Gabriel Finley and the Raven’s Riddle (34 page)

Adam Finley laughed. “Ah, Caruso. Yes, of course I remember. Please, tell me about Gabriel!”

Quickly, Paladin explained how Gabriel had solved the raven's riddle and gotten the torc from the owls. When he described how Septimus had become tormented by the torc,
Mr. Finley didn't seem surprised. “Yes, Septimus was bound to fall under its power,” he said. “Corax will want to know how to extract the torc. I imagine he's coming for me now. It would be best to leave immediately.”

“We could paravolate,” suggested Paladin.

Adam Finley shook his head. “Unfortunately, Paladin, I can paravolate only with my amicus. As Baldasarre has passed on, I cannot fly anywhere.”

Finley paced about the room, then examined the locked door. “It's a pity that the robins are so loyal to Corax. If we could simply convince one robin to cooperate and open this lock.”

“Leave that to me,” said Caruso. He flew up to the windowsill, then balked at the narrow opening. He turned to Mr. Finley. “Lend a shove?” He patted his belly. “I'm an owl, not a dove.”

Finley eased the owl gently through the narrow window.

“Much obliged! No more rich food for me. From now on, it's strictly mice and beans!”

Caruso spread his wings and flew up the walls of the tower. His awesome wingspan made him the most formidable bird in the chasm. Others veered away from him in great flocks. Eventually, the great horned owl arrived at the tower's vaulted entrance by the bridge. There, he swooped in, sending terrified little birds scattering in all directions. The owl perched above the courtyard and waited until he spotted a dodo walking down the corridor with a robin chirping
commands on her back. In a flash, Caruso swooped, seizing the robin in one of his claws.

Moments later, Adam Finley heard the triumphant hoot of the owl. He peered through the postcard-sized window of his door and saw Caruso hovering in the corridor, holding a protesting robin in one of his daggerlike talons.

The robin was putting on a very brave show. “I'll never open this door! I serve Corax himself! I am a general, do you hear? I fear no one. I'll fight to the death!”

“I have one question for you,” replied Caruso, tightening his claws around the robin's bright red breast. “How do you prefer to be eaten? With salt and pepper, or would you like a little
thyme
?”

The robin uttered a high-pitched trill, and the door lock clicked open.

“Oh, very good, Caruso!” said Mr. Finley. “Let's hurry—there's no time to waste!”

Septimus Finds a Friend

T
he half man, half raven was shedding his disguise as Gabriel's father. With a hoarse cry, he ripped the shirt from his chest. Black feathers burst from skin follicles all over his body, and satin-sinewed wings sprang from his shoulders. He leaped from the battlements of the citadel and flew in a descending spiral to the bottom, throwing smaller birds into tailspins in his wake.

When he alighted at the window of Adam Finley's chamber, he was furious to find its occupant missing. Tearing at the stone window with his talons, he uttered another unearthly cry. The flocks of birds circling aimlessly in the chasm careered in panic, gabbling and shrieking as the furious overlord of Aviopolis calculated his next step.

Meanwhile, Gabriel and his friends had begun a search for Adam Finley. They came to a room filled with dozens of metallic cages swaying from the ceiling, birds weeping and wailing in tight wire mesh, their beaks clipped by tin-plated
jaws, eyes peering wildly from small eyeholes. Septimus had seen all this before, so he walked in ahead of the children.

“These chaps have refused to join Corax's side,” he explained. Raising his voice, Septimus addressed the ravens. “Look here! Have any of you seen Adam Finley? Anyone?”

The ravens fell silent, save for the squeak of rusty metal.

“Speak up! Are you all stupid? Somebody must know something!” shouted Septimus.

“Maybe the poor things aren't sure whether to trust us,” suggested Abby. “I have an idea.” She removed her glasses for a second, then recited:

In spite of their fear, the ravens couldn't resist a riddle. A round of chatter began to break out among the cages. They were all conferring with each other excitedly. Finally, one raven at the very back spoke up.

“Is it … a tea bag?”

“Yes!” Abby laughed.

A chorus of delighted throks broke out, followed by giddy raven laughter.

A second raven spoke. “May we know who seeks Adam Finley?”

“His son,” said Gabriel, stepping forward.

After a round of whispers, a third raven spoke. “The starlings have told us that Paladin has found him.”

“He has?” Gabriel said, his face brightening into joy. “Can you tell me if he's all right?”

“Adam Finley has escaped!” cheered another raven.

“Beware!” cried another. “The linnets are saying Corax is looking for him all over the citadel!”

“Leave while you're still free!” advised another.

“But do any of you know
where
he is?” asked Gabriel.

“The swallows say he comes this way with Paladin and a friendly owl,” said another.

“Very good. Now let's go!” Septimus marched to the door and beckoned to the others.

Gabriel cast a worried glance at the caged ravens. “Wait, Septimus,” he said. “There must be something we can do for these poor birds.”

“There isn't,” said Septimus.

“I think we owe them,” added Abby.

Septimus rubbed his scar feverishly. “Look, we don't have much time!”

Pamela nodded. “Corax will be looking for Gabriel's father so he can find out how to get the staff and necklace!”

Somes had tried to pry one of the cages open, but the wire was rigid and strong, and his fingers began to bleed. “They have some strange kind of lock,” he said. “There's no keyhole.”

“Precisely,” Septimus replied. “That's because the locks are sealed with a robin's song.”

“
A song
?” said Pamela curiously. She slung the violin case off her shoulder and took out her violin and bow.

“My dear, this is hardly the time for a recital,” sputtered Septimus.

“I'm thinking about the robins,” she replied. “D'you know that sound they make—it's a
trill.
”

“Try it!” said Gabriel.

Pamela drew her bow across the strings, playing a series of trills, but nothing happened.

“Try higher notes,” suggested Somes.

Pamela slid her fingers down the fingerboard and drew the bow again. The trills became piercingly high.

Suddenly, a cage sprang open; its raven fluttered free, uttering a delighted
throk!

Another cage snapped open. The raven jumped to the floor and cackled triumphantly.

Cages popped open all across the room. Ravens jumped from their bindings and flapped their wings, unshackled and ecstatic. In a giddy chorus, the freed birds whistled and throkked with relief.

A raven with speckled markings landed on Pamela's shoulder. It cocked its head at her curiously, eyes dancing with delight. “What rises when the rain comes down?”

Lowering her violin, Pamela paused to think. “Well … you raise your umbrella when it rains.”

The raven throkked gleefully. “Very good! An umbrella! My name is Specklewing!”

Another raven landed on Abby's shoulder. He had a white streak on his wing and spoke with a wizened voice. “How does the moon smile?”

Abby folded her arms and thought. “Hmm, how does the moon smile? It can only smile one way: that's by
beaming
!” This raven, named Snowtip, uttered a gleeful whistle.

A scruffy bird with a spray of black feathers around his neck landed on Somes's arm. He scrutinized the boy for a moment before speaking.

“I satisfy a hunger, but I am not food. I will not fill your belly, but I will nourish your curiosity. What am I?”

A worried look came over Somes's face, but then he relaxed. “Oh,” he said. “The answer is
an answer
!”

The bird, named Hotspur, began a hearty laugh—
CAW! CAW! CAW!
—almost losing his balance on Somes's arm.

“How
touching
, how
sweet
! We're all making friends just before we die!” Septimus cried with impatient sarcasm. At that moment a raven with powdery gray feathers landed on his shoulder.

“Greetings, Septimus,” he said in a raspy baritone. “I am Burbage, brother of Crawfin.”

The mention of Crawfin startled Septimus. “Burbage? The name rings a bell. Yes, I remember the stories about you,” he said, raising an eyebrow curiously. “Weren't you a gem thief? A decent one, as I recall.”

Blinking with indignation, the gray raven drew himself up. “Why, how dare you! A ‘decent' gem thief? I'm the
best
gem thief there ever was. Even Crawfin would have agreed with that!”

“Of course, of course.” A cunning glint appeared in Septimus's eyes. “Listen, my good friend, perhaps we can be of assistance to each other. I happen to be something of a connoisseur of lost objects of great value. It seems to me that we might make an exceptional team if we just put our
minds
together. Why, with my business talents and your unique skill, we could—”

“Septimus? Time to go!” interrupted Gabriel.

With a wink, Septimus beckoned to the raven. “Come,” he said.

Mutiny of the Robins

T
he citadel's winding corridor reminded Gabriel of a magic carpet ride at an amusement park; if the stone floor had been smoother, they might have sat down and slid in a spiral all the way to the bottom of the tower. Instead, they walked while birds scrambled, flew, swooped, and squawked ahead of them. Pamela was disappointed when her riddling raven (as well as Abby's and Somes's) took flight to find Adam Finley.