Porcelain Princess (20 page)

‘
Really?’ Neris was intrigued. ‘A sister of royalty? Does that
make
me
a princess?’

She gave an
elegant wave and twirl. But Dougy was troubled by this
news.

‘
Wait, wait; how are we brothers and sisters? I can’t remember
there ever been anybody but us!’

‘
Oh
come on Dougy,’ Ferena chuckled. ‘It’s not like we’ve got the
world’s greatest memories, have we?’

‘
So
who made us then?’ Durndrin frowned as his mind whirled. ‘If we’re
sisters and brothers, you’re also saying, I suppose, that the
girl’s father and mother in
The Porcelain Child
also made
us, right?’

Carey gave a
sharp nod of her head.

‘
And
that’s another shock for me, because all this time I’ve been
reading that story without realising they must be my great
grandparents or great-greats or what have you!’

‘
Well
that would explain how you and the Princess come to look so alike,
like you told us,’ Ferena said. ‘Think about it; when the mother
was creating her child, she’d be basing how she looked on some
other girl in the family. It’s a family likeness; which means the
Princess really
is
part of the family, I
suppose.’

‘
Hmn,
but didn’t the father
effectively
remain childless, so how…’
Grudo, not wishing to upset Carey any further, twirled his huge
hands, a sign that he wanted her to work out the rest of his
thinking for herself.

‘
Oh
don’t be ridiculous, Grudo!’ Neris chided him. ‘Obviously, he must
have remarried!’

‘
He
didn’t seem the remarrying kind to
me
,’ Grudo
sniffed.

Carey placed a
comforting hand on Grudo’s huge arm.

‘
I
know what you mean Grudo; but just how lonely and hurt would he
have been after giving up his daughter–’

‘
He
gave
up
his daughter?’ Peregun was aghast.

‘
Well, the Princess avoided mentioning it herself,’ Carey
admitted. ‘But think about it; she’s
here
, isn’t she? And
she
did
say that part of the Illuminator’s deal for giving
her some sort of life involved her father making a sacrifice. The
Illuminator needed the Princess to stop everyone fearing the
Fading. In return, that’s how you all came to be alive; my great
granddad or whoever he was could give life to seven of you,
including his daughter.’

‘
Bit
of a rough deal,’ Neris pouted. ‘Sure, she gets some sort of life,
but she has to hang around forever in a more or less empty palace
with the weird guy who tricked her father.’

‘
It’s
not easy to see who it was hardest on; her father or her?’ Ferena
wiped away a tear.

‘
She
wouldn’t really
know
her father, I suppose.’ Durndrin didn’t
look like he actually believed what he was saying. ‘I mean, she’d
only be aware of what was happening once she came to life, so she
wouldn’t have had time to get to know him.’

‘
Ah,
but in the
story
,’ Carey said, remembering another part of
it, ‘her father seems to think that he sees signs of life in her
before
they arrive in the kingdom. Then again, he’s not sure
if he’s just
imagining
it; and as he agreed to the
Illuminator’s harsh deal, he must have finally decided it
was
all in his mind.’

‘
If
this way was the only way for her to gain her life, what choice did
either of them really have?’ Ferena was struggling to stop herself
from weeping.

‘
And
none of us – well, Carey excepted, of course – would be here if
they hadn’t both made their sacrifice!’ Even Peregun looked serious
and thoughtful.

Carey, too, had
begun to recognise the enormity of the Princess’s sacrifice.
Suddenly, however, she scowled as something dawned on
her.

‘
But
in her speech, when she first arrives here, the Princess
definitely
says she’s alive!’

‘
Ah,
you mean in
The Porcelain Kingdom
?’ There was a slight hint
of irony in Grudo’s comment. ‘In the
story
?’

Carey recognised
Grudo’s cynical, wry raising of his eyebrows.

‘
You’re saying – saying that might
not
have been her
real
speech?’

‘
Who
could remember her exact words? Besides, we know the whole aim of
the Illuminator was to allay fear of the Fading.’

Carey bit her
lip.

‘
But
I
so
wanted to believe!’

She looked
around at everyone, her eyes full of apology and hurt.

‘
I
should have
known
it was impossible! I’m such a
fool
!’

She looked up at
Grudo, reaching out for and taking a grip of one of his huge
hands.

‘
You
were right; and I was wrong!’

‘
No
no, Carey, you were right to wish for the best for us.’

Caressing her
hand, Grudo stared out of the open doorway, looking up towards and
glaring bitterly at the looming tower.

‘
It’s
the
Illuminator
who’s done us all wrong!’

*

The
Glorious Pattern of The Kimono

It is said that
not long after chaos had been banished from the universe by a
semblance of order imposed in its place, the threads of life were
used to weave a fabulous kimono that could reveal the future to
anyone who asked its wearer a reasonable question.

Whatever the
truth of this, it is known that a family who had produced
generations of wise women claimed to have possessed this kimono for
at least a thousand years, and it was through the remarkable powers
of this fabulous object that they themselves received their skills
of prophesy. Of course, many doubted the truth of this claim,
citing as reason for their cynicism the meagre living standards of
the women, for they lived in little more than a tumbledown shack on
the farthest edges of the empire.

The High Emperor
himself was of this opinion, until he heard from a traveller and
historian of great repute that he had seen this kimono for himself.
Moreover, the traveller’s own image had appeared within the
kimono’s pattern, and was now featured there amongst a whole host
of important people who had visited the wise woman.

‘
A
famous astrologer, who asked as to the real nature of the planets,
was surrounded by the swirls of a most wondrous cosmos,’ he
reverently assured the High Emperor. ‘A warlord who pleaded for
help in restoring peace to his region was portrayed in a circle of
enjoined hands, while an artist who had requested the secret of
granting a semblance of realism to her sculptures is herself
rendered on the kimono as if about to leap forth from the
embroidery. The greater the man or woman, the greater his or her
image appears in the pattern.’

Now the High
Emperor didn’t really have any question he needed answering. He had
his armies, his fleets, his wealth and power to ensure that he
always got the answer he wanted to any question asked or any
problem faced.

Would he win the
next battle his armies took part in? Of course, for he would always
ensure victory by putting into the field a force ten times greater
than his opponent’s.

Would his
empire, his power and his wealth continue to grow and expand? Well,
here was another question; what was to stop him?

Would he be
remembered by history? Now that was a truly foolish
question!

Nonetheless,
this idea of the fabulous kimono intrigued him. If it portrayed
amongst its pattern any one famous or important who visited the
wise woman, then how could the pattern be deemed to be complete and
accurate if it failed to incorporate the most important man alive;
the High Emperor himself!

Without a
moment’s hesitation, he ordered that a great caravan of camels,
oxen, horses and carts should be prepared, such that his entire
court would travel with him as he made his way to the far edge of
his empire where this wise woman lived. They travelled day and
night, while the courtiers and the High Emperor ate, slept or even
danced in their smoothly sprung carts. They travelled for month
after month, a vast, languidly moving caterpillar of men and women
devouring everything it encountered, for even the poorest village
was expected to provide it with food, clothing and, yes, the
youngest, prettiest women. Only when the caravan arrived at the
base of the mountains was it decided that the court and the great
carts would have to remain in the foothills, while the High Emperor
and a few chosen men continued on through the passes and along the
ancient goat tracks.

At last, they
appeared outside the remote hovel of the wise woman. Without
waiting for his attendants to arrange an introduction to the wise
woman, the High Emperor marched straight into her home.

‘
If
everything they say about this fabulous kimono is true,’ he told
himself, ‘then she should already be aware of my arrival; for I
should already be a glowing sun on her kimono, blinding every other
person nearby!’

And indeed, the
woman was expecting him. She was seated at a low table on which a
pot of tea and two cups waited. Despite her age and her wisdom, she
was surprisingly beautiful; yet the High Emperor didn’t notice
this, his eyes only on the kimono and its pattern as he sought his
own, imperious image amongst its elaborately decorative
embroidery.

He saw all the
images the traveller had told him of and more. There was a woman
who he had heard was a ferocious bandit leader, her men riding
alongside her as if they were a wave flowing forth from the
underworld itself. There was the inventor of the great wheels that
spun and drew water up from lakes to irrigate whole mountains.
There were the Three Women of the Council, who had offered
themselves as hostages to save their besieged city; then executed
their enemy’s leaders as they slept in the morning.

And the closer
he looked, the more people he saw, thousands upon thousands of
them. And just as the traveller had also described, the more
insignificant the man, the smaller he was portrayed, in many cases
hidden amongst the energetic images of other, greater
people.

So where was he,
the High Emperor, who could have any one of these nonentities
killed on a whim after a particularly disagreeable
breakfast?

Ah, on her
back
, of course! Where else would there be a clear expanse
large enough to take his image?

He strode around
the table, preparing to be amazed by the beauty and colours of his
overpowering, omnipresent image. Yet the back of her kimono was
hardly different from the front, with its mix of people of varying
sizes and capabilities.

Why was the
kimono refusing to react to his presence? When would he
appear?

He strode back
towards the front of the table. The woman had calmly poured him a
cup of tea from her teapot.

A
question! He had to ask a question of course!

‘
When
will I appear on your kimono?’ he demanded.

The wise woman
didn’t reply. She gracefully slid his cup closer towards him, while
indicating that he should take his seat at the table.

Sitting down at
last, he grabbed and drank the tea thirstily, as he had not had
anything to drink since first sighting the woman’s home. He slammed
the empty cup down on the table.

Unhurriedly
picking up the cup, the wise woman carefully poured any remaining
liquid onto a nearby plate then, leaning elegantly across the
table, she revealed to her High Emperor the pattern the tealeaves
had made in the bottom.

They showed a
man seated at a table, drinking tea.

The High Emperor
furiously snatched the cup from her hands, swirling the image
away.

‘
Is
this some treacherous trick?’ he roared. ‘You think I don’t have my
own useless fortune tellers at court? You think I’ve come all this
way just to see some useless heap of tea leaves in the bottom of a
cup?’

He spun the cup
across the table so that the wise woman could see for herself the
shapeless mound of tea leaves lying in the cup’s bottom.

‘
See!’ he stormed. ‘I only see something resembling a dung
heap lying before me!’

Then, at last,
he began to see the pattern of the kimono ripple and change. Over
the woman’s right breast, a surprisingly small image of a
gloriously robed man was starting to form. But the man was
purposely striding forwards, growing in size as he drew nearer. His
robes were the purple and magenta robes of an emperor, embossed
with a golden sun.

The High Emperor
smiled in satisfaction.

This foolish
kimono had finally recognised who he was!

‘
There had been no image of the High Emperor,’ the woman
politely explained, ‘because no High Emperor had visited me until
now.’

The oncoming man
continued to grow in size, allowing the High Emperor to make out
more and more detail. Yes, yes; all this was now all so incredibly
pleasing! The kimono was accurately representing his very finest
robles, with their own intricately embroidered planets and
stars.