When Keyshi was in the well with Brindle, it had been acutely aware of another imposing presence just beyond the grotesque stone mask. One of the first things a little summer breeze is taught, is to always stay close to the earth’s sun-warmed surface and to never, never venture into pits, caves, deep crevices, or holes. These, it was explained, were the gateways which entered into the horribly cold underworld of the Center of Everything, and each gateway was dutifully guarded by dreadful ice creatures which kept out the now-living while keeping in the after-living. The latter taking up most of their time and energy, for few cared to enter their realm, but all who did most earnestly desired to leave it.
"If only I could get that Gatekeeper to come to the surface, surely it would provide enough cold to save the young human male. It might even make it snow, providing water for all the humans.” Keyshi had wandered about the human dwellings long enough to realize the inhabitants were extremely anxious for the coming of the autumn rains. For water, which these creatures depended upon to survive, was an obvious scarcity. Although, Keyshi had never actually seen snow, it had learned from Old Tonc that it was white and very cold, but when warmed by the sun, it turned into ordinary water - the essence of all bio-creatures.
Keyshi raced about the open area between the well and Center House. It watched as the wellkeeper bundled the female human in his arms. He remembered his promise to the old northern wind and wondered if helping the female human had fulfilled it.
"Old Tonc,” Keyshi mused, "you made me promise to help humans. Well, I helped that female in the well this morning. I might even have saved her life. Now, see where that’s gotten me? Now, I’m thinking of pulling some bizarre prank to trick a ferocious, icy Underearthing to the surface of the earth. A prank that may well cost me my own existence. Is that what you wanted? Did you expect me to die trying to fulfill that silly promise I made to you?” Keyshi quivered at the thought.
That very moment the short, round human from the two story dwelling dashed up, felt the young female’s forehead, then dashed back to the big house. The other fellow, the one with the idea of cooling the fever, slowly approached the well, after the others disappeared indoors. The male, who the others called CB, peeked over the well rim. His body jerked back and stiffened as his fingernails dug into the cracks between the stones.
"Yes! Yes!” Keyshi screamed in his best human impersonation. "The cold you seek is in the depth of the hole."
The male shook his head and brushed his ear against his shoulder as if to deter a veget gnat from taking up residency therein.
"Don't go away. I'll show you,” Keyshi shouted. Not waiting to see if the human understood, the little breeze dove over CB’s shoulder and raced down the dark, foreboding shaft toward the one hundredth level.
CB didn't understand Keyshi, but the movement over his shoulder made him feel as if he were falling into the well. He quickly jumped back and retreated to Bourg's hut to check on the young male's condition.
As Keyshi descended the shaft, it could feel the air get cooler and itself get weaker. It knew it wasn’t ready yet to carry out the task ahead. It needed more warmth: first, to stay alive in the bitter, cold depths of the well; second, so it could definitely annoy the freezing Gatekeeper, guarding the gate to Underearth.
About the seventieth stone level, Keyshi turned around and ascended the well. It didn’t take long for Keyshi to forget its original mission as it, once again, mingled with the delightfully warmer surface air. Then remembering, it looked about the well, but discovered the one called CB was nowhere to be seen.
"Humans! Huh, I'll never in my life understand them. Here I am risking my very own being to save one of them, and they can't even wait around to appreciate my sacrifice. Well, I've got no time to dawdle. The sun will be well over the horizon soon. I imagine a Gatekeeper stays as far away from the sun as it possibly can. It’s probably no happier about that hole in the earth than I was.”
With that thought, Keyshi dashed off toward the rising sun to gather all the warmth it could for the dangerous mission ahead which it had created for itself. As it did, it had no way of knowing what a decisive role it would play in the lives of all the humans in the little town of Nuttinnew.
Chapter 11
As Loden opened the door to his hut, an odor of stale, pungent air filled his nostrils. Immediately, Old Sledge rushed to the doorway and surveyed the horizon. Satisfied all was as it should be, he began swinging the hut door back and forth in an effort to exchange good air for bad. Again, satisfied, he closed the door and took his position with the others cloistered in the eating room.
"Fellow rebels,” Loden greeted his associates as Dampy handed him a freshly made cup of veget juice. "To the just cause - rebellion,” he toasted, swigged down two large gulps, then leaned back casually against the eating room counter in a half sitting position.
Looking about the dimly lit room at those gathered, his eyes fixed on the shadow at the far corner of the room near the fireplace. As his eyes focused he could see a rolled up piece of veget paper poking out from a full-length sleeve. Loden made a gesture to Old Sledge, who quickly retrieved the paper from the Hooded One and delivered it to Loden. The rebel leader unrolled it slowly, as if it were something fragile and precious, then silently studied the text written on it.
Neither joy, nor sadness formed his expression. Neither hope, nor despair wrinkled the lines on his face. It was as if destiny was in full control. There was no compulsion for human emotion, as he handed the paper back to Old Sledge. Or when, without a word, went into his sleeping room and closed the door.
For a long while, all eyes stared at the closed door. No one spoke, until Old Sledge nervously cleared his voice and began to read the words written on the paper. "(Ahem) Fellow rebels, we are united here, driven by Fate, in the common goal of a better Nuttinnew, to this, the hour of our destiny.”
"Veget's sake! Cut the puff!” Joudier roared. “Don’t even know what you said. Doubt you do either. Some people....”
"Some people,” Dampy interjected, as he bent down in front of the Hooded One, "try to be so smart they might as well be stupid for all the good they do anyone else." A broad false smile stretched across his countenance as he peered into the blackness within the hood where a face should be. The Hooded One didn’t move, but something told Dampy he had wounded the pride of the stoic stranger, be it ever so slightly.
"Oh, alright. Let's see, ah, 'place in history ... monumental task ... er, shining lights in the dark....'"
"Does it ever get to the point? No wonder Loden went in to lie down after reading all that gobbligook. Hearing parts of it is giving me a headache.” Joudier couldn't constrain himself. The others grumbled in agreement.
"Alright, alright, here, here’s something. Okay, everyone listen up now,” Old Sledge continued.
“‘If our mission is to be successful, we must rally all the people of the east behind our leader, Loden Sknett. To do this we must point out that the real traitor to the future of Nuttinnew is not he, who is for a better way of life for everyone; but she, who falsely claims to govern over us all, Pentalope Pulpitt.’”
“‘We must, indeed it is our duty, to stress that she does not have the best interests of the people of the east in mind. For although it is true that she was eastern born and raised, she has long ago severed all ties with us and has preferred to spend her life in the sole company of the people of the west when not in isolation at Center House.’”
“‘As evidence, she regularly attends a spa in the west. Her housekeeper is a westerner! Even her husband, although a fine and intelligent male, also come out of the west! If she is so attached to the west, let her be their mayor. However, since she has so detached herself from her eastern roots, let her no longer be our leader and meddle into our affairs.’”
“‘See how she has harangued our estimable wellkeeper. If she had her way, he would have been cast out of Nuttinnew yesterday, and without a doubt she will try again today. If she succeeds, who a
mong us would rise up to take his place? Who would draw our water from the well for us - the western wellkeeper? I think not! Hasn’t he already declared his loyalty to the mayor?’”
Old Sledge paused to catch his breath and moisten his throat with a sip of veget juice from the cup Dampy handed him. Refreshed, he continued with renewed vigor.
“‘You can bet a month’s harvest, the people of the west will get their full rations of water. While we, here in the east, will be prying our tongues from the roofs of our mouths. And what about our children? Are they to die of thirst so this self-indulgent female may glory in her own delusion of self-importance? Must every eastern mother watch her suckling perish at her barren nipple, because her dried up totes are hanging from her chest like the shriveled pods of a parched veget plant?’”
Old Sledge paused just long enough to take another quick gulp of veget juice, then continued all the more robustly.
“‘No, no, no! That isn’t how our future shall be. We must act now, together, to save ourselves - to save us all - before it is too late. This is our time of truth. If we fail to band together behind our courageous leader, we might as well cast our babies into the well this very day and save them the bitter cruelty of a slow, agonizing death.’”
"Yeah! Yeah! More like it!” Joudier roared. The others followed suit and let out a volley of spontaneous cheers. Even Old Sledge's hands were trembling, and his voice choked with emotion as he read the last few lines. This time it took two swigs of veget juice and a much longer pause before he motioned for the others to be quiet. There was more.
“Alright, alright, quiet! Some sort of song or poem. Let's see:
‘Down with the mayor.
We don't care.
It’s the people of the West
She likes the best.
Down with the mayor.
We don't care.
To the people of the East
She’s just a beast.
Down with the mayor.
She'll steal our waters,
Murder our sons
Enslave daughters.’”
By the time Old Sledge got to the last line, they had naturally taken on the form of a rhythmic chant. The room was suspended in a synergistic silence, as each heart-rooted tongue lay twisted and numb in the caustic revelation of a terrible truth.
Then a soft, gravelly voice took up the chant: "Down with the mayor. We don’t care. People in the . . . .” One by one, each rebel’s tongue quickened to the sound. Soon, all had joined in with a whisper which gradually grew to a hushed roar as they repeated the chant over and over.
Adrenaline raced through their veins, pumping courage into their hearts and causticity to their minds. Their enemy now had a face to be scorned and a persona to be mocked. Vows and curses alike were flamboyantly bantered about in the name of the rebellion, spawning some of the vilest epithets ever regurgitated by one Nuttinnewian upon another, as the younger rebels, spewed forth their venomous anger upon the one who had come to symbolize all they despised about their own short lives.
"It is time to take our cause to the people,” Old Sledge shouted. The others cheered. Joudier, the most frenzied of them all, bound through the hut door, nearly tearing it from its hinges. The others poured out of the hut behind him as a single frenzied hoard, which immediately swarmed upon the nearest hut to spread their urgent message of rebellion, nearly scaring its inhabitants half to death. With the help of some of the older rebels, Old Sledge was eventually able to gather them back into Loden’s hut and get them settled down enough to show them a map, which had been drawn on the back of the sheet retrieved from the Hooded One. It delineated the many eastern huts, marking them off in quadrants. Teams of two were selected to visit only those huts in their section of the map. It was an excellent plan and well thought out. However, the rebel force was still high on passion and with map in hand everyone still went wherever he darn well pleased.
Still, by sunup, every eastern hut had been visited at least once, and as the sun cleared the highest mounds of the rolling hills, the people of the east had already begun gathering at the well.
The Hooded One watched the mayhem and the eventual migration to the well through the open hut door. Sensing the time was right, the mysterious figure approached Loden's sleeping room door and knocked.
"Come in,” Loden called in a voice that sounded more weary than rested. The Hooded One slowly opened the door, stepped inside, then closed the door.
"It's almost time. The people beginning to gather at the well. Pentalope hasn't made her move toward the well, yet. She and a dozen others have been meeting at Growing Rock since early this morning. I’m not sure what they’re up too.”
"Ah, my shrouded ally, this is a most difficult time. Why does it have to be so hard - so destructive? Why can't everyone else see what you and I see so plainly?"
The Hooded One didn’t reply, but retrieved several sheets of paper from beneath the long, hooded robe. Loden acknowledged that he knew what they were. He gestured for the Hooded One to place them on the small table next to the sleeping room door.
"Yes, my friend. It’s time for me to see if our small band of rebels have been successful in saving my skin, as well as their own. What do you think? Will the people of the east stand with us or will they side with the mayor and send me into oblivion? No, don't answer! The truth awaits us just outside the door. I suppose you’re in a hurry to go and prepare for the confrontation yourself. So, not knowing how this day is going to end, let me now thank you whole-heartedly for your immeasurable help. I'm only sorry you have to remain shrouded beneath that hood. The others don't know what to make of you, that’s for sure. Still, I'm sure, if we’re successful today, they’ll realize how much of that success they owe to you.”
Although Loden couldn’t see into the face within the hooded shadows, he was pretty sure he sensed an “I doubt that” expression. “Well, anyway I thank you, deeply. Now, if you would be so kind to leave me to my own thoughts for just a few more moments before I do what must be done.”
"It’s been my pleasure to be of service to you. And know that whatever contribution I have made in this cause for which you, and your loyal rebels are willing to sacrifice all, it has been my greatest honor to be a precipitating force in this historical event - no matter the outcome."
Before Loden could respond, the Hooded One had vanished out of the room, out of the hut, and into the crowd filing past on their way to the well with their ration buckets in hand.
***** ***** *****
"Mayor! Mayor!” the excited, dual voices of one of the ambassador couples filled the air as they burst into the room. "The people of the east are gathering at the well. They're making quite a commotion - talking and grumbling - and - and singing,” the male announced.
"Singing?” Pentalope barked. “And just what are they singing?"
"Er, well, it’s about you, mayor,” he answered as he cowered slightly behind his wife.
"Oh really? How flattering. And just what does their song have to say about me?” Pentalope asked rather pleasantly, half convinced they might actually be singing words of praise and adulation.
"Well, uh, I, uh, my, that is my, uh, hearing's not so good right now - touch of early pollen, I suppose. But, but my wife's got a good ear for such things. Tell the mayor, dear. Tell her what the people of the east are singing about our beloved leader." The husband nudged his poor, equally frightened wife toward Pentalope, who was still sitting on the cot with Mardrith at her feet.
Mardrith had instinctively begun to jump up when the couple first barged in. However, Pentalope had rested her foot in the crevice of the young female's neck and shoulder, keeping her on her knees.
Mardrith felt as humiliated as Pentalope hoped she would. Twisting her head defiantly upward, she first glared at Pentalope, who ignored her, then at Fleetra, whose only response was a vague smile of indifference. Feeling despised and deserted, Mardrith buried her face against the very hands with which she had been massagin
g Pentalope’s feet.
"Well, Gloma, since your husband has mysteriously contracted a spring disease at the end of summer, perhaps it is up to you to inform me what the people of the east are singing about me."
"Oh, golly, ma'am, it isn't nice at all - what they're saying,” the young female blurted out, honestly. Then realizing what she had said, she added, “but, I - I'm sure they really don’t mean anything by it, not at all. It's like a child’s rhyme, you know? I mean, it's really just a harmless string of words they couldn't possibly....”
“Oh for Veget's sake, I could have gone out, listened for myself and been back by now,” Pentalope roared, jerking her foot from Mardrith's shoulder, nearly knocking her over, as she jumped up. "But I haven’t time to do everything myself. So, tell me - tell me what they’re saying about me! Or so help me I’ll...!”
Now, Gloma was too afraid not to tell. "They say you don't care about them, the people of the east. They say you only care about us, the people of the west, I mean, and that you plan to steal their water and - and - kill their babies!” poor Gloma blurted out the words, then broke into an apologetic sob. "Oh, I'm sorry, Lord Mayor. I'm so sorry, I - ooh, hoo, hoo....” Bawling now, she turned to her husband for comfort, but the male hesitated to embrace her, fearing the mayor's response.
To everyone’s surprise, however, Pentalope didn’t act at all upset. In fact, she looked rather pleased with the answer, as if it was really the one she desired, or at least expected, to hear. A broad satirical smile filled her face as she slowly sat back down on the cot.
Pieces: Book One, The Rending Page 28