The Owl Keeper by Christine Brodien-Jones Page B

used to say set her pulse racing.
    "Well, well, Mrs. Crumlin has done it again." Mr. Unger leaned back in his chair, patting his stomach. "A thoroughly delicious meal."
    "Why do you always say that, Dad?" said Max, annoyed. "That burnt bean dish is totally disgusting. Mrs. Crumlin is the worst cook in the world!"
    "The old dear tries hard," murmured Mrs. Unger, pushing her food around with her fork. Max noticed her hand trembling slightly. "Put yourself in her shoes, Max. Day in, day out, she's baking, cleaning, knitting, keeping the house dark, protecting you from germs."
    "Yeah, but what about you and Dad? You work way harder than she does!" Max looked at the two of them, noticing the deep circles beneath their eyes. "Why were you late tonight?"
    His parents exchanged a look. As usual, he found it impossible to read their veiled expressions.
    "They announced an important meeting after work." His father's voice was curt. "Attendance was mandatory."
    Max sometimes wished his mother and father weren't so secretive and aloof, discussing dull subjects like the weather or the rising cost of food. It dismayed him, the way they always avoided unpleasant subjects.
    If only he could confide in his parents about the nightmares. What would they say about the hissing creatures that flapped beside him in his dreams, demented things with sunken eyes? Lately he suspected they weren't birds at all, but something much
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    more sinister. Maybe, he thought, these creatures really did exist, in some treacherous swamp or some hidden jungle.
    "How's work these days, Dad?" he asked, knowing exactly what the answer would be.
    "Excellent." Max watched his father loosen his tie. Workers at Cavernstone Hall were required to wear formal attire. "No complaints there." It was the same response he always gave.
    "Mrs. Crumlin is a real pain," said Max. "She's always sticking her nose into other people's business."
    "Now, Max." His mother's pale eyes swam behind her bifocals. She looked even more tired than usual, he thought. "Mrs. Crumlin has your best interests at heart, and that's what counts. What would we do without her?" She threw Max a wavering smile. "The old dear made a lovely lava cake for dessert. I'll bring it out, shall I?"
    Max had so many questions--about the Great Destruction and the rise of the High Echelon, the book burnings, the new edict against the Sages--but he never managed to ask any of them. He knew those kinds of topics would be too upsetting for his parents.
    The Great Destruction of 2066 had happened when Nora and Ewan Unger were his age, both growing up in Cavernstone Grey. They never mentioned it to Max. Once his father remarked that the High Echelon expected people to soldier on, work hard and forget all that had happened before. Max had gotten a lump in his throat, hearing him talk that way. How could they forget when the High Echelon had totally wrecked their lives, crushing their hopes and cheating them out of their youth?
    Max turned to his mother. He could see she'd forgotten about the cake. Fork in hand, she was drawing invisible patterns on the
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    tablecloth, as if working out a complex equation that required every ounce of her attention.
    Max took a deep breath. "What exactly do you do at Cavernstone Hall, Mom? I mean, what's your job title and all?"
    She looked up, startled. "Job title? Well--"
    "Nora," interrupted Max's father, "you were about to go get us some cake."
    "Oh. I was, wasn't I?" Mrs. Unger rose to her feet and walked unsteadily toward the kitchen. Max wondered what kind of medicine Dr. Tredegar was prescribing for her.
    "Now, Max, haven't I explained all this a hundred times?" His father gave an irritable sigh. "It's quite simple. They ship us the unrefined cocoa from the landholders' factories by train. Once here, the cocoa goes through phases--the combining of sugar and preservatives, the packaging and so forth--and the final product is shipped all over the country. Cavernstone Grey Hot Cocoa is