land. Is that understood?”

”Aye, Ancient Wing.” They all bowed.

The world is in my claws, Maldeor thought as he rolled the beak ring slowly in his talons, back and forth, back and forth. Maldeor thought as he rolled the beak ring slowly in his talons, back and forth, back and forth.

Chaos can cast a shadow on one's conscience.-FROM THE O OLD S SCRIPTURE

6.

BEWILDERED.

Wind-voice, Stormac, and Ewingerale flew along the edge of a small woodland. Suddenly Wind-voice, in the lead, ducked into the shadows of a thicket. The other two followed. Silently Wind-voice gestured with his beak toward an archaeopteryx ahead in a clearing, nailing a poster to a tree with a thorn.

After the toothed bird had gone, Ewingerale went up and read the words on the paper out loud.

”'It is proclaimed that the head of 013-Unidentified, a bird white of feather with red bill and feet, is wanted by the Marshes Battalion as well as the new Ancient Wing...' See?” whispered Ewingerale. ”Your head is worth twenty bushels of acorns and pine seeds, plus a bag of treasure!” He looked up in shock.

”A lot, when you think about it, in early spring,” Stormac muttered.

”That's not all.” Ewingerale read on. ”'Along with the aforesaid Unidentified bird, one woodp.e.c.k.e.r, number 216, and one myna, number 987, are wanted and are highly suspected to be accomplices...'”

”We'll have to be more careful than ever,” Wind-voice said. ”Everybird will be looking for us now.”

Wind-voice was right. The swordcraft he had learned from Fisher was put to the test quite soon. As they were flying near the sh.o.r.es of a lake, five dark shapes suddenly melted from the trees. The commander, who was wielding a halberd, was in the lead. Two birds, armed with matching falchions, flanked him to the rear so the three formed a V. Between those two flew an archaeopteryx with a spear, and another, spinning a slingshot, brought up the rear.

In combat, the stocky leader would hack with his halberd at whatever was in front of him. At his signal, the two birds with falchions would rush forward and block victims from escaping to the left or right. The spear bird would dive down underneath to the other side to fight from the back while the archaeopteryx with the slingshot would fly overhead to shoot down hard round stones. It was grimly effective, and it was exactly what they did as they discovered the wanted birds: 013-Unidentifed, 216-Woodp.e.c.k.e.r, and 987-Myna.

The falchion-wielding bird on the left struck Wind-voice as familiar. He whirled to face him, bringing his sword to a guard position. The soldier attacked. Wind-voice dodged, but his foot was nicked.

He recognized the face of Dubto. ”013-Unidentified!” the archaeopteryx called.

”You were kind to me once!” Wind-voice cried. ”Why do you want to kill me now?”

”It's the command of the new Ancient Wing.”

”But...why listen to him? Why not listen to your heart?”

”He has the beak ring. It is the age-old custom.” Dubto's face shone with fierce loyalty. ”Archaeopteryxes must follow whoever wears it.”

”This is...” Wind-voice looked bewildered. ”What about yourself? What would you choose for yourself?”

”I-” Dubto whispered, but he did not finish, for in that instant Stormac swept up and thumped his staff on the archaeopteryx's shoulders. Dubto plummeted away into the water below. Wind-voice looked around. The other soldiers had fallen as well and were struggling to rise again through the spray of water. Archaeopteryxes were powerful fighters but clumsy flyers.

”Looks like you have trouble dealing with that one. Just lending a wing,” Stormac said cheerfully above the noise of the splas.h.i.+ng water.

Wind-voice was dumbstruck. ”You almost killed him!”

Stormac hovered, bewildered. ”Wind-voice! They were sent to kill you! The archaeopteryxes nearly roasted you! Have you forgotten?”

”Hurry!” shouted Winger. ”We must fly!”

Confused, Wind-voice matched wing beats with his companions till the archaeopteryxes could no longer be seen through the screen of lakeside trees. Was he fighting for revenge now? A picture formed behind his eyes: He, as an old warrior perched on a hill, saying, ”Yes! I made him pay for that,” and checking off a grudge out of a list so long that it tumbled down the mountain slope. Is this what my life would be? Is this what my life would be? he thought, troubled. he thought, troubled.

Later that night, by their tiny campfire, Ewingerale came up to Wind-voice. Without a word, he carefully used a few strips torn from his vest to bind up the wound on Wind-voice's foot. ”Nothing is clear in life,” he whispered. Then, sitting back, he tuned his harp and started playing and singing a little song:

Why do we fight?

We often don't know.

Isn't the reason we fight murky like stew?

Thick like split-pea porridge.

We often don't know what's false and what's true, Just face it with some courage.

Wind-voice listened mournfully. He tried to smile back at Winger. The song helped a little, but confusion still swirled in his head. Had Stormac's warrior logic been correct? Could it be truly right to kill a bird who had once been kind to him, even if that bird had been sent to kill him now? Or was there some other way?

As they traveled on, they pa.s.sed fresh ruins of homes. Once they saw birds gathered together in an eerie cemetery, staring at the sky. ”We'll join the dead soon, we'll join the dead soon,” a wren bawled. Vultures spanned overhead. When Stormac called to the mourners, asking what had happened, they only said, ”Maldeor's back.”