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Authors: Maurice Gee
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saw a flickering on the field of stars. Limpy cried out, but she said, ‘It is Birdfolk coming to our fire.’ She threw dry branches on it, making it flare. Soon they heard the beating of wings, and out beyond the light a voice cried sternly, ‘You are in our land. Say your names.’
Susan stood in the firelight. ‘We are Susan Ferris and Nicholas Quinn. And Dawn the Woodlander. And Limpy from Stonehaven.’ She grew aware of shapes wheeling round the hollow, round and round, a giant circle, closing in. Their wind lifted her hair and flapped her cloak. The fire flattened out and sent flames darting at her legs. Then the Birdfolk landed, with a leathery flap and a creaking of bones. They stood beyond the firelight, ten dark figures ranged about the hollow like stone angels. One of them came forward and colour seemed to burst from him – from wings and breast and legs. He was red and gold. A second followed – a Birdwoman, green and blue and silver.
‘Your messenger reached us,’ the Birdman said. ‘But it is past belief Susan should come. A hundred turns have passed.’
‘I am Susan. Only a year has gone by for me.’
‘Show me the Mark.’
Susan put her arm out and he looked hard at her birthmark. ‘It proves nothing,’ he said to the Birdwoman. ‘Human girls burn this mark on them.’
The Birdwoman came close and looked in Susan’s eyes. ‘If you are Susan, tell me the gift my ancestor gave you. Tell me her name.’
‘Her name was Brightfeather. She was the daughter of Redwing and Wanderer. She gave me a brush for my hair. And I lost it on the Lizard Path, when the Bloodcat chased us.’
‘What was the colour of the feather you chose?’
‘Red and blue. Brightfeather dried my clothes for me. She nearly lost one of my socks.’
The Birdwoman laughed and said to her mate, ‘Only Susan would know that.’
‘Yes. You are Susan. Welcome to our land again. Welcome, Nick. And your friends. I am Yellowclaw.’
‘And I am Silverwing,’ the Birdwoman said. ‘We come from Morninghall. And our friends are from other Halls of our land. We fly the borders, on patrol, to keep out priests. But tell us why you have come back.’
‘We’re looking for Jimmy Jaspers. He left a letter for us saying he’d be at Mount Nicholas.’
‘Jimmy Jaspers? The one the priests call the Terrible One? He came to us, many turns ago. A hundred turns. He told us what you had done. And he forged a weapon in our workshops – an axe. He wore your feather at his throat. Red and blue.’
‘I gave it to him. It belonged on O.’
‘It was well given. But surely he is dead now. No one lives so long.’
Susan told them about the letter. They nodded their heads wisely. Wonders were not unknown on O. And she told them she meant to destroy the Temple.
‘Yes, it is evil. Priests come over the passes and shoot us from the sky with their cross-bows. And we cannot follow when they run back to their land. The Prohibition holds. We cannot fly west or south of the mountains, we tumble from the sky. So the Temple goes on.’
‘I’m going to stop the Temple. That’s why I’m back. To see this High Priest. But first we’ve got to get to Mount Nicholas.’
‘We’ll take you as far as we can. The messenger told us to bring nests. Remember Susan, how Wanderer carried you in a nest?’
She remembered, and warm in her blankets, by the fire, with Birdfolk sleeping like tall statues, she remembered the flight; and half awake, half sleeping, imagined she was making it again, but this time to Mount Nicholas, far away in the south, where Jimmy was waiting.
In the morning they saw the Birdfolk properly. There were ten of them, eight giant warriors, standing three metres tall, and two Birdwomen. In the dawn sunlight their colours gleamed. Silverwing was the most beautiful, Susan thought. She looked as if she had been cast in some shining metal, then studded with sapphires and greenstone and lapis lazuli.
When they had eaten and put
Susan stood in the firelight. ‘We are Susan Ferris and Nicholas Quinn. And Dawn the Woodlander. And Limpy from Stonehaven.’ She grew aware of shapes wheeling round the hollow, round and round, a giant circle, closing in. Their wind lifted her hair and flapped her cloak. The fire flattened out and sent flames darting at her legs. Then the Birdfolk landed, with a leathery flap and a creaking of bones. They stood beyond the firelight, ten dark figures ranged about the hollow like stone angels. One of them came forward and colour seemed to burst from him – from wings and breast and legs. He was red and gold. A second followed – a Birdwoman, green and blue and silver.
‘Your messenger reached us,’ the Birdman said. ‘But it is past belief Susan should come. A hundred turns have passed.’
‘I am Susan. Only a year has gone by for me.’
‘Show me the Mark.’
Susan put her arm out and he looked hard at her birthmark. ‘It proves nothing,’ he said to the Birdwoman. ‘Human girls burn this mark on them.’
The Birdwoman came close and looked in Susan’s eyes. ‘If you are Susan, tell me the gift my ancestor gave you. Tell me her name.’
‘Her name was Brightfeather. She was the daughter of Redwing and Wanderer. She gave me a brush for my hair. And I lost it on the Lizard Path, when the Bloodcat chased us.’
‘What was the colour of the feather you chose?’
‘Red and blue. Brightfeather dried my clothes for me. She nearly lost one of my socks.’
The Birdwoman laughed and said to her mate, ‘Only Susan would know that.’
‘Yes. You are Susan. Welcome to our land again. Welcome, Nick. And your friends. I am Yellowclaw.’
‘And I am Silverwing,’ the Birdwoman said. ‘We come from Morninghall. And our friends are from other Halls of our land. We fly the borders, on patrol, to keep out priests. But tell us why you have come back.’
‘We’re looking for Jimmy Jaspers. He left a letter for us saying he’d be at Mount Nicholas.’
‘Jimmy Jaspers? The one the priests call the Terrible One? He came to us, many turns ago. A hundred turns. He told us what you had done. And he forged a weapon in our workshops – an axe. He wore your feather at his throat. Red and blue.’
‘I gave it to him. It belonged on O.’
‘It was well given. But surely he is dead now. No one lives so long.’
Susan told them about the letter. They nodded their heads wisely. Wonders were not unknown on O. And she told them she meant to destroy the Temple.
‘Yes, it is evil. Priests come over the passes and shoot us from the sky with their cross-bows. And we cannot follow when they run back to their land. The Prohibition holds. We cannot fly west or south of the mountains, we tumble from the sky. So the Temple goes on.’
‘I’m going to stop the Temple. That’s why I’m back. To see this High Priest. But first we’ve got to get to Mount Nicholas.’
‘We’ll take you as far as we can. The messenger told us to bring nests. Remember Susan, how Wanderer carried you in a nest?’
She remembered, and warm in her blankets, by the fire, with Birdfolk sleeping like tall statues, she remembered the flight; and half awake, half sleeping, imagined she was making it again, but this time to Mount Nicholas, far away in the south, where Jimmy was waiting.
In the morning they saw the Birdfolk properly. There were ten of them, eight giant warriors, standing three metres tall, and two Birdwomen. In the dawn sunlight their colours gleamed. Silverwing was the most beautiful, Susan thought. She looked as if she had been cast in some shining metal, then studded with sapphires and greenstone and lapis lazuli.
When they had eaten and put
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