Chapter Sixteen

SCHEMES OF MONKRATS AND MEN

 

As tired as he was from the journey to Drakton, Brighton slept little that night. He tossed in discomfort in the shallow beach cave. His troubled thoughts ran amok like a wayward mongrel looking for food. Even though he’d already announced he was going to consult the Seer, he could say he changed his mind. He could give up this craziness and simply fly back to Meland to resume his life of quiet isolation. Or he could fly to Valkyrie and tell Wark to send another party to consult the Seer. This time the emissaries would be armed with the new information about the airships that were flying off with Perpetua’s ore. He could seek audience with the Seer himself, but it would be a long, difficult climb up to the old Temple. He would risk being caught by the port guardians. He’d never been to the temple, and had never met the Seer. In fact, there was no assurance the Seer was even there. In Brighton’s mind there were only countless rumors of the man’s existence from a variety of unreliable sources.

And what to do with Bill? Surely, she wouldn’t be able to make the climb. If she tried, she’d slow me down. Besides, it would be too dangerous. And the more he thought about her, the more he wished to get her out of harm’s way. What would he do with her? Whatever he decided, he realized he’d have to entice her by some clever means. She clearly had a will of her own.

Then, besides wrestling with all these thoughts, he suddenly realized how badly he reeked. My god, I have to bathe. She must find me repulsive.

Bill awoke in the cave at sunrise. She saw Mitor looking down at her with his sad, but attentive lenses. “Good morning, Mitor.” She sat up and rubbed the sand from her eyes. She saw Brighton sitting on a rock outside, staring out at the ocean. She got to her feet and shuffled out to him.

“Did you sleep,” she said.

“A bit.” He forced a smile.

She sat next to him and hugged her knees against her chest. She breathed in the morning air and watched the gulls circling out over the water. She saw that Handower was awake, sitting above them on a rock. The falcon was preening his feathers, which were still ruffled to stave off the morning chill.

“I’ve made a decision. You’ll go back to Valkyrie,” Brighton said, still looking straight ahead.

She looked at him, already preparing to protest.

“Someone has to warn them,” Brighton went on. “Clearly there are parties from abroad who have an interest in the outcome of the war.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Those airships are foreign.” He turned to her. “They’re coming from who knows where. From all over. You could tell by the insignia on their bows. They’re buying wheal to be sold as fuel. They’re making profit off the same warlord who attacked Valkyrie. They’ll support him to insure the flow of wealth. They might already be planning to escalate the war even more.”

Bill seemed impressed by these insights.

“What are you going to do?”

“Like I said last night. I’m going to demand audience with the Seer. Surely, he must know exactly what’s going on here.” Brighton stared out to sea again, still uncertain about the Seer’s existence.

“Pello and Biffee have already gone to the Seer. We should go back to Valkyrie together. Let Wark decide what to do.”

“I can’t abandon those two.”

“Abandon?” she said with surprise. “Since when are you concerned about a pair of monkrats? I’ve never heard you express anything but disdain for them.”

“They risked their lives to cross the island and go up there.”

“They made their own choice.”

He didn’t answer. He kept his stern gaze out on the sea. It was already showing little tips of whitewater from a restless morning breeze. He allowed himself to be distracted by the pelicans diving for breakfast. And the pair of seal heads bobbing out there, watching the unusual visitors sitting on their beach.

“And how am I supposed to get back to Valkyrie?” Bill said.

“Handower will take you. You and your robot.” Brighton’s voice was distant. His mind already scouting the difficult route up to the lonely temple.

“You would trust Handower to take me?” Her tone was incredulous.

He turned to her and saw the anger building in her temple.

“He’s a monster,” she went on. “An unpredictable monster. He could throw me off anytime he chose. I don’t believe you would even consider such a thing.”

Handower looked down at her. His feathers went flat against his body.

“He got us here, didn’t he? He’ll be fine.” Brighton did his best to sound confident. He wouldn’t tell her his real concern was for her safety being here at Drakton under the very nose of the enemy. He knew she’d never accept that. It would only give her cause to release a tirade of instances in which she’d defended herself against far more terrible odds.

Handower cried out, his voice alarming the nearby seabirds who soared away from his field of vision. Brighton and Bill looked up at him. He was not watching the seabirds. He was focused on the Temple of the Mountain Gods. The structure sat atop a steep prominence, half way between the rock-studded sand berms of the beach and the inland mountain peaks. They followed his gaze and saw two small shapes making their way up to the Seer’s abode. Pello and Biffee.

Handower growled at the sight, his eyes fierce. Brighton got up, and grabbed his rucksack. He headed toward the bird. Handower lifted his wings and opened his mouth when he saw him coming.

“Easy.” Brighton pulled the falcon’s hood out of the pack. As soon as Handower saw the hood, he beat his wings and squawked in defiance. Brighton reached for his crop. Not there. He remembered he’d tossed it away the day before.

“Tuck,” he said, which was the command for the falcon to lower his head and allow himself to be hooded. Handower hissed at him, then launched himself off the rock. He flew over Brighton’s head, and out to sea. “Heel, Handower!”

Handower had already circled back toward land and quickly disappeared over the woods. Brighton stood there, limp with embarrassment. There went his argument about the Magradore being reliable. He hid his shame with anger. He turned to Bill. “Now look what you’ve done!” He then marched off after his intractable bird.

 

“What I’ve done?” She stood with her hands on her hips, her face in a scowl. She twisted her mouth and kicked the sand with her foot. She turned to look at Mitor who was watching her, awaiting some command. And the sight of his innocent face reminded her of the puppy she’d had to leave behind when she and her parents had embarked on that fateful sea voyage. The puppy she had adored, and caressed in her dreams even to this day. What was his name? She couldn’t remember. It was so many lifetimes ago.

“Master?” said the little robot.

“Let’s go find some food.” She walked off toward the beach in search of mussels, or clams. Or with any luck, a giant stone crab, which she could roast on an open fire.

“Food.” Mitor followed after her, his squeaky wheels swerving in the sand.

 

Pello and Biffee had to take great care climbing the last stretch of steep rock to the old temple. The trail was eroding. In places there was no trail left at all. But monkrats were skilled climbers. And furthermore, for these two, this was the last stretch of their race.

Biffee was a few feet ahead of his brother. It looked like he’d be first to set paw on the base of the temple foundation when a rock shot out from beneath his hind foot. He slipped and slid on his belly, several feet below Pello. Pello now had the advantage. He could have easily claimed victory. But he stopped and looked at Biffee who dug his claws into the earth lest he plummet all the way back to the ground.

Biffee managed to pull himself onto a small ledge. He leaned back against the rock to catch his breath. Pello leaned back, too. For no particular reason, they both sat there, high above the world, just beneath the Seer’s abode. They stared out at the glorious horizon.

“Such a beautiful world they live in, Biff,” Pello said, his sparkling eyes filled with wonder.

Biffee gazed out at the sea and the tufts of brilliant white nimbus drifting slowly across the sky. “They don’t take time to appreciate it,” he said.

“Take it for granted, they do.” Pello’s soul became one with the clouds and nearly sailed off without him. He turned his gaze to the peaks standing like proud titans. Even the airships, docking and undocking from their ports higher in the mountains, seemed to blend into the scenery. It was as if they were nothing more than honey bees tending their hive.

“The mountains,” Pello went on. “So tall and strong. They provide everything, don’t they? They gather the clouds and collect their snow in winter. In the spring, the snow melts into streams and rivers that nourish the lands below. The lands grow lush with forests and meadows which, in turn, grow food for all the creatures living there. Birds, beasts, and monkrats. Whoever comes in need.”

“The flowers and butterflies, like spices on a salad,” Biffee said, his eyes dreamy. “Even the Great Leonardo could not conceive of anything more wonderful. Who designed it all, he wonders?”

“They did.” Pello stared in wide-eyed, childish fashion, taking it all in.

“They did?” Biffee looked at him.

“He knows. It sounds very strange. And he can’t explain it, but knows it’s true. He knows that somehow it just can’t be without them.”

“Can’t be without them.” Biffee scanned the magnificent panorama again. He somehow understood. “You mean like if a tree falls in the woods, and if there’s no one to hear it, its falling makes no sound.”

“Yes, brother. Something like that.” And a smile came to Pello’s face.

They both stared in wonder. Their hearts were bursting with that rare joy that comes from gratitude and love for all creation. Rare because, in the illusion of Life’s struggle, most forget to take the time to stop and appreciate the world. Most think if they stop struggling and worrying, they’ll lose some fight. And be swallowed by an ogre who doesn’t really exist.

The monkrat brothers allowed themselves to be swept away in that timeless moment. To be blown by ambrosial winds to a realm of healing. And rebirth. And some ultimate truth.

And it seemed as if perhaps they’d found something so precious there was no need to ever come back. And maybe they wouldn’t have if Pello hadn’t spoken.

“Brother?”

“Yes?” Biffee answered, still under a pleasant spell.

“The moment has come.”