CHAPTER 6

The Sett Owl

Little Fur cringed but the great owl merely landed heavily on the nearest wooden bench. One of her wings would not fold properly and hung down like a ragged cloak. The rat came running along the floor toward them, his toenails scratching against the flagstones. He stopped beside the pear, his eyes going from the fruit to Little Fur to the owl with crafty uncertainty.

Little Fur turned back to the owl, who regarded her with the same sternness as the stone statue had done. Little Fur said meekly, “Herness, here is my offering.” The rat gave her a baleful stare, which puzzled her.

The owl chuckled. “Gazrak does not like it that you have insisted I come down. Usually he would eat the best of the offering and then bring what is left to me.”

The rat squealed with indignation. “No, Herness! What filthy creature has been lying to you about me? Never would faithful Gazrak do such a low thing. Never.” He sank to his belly, groveling.

The owl sighed. “Eat, Gazrak, but leave the seeds.”

The rat abandoned his cringing, gouged a great, juicy chunk of the pear and darted away.

“He took the best bit,” Little Fur said.

“He is a rat,” the owl responded mildly. “Creatures generally behave as their natures dictate, unless there is something that causes them to do otherwise. Such as the threat to the wilderness from whence you came, Little Fur. Neither troll nor elf would normally make such a journey as you have undertaken.”

Little Fur’s mouth fell open. “How do you know who I am?”

“I often know who comes, because those who have sought my advice are sworn to bring to me such news as I might find useful. It is part of the price they pay for failing to solve their own problems. And it causes those who come to feel the proper awe.”

“I see,” Little Fur said, though she didn’t quite. “But if you like everyone to be in awe of you, why did you tell me how you knew I was coming?”

“One does not need to create the illusion of mystery when true mystery exists,” the owl said. She fluffed herself up and then resettled. “I heard that an elf troll meant to come to see me. I knew of you because I have sometimes sent wounded creatures to you to be healed, or others to seek refuge in the enchanted wilderness of the Old Ones. I thought the rumor of your intention to journey here was nonsense. Then, from dusk yesterday, I began hearing reports from animals and birds who claimed you were moving through the city. I might still have thought it foolish gossip, but then the trees began to dream that Little Fur would vanquish the tree-burning humans. That she swore an oath.”

Little Fur was aghast. “But I didn’t!”

“Did you not take the seeds of a tree when it offered them?” the owl asked.

“I did, but only because it wanted me to plant them somewhere safe.”

“Do you not know, Little Fur, that to take a seed freely given by a plant is to make a promise?”

“No . . . I didn’t know that,” Little Fur stammered, but immediately she realized that somewhere, deep down, she had known it. “I mean, I didn’t understand what the tree was thinking. I only promised to plant the seeds somewhere safe.”

“But where will be safe in a world where the tree burners have their way?” the Sett Owl asked gravely.

Little Fur’s heart was beating very fast. “I can’t stop the tree burners, Sett Owl. You know I can’t. I am not a hero. Humans have chased me and a road monster tried to kill me as I was coming here and I would have been caught or killed if not for my friends. I only want to know how to protect the Old Ones. And if you can tell me that, then I can keep my promise to the pear tree.”

“Is that all you would ask of me?” the Sett Owl said. The flecks in her eyes were star clusters in a dark sky and Little Fur had the oddest sensation that the unknown magic pooled in the beaked house was deepest around the Sett Owl.

“I don’t know what you mean,” she whispered.

“Would you not rather ask how you could save all of the trees?”

She licked her lips nervously. “I am only—”

“Only a small creature who undertook a difficult and dangerous journey with the help of a treacherous crow.”

“Crow is—”

The owl’s eyes flashed. “You came for my advice. Have the courtesy to listen to it! I cannot give you any power to save your wilderness. But I can tell you that unless the tree killers are stopped, the Old Ones will burn.”

Little Fur’s eyes filled with tears. “Why are the humans doing this?”

“The tree-killing humans are consumed with a desire for deadness and blackness. The seeds of destruction exist in all humans, but in the tree killers, that seed has flowered monstrously because of a potion given to a greep by the Troll King. At his command, the greep passed it on to the humans who became the tree burners.”

Little Fur was shocked. Of all the answers she had imagined, not one was this. “Can . . . can the tree burners be healed?” she asked.

The Sett Owl looked at Little Fur for a long moment, her gaze cool and strange; then she said, “It is to your credit that you would think first of healing. But it is too late for the humans who have drunk the potion. Yet there may be a way to save the Old Ones and all of the other trees as well.”

“How?” Little Fur asked eagerly.

“You must travel three days toward the high houses, and then turn your steps toward the place where the sun will open its eye. Go in that direction until you come to the burying place of humans. Beyond is a wood, and in that wood is a deep crack in the earth. Humans do not go there, for within it sleeps an ancient power that turns their minds and eyes away.”

“An Old One?” Little Fur asked in delight.

“I do not know what form the power takes,” the owl said. “But whatever sleeps there has done so since the first age of the world. Some say that the earth spirit flowed from its dreams.”

“Will you ask it to help us?” Little Fur said in a small voice. Her heart was beating fast, for she feared that she knew the answer and dreaded it.

“You came to me to learn how the trees may be saved. I tell you this: if you would stop the tree burners, you must go into the crack and awaken the sleeper,” the owl said implacably. The flecks in her eyes seemed to whirl and Little Fur felt that it was no longer just the owl with whom she was speaking, but something greater and vastly stranger.

“Are . . . are you the earth spirit?” she asked softly.

“No,” the Sett Owl answered. “But in this place where power lies in a deep, secret pool, I am more than owl. Little Fur, understand that it is not only the life of thousands of trees at stake. If the tree burners are not stopped, they will keep burning until the flow of earth magic dies in this city. Then will the trolls make it a place of such dreadful power that a darkness ravenous enough to entirely devour the earth spirit will rise from it. That is the heart of the Troll King’s desire.”

“Herness, please, isn’t there someone else who can go to this chasm? Someone strong and brave?”

“The task of thwarting the Troll King has been appointed to you, Little Fur,” the owl said. “Will you accept it?”

Little Fur was trembling but she said, “Herness, I do not know how I can succeed. But if you say that I must, then I will go.”

The owl blinked its lambent eyes, just once. “So then it is true. The sum is greater than its parts.” Her eyes closed and Little Fur heard a gentle snore.

The Sett Owl had fallen asleep!