A Messenger from Nephelokokkygia

The Blade That Heals

Chapter 27: The Blade That Heals

Bumbastus kept a devil's bird

Shut in the pummel of his sword

That taught him all the cunning pranks

Of past and future mountebanks

--Samuel Butler, Hudibras

Unlike the coldness outside, the interior of Mooncry felt warm to an intense degree. The layers of clothes Grace, Diana, and Fox wore suddenly seemed inappropriate. While handcuffed, they could not readjust their wardrobes, but right before being shoved into their cheddar cell, the rabbits had removed the bindings. Now, Diana tied her coat around her waist. Grace tied hers over her shoulders. Only Fox remained fully covered, even while no longer needing protection from loose stones.

"The warmth," explained Anansi, "isn't on account of flatulence, if that's what you expect. It originates from the forge." He preferred walking along walls, occasionally climbing the ceiling. The others had to stick with the floor.

Diana came to a stop. "Forging what?"

"More tanks," guessed Grace. "Welded together from scrap parts the Djieien sent up. In the throne room, the Easter Bunny talked about invading Earth. How do they mean to get there, though, with something that can't fly?"

"Maybe they're building planes, too," suggested Fox. "Or vimmy-whatevers, like what we flew in."

"Wait." Anansi's eight legs tangled together. He wound up suspended from above. "You have a vimana? The odds of our successful egress have dramatically increased." No one, as yet, had invited the spider to escape with them.

Fox put her arms across her chest. "We had a vimana."

"A tank blew it up," admitted Diana.

Grace's attention centered on watching for guards, but that alone got them no closer to finding their friends or the cure. She asked Anansi if he knew anything about the castle's layout.

"Saw bits of it before being locked in my cell, argh-oh-oh-ahhh!" Anansi finally untangled himself. "I know the treasury's right across from the forge. I imagine anything of yours the bunnies confiscated would be taken there."

"The treasury or the forge?" asked Diana.

Anansi took pains to inspect all of his legs before answering. "Guess it depends on if they mistake your mystic ingredients for trash. Forge is also where garbage's burned. Now, I haven't a clue where your friends might be. But to get near the forge, you only have to follow the heat."

It took a while to determine the hottest passageway among the many forking halls. Once reasonably sure, Grace led her companions down the far-left path. The different areas of Mooncry were labelled with signs, but in Norse runes. (Which Schrodinger could have translated.) If they heard the bounding of rabbit feet, they dashed into the closest closet or alcove. By and large, spaces were open, and well-lit by torches. Few doors blocked their way.

Grace came round a bend, then turned to shush her friends. It is ironic how something meant to encourage silence always manages to sound louder (not to mention ruder) than what it means to discourage. On this occasion, though, her shushing was vastly overshadowed. Here is what Grace, Diana, Fox, and Anansi saw, though the spider viewed things upside-down:

An assembly line stood between them and blowing jets of hot air. It proved not that dissimilar to the machines in earthly factories, it was the items grinding down the conveyer belt which exposed their far-from-mundane purpose. That, and the fact the workers were naked, silver, and fuzzy.