A Messenger from Nephelokokkygia

Daniel's Story

Chapter 17: Daniel's Story

He happened to glance to starboard, and there, standing on his wing, he saw a little man, scarcely more than six inches high, with a large round face and a little pair of horns growing out his head.

--Roald Dahl, The Gremlins

"Pee-eww," O put down her tea, but did not rise from her seat. "Didn't expect that giant skunk to break in. If that was your fault, note I'll be sending you a cleaning bill." She was roundly ignored.

The companions were covered in soil, sweat, sap, broken twigs, skunk spray, and their own blood. None gave a thought to their beyond-disheveled appearance, however. Only with making sure Diana was okay.

"Hospital!" Schrodinger cried. "Is there one nearby?"

Waking from the noise, Bennu took stock of Diana lying beside him. "What happened?"

"Skunk." Fox spoke without inflection.

"Oh dear." He shuddered. "Then we truly need medical attention."

"You need only ask." O stood. "Dojo does the rest." She snapped her purple claws.

"A'course by 'you,' I mean 'me.'" Iron bars sprung to life, hopping backwards to make room for a sick bay that seemed to grow organically from the earth. It featured a line of beds, each with a personal water fountain and chamber pot. An ajar closet of medical supplies stood at the end.

Flexing shoulders, Goldtalon dropped Diana onto the nearest bed. She wailed loudly, as if to compensate for the previous lack of acoustics in the Silent Forest. From the fountain, Fox scooped water into her hands, which she splashed on Diana's still-smoking eyes. Schrodinger and Bennu rummaged through the closet.

Grace led Goldtalon to O. He jealously clutched his crystal, compressed from an old star born and dead before the solar system even formed. In transitioning to a solid state, the light became heavier that just about anything. Grace dropped it as soon as she coaxed it from his paws. The floor now featured a crater easily the size of her head. This vandalism to the Dojo hardly seemed to bother its ruler.

O clapped and squealed. "You did it! Without dying, too! I love it already." Her pink face turned red. She had regained most of her human features since last time. But up close her eyes lacked whites and her hair shined like feathers.

Grace asked—as politely as she could muster despite her anxiety and exhaustion—for the sword of Paracelsus.

"That can wait!" O clopped about in her tall wooden sandals. "You also desired that your little crow friend should go free. I'm so happy, I think I'll set all my baby birds free! They have to leave mommy's nest eventually, right?" She clapped twice. The cages holding the menagerie of corvids vanished.

Those still capable of flight produced a mighty mess. Stray feathers drifted down gradually, but a hail of droppings splattered with the impact of bullets. O reached in a floor compartment and pulled out a paper umbrella with a blinking eye. Voluminous green curtains shielded the companions in the sick bay. But Grace and Goldtalon had to duck to escape the white rain.

In the cacophony of cries, laughs, screams, insults, greetings, goodbyes, and sighs of relief, Waif mumbled "Thanks, Gracie."

Space between the bars of the pagoda roof widened for even the largest magpie to squeeze through. The front door also swung open. Departures happened in a mad rush, with many arguing O could change her mind at any moment. The Murder stayed, however, congregating around Grace.