"Swordbird" - читать интересную книгу автора (Yi Fan Nancy)

2 SLAVEBIRDS’ PLAN

Turnatt’s horde had flown from the warm southwestern region to Stone-Run with about forty slavebirds. Because crossing the White Cap Mountains was trying and treacherous and food shortages occurred on the way, only thirty-eight slavebirds survived the trip.

A month before, the slaves had lived free among their own tribesbirds. Now they dwelled in the leaky, half-rotten slave compound, with their legs chained to a stone wall. The building’s walls were wooden bars that gave off awful splinters, and it seemed as if they would collapse at any moment. Above, rotting hay and logs were bound together for a roof, with holes here and there to see the sky; below was the bare ground, always uncomfortably moist. As the mild spring brought showers and damp winds, the slaves were allowed to build a fire in the slave compound. The birds wore nothing but rags on top of their mud-caked feathers, and as they huddled around the fire, they shivered.

Tilosses, an aged sparrow who had not lost his sense of humor, started the discussion.

“It has been several weeks since we were caught and brought to this filthy place. Ladies and gentlebirds, we have no other choice: If we wish to see our homes and families again, we must escape!” Tilosses paused to make his speech more dramatic. “Escape may not come easily like a grand supper delivered to us; nevertheless, we can find a way if we work at it. That Turnatt may be dangerous, but sometimes he is as careless as a fly. Pah! Why, his name sounds like Turnip!” Hearty laughter followed. “We all know that we need to escape somehow, not remain here to rot. The question is, how?”

Across the campfire a burly flycatcher called Glipper spoke up. “If just one of us escapes, we might have a better chance. The native woodbirds in this forest would help us if we can send a message to them.” There were murmurs of agreement.

“Well,” a nuthatch said, “the woodbirds would help us, but how can we reach them? The guards are too numerous, and that slave driver, Bug-eye, seems to be everywhere at once. It’s really unsafe. How could anybird slip out of the fortress to contact the woodbirds?”

A jaunty goldfinch blurted, “I know how! Trick the captain. Make him think you’re helping him. Convince him to let you gather firewood every day outside the fortress. He’ll trust you after a few days. Then find a woodbird to help!”

“Good idea!” said Tilosses.

Glipper shook his head. “Chances are, nobird would be allowed outside alone,” he declared. “There’s little possibility of success, with all the risks and hazards.”

“But there still is a possibility, however small, so we should try it,” somebird in the crowd murmured.

Tilosses spoke. “Who will take the risk?”

“A bird who is wise, persuasive, and innocent. These are the right qualities,” chimed the goldfinch, cocking her head to one side.

The silence stretched for a long time. A twig crackled in the fire. Who will do it? Who? Who? The question hung in the air.

“I will!” The voice of a young robin piped up from the crowd of slavebirds. Heads turned to see the speaker.

Though all the slavebirds knew the robin’s name, they had no more knowledge of him beyond that. He was quiet, rarely speaking to anybird.

At first glance he seemed rather weak for his kind, yet when the slavebirds took a close look at him, they noticed that his agile legs and lean frame looked strong, able to endure. He had a speck of red among his black neck feathers. Despite his bedraggled, thin, and dirty appearance, there was something in his big, shining eyes that warmed the onlookers’ hearts.

“Miltin?”

The robin nodded, and the corners of his beak twitched into a smile. He looked so confident that everyone knew he should be the chosen one.

Glipper peered at the robin and grinned. “Miltin, I have a feeling that you are going to have quite some adventure.”

Outside, the wind whistled.