13 In the Laburnum Prison

A bird does not sing because it has an answer. It sings because it has a song." - Chinese Proverb

Julie had never spent such a miserable night. She was forced to curl up a rough fetal position on the floor of the curved cell. Icarus shuffled and hopped until he was perched unsteadily on the hump of her shoulder, his talons curled under. He kept up a near constant stream of chirrups, squawks, and whistles to keep her company, but she could tell the gyrfalcon was badly disheartened too. Sometimes she could hear the mumble of Colby's voice in the trunk below; it took her a few minutes before she realized with a shiver that he was talking either to himself or Delilah. Every so often the low sound of his voice would be punctuated with a sharp laugh or a raspy sigh. Julie became quite convinced within those awful hours that Colby was mad.

In truth, it was the boys that kept her going through that first night. Pressing her face against the scouring twigs of her cell door, Julie realized that she could hear Luke's breathing, as he must have placed himself in a similar position to hers. It was a steady, reassuring sound. She closed her eyes and focused only on that familiar rhythm, trying to match hers to it. And though she hadn't asked Icarus to mind-carry, she could feel Luke's consciousness on the edge of her own. He didn't speak, but just knowing he was there made it far more tolerable. She had hardly ever been more grateful to have him nearby.

Seth and Corax provided their own form of blessed distraction. Corax started croaking softly, and after a while Julie realized that he seemed to be doing the raven equivalent of muttering under his breath. She could even discern some of the words in English, although they often devolved into Raven. It sounded something like:

"…crauk…stupid stickleg…weird blind boy…fool to trap Seth and Corax…rawwwk…no prison can hold a thief, Seth says…crawwwwwwklrak…insult…injustice…"

Julie realized she was smiling. Corax's comical raspy voice muttering away like a discontented old man just seemed to evoke an automatic response of laughter in her.

After a while, just to hear the sound of another human voice, Julie asked softly, "What's he saying, Seth? The part in Raven?"

There was a pause, and then Seth whispered, "I'd tell you, but it's really, really bad. I should probably find some soap to wash his beak with, actually."

Julie laughed aloud then, although it was a somewhat hoarse chuckle. She even heard a soft "hm" of amusement from Luke next door.

"That's good," said Seth, sounding serious. "Keep laughing. It really does help you keep your head in situations like these."

"You sound like you're an expert," murmured Luke, a little ironically.

"Not to sound full of myself," Seth said calmly, "But incarceration is kind of a rite of passage for thieves. No one respects you if you haven't been locked up a few times."

There was a silence, and then Luke said in a dead serious voice, "There you go again with the big words, Seth. How in the name of Ichor are you learning words like 'incarceration?'"

Seth chuckled. Julie smiled to herself.

They lapsed back into silence, but this time it didn't seem quite so hopeless. Julie wondered how they would know if it was morning. Would Colby feed them, or give them water? And what kind of food did the Silva give their prisoners anyway?

Thinking about these questions made Julie start to feel trapped again. The small cell seemed to close in on her, until she felt smothered and claustrophobic. She latched onto the sound of Luke's breathing again, trying to calm herself.

Then she heard a low, soft humming. At first she thought it was Corax again, but then she realized that the vocalization was human. She pressed her face against the tangled twigs, listening. It was definitely coming from Seth's cell.

As she listened, Julie realized that the humming had a musicality to it. It rose and fell with surprising complexity, an unmistakable song.

Julie hated to interrupt, but she desperately needed something to cling to. "Seth? Is that a song?"

"Yep," Seth said shortly.

"Does it have words?"

Seth seemed to hesitate. "It does," he muttered, sounding almost embarrassed.

Julie left her next question hanging and unspoken.

Seth sighed. "All right…but only quietly. And don't complain if you don't like it."

In the cell beside her, Julie heard Luke shifting closer to his door to listen.

Very softly, in a voice little above a whisper, Seth began to sing. His voice quivered a little at first, but grew stronger. Julie realized he had a fine voice, not quite deep enough to be baritone, but clear and striking. The song was a relatively fast one, and Julie could tell that if it was sung at full volume and maybe accompanied by instruments, it would be a lively, dancing-type song. It mostly talked about adventuring, about traveling free through hills and forests, with only the ground and sky and your bird bond for company. Despite the fact that it was utterly unlike their current situation, it seemed to lift the gloom from the Laburnum Prison.

When Seth's voice snapped out the last line and trailed into silence, Julie felt almost as if she should applaud, although she couldn't in the cramped space.

"That was amazing, Seth," she said instead.

"It's okay," Seth murmured, sounding even more embarrassed than before.

"What are you?" Luke demanded quietly. "Some kind of thief-bard?"

Seth laughed dryly. "Nothing so good. But it does get lonely sometimes…singing is one of those ways to keep your spirits up when you're traveling alone."

Julie wondered suddenly if Seth's flip offer to join their travels had not been secretly more serious than that. He seemed to pretend he was an independent thief who traveled by himself…but did he secretly crave company?

There was another long silence. This time, it was punctuated by more of Colby's bizarre ramblings from below. Julie wrapped her arms around herself, trying not to jostle Icarus. This was just plain creepy.

After a particularly chilling laugh from the blind jailer, Seth spoke again. "Um, do you want me to sing again? Just to drown out skeleton boy, of course." Even he sounded a little rattled.

Julie seized on the offer with almost pathetic eagerness, but anything was better than hearing Colby. And besides, part of her really liked the sound of Seth's singing voice, and wanted to hear it again.

This time, Seth did not sing a lively air. His voice launched slowly into something far more haunting, but at the same much richer and deeper. It was what Mother Acko used to call a ballad, Julie thought, a stirring story-song that could inspire people. Seth's voice rose and fell within the trunk of the poison tree, rolling off the walls the way Colby's smoke-voice did, but in a much more comforting way. Icarus had gone stock still on her shoulder, a living statue, and out of the corner of her eye Julie could see the pupils of his golden eyes dilating and expanding, his pulse fluttering rapidly in his throat.

The king's men were massed by the river at dawn,

Alight in the rays of the sun,

As the first sound of rustling wings split the air,

Oh the soldiers they just should have run

At the head of the band was a woman so tall,

With her strength in a glow 'round her face,

And the prince of all eagles perched high on her fist,

That lady of power and grace

The Bonded amassed by the River Slidel,

And they stood with their backs stiffened straight,

And all the king's men they got fear in their eyes,

But by now they were far, far too late

And the air tore itself with the sound of their wings,

As the birds turned the sky into sea,

And the men would all swear it was thunder above,

As they all turned their backs for to flee

And they turned back the tide that was all the king's men,

And they drove them right back 'cross the land,

There was never a sight on Rathya so great,

As the charge of the Bonded's bold band

So remember this tale wherever ye roam,

No matter how far you may fall,

So long as you're strong and have friends by your side,

And heed always the Rathyan birds' call

As the last note faded into silence, Julie held on with all her heart to the feeling that had bloomed within her. A powerful, stirring hope, fed by the song and Seth's voice and the memory of that famous battle between the evil king and Anna's Bonded warriors.

She felt a familiar pricking behind her eyes, but it wasn't because the song made her sad. On the contrary, she suddenly felt fierce and alive, like she could actually, truly get through this.

"Thank you, Seth." She whispered the words so she didn't choke on them embarrassingly.

There was a pause, and then Luke said, "Not a thief-bard my eye." His voice sounded curiously thick.

"Oh, stop," Seth muttered, waving one hand in a comical, exaggerated manner. But Julie could tell he was pleased, and maybe even touched.

"How many of those do you have?" Luke asked.

"Oh, a few," Seth said offhandedly, trying to sound like it wasn't a big deal. Then, with barely disguised hope in his voice, "Another one?"

Julie and Luke said yes at the same time.

It was impossible for Colby not to notice the noise, of course, however softly Seth sang. But the three friends were so intent on their newfound and singular source of entertainment and comfort that they didn't notice they were being watched.

Delilah stood at the top of the stairs, utterly motionless, her squat body balanced on the two sticklike legs, neck drawn down into her feathers. Her red eyes glowed in the near darkness as she watched and listened. She hardly moved at all as the soft singing continued.

And down below, blind Colby the jailer was silent.

Julie picked morosely at the piece of bread on her wooden plate. She had to hold the platter carefully, because unlike the smoothly hewn dishes they had eaten out of in the Silva's hall, these were roughly cut and had splinters at their edges.

That morning, or at least she assumed it was morning, Colby had appeared at the top of the stairs, balancing three plates in his spindly hands. Each had only a hunk of bread, a single fruit that looked a little like a small apple, and a fist sized depression that held water. Delilah had stalked at his heels, holding bizarrely in her beak a second tray, this one containing a small pile of raw, shredded flesh.

Colby had worked the complicated knots of roots that barred their cells with utter ease. Julie tried to watch how he did it, but his hands moved so fast that the door was opening before she knew it. Before she could lunge from her cramped, awkward position, Colby had thrust the plate at her, then retreated and laced the door shut again.

Julie quickly adjusted the plate on her knees, balancing it so the precious food and water didn't spill out. Delilah was busily using her long, wicked beak to nudge a portion of the meat off the tray. She bumped it efficiently under the lowest knot of twigs and roots, shoving it through into the cell. She studied Julie for a moment with her blood-colored eye, and then pushed the meat tray along with her foot to Luke's cell.

Human and heron had made the rounds to all three of them in as many minutes. Colby picked up Delilah's empty tray, stroking her head again. Then, without a sound, he descended the stairs again. The night heron made to follow him, when Icarus cried unexpectedly from Julie's shoulder. Thank you for the meat, cousin.

Delilah paused, one of her sticklike feet posed frozen in midair. Julie looked sharply at Icarus, puzzled.

Finally, without turning around, the heron gave a hoarse rattling sound, and then continued after her bond.

Julie waited a few moments, and then asked Icarus, What did she say?

She says she is only carrying out her duty. She says that even the most heartless Silva would be amiss not to provide basic food for both human and bird.

Great, Julie told him sarcastically. So she has a sense of duty. Why are we thanking them, again? They're our jailers!

Which is precisely why we should appease and connect with them as much as possible. Nothing is gained by continuing an exchange of cold rudeness between captor and captive.

It was a formal explanation, but it made sense. Julie leaned back against the curving cell wall, biting the edge of her bread piece thoughtfully. Icarus went to work on the raw meat.

Seth was tapping his bread experimentally against the flat of his palm, squinting at it. "Huh," he pronounced finally. "No bugs. Fancy."

Julie looked over at him, wondering if he was kidding. He seemed serious though.

Her own food seemed to disappear quickly in the face of her hunger. It made her feel a little better, and when Icarus hopped up on her to preen himself as he always did after meals, the familiarity of it warmed it too.

So when Colby spoke from the head of the stairs, it startled so much she bumped her head against the cell wall. Icarus squawked in surprise.

"You have a visitor," Colby croaked, his blind eyes swiveling among all three of their cells.

Julie was utterly bewildered for a moment. A visitor? Who would visit them in prison? Tamal had ordered all the Silva not to see them or listen to them. Looking hard at Colby, she saw that even he looked a little surprised. But when he was met only with their startled silence, he shrugged. "Shall I bring him up? Or do you refuse?"

"We're prisoners." Luke's voice sounded ironic. "Are we even allowed to refuse?"

"It's what you might call one of the last rights," Colby said, his lip quirking up in a half-smile that exposed one of his sharp teeth. "You have hardly anything else…so you might as well be able to choose who sees you in prison." He laughed hoarsely, like he'd made a joke.

"Yeah, sure, bring him up," Seth remarked flippantly. He was still nibbling on a corner of his bread crust, letting Corax takes pecks at it in between. "But make sure you tell him he's interrupting breakfast. It's a little rude for him to call while we're still eating."

Colby shook his head, looking at Seth as if he couldn't quite believe he was real. Julie was thinking something along the same lines. But curiosity filled up most of her thoughts. She wanted to know the identity of their visitor.

Colby vanished into the lower parts of the tree. She heard the murmur of voices, but was only able to distinguish, by the sound of the tones, that their visitor was indeed male. Then there were soft footsteps on the stairs.

Julie leaned forward in her cell, pressing her face against the tangled twigs. She could Seth doing the same across from her, and felt sure that Luke was too, beside her. They were all watching the top of the stairs.

Then there was a soft twittering. It seemed to jump up the music scale in a singing progression, and then weave back down again in a different order. It was an amazingly complex sound. Julie was trying to remember where she'd heard it before when their guest appeared. Or rather, she saw their guest's bird bond first.

A small grayish bird, with white blazes on its wings, and a delicate mask of black over each beady eye. Its clawed toes buried in a shock of brown hair.

Monty.

"Monty?!" exclaimed Julie in disbelief. "How did you…why did you…?"

Emil chirped loudly, a frenzied, scolding barrage of notes that effectively quieted Julie.

"Um, hi." Monty looked very unsure, but he forced a smile. "How are you?" Julie saw Seth's mouth open, ready to shoot the retort that comment deserved, but Monty seemed to anticipate it. "Okay, that was a stupid question, sorry." He raked a hand nervously through his hair, causing Emil to flutter into the air, chirruping.

"You aren't supposed to be here, are you?" asked Seth mildly. He and Corax had finished the bread, and he was now picking absently at the twigs on his cell door.

Monty exhaled heavily. "No, I guess not."

"Soooo…" said Luke slowly, with growing hope in his voice, "Does that mean you believe us?"

Monty looked at the floor. Emil swooped back and forth in arcs above his head, peeping softly. The mockingbird swept in and landed on Monty's shoulder, pecking his glasses until they slid askew. The young Silva swatted impatiently at his bond. Emil gave a sharp whistle, and Julie got the feeling he was trying to urge Monty to speak.

"I guess…" Monty looked at Julie. "I don't think you three are involved with Lord Maeron. I think Tamal made a mistake." He said all this very slowly and carefully, pulling his shoulders together nervously as if someone was going to leap out and catch him speaking this way. "Don't get me wrong, Tamal is the best leader the Silva could possibly have. But he's got a hard spot for Maeron…we've all got our weaknesses."

Seth was sitting up straight, all of a sudden. His eyes were fixed on Monty, and there was a strange look in them.

"Anyway, this place gives me the creeps," Monty muttered, adjusting his glasses. Emil peeped an agreement.

"Yeah, it even comes complete with insane jailer," Luke said under his breath, rubbing Athena's head absently.

Monty looked surprised. "Colby? He's not insane. That's just how he is. I'm lucky he's a friend of mine, or he might have reported this visit to Tamal."

Now that was news to Julie. Everything about Monty seemed to be surprising her. His hunched posture and cracked glasses at the dinner table had made him seem like a shy scholar dragged into the life of the Silva, when in reality he was cheerful and outgoing and completely at home with being a tree-dwelling outlaw. His disability seemed like it should have hampered him, but he took it in stride. And now it appeared his chosen companions were not only the sharp and watchful Fayola, but also a skeletal prison guard with a bird bond that looked like a demon and a voice comparable to smoke.

'At the bird take a look, read the human like a book,' Icarus intoned in Julie's mind abruptly. Her brow wrinkled in confusion. The couplet was a common rhyme for children on Rathya, a bit of pithy advice about paying close attention to the bond of each human you met in life. Because of the way Bonding seemed to work, birds and humans were often directly representative of each others' personalities. But what was Icarus trying to tell her now?

What was Monty's bond? He'd said it was called a mockingbird. She wasn't as familiar with all the types of birds as the elders always were; she only paid attention to the species that belonged to people she knew.

So Monty can whistle well? she guessed, thinking of Emil's musical cries.

She felt a sharp prickle of annoyance in her head, and she got the sense that if they were alone, Icarus would have given her a peck. You are smarter than that. Look deeper into it.

In truth, she didn't much want to. The idea of the frighteningly accurate symbolism that existed behind Bonding made Julie nervous. She didn't really want to look deeper into the meaning behind Athena and Luke, or even Seth and Corax. It would change the way she looked at them.

Icarus seemed to sense her reluctance. His mind voice became gentler. Mockingbirds are small. They are drably colored, and simply built, at least compared to others. He preened one beautifully speckled wing pointedly. But their voices are renowned among our kind. They can pretend to be whatever they wish in song; a raven or a parrot, a sparrow or a falcon, a songbird or a seagull. They can shriek like eagles or sing like canaries. Many a human has underestimated a mockingbird, making judgments before they hear its brilliant imitations. The birds take the scorn of the narrow-sighted and reflect it back with their mocking calls, showing where their talent truly lies.

Julie swallowed. When Icarus put it like that…

She looked at Monty with new eyes. Maybe he did do that. People did look at him and think he was less than what he was. Maybe he did reflect back the expectations of others by being so different than what he seemed at first glance. She remembered what Monty had said about Tamal using him as a decoy in raids. The poor crippled boy. Maybe Tamal had understood where Monty's talent lay.

Tamal is a clever strategist, Icarus commented. He knows how to read the symbolism of the birds. He sees how Monty hides his true potential, and he uses that to his advantage.

Julie did not feel too inclined to appreciate Tamal's cleverness. Yeah, well if he's so smart, why are we in here when we're innocent? she shot at her bond.

Monty spoke again before the gyrfalcon could reply. "Colby's not what makes the Laburnum Prison creepy. It's the whole poison thing. I mean, one dumb move, one brush with the tree, and you could be dead. Or worse." He shuddered again. "I saw someone who died of laburnum poison once," he said, his voice growing hushed. "He had an open cut on his hand from climbing. All he did was rub it accidentally against the bark and…" Monty swallowed, his eyes reflecting oddly behind the lenses of his glasses. "It took him ages to die, I swear. From fever to convulsions to choking to spasms. It was the worst thing I've ever seen."

Julie squeezed her eyes shut, trying to banish that mental image. Luke made a soft sound that Julie interpreted as nauseated disgust. She had gotten good over the years at reading the subtleties of his expressions and utterances.

Seth had his lips together in a tight line, but his gaze and voice were calm and laden with sarcasm. "Thanks for the info. Really comforting." He rapped his knuckles pointedly against the smooth inner bark that formed the walls of their cells. Julie found herself catching her breath in fear, suddenly wondering if any of them had open cuts or scratches.

Monty blanched, his lame shoulder dipping abnormally low as he slumped, looking mortified. "Sorry, I didn't think…"

Corax made a raspy croaking sound. "Glass-eyes-boy never thinks," he said, pronouncing each word carefully, as if they were unfamiliar to him.

Monty looked shocked. "He can talk?"

Seth sighed. "Didn't you just hear him?"

"Glass-eyes-boy still has not said what he does here," Corax rasped. "He comes only to tell dark stories to scar Seth and Corax?"

"I think you mean 'scare,' Corax," Seth commented. "But very good job on the pronunciation otherwise."

Monty was still staring at the raven in disbelief. Emil, however, had gotten over Corax's talent quicker, and was taking offense on his bond's behalf. Like a streak of brown lightning, the small bird swept across the room, darting between the tangled roots. With a decidedly unmusical squawk that did indeed sound more like a crow than his usual melodious twitters, Emil dive-bombed Corax, the white bars on his wings flashing in the dim interior of the prison. Corax cawed back, ducking his head to avoid the mockingbird's strikes.

"Okay, okay, break it up," Seth said, waving his hand at Emil. He sounded more amused than angry. He got a lightning-quick nip on the finger for his trouble, and his green eyes narrowed, humor gone. Julie was amazed. Emil was less than half the size of Corax, and no bigger than Seth's head, but he was certainly not to be underestimated in his attitude. Just as Icarus had said.

Monty raised his head, and Emil swerved suddenly, leaving off his furious tirade in response to what was presumably a silent command from Monty. The Silva held out his hand and the mockingbird sped back to alight on it. Emil gave his tail feathers a shake and started to preen his neck with what looked suspiciously like smugness.

Seth tried to suck his nipped finger surreptitiously. Corax looked irritated, rumpling his black feathers and mumbling bits of broken English too garbled to be properly understood.

"Sorry about that," Monty said, glancing at his bird bond. "Your…uh…talking raven made a good point." Emil gave a piercing whistle and perked to attention, cocking his head at Monty in questioning indignation. Julie was amazed at how expressive the little bird was. "I haven't told you why I'm here."

The eyes of three humans and three birds rested on Monty's nervous form. He adjusted his glasses, cleared his throat, shuffled his feet. Emil hopped to his shoulder and preened a lock of hair that curled over his ear, as if in support.

Finally, Seth made a soft coughing sound that was obviously a "get on with it" type of prompt.

Monty sighed, looking as though what he were about to say was both dangerous and inevitable. When he spoke, he made sure that his voice was barely above a whisper. "I'm here to help you escape."