Again, Dampy worked his way right and left around the circumference surrounding the chest. He was sure if he hadn’t been in so much physical pain, he could have made it about the entire perimeter, for unlike the suspension which weakly supported the chest, the surrounding structure appeared relatively stable. This induced another salvage option. Perhaps they could purposely make the chest fall into some sort of cleverly devised contraption situated just beneath it.
As he made one last effort to commit what he was seeing to memory, all manner of strange illusions filled his imagination, as he mentally constructed a huge spider-like web of veget rope spanning a wide circumference beneath the chest.
"What am I thinking?” Dampy heard himself say. He was no constructor. He was no scientist. He was just a very little male with a very big pain. Dampy tightened his loin cloth and made his way back to where he had tied the safety rope.
He made his way easier than he had expected. It may have been because he was now traveling familiar territory. Or it may have been because he was excited about what he had to report to Loden. In either case he didn’t allow himself to succumb to the pain in his groin until he crawled out of the Great Gorge.
"About time,” Joudlier scolded. "By Veget, you’re about naked! What happened?”
"Just take me to Loden. I’ll explain later,” Dampy groaned as his eyes rolled back in his head and he collapsed backwards.
Joudlier reached out and grabbed the rope tied about his waist just in time. “Dampy!” he shouted, as he studied the dazed expression on his face. “By Veget! Something is wrong - dead wrong!” he gasped, grabbing him up and carrying him as swiftly as his legs would carry them both to the conclave at Loden’s hut.
***** ***** *****
While Dampy had been negotiating the suspension’s understructure, Pentalope was putting her plans for the future of Nuttinnew into action. This she delineated in her edict, “The Proclamation of the Lord Mayor Pentalope to the People of Western Nuttinnew - As Recorded and Read for Public Absorption by Her Most Loyal Ambassador Kudjer Aaches.”
After the other ambassadors had gathered the people of the west along the gorge, Kudjer positioned himself at the foot of Pentalope who was still sitting on the bell. From there he read the edict aloud to them.
"By midday every true and good person loyal to the preservation of our beloved little town of Nuttinnew will bring to the designated safe hut and relinquish there to the piecekeepers all heavenly pieces currently in their personal possession. There, upon an official ledger, every piece turned over by every member of every huthold will be recorded. For each twenty pieces given over, one shall be returned to the master of the hut. In the future, all goods and services will be purchased with these pieces, at a value to be set by the office of the Lord Mayor Pentalope through her Ambassadors and strictly enforced by her Piecekeepers, and/or other unnamed representatives and/or agents as she deems appropriate to maintain the dignity, integrity and order of western Nuttinnew under her charge and care.”
Kudjer took several deep breaths then continued reading.
"From this day forth every veget field and garden west of the Great Gorge shall continue as always, to belong to the people of the west. However, to insure they remain so, from this day hence, they are hereby garnered under the auspices and protection of the Lord Mayor and her designates, whose grave responsibility it will be to preserve and protect them from eastern rebels and western traitors alike; the latter being most easily identified by even the slightest hint of verbal opposition to this edict, and the elements delineated herein.”
Kudjer paused momentarily to clear his throat. As he did, he looked over the bewildered, confused faces of those gathered at the gorge’s edge. Hoping his voice would remain to the last word of the proclamation, he continued.
"Each person will continue to engage in their trained craft, service or talent, as always. And, as always, the person will obtain a value for their efforts. This value will be determined by the Lord Mayor who shall be paid a pre-determined proportionate fee for her services in making said determinations. Such value will be rendered in the form of heavenly pieces as deemed appropriate by the Lord Mayor at any given time and subject to change without prior notification. The said value assigned to the pieces will, in turn, be used to purchase all goods and services needed to sustain the life of the community, as determined by the Lord Mayor."
Kudjer halted just long enough to take a sip of water from his waist flask.
"To insure that all get their fair share - and only their fair share - the ambassadors will be interviewing fellow westerners to join the honorable ranks of the afore mentioned position of piecekeepers who will guarantee no one is pilfering from one’s fellow westerner, or, even more grievously, from the Lord Mayor, herself. To reiterate, anyone found to espouse considerations contrary to those proclaimed herein, is guilty of traitorous thoughts and will be dealt with promptly and efficiently to insure such thoughts do not cause or result in malicious insurrection against the best interests of all the people of the west. However, in her grand wisdom, the Lord Mayor does not anticipate any of you to be foolish enough to do anything other than obey these dictates, and all subsequent edicts deemed necessary by the Lord Mayor. Therefore, in her most gracious spirit of generosity, the Lord Mayor has decreed a bonus of one extra piece for every twenty pieces surrendered to be awarded to those among you who demonstrate an attitude of enthusiastic cooperation by reporting to the safe hut before full sunrise with pieces in hand.”
Lowering the piece of wall siding upon which he had scribed Pentalope’s proclamation, Kudjer’s eyes searched the faces of those gathered for some sign of emotional response, some degree of anger, or fear, or even joy, but all their expressions blended into a common face of stupefaction.
***** ***** *****
"Why don’t you go on out and get yourself some fresh air? Your friend is in my care, now. There’s nothing more for you to do here. Go put your mind on other matters and let Fate have its way," said the eastern caretender who had been summoned to attend Dampy’s wound, as he ushered Joudlier to the sleeping room door. The tone of his voice was gentle enough, but Joudlier found little comfort in the words themselves. Feeling, as Nuttinnewians always did, an obligation to heed a caretender’s advice, Joudlier dutifully stepped out of the room. What more could he do?
Joudlier walked to the hut door, and was just about to exit when he remembered he’d forgotten to ask the caretender to have him notified when, and if, Dampy regained consciousness. Quickly, he turned about. Since the sleeping room door had already been shut, Joudlier paused just long enough to assure himself that he would only be taking a moment of the caretender’s precious time. Stepping lively, he approached the door, and without knocking, barreled through it just in time to see the caretender struggling to hold Dampy still on the cot.
"What is it? What’s the matter?” Joudlier croaked confused.
The caretender looked back over his shoulder. A surprised look flushed across his face, but he quickly regained his composure and authoritative demure. "Ah, good, you’ve come back and just in time. Say, you’re a big fellow, be so kind as to hold my uncooperative patient firmly to the cot while I tend to his needs.”
Joudlier obligingly dove on top Dampy and struggled to stop his thrashing about. Joudlier was surprised at the terrific struggle of his little friend’s resistance. Still, he was no match for him, especially in his weakened condition, and soon became quite subdued.
"Good work!" the caretender shouted with glee. "Now, just hold him still while I...."
It was then that Joudlier noticed the smooth, sharpened, veget knife gripped tightly in the caretender’s shaky right hand. The fingers of his left hand were firmly wrapped about Dampy’s rod, stretching it to its enormous length.
"Wha - what are you doing?” Joudlier gasped, although the answer was quite obvious.
"I ... uh, that is, it is necessary,” the caretender stammered, "to save this fellow’s life. No
w, will you allow me to proceed?" The object in the caretender’s right hand closed in on the object in his left.
"Such things are in Fate’s hands!” Joudlier growled into the caretender’s ear.
"Sometimes Fate needs a little help,” the caretender snapped back.
"No! Won’t let you do it - not that!” Joudlier roared as he grabbed the caretender’s right hand.
"Stop it! Stop it!" the caretender cried as Joudlier lunged at him, causing them both to tumble to the floor. "Are you mad? How dare you interfere with a caretender and his patient. I do the work of Fate!"
"Blast you - and Fate,” Joudlier thundered as he shifted all his weight to one knee which was strategically wedged between the caretender’s chin and collarbone. Then, while the fellow’s face rapidly turned from pink to blue to purple, he slapped the knife from his fist.
"What’s going on here?" a commanding, but astonished, voice filled the room. Joudlier looked toward the door behind him and saw Loden standing majestically over them.
"Look!” Joudlier gasped as he jumped off the caretender, and retrieved the knife, which he held out for Loden to see. Then he laid it flat across the palm of his hand, then brought it down hard on his rising knee. The knife never had a chance.
"My cutter!" the caretender exclaimed, then complained. "He broke my cutter! Is he out of his head?" Immediately, the eastern caretender began to plead his case before the rebel leader. "Have you any idea how hard it is to make a finely, carved veget cutter of that quality? It will be moons before fresh veget stalks are plentiful in the fields again. And then it will take hours of careful examination to find just the right stalk from which to make such a delicate exorcist. I demand compensation!"
"Would someone just tell me what’s going on here? What started this confrontation?” Loden demanded.
"Loden! Loden!” voices shouted from behind the rebel leader as several rebels burst into the hut.
Loden didn’t look back. Instead, he continued to study the situation before him. He watched as Joudlier replaced the medicated cloth over Dampy’s genitals. Then his eyes turned to the caretender who was still sitting on the floor pressing the two ends of his broken cutter together as if they might, somehow, magically mend as one.
Loden cringed when it dawned on him what had caused the fracas. "Get out,” he growled at the caretender in a low, uncompromising voice.
"But - he broke my cutter,” the caretender contested. “I demand....”
"Just, get out,” Loden tried hard to control his anger.
"Sir, I must protest. I am a care...."
"Get out before I have you thrown out!” Loden roared at the top of his lungs.
The caretender was so rattled, he dropped the pieces of his precious cutter and jumped to his feet. His eyes searched the room like a wild animal finding itself trapped by a hungry predator. They fixed on the window over the sleeping cot where Dampy lay. It had been boarded shut.
Loden stepped away from the only sensible exit: the door. Bending down, he retrieved the caretender’s bag, which he firmly buried in the pit of the caretender’s stomach. Then, he personally pushed him out through the sleeping room door, through the eating room and out the hut door.
The other rebels gathered outside the hut watched in astonishment as the caretender suddenly flew through the air when Loden physically ejected him. Never had they seen a caretender treated in such an abusive manner. Many tried to help him up as a matter of ingrained respect, but he rejected their efforts. Once on his feet he pushed his way through them while assailing them all with the most unspeakable epitaphs, which lasted until he disappeared among the eastern huts.
Everyone watched in amazement, everyone, that is, except Loden who had turned his attention toward the approach of the Hooded One.
“You are in need of a good caretender?” the Hooded One asked.
“How did you guess?” Loden responded with more sarcasm than the question deserved.
Without answering, the Hooded One walked over to Wudrick who, having been totally ostracized by the “professionals” now pouring over his plans, was lulling about the perimeter of the hut. After a brief parley he immediately, darted off southward.
“I’ve sent him to retrieve the western caretender called CB - the one who assisted you at the well before the snow.”
"If you recommend him, that’s good enough for me, but he must be discreet. After what almost just happened, I’m not sure how Joudlier will feel about any caretender, let alone a westerner. And I’ve got a pretty good hunch that despite their current silence on the issue, the rest of the rebels won’t take lightly the way I’ve treated one of the east’s most revered caretenders. Even more than Joudlier, they won’t take kindly to a western caretender replacing one of their own. Now, since, you’re here, I assume you have news for me."
The Hooded One nodded in the affirmative.
"Come inside then. Where we can speak in private. Oh, by the way, Joudlier is in the sleeping room tending to Dampy himself. The poor fellow was severely injured on his ... uh, assignment. I feel terrible, and responsible for it.” Imagining a puzzled expression on the Hooded One’s face, Loden elaborated. “Alright, the truth is, that caretender was just about to remove his rather enormous rod, when Joudlier interceded.”
The Hooded One moved to the eating table, while Loden went to the sleeping room door, closed it, then returned and sat down quickly. The Hooded One’s hood was drawn back just enough for Loden to see a puzzled facial expression, which begged an explanation.
"Poor fellow caught a splinter right in the tip of his rod. It hurts me just to think of it, something you might not fully appreciate. It’s already given him a fever. I don’t suppose your caretender will be able to do much more than this last one. But, hopefully, he won’t try to do as much. Few males I know would care to live without their rod dangling between their thighs.”
Loden noticed a glint in the Hooded One’s eye, as he continued. "It’s almost ironic: the size of his rod is legendary, scaring away every female from considering him as a suitable mate - afraid he’d tear them in two upon insertion. If it had been hacked off, he’d have been rejected for just the opposite reason. Such is the way of Fate, I suppose. Ah, well, but enough of that. Time is a precious ration. What do you have for me?” Loden leaned forward so their conversation would not be overheard.
***** ***** *****
As the new day’s sun rose higher in the sky, its bright rays beamed down upon an unusual sight. Nuttinnew was no longer one, but two towns, separated by a great chasm which stretched north and south between them. It was as if someone had torn apart a seam in the earth’s crust. From the sun’s vantage point, one could have seen what was invisible to the people below. The gorge which had caused so much havoc in the little town was a small portion of a long, ancient rift which extended northward far beyond the rolling hills.
Had the sun consciousness, it might have wondered at the bustle of activity taking place on either side of the chasm. On the near western edge a group of humans were crouched down beside the rubble which had once been a tall, stately monument right in the heart of town. They were acting like children playing hide and seek, popping their heads up and down as if not wanting to be seen by the lanky adult wrapped in a brilliant mantle of many colors and perched atop a shiny dome. Both of which reflected and scattered the sunlight’s beams in every direction. Even the sun might have thought it a spectacular sight to behold.
However, these child-like humans were not playing. Their purpose was much more portentous, for they were forming their covert plans to recover the chest of the Ancients and the glittering one’s presence didn’t make their task any simpler.
After relinquishing their most precious pieces, the people of the west felt as though they had given up any personal honor or glory they might have otherwise claimed. Slowly, they migrated to the edge of the collapsed Center House where they approached Pentalope, wrapped in her mantle of many pieces. As they gazed upon her in awe,
for she truly appeared awesome, the morning sun rose over the horizon directly behind her, temporarily blinding them. Unable to look upon her they bowed their heads. It was then that the burden of carrying on their recently stressed existence overwhelmed them with exhaustion and each male, female and child collapsed to their knees.
At first the newly selected piecekeepers tried to arouse them to their feet, for fear of what the Lord Mayor might take of such a casual attitude toward her splendor. However, they had nothing to fear for Pentalope liked the effectual humility of the pose and delighted in their expression of self-deprecation. It was as if they had all suddenly come to the same inalterable realization that any honor and glory they might ever hope to claim in their own lives could only emanate as a mere reflection of her own. Out of their weakness, she had become powerful, so powerful, she felt benevolent. She would allow them to worship her in like manner, every morning before they began their daily labors.
For one long moment in time, both Pentalope Pulpitt, from her throne on the rubble, and Loden from his position at the edge of the understructure, stared into greyish mist of the gorge and wondered what the noonday sun would reveal in the depths of Nuttinnew’s newest landmark.
Of one thing they were both sure: there was no going back to the way things had always been, even if they had wanted to - and neither one did.
The Players and Places of Pieces Pages
Pieces: Book One; The Rending
with Proper Pronunciations
(in alphabetical order)
[Note: Accent on underlined syllable]
Ambassadors: Twelve individuals picked by Pentalope to be an elite group to do her bidding. She picked five childless married couples and the two oddlings.
Pieces: Book One, The Rending Page 55