Three men met on the old highway in heavy undyed wool and dark kilts, each carrying a wicker cage held out in front of him at the chest, and in each cage a bird that does not sit like a raven sits. Guarded, and polite about it. Spare conversation was traded. The company told them they had seen the Morning Singer at the freshwater spring, and nothing more, and moved past them quickly.

What is in the cages, where are the three carrying it, and for whom?