The Binkle and the Catawampus Compass (Binkles and Magic) (13 page)

Jeep put his hand over his heart and pledged, “With all the power that’s in me, I promise. I’ll never be mean again, Grikkl. Never.”

“Aye, I know you’ll do your best.” He patted Jeep’s shoulder.

“But one last word. What I’ve been telling isn’t just about you, you know. There’s a war—it’s been going on for a long time. People on the side of light must fight against the evils of the dark side. Both sides have their warriors and their favorite methods. We’re the good team—don’t you ever forget it, Jeep. When you’re strong, you help our team. When you’re weak....” He let the unspoken words hang like a threat in the air. Jeep still got it.

Talk shifted to other, less dire matters. It was soon time to go. Like his last trip, Jeep’s mind was spinning as he tried to make sense of all he’d been told in that incredible chamber. And he made the return trip in a daze.

Chapter 11—

SEALING THE RIFT

Adah took every chance she got to hug Jeep and beam warmly at him. She liked to do it—but not as much as he liked her to.
She told him, “I’ve done so many amazing things in my long lifetime you’d think I have uncanny powers. Nothing major. Some people call me ‘A Priestess of Another Sort.’ I do work a bit of magic, but my favorite trick is making a sad boy smile.”

Jeep grinned, “It must be working, since I smile most of the time I’m around you.”
Don’t stop. Oh, please don’t stop. I need you.

“That’s good—but just the start. It’s easy around me. You need to find moments like this anywhere you find yourself. A binkle doesn’t just depend on words or what people say to you. Sometimes, you’ll feel binkles bubbling up from a joyful thought, or a favorite song, or a dazzling sunset, or a soft, cuddly kitten, or just because you did something nice. When you’re looking for them, they can come from anyone or anything—even yourself.”

“I know! I never knew so many things could feel good. Is it like that for everyone?”

 “Could be—it’s up to them. That feeling sure makes you glad to be alive, doesn’t it? They form our favorite memories. Tell me a fun one.”

Jeep told about the time he and MeToo rolled in the grass until he was so happy he wanted to be a dog himself—happy all over.

 “Oh Jeep, I got a zizz just from your memory of it. Bet you did too. You’re going to be good at this.”

“I guess, but it doesn’t work every time.”

 “True, but it’s always worth a try. Even trying will change the way you act around other people. Besides, if you’re looking for them, good feelings can be enjoyed with almost anyone who’s not wholly wicked—or with animals.”

She called toward the raven perched as usual over the fireplace, “Ramses, come over here. I don’t think you and Jeep have gotten to know each other proper.”

Ramses flew down and landed on the back of a chair that put him eye-to-eye with Jeep. The bird said, “I’ve noticed how much you like Adah’s flying song.”

“Sure, it’s my favorite.”

The bird and boy were soon chattering on like old buddies. Jeep loved being told little-known details about bird life.

Adah said, “Ramses has a distinguished heritage. Ravens are a well-known symbol of ancient wisdom and magic.” Ramses stood proudly as Adah described the noble achievements of his distant ancestors.

“American Indians always treated the raven as sacred. They consider Raven heroic—fighting to right wrongs and punish evil doers. According to Indian lore, Raven existed even before creation and helped to make the world. That’s probably a stretch, but ravens deserve respect, don’t they, Ramses?”

While Adah described his ancestry, Ramses went from looking regal to downright annoyed.

Jeep asked, “What’s the matter, Ramses?

The bird was glad to have someone new to complain to. It launched into an oft-repeated grievance.

“You heard what Adah said. My ancestors were important—and powerful. Ravens were respected in Egypt and among the Indian tribes. They were treated as wise and brave—our feats the stuff of legends. And all of that, all that achievement was wrecked by one man.”

As he warmed to his subject, Ramses’ voice became more irritated. “It’s not fair, I tell you. Not fair! Our greatness, all that my kind achieved, is forgotten just because of one stupid poem.” (“The Raven,” Edgar Allen Poe)

Jeep said, “I’m not following you.” But it was clear that Adah had heard it all before, because she excused herself and hurried away.

“There was this guy named Poe who lived a long time ago, see. Anyway, he probably was an O.K. writer. But he wrote this poem, see? And this raven in the poem said just one word over and over all through the poem—‘nevermore.’

“And this poem got real famous. So for 150 years people have heard the raven with just one word to say. ‘Nevermore,’—just ‘nevermore,’ over and over again. Now I ask you, isn’t that a pretty dumb bird?”

He paced back and forth along the back of the chair, shaking his head in outrage at the injustice of it all. “‘Nevermore,’ Is that any way to talk? That man just made all of us ravens look dumb. We’re not, you know. But because of that poem we sure sound stupid.”

 “I don’t see what’s so bad about...”

“You don’t do you! What do you know, anyway? If you say ‘raven’ to just about anybody, what do they say back to you? I’ll tell you what. They’ll nod and say, like they’re being clever, ‘Nevermore.’ People don’t remember any of our good stuff—just that dumb bird from Poe.”

Jeep said something sympathetic, but that wasn’t what Ramses wanted. The irate bird just wanted to rant about the unfairness of it all.

 “And I don’t intend to let that poem be the last word, see? Here’s the real last word on it. Nevermore will I say ‘nevermore!’ It’s gone, kaput! Out of my vocabulary for good. You won’t ever hear me say ‘nevermore’ again.”

By the time Ramses stopped talking, Jeep sincerely hoped that was true.

~~~

The next day Grikkl said, “I filled your head with more than anyone can swallow in one gulp. Though everything I’ve told you is true, it doesn’t become true for you until you can put it to use. Put it into your life. Today your brain needs a rest and I need help outdoors. Magic or not, plenty of what needs doing around here boils down to hard work. Want to help?”

“Sure, I’m game.”

They dressed warm for the crisp wind of winter. Grikkl carried a mysterious-shaped package. Grikkl handed Jeep a pair of ice-skate-like contraptions to lug along. The pair moved in silence until they reached the edge of the woods.

Grikkl instructed,“ Put those thinger-dingers on over your shoes.”

Once Jeep fastened them on, his feet were about five inches above the ground. He rocked from side to side on his strange footgear, as he got used to the unnatural way they made him move. At first the contraptions felt awkward. But with only a little practice he kept his balance without wobbling. The thinger-dingers cleverly hid his tracks. Instead of making a trail of his own footprints, he now left a trail of raccoon paw prints. If someone had bothered to follow the tracks he made that day, they’d have thought they stumbled upon the trail of a dancing and leaping raccoon.

Grikkl explained, “The repairs we’re making must be done in such a way that no one can tell that anyone has been here. My way of walking doesn’t leave footprints. And your leaving raccoon tracks allows us to move freely.

“I need to fix a tear in the protective shield that keeps this place invisible to outsiders.”
That explains how there could be a magic wood so close to town. That’s why I only got here by falling down the cliff.

“If this gap isn’t repaired strangers might accidentally wander in. The greater danger though, would be that Uuglash’s followers could find us. The intense, concentrated energy leaking out would surely get their attention soon enough.”

Jeep had to follow Grikkl’s instructions to the last detail since he was unable to see the rift being fixed. They used a nearly invisible cord as lightweight as cobwebs, while being incredibly strong. All afternoon Jeep measured, cut, tied, tacked, and looped invisible stuff together wherever Grikkl directed him to do so. More than once he accidentally dropped a piece of cord and had a difficult time finding it.

As each section of the tear was securely tightened, Grikkl performed the same baffling ceremony. He rang a silver bell as he chanted in slow, deep, resonant tones (“nom pon deedee da, pause, looda looda sham”). After that, he threw a pinch of sparkly orange powder from a small leather bag against the area just repaired. The orange sparkles were the only sign of the repaired fabric that Jeep could actually see, and even those spots soon faded away.

After that he’d swing the device (which was in the odd-shaped package) around his head six times as he repeated the chant (“nom pon deedee da, pause, looda looda sham”).

Jeep asked, “What does that gadget do?”

Grikkl put his finger to his lips and blew, “Shhh.”

As smoothly as they worked together, it still took them nearly four hours to finish the job. But in the end they left no trace of their presence. And their handiwork was lost in the landscape.

After they finished, Jeep said, “Let me test it, Grikkl.” Jeep pointed his trusty compass at the just-repaired tear. The needle spun around in a crazy fashion. He pointed it in the opposite direction, and it still spun around non-stop. He marched along the entire stretch of their repairs, never taking his eye off the compass needle. It never slowed down.

“OK, I’m satisfied. There’s plenty enough energy here to make my compass go catawampus. Looks like the leak is gone.”

~~~

Outdoors, while they worked in the daylight, Jeep could better observe that Grikkl really didn’t seem solid. Once back to Grikkl’s cozy cavern, Jeep asked, “What causes you to shimmer like that? Are you transparent?”

“No. my body is just as solid as anyone else’s. It looks weird because of something special the krindle can do. Someday you could shimmer, too—once in a while.”

“I’ve never seen anyone act like that. People can’t do that.”

“It’s possible for humans. Rare but possible. What’s uncommon about me is how I walk, don’t you know. It’s something I developed to protect my mangled foot.”

“You mean the way you bounce?”

“Exactly so. It all started from me thinking about a riddle by President Lincoln. I knew him back when he was a woodsman—long before he got himself famous¼” and his mind drifted off into his memories.

“Harrumph,” Grikkl snorted as he pulled himself back from the past. “Anyway, Lincoln’s riddle was, ‘How long should a dog’s legs be?’ Have you heard that one?”

“I don’t recall that I have.”

“Anyway, the answer is, ‘Long enough to reach the ground.’ Get it? Just barely reaching the ground is plenty long. So that riddle got me to thinking about the way people stand up—they
push themselves up
from the floor. People are stuck on the ground, heavy, you see?”

“Gravity you mean?”

“Exactly so—gravity. It pulls people down. I look at it differently because I never consider myself as standing on the floor, exactly.”

“Not standing—what do you mean?”

“To my way of thinking about it, I’m not standing, but hanging. Not up from the floor but hanging from the top.”

“Hanging?”

“Well, not hanging like a noose. It won’t kill me. Hanging like a light bulb dangling from a cord.”

“From what?”

“From the sky. But it’s probably into another dimension. It’s like there’s a cord connected to the top of my head. When I remember it’s there, but when I forget it goes away—until I remember again. Because of that link, my feet get to
just barely touch the ground
. I’m hanging from something invisible, hanging from the top... I can feel it, even if nobody can see it.”

“Like the cord we closed the tear with?”

“Good observation. It does its job even though it looks like nothing. Don’t just look with your eyes, Laddie. There’s always more going on than the eye can take in. Lots more. Today we fixed a tear your eyes couldn’t see. But it was there just the same. Right? Don’t be deciding what’s real just by what you can see.”

“Can’t argue with you. I couldn’t see it, but I could feel it.”

“Exactly so. Bend over, Laddie.” Then Grikkl thumped on the very middle of the top of Jeep’s skull. “Feel that? That’s the place that can pull a body up—where their binkle energy reaches right up to the sky. If you pay attention, you’ll feel it—that and the added bounce to your step.”

“Sure,” Jeep replied with sarcasm. “I’ll get right on it, Grikkl.” Then he made a face to indicate it wasn’t going to happen—not now, not ever.

~~~

At bedtime Adah made an exaggerated frowny face for Jeep before she told him, “Sure am going to miss you, Jeep. I’m going away for a while.”

“But I just got here. Can’t you put it off?”

“I must go, it’s time. Every year I go to the land where babies live before they’re born. All day I hug their innocent spirits and sing to them—every one.” She laughed lightly, as she pretended to rock an infant. “They like my songs, too—like you do. I fill their wee hearts and spirits with binkles. Later on, after they’re born they bring that joy along. Every child starts life with a krindle that works and a heart full of binkles for everyone they meet.”

“Then you must know how sad it makes me that you’re leaving. Please stay—I need you.”

“I know, indeed I do. I won’t leave until tomorrow and you’ll see me again in about four months. But Jeep, the work I do is most important—and it makes me happy beyond words. About twenty of us take turns with this task. I must do my part—they count on me. It would be a terrible day if some babies were ever born without binkles.

“Two of my friends, Layda and Taloo always take their turn the same time I do. It’s not all drudgery. The three of us make a merry bunch, that’s for sure.

“Taloo’s such a gossip—better than a newspaper. Whenever something interesting goes on, somehow he manages to be there—like when the queen of the elves learned to water ski behind a dolphin. He’s hard to describe and can do weird things with his body—it stretches. He’s a character, by any measure. Trust me, it’s never dull with Taloo around.