Gabriel Finley and the Raven’s Riddle (15 page)

“I'm ready,” he said.

The Bird Man

G
abriel barely slept that night, worrying about Paladin's safety. Before school, he offered the bird more food and reminded Trudy not to open any windows in the laundry room.

“Why would I want to go near that thing?” she replied.

It was impossible for him to concentrate in class. He watched the clock's hour hand plod slowly round its face all day, and when the last bell rang, he sprinted all the way home.

“Gabriel, will you please slow down!” begged Abby, who was hurrying after him.

“I have to check on the baby raven,” he said.

“I'm sure he's fine!” Abby puffed.

Gabriel scrambled down the stairs and into the kitchen with Abby following. The laundry room lay beyond a glass door. When Gabriel reached for the knob, he stopped dead in his tracks.

Through the glass, he could see an enormous raven with tattered, oily feathers, and gnarled, filthy claws on the
washing machine. The bird had shredded Paladin's little basket. There was no sign of the baby raven. The door into the backyard hung open. With ripped threads dangling from its craggy beak, the bird sneered at Gabriel. Its eyes flashed a sickly shade of yellow.

Gabriel burst in, swinging his backpack at the bird. “Get out! Shoo!” he cried.

The valraven hissed at him and flew out into the yard. Gabriel slammed the door shut. Holding back tears, he peered around the laundry room.

“Oh, no!” cried Abby.

The two of them looked everywhere, horrified. It was so unfair. The poor little raven had barely survived a day.

At last, Gabriel solemnly began to gather up the bits of the basket.

A voice spoke behind them.

“Gabriel?”

It was Pamela.

“Gabriel? He's right here.…”

She entered the room cradling the baby raven in her hands.

Gabriel heaved a sigh of relief. “What happened?”

“I just got home from school,” Pamela explained. “My mom left the back door open. She said the laundry room was very smelly. I told her never to do that again.” Pamela shook her head and stroked the little raven. “He was trembling, so
I wrapped him up in my scarf and took him upstairs, where it was warmer.”

“Where's your mom now?” asked Gabriel.

“Shopping. Why?”

Gabriel didn't say anything. He hurried upstairs and entered the study. Slowly he approached the painting of Corax. It seemed to stare at him with an expression of grim amusement, but Gabriel glared back defiantly.

“I won't be like
you
,” he told the portrait. “I'm on my father's side.”

When Gabriel returned to the kitchen, Abby and Pamela were trying to offer the baby raven some chunks of cheese, but the bird kept turning its beak away.

“He won't eat,” said Abby. “It's been almost a day without food. He must be starving.”

“I pass this shop on Union Street every afternoon,” said Pamela. “Pleshette's Exotics, I think it's called. There are birds in the window. Somebody in there might know about feeding ravens.”

They put Paladin in a shoe box with plenty of holes punched in the lid and headed out just as Trudy was walking in with two bags of groceries.

“And where are you going?” She frowned.

“The bird store,” said Pamela. “I'll be back in an hour.”

“What about your practicing?”

“Mother, I always remember to practice,” Pamela replied.

On the way to Pleshette's, Abby turned to Gabriel. “You're not going to mention the
riddle
to the shopkeeper, are you?”

“Definitely not,” said Gabriel.

“You didn't tell me about a riddle,” said Pamela, surprised. “Did the chick say a riddle like the raven in your father's diary?” Her eyes lit up. “Gabriel, are you an
amicus
?”

“I don't know,” he replied. “But when I found him, I got this strange feeling.…”

“Then you
are
,” said Pamela, giving a wistful sigh. “I wish I could be an amicus.”

Abby nodded. “Me too.”

They had walked about five blocks when Abby noticed something. “Do you see we have company?” she asked the others.

“Who?” asked Pamela, glancing around. “I don't see anyone.”

“You're not looking in the right direction,” said Abby softly, and she tilted her head up.

Six ravens were sitting upon a branch near the intersection.

Wondering if they were valravens, Gabriel clutched the shoe box tightly. But looking more closely, he realized
that these birds were much more handsome, their feathers smooth, their beaks elegant.

As the children walked, the six ravens followed their progress, alighting at every intersection, until they reached Union Street. Here, the children turned and came to Pleshette's Exotics, a dark storefront with a tin awning. The six ravens immediately became agitated, rocking sideways on their feet and splaying their neck feathers with squawks of protest.

“What's wrong with them?” asked Pamela.

“They don't seem to like this place,” said Abby.

“C'mon,” said Gabriel impatiently, “we need some advice.”

Once they were inside the shop, the cries of the ravens faded.
Exotics
was definitely the right word for the pets on display. Gabriel saw a small gray hawk, a blue-necked cassowary, and a rather unhappy-looking raven in a cage. There were also cabinets of odd-colored jewels, and oddities encased in glass spheres—beetles, clocks, keys. Inside one cage was a parrot that appeared to be blind, for its eyes were almost white, and it kept muttering, “Go away!”

Pamela found a stringed instrument made of a tortoise's shell; she plucked a string and a bizarre noise filled the air, like a forest of crickets. A small bald man hurried from the back room and seized the instrument from her. He wore a vest, a green poker visor, and spectacles with tinted lenses perched on little extensions. Gabriel guessed they were for examining precious stones.

“I count three children with no adult!” he said, tapping a sign that read
NO UNACCOMPANIED CHILDREN
.

“Wow! Good counting!” replied Abby. “How are you at counting jelly beans?”

Mr. Pleshette glared at her. “Come back later with your mommy or daddy.” He seized a broom, as if he might brush them out of the store.

“Please,” said Gabriel. “We need some advice.”

The man's expression became more hostile. “
Free
advice, I suppose?” He shook his head. “I don't have time!”

“You don't look that busy,” countered Pamela, who had noticed a crossword puzzle on the counter.

Abby gave it a quick glance. “Oops, you missed one. The word is
liar.
”

Pleshette snatched the puzzle out of her hand. “I wasn't finished!”

“Then you aren't busy,” concluded Gabriel. “I found this baby bird,” he said, showing him the shoe box.

The man frowned. “I don't buy birds.”

“Yes, but you
have
birds,” observed Abby.

“Please, we just want to know how to feed it,” said Pamela.

“It's a raven,” added Gabriel.

Pleshette suddenly became alert. “Did you say
raven
? Let me see.” He removed the lid and peered at Paladin. “Very strange,” he murmured.

“Strange?” repeated Abby.

“Ravens don't give up their young easily. How did you come across it?”

“The mother was being attacked by another raven,” said Gabriel.

“Unlikely.” Mr. Pleshette sniffed doubtfully. “Ravens don't attack each other unless …”

“Unless what?”

A secretive look appeared on Pleshette's face. “Tell me, has this raven done anything
unusual
?”

“Like what?” replied Gabriel warily.

“Talk? Mimic? Repeat?… Tell a
riddle
, perhaps.”

Abby, Gabriel, and Pamela shared a glance.

Pleshette pressed his hands together with a triumphant smile. “Children, you came to the right place. I'll take this one for five dollars.”

“You said you didn't buy birds,” said Abby.

“I don't recall saying that.”

With a skeptical stare, Abby said, “You'd better write down
liar
before you forget that, too.”

“Look,” said Gabriel, “I just want to be sure that I'm taking the right care of him.”

“Ravens are omnivorous. That means they'll eat all kinds of food—eggs, raisins, peanuts, sesame seeds, chicken, ground beef—but no dairy.”

“Aha!” exclaimed Abby. “No wonder he wouldn't eat cheese or drink milk!”

“Never offer them milk,” admonished the man. “When he starts to stand, give him a perch so he doesn't damage his tail feathers. He'll teach himself to fly. Simple as that. Remarkable birds. Intelligent beyond compare. And with some of them, it's possible to do extraordinary—”

Suddenly, the man blinked frantically, as if he regretted revealing this last detail.

“Extraordinary what?” asked Abby.

“Nothing,”
snapped Pleshette. “Look, stupid children, I'll pay you thirty dollars for the bird. That's ten dollars each. Go get yourselves ice cream or candy or firecrackers.”

“I'm not selling him,” insisted Gabriel.

Pleshette rolled his eyes. “Make it ninety dollars. That's thirty for each of you. Go to the horse races, play the slots, buy cigars, I don't care.”

“Cigars?” protested Pamela. “We're kids!”

“Kids?” The man rolled his eyes again. “Runaways, probably. Up to no good, I'll bet. I should call the police!” He picked up the phone.

“We're not runaways; we live here,” said Abby.

“Prove it. Where d'you live?” said Pleshette, glaring at Gabriel.

“Six-oh-eight Fifth Street,” said Gabriel. “Call my aunt, she'll tell you.”

Pleshette shrank at the mention of another adult. He lowered the phone and sighed. “Okay, you drive a hard bargain.
I'll make it three hundred for the little bird. In cash, no questions, don't tell anyone!”

“Thanks for the advice,” said Gabriel, replacing the lid and leading his friends out of the shop.

As soon as the children were back on the sidewalk with Paladin, the six ravens took to the air and flew off.

Abby turned to Gabriel. “Do you think they were trying to warn us about that guy?”

Pamela looked a little ashamed. “It's my fault. I thought he could tell us something useful.”

“Are you kidding?” Abby replied. “He told us a lot!”

“Yeah, Pamela,” said Gabriel. “I was the one who made the worst mistake.”

“You did? How?” replied the girls.

“I gave him my address.”

The Prisoner