Free The Siege by Kathryn Lasky Page B

knowing why the Barn Owl is sneaking flecks out, and what is going on in the library with the flecks. Where is she sneaking them to? How would the Pure Ones get them? We need to talk to Soren. Too bad there are no sleep marches now,” she said.
    The moon had dwenked again, and it would be another two days until they could meet up with the other owls in the glaucidium when the moon-blinking process would begin again. In the meantime, they were allowed to sleep in their stone pits.
    Otulissa was startled when, in the middle of a very pleasant dream of swooping through a verdant forest on the track of a plump vole, she was nudged gently by her stone pit guardian. He was a large oafish Great Gray who liked his charges to call him Cubby. In the tradition of allthe pit guardians, he was always promising Otulissa extra treats.
    “Sweetie, I hate to wake you. You were sleeping so nicely. I promise I’ll have something good and fat and bloody for you when you return. But my dear, right now—and this is quite an honor”—He hunched his shoulders up as if he were just tickled to death about what he was going to say next—“Who do you think wants to see you?” Then he giggled raucously. “Oh, sshhh! Don’t tell—I let slip a question, didn’t I? Well, you won’t tell.”
    Glaux, Otulissa loathed this creepy owl. “Of course, I won’t,” she answered.
    “Good girl,” he whispered. “But I’ll tell you—Skench, the Ablah General.”
    Otulissa blinked with surprise.
    “This is quite an honor, I would say,” he continued. “Follow me.”
    Otulissa followed the Great Gray through the narrow corridors and stony slots of St. Aggie’s Canyons. St. Aggie’s was a place made for walking more than flying. With its narrow corridors and endless skinny passageways, it was nearly impossible to spread one’s wings. The air always seemed dead, for nary a breeze stirred so deep in this rockbound place. And when one was required to fly, it was usually straight up from the ground with powerful wingflaps. St. Aggie’s was a perfect prison for young owlets with undeveloped flight skills.
    Skench and Spoorn’s cave perched high on a cliff. Otulissa had never been there before, but she had heard talk of it. Now Cubby led her into a wider space and began to spread his wings. His span was immense as all Great Grays, and the wafts of air shook the comparatively small Spotted Owl. Otulissa decided to take advantage of the moving air and launch herself onto its billows. It would be easier to gain altitude on these drafts than on the still, unmoving air. The two owls spiraled upward.
    “This way!” the Great Gray flipped his beak over his shoulder and called to her. A pale rose-colored stone needle projected horizontally out from the cliff, piercing the air. Two Great Horned owls stood as guards. They nodded to Cubby and Otulissa as they lighted down.
    What could Skench and Spoorn possibly want with me? Otulissa wondered. Not more about the Northern Kingdoms, and never before in their cliff cave. Every other time it had been down in one of the pits.
    “Enter!” a voice commanded.
    Otulissa stepped into the cave and blinked. A white, heart-shaped face seemed suspended in the dim light of the cave.
    “I would like you to meet Uklah,” Skench said.Otulissa blinked again, this time in confusion. Uklah? It was 92-01, the Barn Owl, the infiltrator.
    “Uklah is her new name,” Skench continued. “When she came here, her name had been Purity. You know all that nonsense about the Pure Ones.”
    Uklah snorted derisively at this. “Never heard such nonsense in my life.”
    Now Otulissa was thoroughly confused. She had thought that 92-01, or Uklah, was a spy for the Pure Ones. But whose side was she on?
    “I can see you’re confused, 45-72.” Spoorn tipped her head toward Otulissa, her yellow eyes set off by the unusually pale circular swirl of gray feathers across her brow.
    “You thought I was a spy,” Uklah churred softly as owls do