was a bit overwhelming. Then a strange quiver moved through his gizzard as he remembered that in the last of the legends, King Hoole had gone in
last of the legends, King Hoole had gone in
gadfeather disguise.
He alighted in an oak tree overgrown with lovely ever-ivy. a variety that stayed green year round. He could drape some over his head to disguise the scar. There were even some scarlet winter berries growing on a vine as wel . But could he sing? He shut his eyes tight and tried to remember one of the old songs from the legends that the Snow Rose, a very famous gadfeather, had sung. It was about wandering and freedom and might appeal to the crowd at a grog tree. He tried a few lines of the song.
I'l find a feather for your ruff
fly away with me til dawn.
70 82 Fly away then we'l be gone.
Hol ows we shal leave behind,
fly to places they' I! never find.
For a Barn Owl he didn't sound al that bad. Granted, he was no Madame Plonk-but he wasn;t a total disaster either. Wel , here goes, he thought as
he tore off length of ivy and draped it across his
face and tucked bright red winter berry twiglets into his tail feathers. He launched himself off the oak branch feeling ridiculous but resolved, and headed towards the grog tree. The north side of the tree, a sycamore with dozens of
low-spreading limbs, was vacant. Al the owls had congregated in the lower branches on the south side of the tree. He soon saw why. Soarkling in the setting sun were the bright and gaudy wares of none other than Trader Mags. She had spread her goods on a deep purple velvet cloak. "Oh , yes , dearie ,"he heard her saying ."this here represents my new discovery. Bubbles, go fetch them ermine trimmings like I sold Madame Plonk.
"Oh, Madame Plonk bought some of these? "Coryn heard an owl ask. Madame Plonk was known throughout the owl kingdom not only for her magnificent voice but for her glamour.
"Yes, darlin', and this purple cloth with the tufts of ermine would look fabulous on you.
83 "She's getting on - ain't she now? I'm surprised
she can haul this stuff around on her back while she sings."
"She ain't as young as you, darlin'." Trader Mags was loathe to bad-beak her most devoted client. "She mostly wears it in her apartment for high tea. Speaking of which, some time ago I sold her my last coronation teacup. But I might have a line on where I can get another."
Coryn hid in the shadows of the tree. He had a perfect view of the goods and it was not the "gewgaws," as Otulissa cal ed Trader Mags's glittery wares, that, attracted him but a tattered old book off to one side. The cover was made from lemming skins. There was only one place where lemmings lived and that was in the Northern Kingdoms, or the N'yrthghar, as it had once been cal ed. On the front of the book an odd design had been etched. Coryn's gizzard grew stil and then twisted violently. It was the image of a strange, bird - a cross between an owl and a puffin. A puffowl! The result of a monstrous experiment - the creation of that supreme hagsfiend -- Kreeth, That was her book! The Book of Kreeth!
book! The Book of Kreeth!
72 CHAPTER TEN
The Nature of Hadsfiends Is discussed
Look, I know you are al angry with me for sneaking off," Coryn turned his head and looked slyly at the Band, "but it isn't as if I invented sneaking off. Didn't I spend my first day of this expedition listening to stories about the four of you sneaking off from the great tree?" "Point wel made," Soren conceded. "But why? Why did you do this and leave us al worried to death?" Gylfie pressed. "You're not just any owl, Coryn. You are the king."
"Yes, exactly. I am not just any owl." He hesitated. "But it had nothing to do with my being king." Soren suddenly wilfed and felt an alarming tremor in his gizzard. He's not going to tel them ... is he? At that moment Coryn seemed to almost read Soren's mind and spun his head toward his uncle. "They have to know, Soren. It's time."
73 85 "Have to know what? Time for what?"
Digger
last of the legends, King Hoole had gone in
gadfeather disguise.
He alighted in an oak tree overgrown with lovely ever-ivy. a variety that stayed green year round. He could drape some over his head to disguise the scar. There were even some scarlet winter berries growing on a vine as wel . But could he sing? He shut his eyes tight and tried to remember one of the old songs from the legends that the Snow Rose, a very famous gadfeather, had sung. It was about wandering and freedom and might appeal to the crowd at a grog tree. He tried a few lines of the song.
I'l find a feather for your ruff
fly away with me til dawn.
70 82 Fly away then we'l be gone.
Hol ows we shal leave behind,
fly to places they' I! never find.
For a Barn Owl he didn't sound al that bad. Granted, he was no Madame Plonk-but he wasn;t a total disaster either. Wel , here goes, he thought as
he tore off length of ivy and draped it across his
face and tucked bright red winter berry twiglets into his tail feathers. He launched himself off the oak branch feeling ridiculous but resolved, and headed towards the grog tree. The north side of the tree, a sycamore with dozens of
low-spreading limbs, was vacant. Al the owls had congregated in the lower branches on the south side of the tree. He soon saw why. Soarkling in the setting sun were the bright and gaudy wares of none other than Trader Mags. She had spread her goods on a deep purple velvet cloak. "Oh , yes , dearie ,"he heard her saying ."this here represents my new discovery. Bubbles, go fetch them ermine trimmings like I sold Madame Plonk.
"Oh, Madame Plonk bought some of these? "Coryn heard an owl ask. Madame Plonk was known throughout the owl kingdom not only for her magnificent voice but for her glamour.
"Yes, darlin', and this purple cloth with the tufts of ermine would look fabulous on you.
83 "She's getting on - ain't she now? I'm surprised
she can haul this stuff around on her back while she sings."
"She ain't as young as you, darlin'." Trader Mags was loathe to bad-beak her most devoted client. "She mostly wears it in her apartment for high tea. Speaking of which, some time ago I sold her my last coronation teacup. But I might have a line on where I can get another."
Coryn hid in the shadows of the tree. He had a perfect view of the goods and it was not the "gewgaws," as Otulissa cal ed Trader Mags's glittery wares, that, attracted him but a tattered old book off to one side. The cover was made from lemming skins. There was only one place where lemmings lived and that was in the Northern Kingdoms, or the N'yrthghar, as it had once been cal ed. On the front of the book an odd design had been etched. Coryn's gizzard grew stil and then twisted violently. It was the image of a strange, bird - a cross between an owl and a puffin. A puffowl! The result of a monstrous experiment - the creation of that supreme hagsfiend -- Kreeth, That was her book! The Book of Kreeth!
book! The Book of Kreeth!
72 CHAPTER TEN
The Nature of Hadsfiends Is discussed
Look, I know you are al angry with me for sneaking off," Coryn turned his head and looked slyly at the Band, "but it isn't as if I invented sneaking off. Didn't I spend my first day of this expedition listening to stories about the four of you sneaking off from the great tree?" "Point wel made," Soren conceded. "But why? Why did you do this and leave us al worried to death?" Gylfie pressed. "You're not just any owl, Coryn. You are the king."
"Yes, exactly. I am not just any owl." He hesitated. "But it had nothing to do with my being king." Soren suddenly wilfed and felt an alarming tremor in his gizzard. He's not going to tel them ... is he? At that moment Coryn seemed to almost read Soren's mind and spun his head toward his uncle. "They have to know, Soren. It's time."
73 85 "Have to know what? Time for what?"
Digger
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