Even as she stood before them, her mantle of many pieces weighed heavily on her thin frame. Then a most malefic thought filled her mind. She commanded the others to make another human ladder, then called for Mardrith to join her and Fleetra upon the rock. Mardrith didn’t respond right away.
“Mardrith? Where are you?” Fleetra called sweetly.
Mardrith sucked in her stomach and held it firm so as not to vomit, for that is surely what she felt like doing. Then, with her bodily functions under control, she slowly stepped from her place of retreat behind Growing Rock. Following the mayor’s orders, as she had promised Fleetra she would do, she climbed the ladder with mixed emotions. It pleased her more to be near Fleetra, than it distressed her to be near Pentalope, especially when Fleetra was also near to Pentalope.
As Mardrith climbed, her thoughts bounced all about her brain. "Why is she having us both together on the rock for all to see? Is she going to announce our secret to the others? Was this to be the moment she and Fleetra had always feared most?" She felt physically and emotionally weak. As she approached Pentalope, her eyes were upon Fleetra whose face had succumbed to a nervous twitch.
"My faithful ones, I have an announcement to make before we continue the nasty business before us,” Pentalope began.
The thought to push Pentalope head first off the rock, came to Mardrith’s mind, but she figured that even if Pentalope landed head first on a large stone, and the stone would be the worst for it.
Pentalope continued. "It concerns these two females before you."
Fleetra thought of jumping off the rock head first. However as her eyes glanced over the edge, surveying the pile of jagged stones below, her mind melted into a trance.
A moment later, Mardrith grasped her hand and once again she was in the present and could hear Pentalope's words.
"I have decided to reveal to all of you something I have hitherto kept to myself.”
Mardrith and Fleetra squeezed each other’s hand as they stared into each other's eyes. The fusion of love and fear burned within their breasts, numbing their minds to the exclusion of thoughts.
"Fleetra and Mardrith are - both to be my personal assistants. Fleetra will continue to attend my specialized needs, while her - er, cousin, Mardrith, will handle those of a somewhat more mundane nature. As you’ve noted, this magnificent mantle, so beautifully adorned, is the symbol of my position and does, at times, seem to take on the weight of my responsibility, until, at times, even I am unable to bear up under it. Therefore, from this day forth, sweet young Mardrith will relieve me of this cumbersome burden so that I may dedicate my full attention to the more important matter of saving our beloved Nuttinnew.”
Pentalope turned toward the two females. She watched the fear in their eyes dissolve quickly into a measure of joint relief. As well, she caught a glimpse of something she couldn’t readily discern, but, instinctively knew she couldn’t trust. It was the look her grandmother had warned her about - the look of love. Her eyes fell to their clasped hands, causing her eyebrows to raise in a mischievous manner. Seeing her gaze, the females released each other. Then Pentalope spoke to Mardrith in a very low voice that only the two lovers could hear. Flashes of emotions filled both their faces. Fleetra’s had the look of joy, while Mardrith's displayed incredulity.
Delighted at the responses, Pentalope turned back towards the others. Her face beamed with a sardonic smirk as Fleetra and Mardrith behind her engaged in a robust exchange of mimed emotions. Finally, Mardrith forfeited the debate to Fleetra’s pleadings.
Slowly, Mardrith rolled into a kneeling position and crawled behind Pentalope on her hands and knees. Sensing her nearness, Pentalope's smile became even larger (if that was possible). She motioned for Fleetra's help and together they lifted the trailing hem of the mantle. For the sake of her love for Fleetra, Mardrith submitted to the humiliation, and with a bowed head of submission, crawled beneath it.
"Oomph!” Mardrith groaned as the weight of the mantle was lowered onto her back, causing her hands and knees to be pressed deeper into the pitted rock. Fleetra tried to adjust the mantle so Mardrith's head could somehow be exposed. But Pentalope gave it a swift jerk, re-burying Mardrith in a tomb of cloth, just as Mardrith had buried her beneath the cot cover.
The rough surface of the huge rock dug deeply into the skin on her knees, so she shifted her position to relieve the pain. This caused the weight of the mantle to pull down on Pentalope's shoulders. In response, Pentalope gave a quick kick backwards. Her heel struck Mardrith under the rib cage, just where her left tote hung suspended, knocking the wind out of her.
"Oomph!” Mardrith groaned.
Fleetra's instinct was to see if her lover was alright, but a searing backward glance from Pentalope frightened her horribly and froze her where she stood. Then, to her relief, the stern look turned slowly into an awkward smile. Fleetra relaxed slightly, and timidly smiled back. Pentalope then gave her a knowing wink and turned again toward the others.
Meanwhile, Mardrith made no more sounds or movement, so Fleetra's mind was content to believe that all was well beneath the mantle. After all, hadn't Pentalope given her a reassuring smile that it was? Why then did she feel in her heart Pentalope had made her a willing accomplice to the pain she inflicted upon her Mardrith?
Immediately, Fleetra began to mollify her anguish by convincing herself that Mardrith's given position really was as honorable as her own. And so, like so many who wish to see only good in the face of evil, Fleetra turned the situation into her own version of reality, almost convincing herself that Mardrith was actually one to be envied. Meanwhile, Pentalope had begun to speak again and something in the sound of her voice made it impossible for Fleetra to keep her own thoughts lucid.
"One of these days!” Mardrith swore in painful silence - but that day, if it was to ever come, seemed a long way off.
Pentalope's speech to her chosen ones was lengthy and loquacious. No one, including Pentalope, remembered the details. It was a political speech, after all, so it contained numerous unsubstantiated rumors, inferences and innuendos designed to instill anxiety into the hearts of the listeners and cement their minds in confusion with the usual string of vague promises, having little more than an incidental relationship to reality.
In typical constituent fashion, those gathered about Growing Rock heard only what they wanted to hear. True to their human nature, they quickly bonded into a unique, unified, social identity called “We” thriving on the notion that “We” are morally superior to those outside our group, called “Them”, whose only function in life is to corrupt “We”; therefore, “We” dwell in constant fear of “Them”, making the destruction of “Them” their sole purpose in life.
The people of the east were the "Them" they should fear, Pentalope proclaimed. For under the persuasion of their wellkeeper “Them” were scheming to seize control of the well, the only source of water. With their own ears, hadn’t they heard Loden say he would make enormous reservoirs to store large quantities of excess water? And just where did he plan to get all this water? Why, from the rations of the people of the west obviously. Under his leadership, the people of the west would be desiccated. Their sucklings would die from a lack of nourishment when their mother’s dried up totes dangled from their chests as useless flaps of excess skin.
Having gotten their full attention, and bringing forth the desired emotional response, Pentalope went onto explain how she, as mayor, was determined to save their little town of Nuttinnew from this unconscionable evil. Further, she explained how their first task would be to alert the people of western Nuttinnew of the imminent danger about to befall them. It was their responsibility to insure all the people of the west rallied behind her leadership in order to thwart this diabolical eastern scheme. She reminded them that they were her chosen ones, her ambassadors, and would, naturally, be rewarded for their efforts in ways they would find most gratifying.
Pentalope knew she didn’t have to specify what exactly these ways wo
uld be. She allowed their own greed and lustful imaginations to create in their minds the desired rewards which would motivate them to wholeheartedly respond to her bidding.
There was one final point to her speech in which she gave them the opportunity to prove their love for Nuttinnew and their devotion to the cause for which she was personally willing to sacrifice all - and she did mean all.
“The power of the proof is in the parting of the pieces!” she announced and ordered them to relinquish all of their most precious pieces by laying them at the foot of Growing Rock. "Which means more to you, these strange foreign objects that, until recently, you’ve lived your entire lives without, or our future and the future our children and our beloved little town of Nuttinnew, without which we would have no lives at all?" Her voice quaked with emotion.
With much difficulty each teary-eyed couple took their turn approaching the foot of Growing Rock and ceremoniously laying down their sacks of treasured pieces. It was a most difficult task to be sure. For in the short span since their arrival, they had become most precious to them. Still, one is apt to risk all, if the reward is perceived to be of far greater value than the sacrifice demanded to obtain it.
"Yes, yes! I have you. You poor, pathetic creatures. You are mine, and you are just the first,” Pentalope rejoiced in the darkest recesses of her heart.
Before she disbanded the assembly to issue the fear, er, alarm among the rest of the people of the west, Pentalope decided it would be unwise to leave the sacks of pieces laying about to tempt and distract the weaker members of the community from paying full attention to the crisis at hand. She ordered the sacks to be gathered up and temporarily stored in Fleetra's hut until a more suitable place, perhaps Center House, could be arranged for.
In return for their sacrificial pledges and as a sign of their new position in the community, Pentalope had Fleetra remove twelve pieces from the hem of her mantle “Each of you will wear one of these pieces on your crown, symbolizing your authority over the rest of the people,” she told them. “And of my authority over you,” she thought, then turned back to the pair. "Fleetra, I'm afraid we don't have much time for you to make elaborate crowns. Surely, you have more of those darling little head bands lying around your hut. They do look so cute on you and Mardrith."
"Blast!” Mardrith cursed beneath the mantle . "She did see us in bed together!" Fleetra had designed the head bands to keep perspiration from running down their faces during their most intimate moments on the hot Nuttinnewian nights. Until that moment the headbands had been a secret between the two private lovers.
Pentalope personally supervised the storing of the pieces in Fleetra's sleeping room which she knew was hardly ever used. Meanwhile, Fleetra began to sew the crown pieces onto quickly created headbands. The thought of someone else taking one which either she or Mardrith had actually worn during loving-making was too much even for Fleetra.
However, the singular crowns had a tendency to flop about in a rather silly fashion. Besides, they proved to be too much of a nuisance in performing even the most rudimentary of activities. Eventually, Pentalope ordered the individual pieces to be sewn onto the ambassadors’ pullovers, on the left side, just over their hearts.
After the sacks of pieces were stowed away and the ambassadors were properly adorned with their badges of authority, Pentalope sent them out to gather the rest of the people of the west to the vicinity of Growing Rock which lay at the outermost region of the western huts.
"What a grand and glorious morning this has been,” Pentalope chirped with glee, as she undid the clasp on her mantle and let it fall upon Mardrith, who, through it all, had dutifully continued crawling behind her, in her crouched position, with the weight of the mantle on her back.
"Oomph!" The sudden avalanche of weight nearly knocked the wind out of her. Then, in an instant, the weight was strangely gone.
When Mardrith worked her head out from beneath the mantle, she saw Pentalope kicking off her sandals while lying on Fleetra's bed. With a “swoosh”, Fleetra had gathered up the mantle and was preparing to replace the pieces she had removed earlier.
"Oh, my feet are so tired and sore,” Pentalope moaned. "The weight of my responsibility has worn them to the knobs. Mardrith, be a dear and rub some veget ointment on them for me. I have so much more to accomplish this morning.”
Mardrith looked at the abrasions on her own hands and knees, which were in dire need of their own soothing.
"Blasted, hagg!” Mardrith cursed as she darted an angry glance toward Fleetra who was busily sewing at the small table in the corner of the room.
Fleetra had a hurt, confused look on her face. "The mayor always asked me to do that for her. Why has she chosen Mardrith over me, now?” Fleetra felt deeply wounded, but she could escape almost any reality through denial, so Mardrith wasn’t aware of her pain. Pentalope, on the other hand, was acutely aware of it, and that knowledge, more than the soothing foot rub, spread the look of pleasure across her thin, hollow face.
***** ***** *****
Pentalope Pulpitt wasn’t the only one active in divisive activity that morning. Before the dawn broke, the small group of eastern rebels had gathered in Loden's hut and waited to receive their assignments for the day's activities. For all of them it was a moment of truth. If they couldn’t rally the people of the east to their cause, their cause would be lost, and they too, would be branded traitors and cast out along with Loden.
As they engaged in disquieted conversation among themselves, there was a light knock on the hut door. One, followed by a long pause, two, followed by short pauses, then two, with a long pause in between each. After the door was opened by one of the rebels, a slightly built figure entered and paused as if scanning the room for someone. It was difficult to know for sure, because a deep, dark hood covered the head, cloaking the entire face from view.
Without acknowledging anyone in the crowded room, the hooded figure walked silently to a dark, shadowy corner of the room as all eyes watched, but no mouth spoke. After making itself comfortable, the hooded figure remained still, as was its custom, and soon, the attention of the others fell back into their exchange of worrisome words.
"Should have been here by now. Something’s wrong,” Joudliér grumbled.
"If anything happened to Loden, the Hooded One would have told us so,” countered another rebel. All eyes turned once again toward the silent figure barely visible in the shadows of the room.
"Well, anything to it, shadow fellow? Can’t talk? You’ll talk!” Joudliér growled, as he lunged toward the dark corner.
"Now, you’d better stop right there and leave him be, if you don’t want your rod bent by Loden, himself. You know his orders. So, you’d better just let that fellow be,” warned Old Sledge, a male several years older than the other rebels. Although old age was not necessarily revered in Nuttinnew, to Loden he was a wise and trusted friend, which afforded him some measure of respect among the younger rebels. But even more, he looked as tough and as weatherbeaten as Growing Rock, so no one had a mind to find out just how tough he really was.
"Umph!” Joudier grumbled, as he diverted his path away from the silent one, turning instead toward the short male standing at the eating room sink basin. "Not ready yet? I’m parched! Can hardly say a word,” he roared at the little fellow.
"That'll be the day!” Dampy quipped with a chuckle. Joudier snarled at him for a moment, but it soon spread into a broad smile which filled his face.
"That'll be the day, indeed,” he echoed and broke into a vigorous laugh in which they all joined - all but the Hooded One sitting in the shadows.
***** ***** *****
"My thought was to cool him down,” Keyshi heard CB say to Wudrick when they had met together in Center House. Immediately it danced about the room with great excitement. Drapes and covers fluttered in its wake, but the two males paid it no mind.
"Cool? Cool? I know where there is an abundance of cool. Down in that horrible hole in the ground. It must be n
ear a gate to Underearth, home of the Creator of Everything. That’s why its so cold down there. It’s being guarded by a one of those icy Gatekeepers. If that creature ever found its way Upperearth, these humans would know cold like they’d never want to know cold again - if I'm any judge of these warm-blooded creatures."
Like some humans, summer breezes believe in a life after death. There must be such an existence, they reasoned, otherwise this life wouldn't make any sense at all. And, like humans, they believe that after this life, one went to either one of two places. One was an amazing place, high in the sky and as hot as the sun, where a summer breeze would have all the energy it would ever need to spend all eternity devising and executing marvelously elaborate pranks on all species of unsuspecting life forms, for whom this same place would be considered hell.
To get to this place one had to be a masterful prank puller without ever maliciously hurting another living entity to the first degree.
Now, no summer breeze knew exactly what "hurting to the first degree" was, so they all made it a general rule to never linger long after pulling a major prank, figuring if they had no knowledge that their prank had severely hurt another life form to such a degree, they would surely be found innocent of malicious intent and therefore absolved from all guilt.
For to perform such an act with malicious intent was how one ended up in the other place, a place just below the surface of the earth, where the air was dank and cold. So cold, in fact, it would be forced to hover about endlessly, unable to ever again play a prank on some other poor unsuspecting living creature. For a little summer breeze it was the most horrible torment imaginable - a true hell.
For the people of Nuttinnew, who practically worshiped the cool shade of a winter rain cloud, the good place (heaven) was a glorious place high in the sky where it was always cool and nobody ever had to do anything at all except to lie around and sing songs. They had no concept of a bad place in the afterlife. The only one's who would ever have to go to such a place, if it did exist, would be people who had been banished for treason, So, one might argue, if such a bad place (hell) did exist, it most certainly must exist in this life, somewhere beyond the rolling hills in the region known as Nocomeback. In truth, no one ever considered seriously what happened to someone after they were banished to Nocomback. Many figured they just roamed about beyond the vast rolling hills under the hot, summer sun forever. Others - loved ones of the offenders - hoped they perished quickly and painlessly in the severe heat.
Pieces: Book One, The Rending Page 27