The young couple sighed their relief and the male embraced his wife, who stifled her sobs on the sleeve of his pullover. Both pulled their faces into nervous smiles, as people are apt to do when an impending doom has passed by, leaving them none the worse for it.
But before anyone had much of a chance to breathe easy, the mayor suddenly jumped to her feet, startling them all. "Fleetra, my mantle, my crown. Hurry!” she urgently commanded. “Are all the westerners gathered at Growing Rock, yet?"
"Most of them!" the male ambassador exclaimed, overwhelmed by a sudden sense of urgency.
"Good! Now, you two, go - join them, quickly. I would thank you for your report, but I’m sure that just knowing you’re doing your job is gratification enough. Isn’t that so.” It didn’t sound like a question.
Pentalope stepped closer to the couple as Fleetra draped the mantle about her bony shoulders. "I trust you will report to me anytime you hear anyone say anything about me.” She bent towards them, placing her head uncomfortably close between them, and whispered in an unsettling voice, just loud enough for each to hear. “And I do mean by anyone - anytime - anything."
"Oh, yes, yes, ma'am, you can be sure of that ma'am. Why, we'll dash right to you, if we hear anything, anything at all said against your fine person.”
"By anyone,” Pentalope reiterated.
"Er, yes mayor, by anyone, even our own mothers. We swear!" the young, childless ambassadors swore an oath.
"Good. Now begone and tell the others I’ll be at the Rock, shortly. I want every westerner there when I arrive. You do understand me - everyone?"
"Yes, mayor. Yes, lord, everyone, indeed, will be there. We'll go and inform the others, right now. We'll go tell....”
"Will you just be gone!” Pentalope screamed and the couple bolted out of the hut quicker than they had burst in. Fleetra began to fit the crown on Pentalope's head. "This mantle is so heavy. Mardrith, be a dear, and assume your attendant’s position,” Pentalope said in a sickly, sweet voice. Without looking up Mardrith, let out a low, repressed groan and took her position beneath the mantle.
Fleetra looked at the sweet expression on the mayor’s face and knew she surely meant Mardrith no harm.
***** ***** *****
The sun had risen well above the rolling hills when Pentalope finished her rousing speech at Growing Rock, inciting the people of the west into an angry hoard, which she then led to the well. There, the people of the east, who had also been incited to anger by the rebels earlier that morning, watched them approach. Although there was much mumbling and grumbling, few verbal sentiments were actually exchanged between the two opposing masses.
For the most part, the people were too concerned about their personal collection of pieces to desire any physical confrontation which would require them to set their sacks aside. Still, their fear and anger were real enough, for the faces of friends, neighbors and relatives went unrecognized, as all they could see was the cruel, hateful expressions of the enemy - “Them”.
Loden instructed his fellow rebels to have the people of the east form a human wall, several families deep, to the north and to the south of the well. He was deeply concerned they had not received their rations yet, but hoped the sheer mass of the people of the east who stood with him, would intimidate the people of the west to reconsider their willingness to support their mayor in a takeover of the well. After all, weren't these their relatives, friends, and fellow Nuttinnewians?
In truth, most Westerners wanted to just turn around and go back to their huts. And they would have, if their leader were anyone other than the tenaciously domineering Pentalope Pulpitt, who had anticipated their natural human instincts, and made sure ten of her ambassadors were dispersed among them, to continue to disseminate and reinforce her inciting rhetoric.
She knew if just one person in the mass broke rank, chances were, they all would. Ten ambassadors among hundreds of people, wouldn’t seem to have much effect. But if they espoused a seemingly clear objective, surely the ignorant, confused masses would be inclined, indeed, obligated, to follow their persuasion - or so she hoped.
The progression to the well was cumbersome and undisciplined, not nearly the exhibition of unity Pentalope had hoped for. Ahead, she saw Loden, standing defiantly on the well rim with his fists pressed into his hips and his feet planted firmly apart on the smooth well-stones - mocking her authority.
It was immediately obvious that Loden had not spent the night twiddling veggie sticks. He and his rebel cohorts had been quite active. Pentalope had to admit, to herself, that the eastern array was most impressive - so orderly, compared to the angry, confused, and frightened western mob, bumbling along behind her. She would not forget how the people of the west had let her down this day. But neither was she going to allow their ineptitude to stop her from fulfilling her destiny. Onward, she trudged with poor Mardrith struggling along behind her.
***** ***** *****
"Oh, do come along, Mardrith!” Pentalope scolded, while giving a tug on the mantle which had become even more uncomfortable as they drew nearer to the well. Not only did the weight of the mantle irritate her, but there was a constant tug of resistance from behind, pulling against her every move. This, of course, was caused by Mardrith, who was not only a reluctant assistant, but the one who was carrying the brunt of the mantle’s weight.
Early on she had discovered her crawl speed was no match for Pentalope’s long swift and lengthy stride, so Pentalope gave her permission to crouch in a position in which her head was no higher than the mayor’s mid-back. It was an awkward position, but more, it proved extremely painful as the increasing weight of the mantle pressed down upon Mardrith’s hunched back.
When Pentalope finally halted and gave no indication of moving soon, Mardrith fell to her knees and peered between Pentalope’s legs. Directly ahead, she could see the curved stones of the well. Many voices filled the air, but being painfully exhausted, she paid little attention to what they were saying.
***** ***** *****
"What's all the commotion out there?” CB asked, as he wiped the perspiration from Tyter's face.
"The end of whatever once was,” Wudrick solemnly replied.
"What?” CB asked looking up at Wudrick who was leaning over Tyter to peer out of the hut window.
"The people of the east have gathered at the well. They’re stretched northward about half way to Center House, and nearly the same distance to the south."
"What are they doing?"
"They're looking our way."
"What?"
"Don't be alarmed. I have a feeling they're looking beyond us to someone approaching from behind, and you can bet it’s got something to do with my wife,” Wudrick groaned. Pushing himself back from the window, his leg bumped against Tyter's cot, triggering the youth into convulsions. CB grabbed Tyter by the shoulders in an attempt to keep him from thrashing off the cot.
"We've got to do something - now!” CB cried. “I don't know how much more of this the lad can take. I don't know how much more I can take."
Wudrick looked down at the caretender, who appeared old beyond his years, as his once taut skin now marred with furrows from years of stress and worry, channeled streams of glistening tears around his cheeks.
"I think your idea will work,” Wudrick announced, but not just to console the caretender. He really believed it.
"What? What do you mean?"
"I mean, I think your idea of cooling the lad to bring down his fever will work."
"But how? How can we...?”
"That part I'm not so sure of. I did notice, however, that when that young female was pulled from the well earlier this morning, she was cold and shivering. That means there is some deep source of cold down there which can be brought to the surface, as witnessed by the female’s clammy skin.”
"Well, sure, the well water we get in our rations is cool, but I can 't see that it’s cold enough to bring down the lad’s fever at any rate. Besides, no sooner is it out of th
e well, than it’s warmed to surface air.
"Then we’ll just have to lower this young fellow back down inside the well, and....”
"What? Back down the well? Have you lost your rod? Should we drown him in the attempt to save his life?” CB couldn't believe his ears. Was this the best, the male his father had so admired, could come up with?
"I know it is dangerous, but do we - does the lad, have anything to lose in the attempt?” Wudrick offered flatly. These words so flabbergasted CB, he couldn't even respond, as Wudrick continued. "I just wish I knew more about what is down their. Since the lad here can't tell me himself, I'll just have to find out from that female who took his place in the well this morning." Wudrick again bent over Tyter to look out the window. He surveyed the line of people at the well. He didn't see the young female. Possibly she was in her hut recuperating from the morning ordeal.
Wudrick was fairly sure she lived in the first hut to the east of the well: the one traditionally reserved for the eastern wellkeeper. He looked over his shoulder at Tyter, who had finally fallen into relative calm, and made up his mind. He would approach the young female and discover whatever he could about the innards of the well.
"I'll be back - soon,” he told CB, then quickly left the hut and moved as swiftly as he could across the open area toward Center House. Although all eyes were aimed towards him, they seemed to look straight through him. "Being invisible can have its advantages,” he mused as he made his way up the porch steps.
Inside Center House, Wudrick paused and looked through the sitting room window at the well gathering. The people of the west were trailing behind his wife (as predicted). Soon, the whole of Nuttinnew would be gathered there for her expected final confrontation with the eastern wellkeeper. Under such conditions how would he ever get the sick youth into the well? That was a row he’d have to harvest when he got to it. Right now he needed more assurance there was enough cold in the depth of the well to perform the experiment. To do this he would first need to talk to the young female wellwalker.
Over the years, Wudrick had seen Brindle many times at the well collecting rations with her parents, but he really didn't know her. He’d also heard some gossip about her, but for the life of him, he couldn't remember what is was.
Leaving the sitting room, Wudrick raced out the back door, and moving in a wide half-circle made his way behind those gathered at the well. By now the hoard of the west had arrived and Pentalope was ordering her ambassadors to disperse the people in a long line to the north and south of the well, just like the people of the east. But all in all, the Western effort was nothing short of an embarrassing disarray.
Unnoticed, Wudrick made his way to the hut where he expected to find the female wellwalker. With the first knock, he discovered the door wasn’t locked. Looking around to see if anyone was watching, he gave the door a slight nudge, as if by accident. Slowly it swung open, giving off a long high pitched squeal. Wudrick cringed and looked around again. Still, no one was in sight. The eastern rebels had done a thorough job of getting everyone to the well that morning.
Leaning forward into the hut, Wudrick surveyed the eating room. He didn't see anyone. "Hello,” he faintly called. Shivers possessed his entire body. Sollie was the spy, not him. He placed his hand over his heart as if to muffle the loud pounding. Slowly, he stepped inside and again weakly called. "He - hello, is anybody here?" Still, there was no answer.
Cautiously, he made his way through the eating room to the hall which led to the sleeping rooms. The door to the first room was shut. He listened, but heard no sounds from within. Sucking in a breath of courage, he ventured down the short hall past the privy, which also proved to be empty. The door to the sleeping room at the far end of the hall was wide open. Clothing and other sundry items were strewn about the room. Wudrick deduced this was the parent’s sleeping room, for no parent would allow their child to leave their own room so disheveled.
This meant, the sleeping room with the shut door belonged to the young female. However, knowledge doesn’t necessarily bring action, so, Wudrick, the scientist, paused nervously in the hall, mentally calculating his next move, for at that very moment the mystery beyond the closed door was as elusive as the mystery of the well. His thoughts led to embarrassment which overshadowed all logical analysis. What if the young female's parents should walk in and find him lurking about their daughter’s sleeping room door? What would they think? What could they think?
Wudrick's heart pounded even harder, if that were possible. The only other sound filling his ears was the rumbling of distant human voices at the well. The low rush of growls and grumbling filled the air, making it thick and sticky, like a pot of overcooked veget mush. In this fearful moment, Wudrick was convinced he had embarked on a most foolish and futile undertaking. There were far too many unknowns and even the knowns seemed stacked against the plan’s success.
He had half a mind to sneak back to Center House and hide away in his secret room where he could attend to those private matters for which he felt better suited. Let his wife and the people at the well do what they must. Besides, the lad’s life was in Fate’s hands and he had no business trying to change the natural order of things. What difference did any of it make to him, so long as he could continue his research of the Ancients?
If Pentalope won he would still have the secret room in Center House and a wife who preferred he stay locked away in it as much as possible anyway. If Loden won, he would still have access to the treasures in the room, for Loden was keenly interested in what the ancient writings had to say, if for no other reason than to show them off as a shining example of past failure and doom for not being pliant enough to change. There was only one thing wrong with this conclusion: the young male wellwalker would surely die by the hand of Fate, and he was sure he knew how to prevent it.
As a scientist, Wudrick had only one major flaw. When his conscience nagged him, it was always in the voice of CB’s father, who had so strongly believed in him, and gave him the courage to believe in himself. Sucking in another deep breath, he reached out his hand, took hold of the handle and swung the door open. There on the cot before him lay the beautiful young female, naked from the waist up and sleeping soundly. Wudrick was too captivated by the sight to feel embarrassed.
As the young female’s chest filled with air, her firm totes rose and quivered in the diffused reflections of the morning sun, shimmering through the uncurtained window. It was a most pleasant ambiance. But before Wudrick could assimilate its tranquility, Brindle’s eyes popped opened and stared into his own.
She let out a gasp. "Blas! Ooh da? Wah du wan?" she yelled and sat straight up, glaring at him.
The young female’s sudden movement startled Wudrick so, he jumped back two feet into the hall. Brindle followed. "Wah, wah, wah,” was all he could say. The eyes of the young female standing du naked before him were defiant. Her jaw was firm. Brindle, after all, was no coward. Wudrick, on the other hand, was a well rehearsed one.
"Wah du wan?” Brindle asked squarely, when she recognized who he was. So many unusual events had taken place in her life over the past few hours, hardly anything surprised her anymore.
"I, I'm dreadfully sorry, lass. I assure you, I mean you no harm. I called and - and no one answered. So I - I....”
Brindle looked at him suspiciously. She had no thought he intended to do her any physical harm, sexual or otherwise. Rape was something unknown in the little town of Nuttinnew, if acquiesced sex may be considered the same as consented sex. "Wah - du - wan?" she repeated slowly, knowing it really made no difference. He wouldn’t be able understand her anyway.
Wudrick shut up long enough to realize he couldn't understand a word she was saying. Then he remembered the content of the gossip he had heard. This young female was - well, different. His heart sank. How was he to learn anything about the well from someone who couldn't even speak their own name?
Brindle could see the change come over the male in her doorway. She recognized the look
of disappointment that pervaded his countenance. The short, round male’s shoulders slouched in despair, then he turned and slowly walked toward the front door without another word. A rush of desperation flooded Brindle's entire being.
"Wae! Wae!" she called. "Wah - du - wan?”
Wudrick stopped in the doorway and looked over his sunken shoulder at her naked and trembling flesh. He turned his head back toward the door and spoke. He felt he owed her some kind of explanation even if she couldn't understand him. "Look, child, I - I shouldn't be here with you standing there - you know, naked, and your, uh, parents nowhere around."
"Blas!” Brindle cursed as she lunged for the eating room table cover and hurriedly wrapped it about her. Her nudity had not bothered her until it apparently bothered him. She certainly didn’t want to frighten him away without knowing why he’d come to be in her sleeping room.
“Anyway,” Wudrick continued without looking back, although he assumed from the commotion behind him, she had covered herself. "I saw you come out of the well this morning and I was hoping you could tell me about the depth of the well - what’s down there besides water. You see it's rather important to me. The young male wellwalker is dying and....”
"Thyda? Dah’ng? Du hep Thyda?” Brindle cried as she ran to Wudrick, grabbed him by the arm and spun him around, facing her. "Au hep du hep Thyda! Eh noh Dah! Noh Dah!"
Wudrick looked at the young female hopping with excitement. Confusion filled his face. Did she really understand what he’d just said, or was she just crazed out of her mind? "'Thyda?' Are you trying to say Tyter?"
"Yuh, yuh, Thyda, Thyda. Ah hep du hep Thyda. Thyda! Thyda! Thyda!" Brindle jumped up and down with excitement as tears streamed down her soft pale cheeks.
Her excitement overflowed into Wudrick's own heart, causing him to bounce up and down with her. "By Veget, you can understand me! You can, but can you help me?"
Pieces: Book One, The Rending Page 29