A Messenger from Nephelokokkygia

Beneath the Bridge

Chapter 10: Beneath the Bridge

spring when the world is mud-

luscious the little

lame balloonman

whistles far and wee

and eddieandbill come

running from marbles and

piracies and it's

spring

when the world is puddle-wonderful

--e. e. cummings, "[in Just-]"

"Where's Fox? Where's Schrodinger?" Under her increasingly soggy bag, Diana's eyes expanded.

Because she had no answer, Grace said "Let's get out of the rain." Beyond a pile of broken glass was a concrete bridge. A single light glowed underneath. They moved like they were doing a three-legged-race. Grace felt jealous Diana had slippers while she was forced to march barefoot. Diana assured her the slippers were no more protection than their soaked hospital garments.

The light turned out to be a burning trashcan which heated a grimy cauldron on a spit. They warmed their hands while keeping away from a pile of rags that appeared to breathe.

"Okay," Grace spoke from across the fire, "what do we know? Our friends are probably still in that hall, but we can't warn them about the skunk."

"We can't go back," Diana said. "I dropped Emily's book that helped us leave. B...but Schrodinger said all libraries are connected. Maybe we find the one closest, with another copy of the book?"

"Good idea." Grace tried to smile through chattering teeth. "Maybe Schrodinger's already led Fox to those Archives, and they're safe. But I can tell, it's late. Don't think any libraries are open now."

"Wait till morning, then." Diana's own teeth chattered. "If we don't freeze, first."

Grace was about to suggest commandeering some clothes from the pile before she heard a harsh voice from the edge of the bridge.

"By the six nostrils of the Morrigan, everything stinks." The upside-down face of an old raven peered in. Grace could hardly forget that evil eye. Chiaroscuro flapped inside, shaking moisture off his wings. "How many skunks were here?"

"Just one," Grace said in the language of birds. Diana looked confused.

"Good, then we should have him outnumbered." Jackanapes flew in behind Chiaroscuro. Albumen, Offal, Ragamuffin, and—finally—Dusky followed.

"Who's your new friend, Gracie?" Ragamuffin sounded jealous.

"Oh, well this's Diana Hemlock..." Grace looked over to the squonk.

"Noooo! Don't talk about me." Diana wringed her warty hands. "Even to those blackbirds. It's so embarrassing to be made the center of attention. Even for a moment. My mask's coming apart, too!"

"How'd you find me?" Grace changed the subject, hoping the corvids would ignore the insult of being mistaken for blackbirds. Albumen had a gold canister strapped to his white leg. Ragamuffin held a glowing red sphere that produced constant wisps of steam. "Is that Bennu?"

"Yeah!" Ragamuffin proudly puffed out her chest feathers. "Want to hold the egg?"

"Sure." The warmth of the sun now rested in Grace's palms. Though probably just as rained-on as the dripping crows, it felt pleasantly dry. But thankfully no longer as hot as when it came straight out of the pyre.

"First it was a cuckoo hunt," said Chiaroscuro, "then it morphed into a snipe hunt, and finally a skunk hunt! I wouldn't enter that asylum, but smelt somethin' terrible on the grounds, plus a clear trail away that seemed as good a lead as any."