by Rick Johnson
Fropperdaft was annoyed. He was groping about on the floor for a screw he had dropped. It was the third time he had dropped the same screw. As he crept about trying to find it, he banged his head on the underside of his workbench. OUCH! It was the second time. He felt a headache coming on and he was deeply annoyed. The morning had not gone well. Earlier he had broken a bolt off as he tightened it. Another bolt had stripped its threads. A gear tooth had snapped off. He seemed to be all thumbs. What a day! Very annoying.
It was all the fault of that insolent Wood Cow that had upset him. An attack on one Royal Patrol with Skull Buzzards dead. An attack on another Royal Patrol within the confines of his very own Throne Room! An attack on his brother. Stealing his most prized invention and escaping. Such things could not be contemplated. It was too astonishing for words. It gave him a headache—even without his other troubles.
But that would soon change. Fropperdaft had decided that historic and urgent actions must be taken to destroy the Wood Cow society once and for all. The upcoming celebration of Clear Water’s Day—with its theme of purification and cleanliness—offered a perfect opportunity to cleanse the Hedgelands of the foul odor of the Wood Cows.
From time immemorial, the High Ones had issued a royal proclamation especially for Clear Water’s Day. And Fropperdaft had decided that this year’s proclamation must be changed. “I must recall the first proclamation I sent and replace it with a new one. Time is short. There is no time to have the proclamations returned to me via Weasel Courier. I will have to call upon the Messenger Jays. That is the only way I can change the proclamation in time for Clear Water’s Day. The Jays must carry a message to the Keepers of the Light, directing them to destroy my first proclamation and substitute the new one.” The High One smiled malignantly as he considered his plan.
At that moment, he heard the sound of Bad Bone coming up the stairway to the Throne Room. Chain mail boots sounded swish-luckt...swish-luckt...swish-luckt on the stairs. No one else wore chain mail boots. It could only be Bad Bone. The High One smiled. He had a job for his friend. Fropperdaft felt happier to think about that. He chuckled. “Yes, indeed,” he thought with some returning glee, “I have a fine assignment for him.” Reaching to pick up the lost screw, his mind focused on the approaching meeting with Bad Bone. Without thinking where he was, Fropperdaft stood up. CLUNKKK! His head slammed hard into the edge of the workbench. “Bah! Sharant! Blast that Wood Cow,” he fumed.
A moment later, Bad Bone entered the room. An exceptionally large and powerfully-built Climbing Lynx, he wore the traditional deep blue tunic of the Order of a High Peaks Worthy. Fingerless gloves and boots of finely made chain mail completed his dress. He had a reputation as the greatest climber in the Hedgelands. Unlike the rest of the Hedgies who had a climbing date as part of their name, Climbing Lynx had no number. They were trained to climb from birth and were on the stairs to Maev Astuté throughout their lives. Scattered through the line of stair climbers, the Climbing Lynx kept the line moving and in step. Their example and exhortation, backed by the terror of the Royal Patrol, kept the stair-climbers in perfect order.
Bad Bone was a special case, however. In his chain mail boots, Bad Bone could swiftly cross even the roughest terrain with great speed. He moved like a speeding shadow. A small grappling hook on a rope was coiled at his belt, and he carried a longbow. The great strength in his arms and shoulders allowed him to attach the grappling hook to an arrow and shoot it high up a mountain. He would tug on it until it wedged tightly and then climb up the rope. Then he would repeat the cycle. In such manner he could climb virtually anywhere quickly. For these reasons, the High One called on him for special missions of state.
“Oooooh, my aching head!” Fropperdaft groaned, standing up and leaning against the edge of the hearth. “Blasted Wood Cow!” he muttered again. “As if I needed another reason to hate Wood Cows!” With some difficulty, the High One leaned on Bad Bone as he walked over to his Throne and took a seat.
“The Wood Cow has ruined my day, Bad Bone...He’s ruined my work, too. I’ve broken or muddled up every one of my projects since yesterday when that insolent Wood Cow appeared!” Fropperdaft smiled wickedly at Bad Bone. “But, that will be the last time such a thing happens in the Hedgeland, my friend...the last time.”
The High One motioned for Bad Bone to sit down at a chair near him. “Here, my loyal friend,” Fropperdaft offered, “have some cheese and Rotter Wine while we talk.”
Bad Bone tossed his long matted hair out of his face. “I’m very glad to see you, sire, I’m sure. Very pleased, sire.” He took a loaf of cheese and bit a chunk out of it. He chewed slowly, watching the High One with interest. “Ah-har-har-har! Yes, sire, very pleased!”
“Well, well, my musty old bag of fur,” the High One began, “I hope you feel up to a climb?”
“Fitted with iron in my knees, and fire in my eyes, sire!” the Lynx replied in his deep, hearty voice. The phrase was something of a personal motto. He used it to declare his readiness for anything. It called attention to the fact that nothing would stop him from completing his mission. Bad Bone took great pride in the fact that he truly did have iron fragments embedded in his knees and legs as the result of a cooking explosion in the course of a mission many years before. The explosion and fire had not stopped him from completing that mission, however, or any other mission. He was as fast and strong as ever. He felt confident in his strength and courage to triumph over any danger, conquer any obstacle, and overcome any trial. There was no one more strong, swift and courageous than Bad Bone. Everyone knew that.
“Now listen, Bad Bone,” Fropperdaft said, “You are to go to the Messenger Jays up on the Desperate Ridges. Deliver this satchel of scrolls to their Keeper of the Light. It is my proclamation. All must hear it. The Jays will distribute the scrolls to all corners of my realm. Go swiftly. No time must be wasted. When you arrive at the Jay’s settlement, respect the authority of their Keeper of the Light, kneel before her and do as she may require. Give her this wheel of cheese as my gift. She may keep you waiting. If so, wait patiently. Do all you are asked. Although the Messenger Jays are my subjects, their home is extremely remote. They harm no one, and wish only to be left alone, so I let them do as they will. However, at times I need their assistance. They will help, but they cannot be commanded, nor hurried. You, yourself, must go swiftly and so I charge you to do. But if the Jays require patience, be patient. They are mapmakers and navigators. Their Keeper of the Light is the trustee of maps for my realms. Only the Jays know all the byways of the Hedgelands. With time so short, I must call on them to use every hidden route and little-known shortcut to assure that my proclamation is delivered throughout the land before Clear Water’s Day. Without the order of their Keeper of the Light, the other Jays will not deliver my proclamation. You must not offend her.”
“Very much my pleasure, sire,” Bad Bone replied, “very much my pleasure, to be sure.” Bad Bone felt happy. His deep, hearty laughter echoed through the Throne Room as he ate sweets with the High One and they joked about the fools they knew. Bad Bone left his meeting with the High One in good spirits. His belly was full of fine cheese and sweets, and the High One had sent him away with one of the easiest assignments he had ever had.
Desperate Ridges
Bad Bone pulled himself up over the rocky ledge, relieved that his exhausting climb had ended. The Messenger Jay settlement stretched out before him, a seeming jumble of multi-story tenements built in stairstep fashion. Packed densely together, the redstone buildings seemed to wander along a maze of alleys. Gratefully, he collapsed, breathing heavily, allowing his aching arms and legs to relax.
“Who goes here? Signify! Ya-Ya!” A Messenger Jay wearing a blue uniform with large brass buttons and a tall blue top hat stood before him. The Jay carried a short, stout billyclub hanging at the belt.
“As you please, your ladyship,” Bad Bone replied. “I bear a gift from the High One for the Keeper of the Light. If it pleases your ladyship, I bea
r a gift and papers for delivery.”
“Signify, I say,” the Jay repeated, “are you deaf?”
“Bengt Massavo, as you please, my lady. Known as Bad Bone for an accident I had once. Climbing Lynx. Royal Mission to the Keeper of the Light and Trustee of Maps. If it pleases your ladyship, a royal gift awaits her pleasure.”
“Kiss the good rock upon which you stand, blessed visitor.”
Bad Bone complied, grumbling within himself something about “arrogant fool.”
“Now, you have shown proper respect for this blessed place,” the Jay observed. “Go to the public bath and bathe yourself. I will give you directions. Your smell is an affront to the fresh air of this blessed place. I hope I may recover from your odor within hours. Fortunately, my health is good and your smell is only foul and offensive, not dangerous.” The Jay turned her head disdainfully away for emphasis, then turned back to Bad Bone and continued. “The furred creatures are always so very smelly; it is really quite disgraceful. Our blessed place long ago resolved that the reeking, putrid odor of the furred creatures had to be specially attended before they could enter our village.” The Jay waggled the billyclub at him warningly. “Fortunately, we receive few furred visitors and are well-prepared to handle them when they do come.” The Jay reached into one of the large, over-sized pockets of her uniform and produced a bar of soap. “I trust I will not encounter you in the precincts of our blessed citizenry until you have thoroughly bathed, at least twice, with soap! Here, visitor, use this with the warm compliments of our citizens.”
“Is that all? It is not a great deal, that!” Bad Bone replied, battling to hold back his anger. “A small sacrifice to the pleasure of your ladyship. A simple act of kindness I may offer to the citizens of this blessed place. Now, if it pleases my lady, which way to the public bath?” Except for the strength of his will to serve the High One well, he would have throttled the Jay. “This is surely the most pompous fool I have ever seen,” he fumed silently to himself. How dare this impudent, arrogant creature insult him in such terms! It was humiliating and should not be permitted. But, remembering his instructions, Bad Bone submitted.
It was the Keeper of the Light who thus instructed Bad Bone, although he did not realize to whom he spoke. The Jay said no more but began to walk leisurely along the edge of the ledge over which he had recently climbed. Back and forth the Jay walked in slow, methodical steps. Back and forth. Back and forth, saying nothing, as if merely enjoying the fresh air. Bad Bone’s frustration rose higher and higher. What was going on? Why did the Jay not answer his request for directions to the public bath? After a very long time of simply waiting for a response, he was trembling with rage and frustration. Yet, recalling his mission, and his vows as a High Peaks Worthy to never strike out in anger, he battled to keep control of himself. Bad Bone dared not show his impatience with his host—no matter how badly he wanted to throttle the fool!
But, even if an outburst was contained, he tingled with pent-up frustration. Trembling, shaking, quivering...Bad Bone’s body began to twitch violently. Despite his best efforts to remain calm as he awaited instruction, little by little, his body became one large tremor. The more he struggled to retain his composure, the more he twitched. All the while, the Jay continued to stroll slowly along.
At last, his knees were trembling so uncontrollably that Bad Bone feared he would collapse in a quivering mass of twitching fur. Calling on all the powers of strength and endurance he could muster, he battled to remain upright. With tears gathering in his eyes, the burly Lynx reached deeper for strength than he had ever done before. Even climbing the terribly dangerous cliffs and crags of the Desperate Ridges did not take strength like this. The rising rush of his anger would soon burst out. The release of that rage would feel so good...but it would doom his mission and dishonor his clan. Tears filled Bad Bone’s eyes.
“Receive your instructions to bathe, visitor,” the Jay said at last.
I can bathe now, your ladyship?” Bad Bone had never felt such a desire for a bath in his life! He hated water. He never bathed. But it now sounded like paradise.
“Yes, visitor, you may bathe.” The Jay gave Bad Bone a deeply probing look. “Do you now wish to take a bath?” she asked.
“Oh, yes, as it pleases my lady!” Bad Bone exclaimed with true enthusiasm.
“I welcome you, visitor. You have gained entry to this blessed place.” The Jay gestured toward the settlement. “The public bath is at the Llanhogger Inn on Orntbeck Street,” she said. “Go and bathe. Then you are to have dinner with the Keeper of the Light. After you bathe, the innkeeper will see that you are conducted to the evening meal—if your odor has subsided by then,” she added with another look from her sharp, probing eyes. Turning to leave, the Jay smiled at Bad Bone, as if she knew a secret that she was not telling. “And don’t be late. The Keeper of the Light does not like to be kept waiting. Make haste! Make haste!”
Bad Bone’s tremors had ceased. He was no longer weeping, and his breathing was beginning to return to normal. But he also knew that his anger and frustration were still not well under control. “Make haste! Make haste! The Keeper of the Light does not like to be kept waiting!” he fumed. “Well, well...isn’t that too bad! As if I wasn’t kept waiting!” He sighed, “All right, your ladyship, if it pleases you...” He trudged off to find the Llanhogger Inn.
When he found the inn, Bad Bone was surprised to see a notice posted at what was obviously the main entry.
Feathered Entrance Only!
Odoriferous Fur Forbidden!
Furred Creatures
Must Be Hosed Before Entering!
Furred Creatures
Proceed to the Rear!
Bad Bone was not amused. He did not like water in the first place. He hated baths. The urgent desire he so recently had to bathe was long gone. But his loyalty to his sovereign was strong. It was humiliating, but sighing deeply, he walked to the rear entrance. “Blessed place, indeed!” he muttered. “It’s a hamlet of arrogant, priggish bigots!”
At the back, he found several Jays lounging on a porch. Some seemed to be snoozing. One was snoring loudly. Others sat idly swatting at gnats that buzzed around their heads.
In addition to the Jays, Bad Bone was astounded to see a long line of furred creatures apparently waiting for something. Hares, Weasels, Lynx, Mountain Goats, Dogs—all with downcast, despairing looks—and all wearing the deep blue tunics of Worthies! Thin, ragged and listless, it appeared they had been waiting a long time. They looked weak and depressed. What was going on? What had happened to all these powerful Worthies?
Swish-luckt...swish-luckt...Bad Bone’s boots announced his arrival and things began to happen. The Jays jumped up and began scurrying around, flapping and waving and yelling excitedly. They ran helter-skelter, running into each other, tripping over one another, screaming and shouting as if suddenly gone berserk!
“Stand here!” one yelled at him. “No! Stand there!” another shouted “No! No, you knotheads! He goes over here!” Others tried to push and shove the confused Lynx this way or that. Some pulled him forward. Others pushed him back. All yelled at him in a frenzy!
What was going on? He was completely bewildered. The more they yelled conflicting commands, the angrier Bad Bone felt. With jabbering, screaming Jays all around him, shoving from all directions, Bad Bone wanted to strike out with his strong, muscular arms. He did not know which way to turn. He wanted to do his own screaming at the idiot Jays. But, once again, he worried that his mission would be lost if he battered or opposed the Jays. So, he reserved his strength and tried to wait out the torment.
But the bedlam did not lessen. The Jays continued to push and shove him this way and that, screeching at him to “Stand Here!” or “Stand There!” As time went on, he began to feel himself giving in to his anger and frustration. He once again began to twitch and tremble, as he struggled to keep his surging anger contained. Quivering uncontrollably, Bad Bone closed his eyes trying to block out the chaos around hi
m. He covered his face to keep the Jays from seeing the tears filling his eyes. Again, his knees began to buckle as he battled to hold himself together. Bad Bone wanted more than anything to lash out at the Jays. To break their bones...to scatter them to the winds...to scream insults...“Can’t do it, can’t destroy the mission...,” he thought, feeling that his trembling knees must soon give way.
SHOOOSH! SWISH! SPLASH! SHOOSH! When exhaustion seemed about to overwhelm his self-control, a powerful spray of cold water was turned on Bad Bone. The force and shock of the frigid water revived him. Sputtering under the drenching, the tormented Lynx let out a long, resounding howl of near-maddened joy. The jabbering of the Jays stopped and the shock of the streaming water ended Bad Bone’s recent ordeal... “Arroooooowl! Arroooooowl!” his howls echoed through the air. Then another hose turned on him, and another, and another. Bad Bone’s howls were drowned out as high-pressure water hit him from all sides!
At last, the spraying stopped. Bad Bone dropped to the ground, completely exhausted, every ounce of strength gone. Shivering in the cool highlands air, he fell into a deep sleep. He had not undermined his mission, nor betrayed his pledge to his sovereign, nor dishonored his clan. Bad Bone slept with surprising peace.
When he awoke, Bad Bone was seated, dried and neatly combed, in a fine suit of clothes, at a table set with beautiful silver plates, mugs, and tableware. Around the table was a magnificent meal of all manner of delicious foods. How did he get here? How long had he slept sitting upright in his chair? It could have been some time, he realized. The chair was comfortable and had arms and a back that easily supported someone sleeping.
“A creature might get on very well here, visitor,” a familiar voice said. It was the Jay he had first met as he entered the settlement. She was now sitting at the table with him. Still in her uniform, the top hat was sitting on the floor next to her chair. She motioned at the delightful spread of delicacies.
