The Devil and The Owl

The devil glowered bitterly as he slouched in The Obsidian Throne dissecting the events of his most recent disappointment. The High Holy One, he surmised, had cheated again. It was the only way He could win. It was the only way He had ever won. So when the devil, recently returned from yet another failed venture, found himself in a particularly rancorous mood, The Black Palace, having been erected in one of the darker corners of his realm, served as pensive space where he could escape from the chaos swirling around The Throne of Thorns (his usual locality) to sulk alone in his thoughts. And sulk he did (though not entirely alone. A few rats scurried about, quietly spreading disease in a corner somewhere).

Until a thought formed.

Through an amalgamation of acidic hate and the desire for revenge, the thought mutated into a series of possibilities which then wove themselves into knots of plans aimed at causing pain and suffering, perhaps even a fair amount of violence and bloodshed. The bitter glower on the devil’s face was infected by a wicked sneer as the knots of plans coagulated into actionable steps. “I wonder,” he said to himself. “It might work.” Of course, he’d said that before. Numerous times. None the less, he summoned one of his more reliable servants. “Come forth, Ouyarti, and deliver my message through the voices of your kind.”

A ghostly white face with two of the blackest almond shaped eyes sailed in through the palace windows on wings of silence.

As messengers for the devil, owls make no sound when they fly, nor can they be seen by mortal eyes. Ouyarti silently glided around the room just once, and perched at the base of The Obsidian Throne. “What would thou?” he asked of the devil.

“Deliver a message to the dragons of the earth. They are to use their magic to whip up tempests, tsunamis, earthquakes, and blizzards so that every mortal heart that beats on earth suffers the pain of loss. Your reward shall be a feast of lemmings.”

“Lemmings are a fine feast, but a feast of rats is finer still.”

“Lemmings or naught; be glad that I offer rewards at all. Fly on wings of silence, but be sure that mortals see your ghostly faces.” Ouyarti agreed.

And it was done.

The dragons used their magics to call forth great tragedies of nature. But the mortals called forth their heroes, and with blades and arrows hunted down and destroyed all of the dragons of the earth. And not a few owls had also been captured or killed, for when the heroes saw that the devil’s messages were delivered on silent wings, they concluded that messages die without the messenger to deliver them. When Ouyarti delivered this unfortunate news to the devil, he only replied, “ ‘Tis a small price to pay for the suffering I’ve caused.”

The devil called Ouyarti a second time, saying, “Deliver a message to every troll, every goblin, and every ogre, that they are to rise from the swamps and the caves and attack every mortal in droves and hordes so that every mortal heart that beats on earth suffers the pain of malice as well as the pain of loss. Your reward shall be a feast of voles.”

“Voles make a fine feast indeed, but a feast of rats is finer still.”

“Voles or naught; be glad that I offer rewards at all. Fly on wings of silence but be sure that mortals see your ghostly faces, for it fills their hearts with dread.” Ouyarti agreed.

And it was done.

But this time, the mortals mustered armies of their own to follow their heroes, and they met the hordes of trolls, ogres, and goblins head to head and sword to sword until they had destroyed every last green-skin on the earth. And again, not a few owls had been captured or killed for delivering the devil’s messages. When Ouyarti delivered this unfortunate news to the devil, he only replied, “ ‘Tis a small price to pay for the suffering I’ve caused.”

Now, not all owls serve the devil directly. Many of their kind go about their nights taking advantage of any situation from which they might profit. And as rat is the finest meal for an owl, many an owl, in their wisdom, had come to understand well that wherever mortals settled, trash would soon begin to accumulate. And, it is well known that the finest meal for a rat is trash. But with all the owls delivering messages to dragons and green-skins, or being captured or killed, the rat population, left unchecked, exploded. And with rats came disease, pestilence, and more suffering still. And, with precious few owls to feast upon rats, the workload of the farmers and peasants had grown into a back-breaking, time consuming burden. But it wasn’t until an Emperor’s daughter became ill that the seeds of the devil’s plot had begun to take root. During the dragon-made disasters of nature and the raids of green-skin hordes, the common folk had suffered greatly. But with impossibly large hordes of rats infesting the earth, carrying disease, and causing mischief (which is why a group of rats is called a “mischief” of rats), the common folk had come to depend upon any help they could get in controlling the population of rats, even owls. Until the Emperor ordered that all owls be captured or killed.

The common people began to lose faith in their ruler, and his magistrates, and the heads of states. And their grumbling pleased the devil.

When the news that the Emperor’s daughter had fallen deathly ill reached the devil’s ears, the unholy one rejoiced. And for a third time he summoned Ouyarti to deliver a message. “Come forth, Ouyarti, and deliver my message through the voices of your kind.”

“What would thou?”

“I would that you deliver a message to the empress, and to the youngest daughters across the earth. Whisper the word of death in their ears so that the lamentations of the mortals would resound loudly across the earth like music to serenade my ears.”

“I would do as you ask. But I cannot. For all of my kind are either captured or killed. Only I remain to deliver, on silent wings, any message you would send.”

And the devil grinned. “Then deliver the word of death to the empress. And once you’ve delivered it to her, visit as many of the youngest daughters of the aristocracy as you can. And whisper that word into their ears as well.”

“And what shall be my reward?”

“All the rats of the earth shall be yours.”

“So it shall be done.”

But as Ouyarti perched near the open window of the disease stricken empress, he overheard The Emperor and his General in heated debate as they watched over her.

“If it is war they want, General, then we shall keep them busy. Call forth the heroes who slew the dragons.”

“Less than half will stand with us, for many of the heroes are of humble origins,” replied the General.

“Then muster the armies that slew the hordes trolls, ogres, and goblins!” ordered The Emperor.

“I would if it were possible. But such vast numbers of soldiers were made possible by the farmers and the other common folks. Many will gladly slaughter every owl in the sky for the messages of suffering they brought upon their silent wings. But there are in equal measure those who rebel, who demand that we release the hundreds of thousands of owls that are caged in the dungeons below, for owls eat rats, and rats currently plague us all.”

“Then pray that the empress live. For if she perish it will be more than this heart and soul can bear. And I will destroy every owl so that no message from the devil may ever be sent to earth again, whether there remain a mortal heart beating on it or not.”

The great wisdom of owls is known far and wide. Ouyarti pieced together the devil’s plan while overhearing The Emperor and the General discuss a war of brother against brother, sister versus sister until no human heart beat on earth. The dragons, though powerful and majestic, had been slain. Every troll, ogre, and goblin, as wicked and merciless as they had been numerous, were also destroyed. Now, every owl, even Ouyarti, would eventually be slain. And how would the devil, the father of lies, reward Ouyarti? “All the rats of the earth shall be yours,” he’d promised. Of course they would! The great wisdom of owls is indeed known far and wide, but the treachery of the devil is known best of all! His only desire is that mortals suffer. And mortal suffering is sweetest when it is delivered at the hands of other mortals. To achieve such wickedness, the devil would sacrifice every resource available. He is a friend to no one, and rewards all with treachery. The Morning Star planned to banish Ouyarti to an earth infested with rats once every mortal heart had pumped its blood into the soil.

Ouyarti took to wing, circled once, and out of the darkness and silence flew in through the castle window directly to the bed of the empress, perched by her head, and whispered a single word into her ear. And then he whispered a few more. The Emperor and his General, taken entirely by surprise, stood frozen in the grip of fear at seeing Ouyarti’s ghostly white face and black almond eyes. When they had recovered their wits (as the saying goes) Ouyarti had taken to wing again, and flew silently into the night. The Emperor hollered in anguish as the General growled through the gnashing of his teeth. Both volleyed curses and promises of death out the castle window after the ghost-faced owl. Until...

They heard a soft voice cooing behind them. They turned. And tears streamed down their cheeks as the empress sat up in her bed. “How? How is this possible?” asked The Emperor, more to God than to his daughter. But it was she who spoke.

“How is what possible, father?”

“The devil’s messenger, the owl, was just here. It perched on your bed and whispered evil into your ear.”

“That’s strange,” replied the girl. “I had a dream about an owl. He was elegant. And his voice was soft.”

“What did he say to you child?”

“He said ‘live.’ And immediately thereafter I felt my fever break. Then he made a promise that if every owl were released, they would help us, and never again deliver any messages.”

“Remember, my sovereign,” counseled the General, whispering into the Emperor’s ear, “there’s nothing more that pleases an owl’s pallet than rat, and it’s rats that bring us to the brink of civil war.”

So it was that The Emperor released every owl that had been captured, and every owl gorged itself upon rats that had brought disease, pestilence, and more suffering still.

The devil was outraged by the owls (though it wouldn’t be the last time he’d make use of rats). He stole all but one of their words so the owls could never again share their wisdom with mortals.

To this day, owls refuse to deliver messages of any kind, which is why we must use pigeons to deliver messages instead. The wisdom of owls remains well known, as does the fact that owls never tire of the taste of rats. And one special kind of owl, with a ghostly white face and the blackest almond shaped eyes, continues to reside among the common folks, and farmers in particular, to keep rat populations low, as do certain kinds of snakes that farmers also keep in their barns. But that is another story entirely.