When she found them, it was so obvious as to be stupid. It was also clever and unexpected. Hiding in plain sight and well-guarded.
Three stout towers rose up out of the wildflowers. Wreathed with wisteria, they were crowned with broad platforms, at least forty feet in diameter, each boasting an enormous nest made of logs, sticks, moss, mud, and whatever else the owners had scavenged. The smell from them was strong and not unpleasant. Musky and sweet, with a hint of citrus.
There were a lot of possible inhabitants, and most all of them were going to be less than pleased to be disturbed. Especially since Mal wasn’t bringing gifts, and she didn’t have time to go fetch any.
Mal shrugged. They’d have to get over it.
“Hello? Is someone home?” She used magic to knock on the platform, the noise sharp in the bright afternoon.
She heard movement; then a bird head blocked the sun. Good. That ruled out some very grumpy possibilities. Long, light feathers fluttered in the breeze behind its head, and while Mal couldn’t make out details, she could see that it had a wicked beak that could probably snap a person in half without any trouble at all.
“I’m sorry to bother you,” she called up, “but there’s been some murders and I’m looking for an object that a very small giant might have given you or hidden here to keep safe. Would you happen to know anything about it?”
Many unusual sentences had come out of her mouth over the years, but that was certainly one of the most ridiculous.
The bird made a lowszurring sound and hopped up onto the side of its nest. Another head popped up behind it. Bigger. In the other nests, other birds stuck their heads up curiously. Mal gave them all a little wave and repeated her greeting.
The birds made more sounds to each other, and the first one turned and hopped back down into the nest, while one on the left platform launched up into the air, circling once before coming to settle in front of Mal.
It was possibly the most beautiful thing she had ever seen in her life. Its long, hooked beak was cobalt blue; its eyes, orange. Blue-edged white feathers ran over its head and down its long neck, where they morphed to full blue. The undersides of its wings were rose-pink with cobalt tips. Six long curling plumes rose from its crest. Its legs were blue-banded with black, and it had six more curling plumes for a tail. These were half again as long as its body and were white-edged blue feathers with little orange eyes at the ends of each.
Mal gave a little bow since she couldn’t imagine not bowing to such an incredible being.
“Thank you for coming down,” she said. “I really must find the object the small giant hid before it’s too late.”
The bird’s head tilted, and it blinked at her.
Too late for what?
She heard the words in her head. She’d experienced enough of that lately that she didn’t even bat an eyelash.
“There’s a wedding, and without that talisman, it can’t go on. That little giant died to protect it and make sure the wedding can proceed. I’d like to see his last wishes come true.”
Who are you?
Mal hesitated, not entirely sure how to answer. Finally she settled for, “LeeAnne, the housekeeper, asked me to look into the situation.”
We would have protected him. Given him shelter. He said no.
That surprised Mal. Less that the giant had said no—he wouldn’t have abandoned his friends and possibly family—but that the bird offered shelter. The big mythological birds weren’t known for their friendliness.
“That was kind.”
Mal had the impression of a shrug.
We lost nothing in helping him.
And gained nothing but Mal didn’t say so.
“Do you have the talisman?”
Climb toward my home. You will find it on the sunrise side below the midpoint.
With that, the bird leaped into the sky, its powerful wings snapping wide. The wind from its flight pushed at Mal, and she had to lean so it didn’t knock her over. It wasn’t until then that she noticed the bird’s wicked talons. Not a creature to tangle with, that’s for sure.
Mal eyed the tower. This could take a while, but birds didn’t work in feet and inches. With a sigh, she began her climb, glad the wisteria was strong. It actually didn’t take as long as she’d feared because the giant hadn’t hidden the signs of his passing and she found a trail of broken and bruised leaves. When it stopped, so did she. Digging inside the tangle of vines, she located a round wooden box about the size of a small plum. The wood was lacquered green with a crest inlaid in gold.
She pocketed it and climbed down, waving up at the birds as she departed. She’d have to find a way to thank them. Maybe send a giant fruit basket. Or a cow. She’d ask LeeAnne what they liked.
