Chapter 23
Grass - Metlan
Metlan awakened with a start and it took him a few breaths to remember where he was. Apparently he had rolled around in his sleep and was now dangerously close to the edge of his platform, which did not have any railings. He grabbed hold of his silk covering and edged himself back to the center of the platform, where he leaned against the tree trunk. No wonder he had dreamed of falling, sleeping in a place like this.
If he could put aside his fear of falling, all in all, this wasn’t too bad a place. The fliers had given him food and fresh water. The only sounds were the rustling of trees, some insects rubbing their legs, and a few birds calling to each other every now and then. When he looked around all he could see was a maze of branches, trunks, leaves, and hanging pods, along with the flier-made additions of ropes and pulleys. His tree was in an isolated area away from the trees in which the fliers lived, although in the distance he could make out what looked to be some sort of wooden terraced structure in another tree top. He wondered what his platform had been used for before it had become his prison.
On a branch just above where Metlan was sitting, but out of his reach, a bird alighted. It was a large bird with a black face, a white belly, shiny black wings, and a long black tail. It cocked its head to one side and looked at him, then chirped a kind of harsh sound twice and quickly raised and lowered its wings as it gave out a high pitched chirp. With Pergassi nowhere in sight, Metlan was glad for the company.
“I wonder where they all are?” he said out loud to the bird.
The bird turned its head from side to side as if looking for something. Then it took off from the branch, spreading its wings. As it did so, Metlan could see that the tips of the wings were white, but they were outlined in black. It flew into the forest and returned shortly with a twig in its mouth. He looked in the tree above him and noticed a large round nest of twigs that stuck out in all directions. It must be making some repairs.
Then he heard a twill from below. The bird let out a squawk, dropped its twig, and took off in a flutter of wings to return to its nest. Metlan moved to the edge to discover Pergassi far below. How he longed to bury his face in her soft fur! Even though nobody was around, he didn’t dare speak to her. She crouched low at the bottom of the tree, patiently looking up at him.
Earlier the fliers had served him some berries, which he had hidden under some leaves. Although these trees had amazingly thick bark, he was able to pry off a few thin, older pieces, using the twig the bird had dropped. He looked around again, then took out the berries and squished them on a leaf. Metlan dipped the twig in the berry juice and used it as a crude writing instrument to write on the bark: “Safe Spying Metlan”
It was not written very neatly, but the words could be made out. He carefully dried the bark by waving it back and forth with his hand. Next, he covered it with another piece of bark and wrapped a vine securely around it. He hoped that Pergassi would remember how to take the bark to Telski and Sholfo, and that the boy would keep his promise to deliver the message to the king. Metlan looked around one more time. Nobody was in sight. He spoke two words: “Pergassi, fetch”. Then he dropped the bark and watched it fall to the ground. Just as he had hoped, Pergassi faithfully picked it up with the corner of her mouth.
“Take home,” he instructed loudly, hoping not to be heard by fliers. If anyone heard, he would pretend he was talking to that silly bird, and the fliers wouldn’t know his language anyway.
He jumped as a screeching, “Take home, take home, take home,” came from above, in his own tongue. He looked up and saw that the black and white bird was sitting on the branch and mimicking what he had said.
“Shut up!” he yelled and waved his arms at it, feeling furious.
“Shut up!” the bird repeated, infuriating him further.
Then the bird cocked its head, looked at him again, and took off from the branch flying through the forest, screeching, “Take home! Take home!”
Metlan looked and saw Pergassi walking stealthily away, but the bird was following above her. It was nerve racking, but unless that stupid interpreter heard the bird, it shouldn’t be a problem. He just hoped the swooping and squawking didn’t make Pergassi drop the bark.