Pentalope didn’t notice Fleetra go. She was deeply lost in her own thoughts, wondering why she didn’t have the strength and energy to adequately engage her arch nemesis with all her normal, abounding vitality. If she had, she was sure the eastern wellkeeper would currently be packing his belongings for his imminent banishment, instead of defiantly continuing to hand out water at the well.
What, she wondered, could possibly have diminished her natural strength in such an untimely manner? In the end she could barely withstand the meager weight of her crown and mantle of many pieces. It was as if the lightweight pieces, themselves, had suddenly turned to stone.
It wasn’t a happy mayor of Nuttinnew who sat in the water-less bathing basin, waiting for her husband to bring home the ration of water from the well. This had truly been the most horrible day of her life and, water rationing or not, she was going to take a regular bath in a basin full of water. And wait she did for hours - alone and water-less.
When Wudrick Pulpitt did finally return to Center House, he found no lit candle in the hall, nor in the main sitting room. The whole house felt inundated with a brooding eeriness of heavy, dark molecules. He lit the large candelabra sitting on the entryway table. He was sure his wife was somewhere within. Where else could she be? Wudrick knew, better than anyone, Pentalope had no real friends. Those which might be considered such were merely flitabouts feigning friendship for personal favors.
If a friend, however, is to be defined as one who gives of themselves freely to another, Pentalope had but one - her husband, Wudrick. And even this relationship would greatly strain the definition. At best, Wudrick felt sorry for his wife. Of all the people in Nuttinnew, he alone had once been willing to give of himself to her, but long ago she refused his gift. Now, he had very little left to give - and even less, the desire to give it. Still, his heart cringed with sadness as the light of his candelabra spread an eerie glow throughout the bathing room, giving a surreal ambience to the nude female form reclining in the hollowed stone basin.
"Pentalope?" Wudrickt gasped as he raised the candelabra, shedding more light on the thin skin stretched tightly over her long, angular form creating a contorted array of light and shadows which gave her the look of something other than human. The only response emitted from the basin was a series of short snorts as the statuesque rubble of flesh and bone struggled unsuccessfully toward consciousness, then swiftly sank back into the abstract world of sleep.
On closer inspection, Wudrick discovered her irregularly postured reclination was mainly due to her lying on her newly fashioned mantle of many pieces. She looked most uncomfortable in her present position. Still, he doubted that on his own he could manage to get her into their sleeping room and onto their cot - not without awakening her, and that once something he certainly didn’t want to do. So, instead he carefully worked the perspiration soaked mantle from beneath her and tossed it over a nearby chair. Then, he draped her body with a soft, clean cover and placed a pillow under her crowned head.
After removing his own clothing, he crawled into the bath basin beside her. Then, laying his head resting on her breastbone, he listened to the air rush in and out of her lungs and in that moment he confessed to himself something which he knew had been true for a very long time. Whatever feelings he might have once had for her, it was now desiccated by years of ridicule and rejection. Even so, Wudrick believed everyone, even Pentalope, deserved to be loved by someone other than themselves. But if this were to be true for Pentalope, it would have to be by someone other than him.
Chapter 5
It had been a long, difficult day for the people of Nuttinnew. For most, the fundamentals of personal hygiene, such as washing the sandy grit out of one’s ears or scrubbing one’s teeth before retiring for the evening, went unperformed. The children would have found this an occasion for festive celebration, had they not fallen fast asleep long before the normal appointed time, thus missing this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity for blatant rebellion.
Their parents, not having the vivaciousness of youth, were even more exhausted, but were kept from sleep by their anxiety concerning their sacks of pieces. No hiding place, whether real or imagined, provided a contentment sufficient for them to relinquish themselves into the world of nocturnal unconsciousness. Eventually, however, each mother and father found an uneasy compromise in the decision to stack their sacks of pieces neatly between them on their double sleeping cots, too tired to even consider how poor a substitute their hard, bulgy, irregular shapes would be for the softness of their partners.
***** ***** *****
Unaware of the strange events of the day, a southern breeze eased its way over the sandy rolling hills toward Nuttinnew. As it drew nearer, it danced playfully along the surface of the earth sweeping up wisps of sand here and depositing them there. Since everyone in Nuttinnew found the heat of the summer evening air unbearable for sleeping, every window of every hut was left open in hopes the first cool breeze of autumn would find its way into their abode.
This, however, was not a cool autumn breeze. This was a warm, little summer breeze - a young mischief maker - named, Keyshi, who had come up from the southeast across hundreds of miles of barren desert where it had found little opportunity to engage in the purpose of its life: to perform mischief on all living creatures.
On one particular gully slope, it had come across a community of prairie dogs and contented itself with occasionally blowing small puffs of sand into any of the fur-covered faces it happened to catch peering out from a subterranean nest. However, these small creatures were designed to withstand far more abuse than a prank-playing, summer breeze could provide.
It was Keyshi’s first test at being a total annoyance, and the absolute lack of irritated response to even its best pranks was a bit of a blow to the fledgling’s ego. Lamenting in self-pity, it began moaning and whining and whistling about the subterranean shaft entrances, causing such an incidental irritation to the poor creatures huddled below in their nests, that the chief prairie dog, herself, felt obligated to go out and see what all the fuss was about.
Lending a semi-sympathetic ear to Keyshi’s wanton plight, the old chief informed it of a community of larger, more easily irritated bio-creatures, called humans, which had settled far to the east - far beyond the distant rolling hills - far away from them.
Keyshi was immediately skeptical of this tale for it had always believed such unbelievable creatures could only be mythical, and said so. However, the chief dog gave her assurance the creatures to which she alluded were quite real. In the end, it was more out of boredom than conviction, that Keyshi chose to believe her. Besides, it wasn’t having any fun among these serious-minded, tough-skinned critters. So, Keyshi set off in search of the mythological bio-creatures called humans.
Now, Keyshi was young, but not stupid. After wandering around and about every range of rolling hills it came across, it began to think the novice trickster had, itself, been tricked. Lulled into complacency and boredom it drifted nonchalantly over the gentle rolling hills surrounding the little town of Nuttinnew.
At first, it didn’t realize it had actually arrived at the community of the mythological bio-creatures. To the inexperienced prankster the huts just looked like large, dirt mounds suspiciously similar to ant dwellings, with which the little summer breeze had become quite familiar.
Ants were the bio-creatures selected for Keyshi’s practicum in Prank Playing 401 - the last course before being turned out onto the unsuspecting world. The object of the course was to create frustration just for the pure fun of it. Keyshi’s assignment was to level the ant’s hills with a sharp blast of warm wind, then wait patiently while the ants frantically, yet harmoniously, worked to rebuild their mound - only to have Keyshi blow it down again and again and again in an attempt to frustrate the ants into ultimately giving up.
At first Keyshi was delighted by the practicum. However, the ants’ undaunted persistence and un-wavering, steadfast inclination to rebuild their dwelling, no matt
er how many times it was destroyed, had given the little breeze a deep sense of admiration for the tiny critters.
For that reason Keyshi didn’t immediately set out to destroy these unusually large mounds. Instead, it decided to investigate the tendencies of their inhabitants before toying with their tenacity.
To Keyshi’s delight, the mounds did turn out to be dwellings, but not of giant ants. Inside each of these dwellings, reclined the relatively large, virtually hairless bio-creature who, being totally vulnerable to even the least clever teases, could only be the mythological bio-creatures called humans.
The discovery so elated Keyshi, it dashed into a large clearing between the dwellings, and gleefully swirled fifty feet into the air, showering sand everywhere. Then, to top off its celebration, it dashed in and out of twenty or more huts, prankishly, sprinkling sand on tables, counter tops and window sills.
The ways of humans, at least in myth, were not completely unknown to Keyshi. In prep-training it had heard the many fables of these hapless bio-creatures. In fact, they were the favorite targets in the best tales of the most tormenting pranks. For this reason, no prep-school graduate, ready to embark alone into the world, still believed such gullible bio-creatures actually existed. Yet, here they were. The old Prairie dog chief hadn’t lied after all.
Of all the tales told about sleeping humans, Keyshi liked the one in which a summer breeze came upon two humans sleeping on the same cot and sharing the same cover. It would patiently wait until the victims, er, subjects, turned away from each other, leaving a slight dip in their shared cover. Then, it would carefully scoop up some sand and place it in the dip. Next, it proceeded to playfully tickle the nose of each human in unison.
If the timing was just right, as it should be, the humans would let out tremendous, simultaneous sneezes, causing a spasmodic jerk in opposite directions, snapping the cover between them taut, sending the pile of sand high into the air and scattering its grains everywhere. Just the thought of the humans having to lather up their heads each morning to remove the mysterious accumulation of grit was a special delight that any playful summer breeze could heartily relish.
It is no wonder, then, that Keyshi was extremely disappointed to find those cumbersome sacks stacked between every human couple it found sleeping on the same cot. It was its first opportunity to play the fabled trick and those dumb old sacks promised to foil the whole experience. Not one version of the prank, so far as it could remember, said anything about humans sleeping with such obstacles between them.
Keyshi was at a loss and whiffed in exasperation. Still, being true to its nature, it was eager to pursue any tactic of trickery which promised playful titillation, even if wrought through trial and error. If Keyshi was anything, it was tenacious. Through mischievous experimentation, it discovered that even a gentle ruffle of the cover would send both cot occupants into a turning and tossing fit. During which, they would frantically untie the cords drawn tightly about the sack’s open end, stick in both hands and begin to snort and mumble aloud, "One, two, three ...” even though it was quite evident, they remained in a deep state of sleep.
Keyshi found this trick most delightful, and even imagined it might one day become one of the more popular prep-school tales. However, even summer breezes can get too much of a good thing. So after playing the same prank with the same results for the twenty-fifth time, Keyshi sighed a long sigh of boredom as it sauntered down the hallway to the next sleeping room where it found the entry blocked. Being the only closed interior door it had come across piqued its curiosity. Drawing itself into a thin, flat plane, Keyshi slid beneath the obstacle.
Inside this room, it discovered a beautiful, young, female human already tossing about in a sleeping fit, mumbling words Keyshi couldn’t understand. This surprised Keyshi, for all air-beings, even little summer breezes, have the innate ability to understand all other forms of creature communication.
Although few humans would believe a prank-playing summer breeze was anything but an unconscionable whiff of malice, utterly indifferent to the travails it wrought in its wake, that wasn’t exactly true. Which may explain the unusual sensation infiltrating Keyshi’s essence as it watched the young female, and discovered itself strangely drawn to her.
Cautiously, it began to dance about her cot. Gaining courage, it ventured to caress her outstretched fingers, her long, and slender arms. Then bravely ventured to her subtle neckline, flushed cheek and raised brow which no longer furrowed in a frown as she unconsciously accepted the comforting caresses.
“Thyda," she whispered, then, fell into a deep, relaxed sleep. Keyshi didn't understand the words, but considered them an expression of gratitude.
Tender moments for a summer breeze don’t last long, however, and what it wanted now was a new and exciting target for more mischief-making. In a youthful, robust gust Keyshi flew out the female’s sleeping room window into the warm, still air of the bright, star-studded, night and darted across an open area at about five feet above the ground. As if to shake off its moment of tenderness, it whipped along at an ever increasing rate of speed until it was up to a full twenty knots, and nearly scaring itself to death.
To halt its terrifying speed, Keyshi dove straight downward with the intent of slamming into the soft, sandy earth. But to its astonishment, the ground below was suddenly no more. Instead of coming to a slamming halt, Keyshi found itself soaring faster and faster downward into the bowels of the earth.
Although surprised, Keyshi had enough conscious awareness to realize it was speeding down a deep shaft, surrounded by smooth, damp, cool stones. The further it descended the cooler the stones became, and likewise the surrounding air. This was the most frightening thing of all. For as Keyshi knew well, there is nothing more deadly to a warm, summer breeze than a cold air which robs it of its warmth. And a summer breeze without its warmth is no summer breeze at all, but merely one of the many common carcasses of unconscious gases disparagingly referred to as just plain “air”.
Further and further Keyshi descended, swiftly accelerating to an incredible thirty-five knots as surprise gave way to panic. Then, more out of instinct than thought, Keyshi began to rapidly spinning itself round and around, forcing it outer being to expand, creating a steadily increasing pressure against the cylindrical wall. It was a most primitive form of air brake to be sure, but it worked to slow its rate of descent and eventually bringing it to a complete halt.
Taking a moment to rest and assess its remaining warmth, Keyshi did a quick survey of its present environment. The smooth, damp stones encircling it, reminded Keyshi of the time it had accidentally wandered into a desert cave and found itself in the midst of a hoard of nasty, little, winged bio-creatures which inexplicably hung upside down from the ceiling while sleeping.
At first Keyshi was delighted with its serendipitous discovery. Their unusual sleeping habit promised to provide it with an innumerable variety of prankish tricks to be played. However, before Keyshi could come up with even one, a myriad of the hideous creatures screeched and leaped from their perches, flying every which way in, around and through the bewildered breeze. Their tiny, rapidly flapping wings nearly beat poor Keyshi into oblivion. It was well into the evening hours before the young prankster was able to collect the entirety of itself into a singular, conscious, connected, coordinated whole.
The cool, damp, air molecules which were diffusing throughout its essence was maing respiration most difficult. But the remembrance of the horrific event mentioned above provided Keyshi with all the impetus it needed muster the energy to twirl like a whirlwind back up through the dank, cylindrical shaft, and out into the hot, dry Nuttinnewian air. There, hovering just above the earth, some yards from the entrance to the hole, it gasped to absorb the warmth arising from the hot sand.
"That's what I get for being nice to that young, female human!" Keyshi spit out the words with the last remaining damp molecules. "I swear, if I live to be the ripe old age of five orbits, I'll never be nice to another human agai
n!
Eventually the little breeze warmed above seventy-eight degrees and began to regain its natural, mischievous curiosity. Foolishly, perhaps, it returned to the strange portal to the Underearth which had nearly devoured it and cautiously surveyed the circular portion of smooth stone which protruded about four levels above the ground.
Peering over the edge into the deep, dark, abyss, Keyshi gusted. “So that's what happened to me!" it surmised, as one who had discovered that what was once an enigma really had quite an ordinary explanation. "The ground hadn't disappeared, at all. I merely dove into a great, deep hole. The cold air rushing out of the hole sucked me down the shaft, and ... hey, wait a minute, heat rises and cold falls.” Keyshi was baffled.
Suddenly, the mystery solved was a mystery once again. The phenomenon was contrary to everything it innately knew to be true. In fact, the contradiction was so overwhelmingly unanswerable, Keyshi soon found the very thought of it boring and looked for something more entertaining to its nature.
That's when it saw an unusual object laying partially buried beneath the sand, not far from the well. It exhibited a natural, glowing light, and its shape looked very similar to one of those strange objects Keyshi had seen the sleeping humans count from their sacks.
"So some human has lost one of his precious little treasures, has he? Well, perhaps I can help him find it,” Keyshi mused, then soared high into the air, looking about in all directions. No other living creature was in sight. All of Nuttinnew was deep in restless slumber. "Ha, ha, good!" Keyshi laughed most devilishly, then began spinning about faster and faster, creating a vacuum in the center of a small vortex which quickly sucked up a bucket's worth of sand.
When it had gathered up a sufficient payload, Keyshi tightened the diameter of the vortex, forcing the sand granules up its hollow shaft, spewing them high into the air, and splaying them in all directions, as if they were shot from a cannon. Much to Keyshi’s surprise and delight, the self-perpetuated light from the object reflected its own brilliance off each grain of sand, giving to each its own unique color and brilliance as it fell gracefully back to earth. The effect was electrifying. Keyshi leaped and twirled for joy.
Pieces: Book One, The Rending Page 10