Mixed Signals

Thomas said, "Then I propose Fred take the place of honour, on the right. Astra will take the second place, and Anselm will take the left. Simon and I will tarry about 10 yards and strike where there is an opening."

"What signal shall will be given to the catapulters so that they will fire at the right time?" asked Simon.

Anselm said, "George has already fixed that. It will be the single call of the Hespaniard Nuthatch on an attack. There will be a double call if the dragon leaves and the attack is not to be made. The call is a series of squeaks that the catapulters will pick up in the din of woodland noises, but should not attract the attention of the dragon. And the Hespaniard Nuthatch has never been seen in this valley. In fact, it never leaves its native pine forests of Corona."

Thomas said, "Excellent. Let us go."

Fred said, "One more thing." He handed the scabbard and sabre to Astra. "I have been trying to relieve myself of this burden for a while now. Do you recognize this?"

"My sabre! I thought that the beast had laid it on his hoard. Many thanks, Fred."

Fred bowed. Thomas said, "Remember, stay about ten yards away until the stone falls. Then charge."

The Great Hurricane of the fourteenth year of the reign of King Suliman was the proximate cause of the collapse of the Golden Lighthouse of Corona, one of the acknowledged wonders of the world. Fred, Thomas, and Astra did not know about the lighthouse, nor would they have cared much in the current circumstances. The storm also felled ten thousand pines in the great parks of Corona Province. Again, this was of no concern to our story. It also nearly wiped out a great flock of Hespaniard Nuthatches. The word nearly in the previous sentence would shortly become of great interest. For one of the survivors, buffeted by the wind, battered by the rain, and half-starved through the loss of the beetles of the great forest of Corona, miraculously stayed aloft across the treacherous straight of Corona, stumbled through the barren by-ways of the Walants, crossed the eastern cliffs of the Great Basin, and collapsed against the trunk of a spruce tree. He lay on the ground, his beak flung open, when a spruce beetle walked into it. By instinct he snapped his bill shut and swallowed. The strange beetle was quite tasty. The nuthatch poked around, and found another beetle, which he also snapped up. And then another, and another, until he had his fill.

And then, even though it was day, the nuthatch, sated and exhausted, roosted in the underbrush.

The bird awakened that evening, just after the sun went down. The world was paradise. The weather was mild, the winds were gentle, the beetles were plentiful, and he could not see any threats, such as hawks or cats. The great lizard in the pond and the little tribe of monkeys scurrying down a trail below were not problems - he was far too small to serve even as their appetizer. Besides, he could fly away if there was a threat.

There was one thing that prevented this from being nuthatch heaven. And that was the presence of a second nuthatch. Hope sprang eternal. He flittered up the tree unnoticed, until he was almost at the top of the trunk. His tail was pointed to the sky, and his bill to ground, as is the way of the nuthatches. The gibbeous moon shone brightly, almost as a second day. The nuthatch was ready to burst into his squeaky little song, and let the entire valley know he was there.

1. The nuthatch called out. The catapult load was launched before the attackers were ready!
2. The nuthatch called out. Anselm quickly answered and managed to stop the attack.
3. The attackers were ready. Anselm gave the signal. Just as the charge started, the lonely nuthatch answered the call, signalling to the catapulters not to go on.

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