The Taxidermist had a secret. When he toiled for hours on his project of the cat kingdom, the secret surfaced in the small lines between his eyebrows. All of his competitors believed the secret had something to do with his work. Tell us, they would cry, what is it that makes the coats so shiny and the teeth so white? As he always did, the Taxidermist would look at them, smiling his wry smile, and say: it's the formaldehyde.
It was not an answer that satisfied them, but it meant that they could explain the reason for the lines between his eyebrows. The competitors knew that the Taxidermist's answer might justify many other things too. Like why he kept to himself or why he planted tulips every year despite the soil rejecting the bulbs each time. It was also the rationale for how he never seemed to age. It's the effect of the formaldehyde, they would whisper. After all this time, the fumes have driven him barmy and preserved him better than if he too were stuffed.
The Taxidermist knew about the gossip. In fact, he often overheard stories about himself that left him smiling his wry smile for hours. He believed it was a small price to pay for his privacy; if people realised he still had all his marbles then there would never be a moment's peace. No. He needed time and quiet to do his penance. To think about what might have been. And the Taxidermist lived like this in great comfort until the day the mayor's daughter got married.
As the horse trundled up the hill with the Taxidermist's buggy and a sawdust-filled badger in his wake, the Taxidermist could almost hear the jingle of the coins he would get from the mayor. Up ahead, a shudder of the hedgerow spooked the stallion, who bucked and whinnied before bolting through the field. It happened too fast and the Taxidermist's reactions were too slow to save the hundred pound badger from the mud. The Taxidermist stared at the fading silhouette of his horse as he heard the wedding band echo off the hills. There was nothing to be done, so sat beside his badger and waited. The horse was long gone, the clouds were gathering overhead and he knew the mayor would see to it that his purse stayed empty.
Sighing to cover his muttered expletives, the Taxidermist paused mid-profanity to see a Pointed Hat emerge from the hedgerow. Well, blow me down, thought the Taxidermist. My fate is sealed. He reached into the folds of his overcoat and pulled out a vial, a yellow stone and a piece of string.
"Those are no good to you now."
A face emerged below the Pointed Hat. The Taxidermist said nothing. He popped the yellow stone into the vial and sealed it with the cork stopper. His fingers wove a series of knots with the string. When he was finished, the vial dangled from the string like a cherished necklace.
The Pointed Hat came nearer. "Didn't you hear me?"
The Taxidermist hoped the patches in his armpits did not show. "Yes," he said. "But I did not expect you this soon."
The Pointed Hat smiled. "Sorry about your horse."
The Taxidermist shrugged. "He knows the way home."
"I take it you are going to the wedding in the valley?"
"This was meant for the mayor's daughter. It's ruined now, no thanks to you."
"What can I say?" said the Pointed Hat. "I like to make an entrance." He leant closer, and the Taxidermist could smell barley on his breath and moss on his clothes. "It's time we discussed what you owe me."
"I was about to arrange that," said the Taxidermist, "but then you came and destroyed my hard work."
The Pointed Hat laughed. "My dear man. You know as well as I do that the gift I bestowed on you means you no longer have to work hard."
"You know what I mean."
"There is an easy way to right this."
"How?"
"I want to know the secret to how you stay young."
"Impossible!" The Taxidermist shook his fist.
"You might want to think before you answer me," said the Pointed Hat. "Because if you do not do as I ask, I shall take back your gift for taxidermy."
The Taxidermist thought hard. If he revealed the secret to his eternal youth then he would break an Unconscionable Law. However, if he did not, then he would lose his ability to preserve.
Before he had met the Pointed Hat at the dawn of the Moss Age, the Taxidermist had toiled for weeks to get his foxes sprightly and his hares furry. A chance encounter with the Pointed Hat at the Hollow Tree, where he drank his ale after a day's work, changed his craft. The Pointed Hat gave him the gift of Momentary Locomotion, which was stored in his left index finger. With this gift, the Taxidermist could revive any creature to rearrange its pose, revitalise its coat or return the shine to its eyes before restoring its death. What had taken the Taxidermist weeks in the past could be completed in a matter of minutes.
"What you are asking me to do would violate the Code of Taxidermists. I cannot do that."
The Pointed Hat held out his palm. "Then you must return your gift to me."
The Taxidermist shook his head. "I propose an exchange."
"Go on."
He dangled the vial in front of the Pointed Hat. "This vial contains the serum and the stone that will grant you youth for the next hundred years. I cannot tell you what is in it, nor can I show you where to get more."
"No good, no good," said the Pointed Hat. "I must know the secret."
"I will not break the Unconscionable Law. This is my offer."
The Pointed Hat stared at the Taxidermist. "You said this lasts for a hundred years?"
The Taxidermist nodded.
"And what happens after that?"
"I am sure you can find me again."
"You will give me more?"
"You have my word."
"Very well," said the Pointed Hat. "Your secret is safe for now." He snapped his fingers and the Taxidermist watched as the horse returned to the buggy and the badger, sans mud, was restored to its place under the sheet. The stallion trundled once more, as though nothing had happened, and the Taxidermist watched the Pointed Hat disappear into the hedgerow.
They arrived at the wedding in time to see the mayor's daughter cut the cake. The mayor peeked at the badger and, feeling in high spirits after having emptied his wineskin, rewarded the Taxidermist with twice his regular fee. The Taxidermist doffed his hat and led the stallion back over the hill to their cottage at the edge of the forest. When he pushed the door open with his shoulder, the Taxidermist started at the sight before him. He cottage was filled with men wearing Pointed Hats. One stepped forward and shook his fist at him.
"You deceived me! The serum did not grant me 100 years; it made 100 of me."
The Taxidermist smiled his wry smile. "Exactly. Wait a few moments and you will understand."
The Pointed Hat seethed and growled above the din of his replicates. After a minute, the other Pointed Hats fell down, as though asleep.
"What is going on?"
"Follow me," said the Taxidermist.
He took the Pointed Hat to the shed behind the cottage. In the shed was a trap door. After lighting his lamp, the Taxidermist led the Pointed Hat down. It was dusty and smelt of bracken. The Pointed Hat rubbed his eyes and sneezed. When he looked up, he was surrounded by tanks of different sizes, each holding a perfect replica of the Taxidermist.
He gasped, then shrieked. "Is this your secret?"
The Taxidermist only smiled. "I'm going to tell you the same thing I tell everyone: it's the formaldehyde."
The Pointed Hat felt ill. The Taxidermist was staying young by preserving himself in formaldehyde and using the gift of Momentary Locomotion to revive himself, thus ensuring eternal youth. He had to get out of there. He had to get away from the Taxidermist. As he began to scramble up the ladder, he felt a finger on his shoulder.
The Taxidermist stood back. He knew the only way to keep his secret was to silence every last one of the Pointed Hats. There was just enough formaldehyde to cover them all.
"One down. Ninety-nine to go."
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