Quen Nim (3 page)

All eyes save those of Nimble Missst swiveled to gaze at the reddest door in the thinnest tower. Nimble Missst rolled her startling violet eyes as she thought what you know she was thinking. A long minute passed. A longer one. The longest one yet. Finally the reddest door opened, and a single fleckrunner emerged. Clad in customary red hat, green scarf, purple tunic, yellow pantaloons and buffed to high shine purple boots, he peered around through half-closed eyes and raised an ash green hand to stifle a yawn.

“He ran off,” announced the fleckrunner with a careless shrug.

Chapter Seven

What Now?

The Quing sighed and visibly slumped slightly. The Quang, paying heed, followed her lead.

“Our lives are destroyed,” blandly announced the Quing. “We have been torn up by the roots and chopped to bits. There is no reason to be able to continue. Rudeness rules the harvest.”

“Rudeness,” echoed the Quang.

“This is ridiculous!” shouted Nimble Missst down to the fleckrunner. “What do you mean ‘He ran off'?”

The fleckrunner, leaning casually in the open door of the thinnest tower, shrugged and held up a scrap.

“What's that?” demanded Nimble Missst.

“His note,” replied the fleckrunner.

“Read it out loud at once!” ordered Nimble Missst.

The fleckrunner smoothed the scrap, straightened his scarf, cleared his throat and said, “Why not? When you ask so nicely. Zootch, the Prince of Blossom, simply writes, ‘I am afraid of her. Good-bye. Zootch. p.s. Sorry.'”

That stirred the masses, who and why up until then had been stricken stunned to silence by the news of Zootch fleeing. Murmuring and movement began. Stealthy retreat. Various colored doors in towers of differing thicknesses and heights opened and swallowed streams of citizens. Soon the low terrace courtyard emptied, and all the doors in all the towers save one were closed. The one door open so such was the reddest door in the thinnest tower. There the lounging fleckrunner doffed his cap, dropped the prince's note to the ground next to his purple booted feet, and retreated into the tower, closing the reddest door behind him. The Quing and the Quang glided down the twining terrace path and scooted serenely humiliated to the bluest door in the tallest tower, which opened, received the Royal pair, and closed.

“Ye be free, Nimby!” exulted Rindle Mer with her happiest frown.

“But what about the Boad, All Fidd and Leee Combined?” uttered Jay Dot.

“Nimby?” said Dabber, stepping away from his Carven Dragon Fountain ritual place.

Lady May launched herself madly in flight and circled the Gemstudded Pod while chattering non-stop gibberish.

Nimble Missst stood seemingly frozen at the door of the Gemstudded Pod. Her family, all of ‘em, even her gramma May after her short frantic flight, approached within a respectful distance to witness the snapjaw mind of their daughter and granddaughter at work as it flew to the task of making something bright from this so very such unexpected turn of events. They knew enough to be silent when Nimble Missst's eyes were closed. Truth, her eyes were closed. Her face was a blank mask. Behind it the snapjaw mind whirled at work. Her hands at her sides were balled tightly into fists. Cloud Castle City hung in the sky. The sliding stairs had been retracted. The bound timber gate of Blossom Castle remained swung wide in welcome. The flowers in their terrace beds silently roared their colors. The pleasing sounds of waters plashing from Carven Dragon Fountain mouths played over and under the stillness of the statued Nimble Missst. In time she opened her eyes.

“Ye be free, Nimby,” said Rindle Mer.

“What about the Boad, All Fidd and Leee Combined?” said Jay Dot of Orrun.

“Nimby?” said her grampa Dabber.

“The Kinng's retiring! What will happen? What should happen? Should we go there? Or back? Or where?” bubbled her gramma Lady May of Orrun.

Nimble Missst raised a smoke ash green hand. Her gramma settled, clamping her lips tight shut, but her wings still trembled all aquiver.

“Ridiculous,” said Nimble Missst. “This is what is going to happen. Gramma and Grampa, ye will fly to Cloud Castle City. Father, ye, too, carrying Mother, will fly to Cloud Castle City. Grampa, ye find Motty and send her here. Have her bring the silver cape. It is in my round room. She knows where. And my red vest and pantaloons. Do ye understand?”

“Be it a plan?” asked Rindle Mer. “Will it work? What will it do?”

“Yes, what about you, Nimby? What are you going to do?” asked Dabber.

“The Boad?” said Jay Dot hopefully.

Lady May, strangely so such, said nothing.

Addressing all of ‘em, Nimble Missst said, “Fly the City to the Castle of the Boad, and wait there for me. Tell the Kinng and the ridiculous Queeeeeeeeeeeeeeen that Nimble Missst, Princess of Cloud Castle City, possessor of a snapjaw mind, will soon be there, after she hunts down the Blossom Prince. Afraid of me? Ridiculous!”

Chapter Eight

Nimble Broods

Nimble Missst sat herself down on the topmost step in front of the Gemstudded Pod. Her right arm she bent, placed elbow on knee, chin on the palm of the hand. She drummed her fingers along her cheek. She'd assumed one of her favorite thinking poses. She stared at the spires and turrets of Cloud Castle City. She observed the tiny flying figures of her family rising up to disappear among ‘em.

There, good, I suppose, she thought. Ridiculous. I'll unravel this … this … this thing. Afraid of me. Poff! Now where would I go if I were a Blossom Prince frightened of a harmless Princess with a snapjaw mind? Not too far, I'll wager. If he's scared of me, he's probably paralyzed with terror at anything unfamiliar. Hmmmmm … yes. He'll stick to the familiar. What's familiar outside of these walls to a ridiculous Blossom Zootch? The Quing and the Quang never step through the bound timber gate. There's a fact well known. The Quing, so as I've been told, kept Zootch ever and always close at hand. He must have begged his way free of these walls at least once in his miserable terrified life. Afraid of me? Ridiculous. The note. I'll examine it for clues, but first I might as well give all the prying eyes in those towers something to look at.

Nimble Missst shimmered to green foggy cloud and floated down the terraces to envelop the note on the ground where the fleckrunner had tossed it. She jelled into snapjaw Princess form, holding the note in her left hand. She rubbed it carefully, sniffed it, tested it with the tip of her tongue. She turned it over, examining both sides and edges, holding it close to her startling violet eyes.

Not Blossom leaf parchment, she thought. Not by a stretch. There's a hint of honey wax … hmmmm … and it's not Blossom honey wax … Clover! It's pure Clover. Yes … So … Form it well, Nimble Missst. Ye have it, don't ye? I'll make sure.

Nimble Missst turned and stepped to the reddest door in the thinnest tower.

“Fleckrunner!” she called. “Come out and answer me one question!”

“So polite. Not rude at all,” said the fleckrunner, appearing in the doorway. “So Royal. I'll answer one question in spite of your politeness merely because your skin is nearly fleckrunner attractive.”

So such, the fleckrunner's ash green skin lacked only smokiness to match perfectly the tint of Nimble Missst. Nimble Missst herself was glad of that lack. She enjoyed a pride in the singularity of her own smoke ash green skin.

“When was Zootch allowed to visit Sadlar?” asked the princess briskly, ignoring the lazy sarcasm of the fleckrunner.

“Snapjaw mind, indeed. I am impressed,” said the fleckrunner in a mocking manner, though he was in fact so such deeply and foldingly startled. “After ten bar years of whining and begging, he was allowed to visit Sadlar's Gardens for three days last year. It was the lone time he ever traveled beyond these walls until … well … now.”

“Good. Leave me alone,” said Nimble Missst, turning away.

“So polite,” said the fleckrunner, retreating and closing the reddest door.

Nimble Missst strode to the bound timber gate and out onto the high cobbled road. She paced from one side of the road to the other and back again, glancing from time to time up at Cloud Castle City.

What's taking so long? she thought. Ridiculous! Get the cape, the red vest and the pantaloons. How long can that take? Ridiculous. I don't want to go up there. Don't need craggers and hollowites all staring after … Afraid of me? Ridiculous. I don't … Ah, finally!

Cloud Castle City ponderously sailed off in the direction of the Danken Wood, leaving the fluttering figure of Motty behind. Clutching the requested silver cape and red garments, Motty descended to land on the road next to Nimby. She folded her stubby yellow wings and danced in a tiptoe circle, bowing.

“Oh, happy day, once more to spend time drinking in the beauties of the Blossom Castle terraces!” she sang.

“We're leaving for Clover,” announced the no-nonsense Princess.

“Well, it was a short visit, but nice while it lasted,” sang Motty, and she pirouetted to hand the princess her things while at the self and same time she shot her tongue out and wrapped it around her own head in loops.

“Stop being ridiculous,” ordered Nimble Missst, though in truth of fact Motty's ridiculousness was the very reason Nimby was desirous so such of her company.

Chapter Nine

The Search for Zootch Begins

Silver cape, red vest and red pantaloons in hand, Nimble Missst shimmered to green cloud and rejelled a crafted moment later wearing the red clothes and holding the silver cape, azure tunic and pantaloons in hand. Such was how she ever dressed, thusly that quickly and easily.

“Carry these in your pocket. I'll need ‘em later to become Quen,” said Nimby. She handed the ceremonial silks and her grampa's silver cape to Motty.

“Smooth and cool, so smooth and cool, like as the underside of a golden harp,” sang Motty. She folded the garments neatly and slid ‘em into her pocket, which was immense, so said a fact, being the lone pocket on Motty's dark blue six-legged substantial trousers.

All of Nimble Missst's doubts about being thrust into marriage with Zootch in order to become Quen of the Boad, All Fidd and Leee Combined, had been swept away by winds of consternation and bafflement. Someone afraid of her? Someone afraid of her? So such a possibility had never remotely at all even once occurred to her. Respect for her snapjaw mind? Certainly. Deference to her Royalty? Ever so. Admiration for her puzzle skills? To be sure. Regard for her independence? So such had she always believed. Fear? Ridiculous.

“He can't have gotten far without magic or wings. If he fears me, he'll fear the Woods. He'll not wander far from the road. Ye fly that side. I'll fly this. Eyes open. Look for flashes of ridiculous silver and gold garb,” said Nimble Missst, and she took flight to the left of the high cobbled road.

“You're left and I'm right. If you're left, why aren't you staying? If I'm right, how pleasant that will be,” Motty sang her nonsense, fluttering along in ragged flight, working her stubby yellow wings.

Nimble Missst felt soothed by the wash of Motty's voice. A surprise? Not really. It was Motty's voice, and not Rindle Mer's, she had heard singing above her cradle so such that long ago in her newborn days.

The green density of the Woods Beyond the Wood spreading out far and wide from both sides of the road offered tens of thousands of places to hide. Nimble Missst's snapjaw mind focused, hard at work. No sign of him on the road. No boot scuffs. No pebbles on the slope turned underside up Blossom Princely stride lengths apart. Did he have help? Might he not have befriended a waterwizard at some Blossom Festival or other? Hmmmmm … waterwizard. Zootch would need help, wouldn't he? A ridiculous coward afraid of me would never venture alone. He had help from someone who moved him swiftly to Sadlar's. He isn't hiding in these Woods. He's at Sadlar's. He must be at Sadlar's because I think it so!

“Motty!” called Nimble Missst. “Follow me.”

Nimby swerved from the high cobbled road and flapped her wings furiously. She sped on a line over the Woods Beyond the Wood. When a beckoning pool at the mouth of a cave appeared below her, she dropped abruptly to land.

“Riffle Sike! Where are ye? How did ye help the Blossom Prince?” she called into the cave from the edge of the pond.

Motty fluttered along and settled clumsily half in and half out of the pool. Three trouser legs were wet. Three weren't.

“Oh, a family visit, how nice. Where your mother grew. Is Uncle at home?” sang Motty merrily.

True to be said, they'd arrived at the beckoning pool of Nimble Missst's mother's uncle, the waterwizard Riffle Sike. Nimby shimmered to cloud and seeped into the cave. She furled out and twined into the depths of the pond. She wisped from the surface and combined to jell on the shore. She swirled an orange curl of her hair on a finger. She mused.

“He's not here. There's a fact. Why isn't he here? He's always here. He's up to something. What is he up to? Helping Zootch. Nothing other. He helped Zootch get to Sadlar's. It's as I thought. Now straight to …”

“Be it truth? Wave billows and waterspouts, so it be!” came a cry from above the tops of the trees.

Chapter Ten

A Visit with Riffle Sike

“What tide sweeps Rin's daughter to my saucy pond?” asked the waterwizard who appeared above the treetops floating.

So said, a truth, the waterwizard was Riffle Sike, Nimble Missst's mother's uncle. His wispy tuft of orange beard danced as he spoke. His yellow orange eyes shone brightly out of his mint green face and below his wild tangled storm of orange hair. His purple robe was sprinkled with white stars. The white pouchbag he held in his bony mint green hand was sprayed with purple stars. He descended, all smiles, to greet his niece's daughter.