Quen Nim by Steve Shilstone Page A

return to Orrun Mountain Hollow. I set off for somewhere I haven’t decided yet.
    Ye assume the Kigship and proclaim whatever
    ridiculous decrees that ye can, will or may.”
    Zootch nodded in agreement.
    â€œI believe that ye will be a good Kig. Less ridiculous than others before ye. Your mind is truly somewhat snapjaw. And when in the passage of bar weeks and months it becomes time for the first Most Royal and Regal Quen Problem Solving Day, I will send to ye in some manner a week’s advance warning of my arrival. Are ye satisfied with these arrangements?”
    Zootch nodded in agreement.
    â€œThen say so!” snapped Nimble Missst.
    â€œI am,” said Zootch, and he was, most emphatically.
    So such agreed, they parted. Zootch deployed himself to a Regal room of splendor which had been prepared especially for him between the drawbridge towers. Nimble Missst, after summoning Motty from dreams, flew to her round blue room in the Sapphire Tower of Cloud Castle City, where, howsoever, she did not long remain.

Chapter Thirty-Two
    After the Moons Sank from Sight
    In cartjagger shops all along the edge of the courtyard, cartjaggers slept exhausted after spinning out goodnight tales of the Great Green Va to their insistent offspring. In the Visitor’s Tower every room was crowded with slumbering forms. Groaning, rasping, buzzing snores decorated the halls and stairwells. In the kitchens, assistant crapes read from batter-smudged recipes written in the hand of the legendary Old Prince Chef Larry, who four generations earlier stirred pots, prepared pans, shredded herbs in these very kitchens. Sculgers scurried to follow the instructions. The Queeeeeeeeeeeeeeen slept like as a carved stone monument, the Kinng like as a restless breeze. Hutters in their conical cottages slept as fast as they could, so such excited were they about the Blossom Prince and the Cloud Castle Princess and what would take place in the morning.
    In Cloud Castle City, floating in position above the selfsame oat field where it had hovered for days, hollowites snored, rolling their tongues across the floor and back. Craggers, with their spidery hands limp and twitching, sprawled near the levers and dials and cogs and gears and switches of the flying city’s engine room. Lady May of Orrun slept deeply, as was her habit. Days spent nervously flitting and darting led naturally to nights of deep slumber. Lord Jay Dot of Orrun slept peacefully. No longer was he worried about the Boad, All Fidd and Leee Combined. Rindle Mer stalked while Jay Dot slept, throwing glances of hatred now and again at the azure gown flung across the back of a chair. She would wear it again for Nimby’s sake. Then she would burn it. Her eyes flashed orange fire, but inside she was pleased. Her daughter was strong and Royal. Old Dabber’s place beside Lady May was unoccupied. He was with his granddaughter in the Happy Dungeon of the Amethyst Grotto.
    Nimble Missst sat on the cupped slab bench. She hugged the curving cushion. She was wrapped in the silver cape. Old Dabber of the West gazed with adoring ash blue eyes upon his granddaughter.
    â€œYou want to hear it one last time?” he said softly, a small crack forming to break his heart. “Why last?”
    â€œI will be Quen tomorrow. Too old for stories. Ridiculous,” said Nimble Missst shortly.
    â€œOh,” said Dabber, feeling unsteady in the knees and empty in the chest. “I had best tell it well then.”
    Nimble Missst nodded mutely so such like as she was lost in thought.
    â€œWell,” said Old Dabber, straightening and gathering himself together. “Such a day it was! I remember. I remember the wind, cold and cutting, but not unpleasant, no. Not unpleasant at all. There I was flying through the air! How? Why? I did not know. I knew only that I was. ‘I am Dabber of the West,’ I said, shocking myself with my very own voice. I threw my hands to my throat.