Gabriel Finley and the Raven’s Riddle (23 page)

Indeed, the three owls perched before him were now doubled over, wheezing and coughing like old men. In the back of the room, little owls were bobbing up and down in hysterics; one owl completely lost his balance and swung upside down on his perch.

“Sandwiches?” Septimus muttered. “What's so funny about sandwiches?”

When the three owls had recovered, the oldest blinked approvingly at Gabriel.

“Very good, Son of Finley. The torc is yours.”

In that instant, there was a loud
CRACK!

The tree limb snapped exactly where the torc had been wrapped around it, and clattered to the ground. The owls took to the air in a disorganized flurry and settled onto more secure perches.

Septimus uttered a cry. “But where is—”

He didn't finish his sentence because a blindingly brilliant light enveloped the room—so cold, bracing, and unpleasant that the owls blinked, shielding themselves with their wings and uttering woeful hoots and moans. As Gabriel clamped a hand over his eyes, he felt a jolt from the staff, as if it had been struck by a charge of electricity.

Slowly, the light began to fade and Gabriel felt the staff become considerably heavier. He took his hand from his eyes and saw that the torc was now wrapped around the upper end of the staff; the eyes of its two raven heads still glowed white-hot, like iron fresh out of a forge. They quickly faded to dull metal, then, in mere seconds, became tarnished and barely distinguishable from the wood. Gabriel guessed the staff had a neutralizing effect on the torc, damping its extraordinary power.

Septimus uttered a disappointed sigh. “Such a shame.”

“You have been warned of the torc's devilish power?” asked the second owl.

“Yes,” said Gabriel. “But I don't quite understand why they go together—”

“Both staff and torc will assist you in finding your father,” explained the third. “That is your next quest.”

“But I thought the torc harms anyone who uses it,” said Gabriel.

“Quite true, which is why Baldasarre set tasks that could be completed only by someone
brave in spirit
 …”

“Warm of heart,”
added the second owl.

“And
selfless, most of all
,” added the third. “Its black magic will do
you
the least harm; while in the hands of another, it will be disobedient and ruthless! Keep it upon the staff at all times!”

“I understand,” said Gabriel.

“One more thing, young Finley,” said the first owl. “Tell the ravens we owls are not as bloodthirsty as they believe. We take care of our kin, as others do. We hunt for a purpose, not for pleasure.”

What about the one that hunted me last night?
murmured Paladin.

Gabriel said, “Excuse me, but my amicus, Paladin, was almost eaten by a great horned owl just a few hours ago!”

“That is not so. We share the same enemies,” said the third owl. “That owl was Caruso. He tried to help your friend by escorting him, but the young raven misunderstood his good intentions.”

Paladin felt too indignant to contain himself. He jumped free of Gabriel.

“A likely story!” he snapped, his neck feathers rising in fury.

At once, the owls leaned forward, poised to attack, but the first owl turned his head completely around, addressing an owl in the very darkest part of the exhibit.

“Caruso? Please answer for yourself!”

A plump, scruffy horned owl hopped out of the shadows to face Paladin. The young raven immediately began bobbing and weaving, as if preparing for a fight.

“Grandson of Baldasarre! A chick off the old block!” quipped Caruso.

“You mean a
chip
,” corrected Paladin.

“I was punning,” the owl explained. “Young Finley's father once saved my life, so I was obliged to do a tit-for-tat, one-tern-deserves-another, robin-the-rich-to-help-the-poor sort of thing.” Caruso paused to burp. “Young Paladin, do you remember the three valravens chasing you that night?”

“Yes,” admitted Paladin.

“Well, I've never been fond of fast food, but they were three very happy meals!”

Several owls began coughing in amusement.

Paladin immediately forgot his anger. In gratitude, he extended one foot, dipping his head in a raven bow. “Thank you,” he said.

“Don't mention it,” whispered Caruso. “And I sincerely mean that! Don't want sparrows knowing that my hoot is
worse than my bite, do I? If word gets out that I spared the life of a raven, I'll be the laughingstock of the flock.”

“I promise,” said the young raven.

All this time, Septimus had been rocking impatiently. He put a hand upon Gabriel's shoulder. “Come, lad,” he said. “The zoo staffers will be making their rounds soon. We'd best be on our way.”

“Thank you,” said Gabriel to the owls.

“Son of Finley may always count on our aid!” they replied, and tipped their heads in unison.

The Torc and the Staff

A
boy and a man, each with a raven on his shoulder, hurried along the zoo's paths. Eventually they came to one of the turnstile gates. After they passed through and found themselves on a tree-lined boulevard, Septimus turned to Gabriel, patting him on the back.

“You handled yourself brilliantly, lad. Now, let's have a look at this torc, eh?”

Before Gabriel could protest, the man snatched the staff and ripped the torc from it.

That very second, the torc began to glow unpleasantly—an eerie blue glow that made Septimus look craven and hungry.

“Septimus,” Gabriel cried. “The owls warned me to keep—”

“Gasbags!” he interrupted. “Never heard such blather in all my years.” He turned the necklace in his hand. It glowed stronger, brighter. His fingers tightened around it.

“Not just the owls,” persisted Gabriel. “The geese also—”

“Geese are full of do's and don'ts. Pay them no mind!”

He's not listening
, said Paladin to Gabriel.
I'll bet he's already under some kind of awful spell from that thing.

Indeed, Gabriel wondered if he was hearing the torc itself talk, for the man's face was changing from one wretched expression to another, almost as if he were a puppet.

Gabriel tried to reason with him again. “Septimus,
please
listen! The verses warned that for every wish the torc grants, it takes something in return, something precious!”

“Enough!”
roared Septimus in a high, unfamiliar voice.

In the same instant, the torc flashed, and Gabriel found himself on the ground, breathless, with a heavy pain in his chest.

Paladin nudged his cheek gently with his beak.
Are you all right, Gabriel?

“Something hit me!” he gasped.

Septimus rubbed his eyes, as if coming out of a trance. “It wasn't me,” he said indignantly. “All I did was wish that you would be quiet.”

Crawfin alighted near Gabriel. “Remarkable,” observed the bird. “It granted Septimus's wish!”

Gabriel scrambled to his feet. “Hey,” he said. “Put it back on the staff before you make another—”

“I've got a better idea,” interrupted Septimus. “You keep the staff, I'll keep the torc!” Throwing the staff into the thick underbrush, he slipped the torc around his neck, where it glowed blue against his skin.

“Wait!” cried Gabriel.

Septimus made a quick flourish with his hand and vanished. The white raven uttered a triumphant
caw!
and flew up over the treetops.

“Let's go after them!” said Paladin.

Gabriel jumped, but once they were in the sky, they saw no sign of the white raven. They had no idea whether he had gone home or had perhaps headed to the place called Aviopolis, or someplace else altogether. It seemed wiser to retrieve the staff from the bushes.

Gabriel pressed his way through sharp brambles, his hands pricked and bleeding, until he found the gnarled piece of wood.

Defeated and sad, Gabriel turned for home, wondering how he could have lost the torc so easily after solving so many riddles and risking so many dangers. It was a catastrophe.

Will we ever see them again?
Paladin wondered.

Gabriel had no answer for his friend. The owls had told him that being brave, warm of heart, and selfless would protect him from the torc's black magic, but it hadn't helped him against Septimus. He felt so foolish for trusting him. Most of all, he was disappointed at being no closer to finding his father. It seemed that with every step forward, he slipped backward again.

Bleakly, Gabriel gazed up at the horizon where Crawfin
had disappeared. A breeze shook the nearby trees, and the whisper of leaves filled his ears. Were they mocking him or was it just a careless wind?

Gabriel tried to shake off the ache in his heart by picking up his stride. Paladin swayed on his shoulder but held on tight, sharing his despair.

The Mausoleum

I
t was still morning when the disheartened pair arrived home. Trudy had taken Pamela to school, so Aunt Jaz made breakfast for Gabriel while he told her the whole adventure. After describing how Septimus and Crawfin flew away with the torc, he rested his head in his hands in frustration.

“I failed, Aunt Jaz.”

“Nonsense!” she said. “You and Paladin not only rescued Pamela, you found the druid stone, returned it to its owners, then got the staff
and
the torc.”

“But we lost it.”

“We still have the staff,” Paladin reminded him.

“Yes,” said Gabriel. “But the whole point was to help my father. I should never have believed Septimus.”

“You had no choice,” replied his aunt.

“I'll never make that mistake again.”

“Gabriel!” his aunt replied with astonishment. “I hope that if you
ever
have to choose between trust and selfishness, you'll make the same mistake. We all get second chances. Septimus will be back. Mark my words.”