Then walking over to Fleetra, Pentalope cut her binds, allowing her weakened body to collapse into the tainted tub of water.
"I suppose Penca is here on some mission other than snooping about where she shouldn't. It sounds like there’s some kind of commotion going on downstairs. I'd better go see what kind of chaos my other dim-witted ambassadors have gotten themselves into. As for you, I'm not through with you yet, so clean yourself up and hurry downstairs. Oh, and make sure this one is awake before you come down. You can tell her what a treat is in store for her, now that she’s chosen to enter into our private world.” Pentalope handed Fleetra the bloodied switch, patted her on the head and left the room.
As the still body on the floor came to life with a spasmodic twitch, Fleetra watched the female as she returned to reality. She sensed the horror filling her heart as she tried to get up and discovered the painful laceration in her buttock. In her humanity, Fleetra’s first thought was to help the unfortunate female, but it was a fleeting thought.
While they were yet children, Penca Aaches, more than anyone, was responsible for spreading rumors concerning her unusual relationship with her cousin, Mardrith. In fact, she was the first to call them oddlings, a term which followed them into adulthood. Until then, most people either didn't care or chose to ignore them. However, Penca's unrelenting incrimination, eventually created an aura of shame about their behavior, isolating them from the rest of the community. Even so, Fleetra had never hated Penca for it, not nearly as much as Mardrith had, but now Mardrith was dead.
Fleetra reached for a small flask containing a special extraction from the veget plant. She tossed it to Penca, who first looked at the flask, then up at her. The expresseion on Fleetra’s face was stone cold. Then, her lips slowly spread across her face, in what appeared to be a smile fo sorts. Taking hold of the flask, she squeezed some of its contents into her cupped hand. Then, she looked back at Fleetra, who remained sitting in the tub, saying nothing.
However, the smile remained, so Penca assumed Fleetra had offered her something to ease the terrible pain on her buttock. She had no reason to think otherwise. She had long since forgotten the inherent meanness of her childhood prattle, and therefore had no present awareness of, or regret for, the pain and misery she had inflicted into the two cousin’s lives.
At the moment, it was all Penca could do just to reach behind her to apply the salve to her wound. However, as soon as it touched her open wound, a searing pain shot through Penca from head to toe. She screamed as her body arched backwards, leaving her gasping again and again to regain her breath. But all she could do was feel pain: horrible, endless pain. Eventually, she fainted from lack of oxygen.
Fleetra knew that unless someone washed the salve from her open wound, the pain would hit her again as soon as she gained consciousness. Rising to her feet she stepped out of the tub and walked to Penca, strewn across the doorway. Looking down upon her, she felt no compassion. But neither did she feel revenge.
Stepping over her, Fleetra exited the room and walked down the hallway to Pentalope's sleeping room, where she found a basin of clean water. Washing her wounds she discovered they were not nearly as severe as the smeared, blood covering her flesh had made them appear. Pentalope had already become a master of her vocation.
***** ***** *****
Pentalope had just reached the bottom of the stairs when she heard Penca's scream. She paused a moment to savor it. A moment later Kudjer flew into the house. He stopped dead in his tracks when he saw Pentalope, who flashed him an eerie, self-gratifying smile, which quickly soured. He, too, had heard his wife's terrible scream and rushed in, thinking something horrible must have happened to her. For he hadn’t heard her give out such a wail since the untimely birth of their stillborn child.
"What's all that fuss out on the porch? Can't I leave my entrusted ambassadors to control the masses without all chaos breaking loose?" Pentalope stepped toward the door - toward Kudjer, who, being overcome with anxiety was wringing the perspiration from his hands. The mayor seemed so calm, as if absolutely nothing was out of the ordinary. Why, then, did his wife scream? Bewilderment filled his countenance.
Pentalope watched Kudjer's eyes shoot back and forth between hers and the staircase. This happened several times, until Pentalope's gaze seemed to overpower and steel his own to hers. At last, she garnered his full attention.
"You must be very proud of your wife," she said knowingly.
Kudjer was puzzled by the statement.
"Now, don't tell me, she didn't tell you? Perhaps, she wanted to keep it a surprise for you until this evening. However, necessity demands I speed matters up a bit. I, myself, am, therefore, pleased to inform you that your beloved, faithful wife has been promoted to the most upstanding position of special, uh, provider - yes. As the burden of my responsibilities have increased in this troubled time, so have my personal needs. Poor Fleetra has become a bit overwhelmed by her many responsibilities. Your wife, Penca, will be taking over many of her more - um, time consuming tasks. Congratulations! I’m sure you will soon be the envy of all the other ambassador husbands.” Pentalope stood before Kudjer, smiling, as if he was supposed to say something, but he didn't know what to say - or think. Finally, he blurted out, “Thank you, my Lord," he heard himself say.
"My dear ambassador. Think nothing of it. Believe me. It is truly my pleasure. Penca well deserves her new position. I'm afraid, however, it’ll take up quite a bit of her time - learning her new duties and all. I, of course, have been generous enough to provide her with a room so she can stay right here in Center House. At least until this crisis is but a singular blemish of the past, relegated to the songs of the children. Perhaps, you should make arrangements to have one of the common females attend to your personal needs - preparing your meals and - whatever."
With that Pentalope stopped smiling and sternly stared at the door. Kudjer knew the conversation was over, even though he still had not discovered what had caused his wife’s painful scream. Turning to the door, he swung it open, went through it and began to shout. "Make way for the Lord Mayor! Make way for the Lord Mayor!"
Pentalope adjusted the crown on her head. It was the only symbol of her authority she wore, being unable to manage the mantle of many pieces without Fleetra's assistance. Pulling herself to her full stature, she followed an appropriate distance behind Kudjer who cleared the way for her. Stepping through the door she paused, and the large porch was immediately filled with cheers of adoration. This went on for some time until it became apparent their Lord Mayor desired to speak. Shortly, those assembled on the porch fell silent as they anxiously waited for her to make some grand pronouncement.
Relishing their heightened anticipation, Pentalope held them in suspense like a purely played note. Then just at the right moment, she opened her mouth to speak. But, “Ack!” was the sound to pass between her lips for at that very moment the ground shook with vicious ferocity. Everyone was jostled about, stumbling and bumping into one another, as they tried to keep their balance. Some even had the misfortune to stumble toward Pentalope.
"Get away from me! Don't touch me, you rancid creatures!" she screeched in a voice which, though frightening enough, was soon trumped by a loud creaking noise from overhead.
All eyes turned upward, and saw the porch roof panels, slowly, effortlessly, ripping apart. Immediately, the voices, still hoarse from expressing their adoration moments earlier, rose in screaming terror, and for good reason. For barely had their breaths passed their teeth when the floor beneath them gave out a loud groan and, as if taking a long, leisurely yawn, slowly ripped in two, right down the middle.
Nuttinnewians pushed, shoved and scrambled over each other, trying not to fall into the gape of the ever-widening crack. A roar of horror flowed out over the town as the people panicked and popped from the perforated porch like puffs from pods.
Despite the illusion she presented to her people, Pentalope was not immune to the laws of nature. Having stumbled backwards, sh
e braced herself between the door jams, and watched wide-eyed as the crack in the porch floor boards ripped towards her. Then, just as The Great Gorge threatened to extend into Center House proper, the trembling earth groaned to a quivering halt. Terra remained firma.
Pentalope stood spread-eagle in the doorway just staring into the vortex of the gaping crack. Just as the shouts and screams of the people subsided, the porch roof gave out another great creaking sound, as the center segment collapsed, leaving broken beams and planks, and panels suspended between the corner supports.
"It’s that Loden fellow. He’s the cause of all this - out there fooling around with the well, making The Great Gorge even greater than it was. Look here! He’s almost destroyed our beloved Center House along with your beloved Mayor. Well, you mark my words, he will not destroy us so easily. We’ve only begun to fight back. Ambassadors!"
"Here, Lord,” Kudjer and two others still nearby called back.
"You two, collect every westerner who has fallen to the east of the Great Gorge, and get them back on this side and to their own huts. Oh, don’t look at me with such stupid expressions. Take them around the back side of Center House. The earth hasn’t crack that far yet. Remember to gather up every last one of them. I won’t have any defectors. It’s bad for morale. Now, go! Kudjer, you stay. I have much thinking and planning to do, and when I’m through I’ll need your talent with letters to put my proclamations onto parchments!"
Pentalope took one last look at the crack at her doorstep. Then turning, she stepped inside and slammed the door behind her. However, during the last quake, the door jam had been twisted causing the door to spring back, slapping her on the buttocks. She jumped forward, spun around, and gave the door such a fearsome look, that had it been sentient, it might have died of fright, right there on its hinges. "Fleetra! Fleetra!”
"Yes, ma'am?" The response was dull and hung like a dense dark cloud at the top of the stairs.
"I want to see you and Penca in the playroom, immediately."
A thick, silent pause followed which could almost be felt oozing down the stairs. "Yes, ma'am."
Pentalope returned to the doorway and saw Kudjer helping others who had received minor injuries in the upheaval.
"Kudjer," she called.
"Yes, my Lord."
"Where is that worm who calls himself my husband?”
"I - I don't know, my Lord."
"Then find him!" she commanded, then spun about and defiantly slammed the door behind her. Again, it rebounded on its hinges and struck her on the buttocks.
"Fleetra!"
***** ***** *****
"Yeow." Tyter said, almost as an after thought. The sudden jolt had been of such magnitude, it knocked him over backwards. Lying on the sleeping room floor, his whole body shook in rhythm to the violent quaking.
The wash basin on the small table danced across its surface, until it came smashing down. Tyter turned his head toward the sound just as the door flung open. A giant shadow in the hallway tilted then toppled against the far wall with a thud and a crash.
"No!" Tyter screamed. The pain of the emotion filled the air.
"Thyda! Thyda! Wahz matta? Y'ah wite?" Brindle called as she picked herself up off the ground just outside his sleeping room window. She jumped to the window and looked in. Tyter was gone, but against the flicker of a candle in the doorway, she could make out a large menacing shadow lumbering across the room toward the door.
Running as best she could over the trembling ground, Brindle dashed around to the front of the hut. Then, after sucking in a deep breath of courage, she vaulted through the hut door. At the far side of the eating room she saw Tyter sitting on the floor. He didn’t appear to be hurt. In the hallway beside him loomed a large dark object. Brindle didn't know what it was, but hardly anything could scare her anymore.
Slowly, she stepped forward to the eating room table and lit a candle. Holding it in front of her at arms length, she moved closer to Tyter, all the while keeping her eyes on the shadow in the hall. All of a sudden, the floor all about Tyter lit up with the gleam of a multitude of tiny, sparkling eyes. Startled, she jumped back, dropped the candle on the table, grabbed up a chair and swung it over her head. There she remained poised for whatever these little critters had in mind.
Immediately, however, she saw that they were now fewer in number and of those that remained, their eyes shone much dimmer. Feeling less threatened, her attention shifted back to the shadow in the hall. She could see now. It wasn't a person, or a monster. It was the hutch in the hallway. Setting the chair down, she grabbed up the candle and move closer to Tyter. Until now, neither of them had said anything. He was too lost in his pain. She was too confused by the setting, for as she approached Tyter, the tiny, glittering objects grew brighter and multiplied. Still, she marched forward fearlessly. One thing she was fairly sure of, just as the shadow in the hall proved to be inanimate, these speckles of glittering sparkles were also lifeless illuminations. Still, she kept a watchful eye as she stepped in among them in order to reach Tyter.
When she inadvertently stepped on one, it crunched beneath her sandal, sending a chill up her spine. It also shook Tyter from his stupor and he swung his head around toward the sound. This was the first movement he’d made and it was totally unexpected. The startled Brindle jumped halfway back into the eating room. There she attempted to still her thunderous heart while watching Tyter pat the floor, or rather, the bits of light surrounding him. As he did so, he broke into sobs.
“Whatever those things are, the only harm they seem to do so far is to make Tyter sad,” Brindle determined. Sucking in another breath of courage, she ventured to move in closer once again. This time, she felt less fearful and therefore more observant, and quickly ascertained what had caused the illusion of glittering eyes.
All around Tyter were small bits of broken pottery which had once been fine, shiny, white plates which could only have been something handed down from the Ancients. The recognition of it made Brindle gasp. She had seen such plates before, but not in such vast quantity. Almost everybody had, at least, one maybe two, items to show off. But here was a whole hutch full, many of which had fallen from their shelves and shattered into millions of tiny fragments of the past. She couldn’t imagine how they could belong to the big, burly wellkeeper.
"Ib to sau...." Brindle gently brushed aside some of the bits beside Tyter and sat down. Then she carefully burrowed her finger into the Tyter’s fist which still held the piece fragment. "I'm so sorry, Tyter. These belonged to your mother, didn’t they?" Tyter just answered with a snort through his nose and louder sobs. Brindle withdrew her finger and put her arm around his jerking body. "Ah wub yah, Thyda," she said.
***** ***** *****
Sometime between the dispersing of the crowd at Center House that evening and the rising of the new day’s sun, the majority of the Center House porch roof had disappeared. Although it had been a rather noisy appropriation, no one in Center House heard the commotion. Pentalope had toyed with her seamstress and her new assistant until all three passed out from exhaustion. The uninvited guest in the cellar, had long descended into deep slumber.
Meanwhile, in the western wellkeeper’s hut, Tyter and Brindle set the hutch upright, and discarded the plate fragments and rearranged the undamaged ones. When all was done, Tyter had fallen asleep, sobbing, in Brindle's arms, but now he lay in the sleeping room alone with his head buried in the pillow from his cot.
Brindle had moved to the front door and was watching the strange events taking place on the eastern edge between Center House and the well. The moon wasn’t full, but it gave enough light to display shadowy figures which appeared to be dancing about some kind of tall, long-necked creature.
"Thyda! Thy...!" Brindle reached into Tyter's pullover pocket where he had placed the small piecechip. "Tyter! Tyter! Wake up! There's something strange going on at Center House. Hurry! Wake up!"
"Muhmga,” Tyter groaned as his tongue stuck to the top of his mouth
. "Wha...?"
"The easterner’s have got themselves some kind of creature.”
"Creature?" Tyter popped fully awake. He remembered dreaming about a creature, when he had the fever, or maybe he had heard someone talking about a creature. Anyway, now that he was well, he wasn't going to miss out on any more Nuttinnewian adventures. Jumping to his feet, he raced to the door.
Just to the east of the gorge, about halfway between Center House and the well, he could see a large, shadowy object lumbering southward. It was surrounded by humans, who were either trying to fight it or trying to carry it. At that distance, he couldn't tell.
"Hurry, Brindle!" he called as he bolted out the door and ran toward the well.
"Wait!" Brindle shouted after him. "You don't have your sandals on. And be careful, if you keep running straight toward the well, you’re going to fall right into the gorge."
Tyter heard her words and hesitated, looking first north, then south. Confused as to what to do, he turned back toward Brindle.
"Just a moment. Stay there!" she shouted. "Let me get your sandals." She went back into Tyter's sleeping room and retrieved his sandals, which she discovered had been placed neatly under his cot. The last place she expected to find them.
When she turned and faced the door she realized that when they had set the hutch upright it had shifted slightly, protruding about a palm span into the doorway. As she approached it, the light from her candle reflected off something on the exposed back of the hutch. At first she thought it was just another piece of broken plate. But upon closer inspection, she discovered the reflection came from the clasp of an ornately carved box nestled in a small cubby, which was revealed only because the tiny door which concealed it had sprung open during the quake. She dropped Tyter’s sandals, then, reached out and retrieved the box.
Carefully undoing the latch, she discovered a singular object inside. It was a round locket that glistened like the piecechip she had secreted away in her own pocket. However, this object didn’t have such an irregular shape. Rather, it was small, smooth, finely polished and disk-shaped, with a shiny yellow chain. Brindle withdrew it and held it next to the candle. As it glimmered in the light, she studied it closely.
Pieces: Book One, The Rending Page 50