3 Dead Princes: An Anarchist Fairy Tale (11 page)

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Authors: Danbert Nobacon

BOOK: 3 Dead Princes: An Anarchist Fairy Tale
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“Witchgirl! Help your old mother out. Top row. Third from the morningsun.”
 
Glamour grabbed the stool and scaled the apothecary. From above her head she fished out a leather pouch and tossed it towards the table. On a reflex, The Fool plucked it out of the air, raised it to his nostrils and, nodding his head approvingly, handed it to The Witch.
 
 
 
“It’s very mild,” said Glamour, handing Stormy the pipe.
 
“Will it put me to sleep?” Stormy asked hopefully, and then frowning, “Will it make me have bad dreams?”
 
“No, no! None of that. It’ll just relax you. And then we can talk without all freaking out on each other. Just do as I did.”
 
Stormy brought the pipe to her mouth and inhaled deeply, which sent her into a coughing fit.
 
“Easy, girl,” laughed Glamour. “Pass it back to me. And watch me closely this time. Inhale gently. Let the vapors wash over you.”
 
Stormy tried again with less coughing.
 
“Ere, shufty up a bit.” Stormy wriggled on her back sideways and Glamour lay down alongside her on the bed.
 
“Now just lie down, close your eyes and relax. Think warm thoughts. You are lying in a boat, floating down a river with a wide gentle current on a summer afternoon.”
 
The two girls were silent, apart from the rise and fall of their shallow breathing. They lay there for some measureless amount of time.
 
Stormy felt a smile spread across her face, and made a whimper trying to stifle it. It was no use. The giggle erupted mostly from her nostrils and the bed shook.
 
“What?”
 
“I ,” and Stormy broke into a full laugh. A whole array of muscles across her face danced a dance of joy, for being allowed to do again what they did best. “Leaves,” she said. “We floated under a tree and the leaves from a drooping branch tickled my nose.”
 
Glamour guffawed. “What are you talking about, girl? I was being massaged by the river spirit. He was just about to move from my shoulders to my neck when you interrupted.”
 
Stormy laughed even louder. “River spirit? You’ve never seen a river spirit!”
 
“Have too.”
 
“In your dreams,” said the Princess, now not fearing dreams at all.
 
“Yes. In my dreams.”
 
“What’s he like?”
 
“He’s strong and handsome. And he has a cute goat beard. Not like the shaggy mess all the boys are wearing these days.”
 
Stormy was silent at this, thinking thoughts that surprised even her. She was even more surprised when she heard herself say, “You ever been with a boy?”
 
Glamour almost seemed to be expecting the question. “Yes,” she said calmly. “And more than once, too.”
 
“What’s it like?” Stormy said, raising herself up on to an elbow so she could see Glamour’s face.
 
“Well, at first I didn’t like it. But that’s because I didn’t like the boy. Though I didn’t know that at the time. I thought I loved him.”
 
“Eugghh!” spat Stormy, shaking at the memory of looking longingly at Mercurio when they were banqueting at Bald Mountain.
 
“Then I met this other boy and I didn’t really fancy him, but we got drunk and started fooling around. And he was the sweetest most loving boy you could hope to meet. And it felt good. Really good.” Glamour reached for the herb pipe, lost for a moment in her own sweeter memories.
 
Stormy had a warm flash, thinking of when she had kissed River, the traveling player. Then she thought of Fred and winced.
 
“So what happened?”
 
“Well,” Glamour shrugged sadly. “I didn’t fancy him. I mean in the morning when I woke up.”
 
“Oh,” said Stormy, now thoroughly confused.
 
“I once slept with a girl too. Same thing. I went with the flow and it was okay, but not my…I dunno. It just wasn’t me. Ohh, but she was heartbroken. Poor thing.”
 
“I don’t think I will ever fancy anyone again,” Stormy said. “After what happened to me.”
 
Glamour passed her the smoke. “You will, girl. There’s no magic way to find out. I mean find out who you are. It happens or it doesn’t. You try things along the way, cos it’s part of seeing whether you really like someone or not. It can feel really weird, or great, or all mixed up at the same time. It’s not easy to know if it’s right or wrong. It’s just part of finding out who you are.”
 
“It sounds painful to me,” said Stormy.
 
The girls were silent for a moment.
 
“You learned the first rule though,” said Glamour.
 
“What’s that?”
 
“Well if someone forces themselves on you it’s always wrong. No matter who it is! Mind you. I don’t know if I’d be brave enough to kill a fella, even if he were a bastard gropeller.”
 
The girls looked into each other’s eyes, uncertain of where the words had led them, when a gentle cramp in Stormy’s stomach burst softly, combusting into a laugh, and the girls fell on the bed together, howling helplessly.
 
Which is how those moments go, sometimes. And a good thing, too.
 
A little later when the seriousness that had been scattered to the four winds was beginning to recombine, Stormy asked cautiously, “Was that a prophecy? I mean, what your mother said.”
 
“It might be nothing. She didn’t say
you
killed the princes.”
 
“That’s what she meant though. Wasn’t it?”
 
“She said you had a long life-line, so maybe all it means is that some of the princes you meet in the summers and summers to come will die before you do. I mean, you know what princes are like. Even the good ones. Always tempting fate, trying to beat their fathers and impress the girls. Must be something in their blood.”
 
Stormy thought of her father, who was Wangodknowswhere. He was no longer a prince, but she feared for him all the same.
 
Chapter 13
 
SORTOFINGTON
 
S
tormy never got up from the bed to go pee or anything. She drifted off to sleep after Glamour had gently undressed her, changed her bloodsheet, and tucked her into bed. She kissed Stormy on the forehead, but even a kiss from a true friend can offer only so much protection.
 
It was not until the dead of night, when Stormy really did need to pee, that she woke.
 
It felt strange, to be in another new house. It was even stranger to feel the weight of forces that had ripped her world apart. It was only three nights ago that her father had tucked her up in her own bed. Now her home seemed like it was a gadzillion miles away, and her old life lost on a distant planet.
 
She shivered as she got back into bed, pulled the sheet close around her, and slowly sort-of-drifted off.
 
The dreamland of Sortofington was not where she wanted to be. But Sortofington was where her troubled mind looked for answers. We have all been there.
 
The Giggle Monkeys were there, laughing. Always laughing. Singing and laughing all at the same time.
 
Princess, Princess,
I bet you won’t remember this.
Take a good long look
For goodness sake.
 
 
 
Princess, Princess,
I bet you won’t remember this.
Wish upon the sun,
When you wake.
 
 
Princess, Princess,
I bet you won’t …
 
“Okay, okay. I get the picture,” stormed Stormy in her dream.
 
The Giggle Monkeys looked at her dumbfounded, then slowly resumed chattering among themselves. The monkey with a gray streak of hair running back from his forehead in a mohawk stepped forward.
 
“I am Gimminy Giggle. You are the honorary Princess Giggle. And we are giving you the tools to do the job.”
 
“Tools? What tools? What Job? I don’t see any tools!”
 
“Well,” said Gimminy Giggle, “that depends on what happens next.”
 
“So what does happen next?”
 
“We won’t know until it happens, you see …”
 
“So how can you give me the right tools?” pleaded Stormy, exasperated.
 
“We can’t be sure,” said Gimminy. “But what we have given you should stand you in good stead when the time comes.”
 
“But you haven’t given me anything!”
 
“We have too! We gave her the tools, didn’t we lads?” Gimminy appealed to his comrades.
 
Now the Giggle Monkeys muttered among themselves again.
 
“Well, if she can’t remember it in a dream, then my bet is as good as won,” said Garama Giggle.
 
“Don’t count your gracklechicks!” said Gimminy Giggle.
 
“I think she has hidden depths,” said Goandermi Giggle.
 
“Time she met the Bird,” said Garama.
 
You may think all this talk and pictures of strange creatures was only legend. Or maybe it is mere pretendsuppose to scare children at night? It’s easy to forget that the night stories we tell our children are simply less scary versions of the tales adults tell each other. It’s easy to forget that our ancestors fought monsters. And some lived to tell the tale.
 
Admittedly the strangest creature we have actually seen thus far in Stormy’s waking world is a donkey. But that is about to change. For there in the distance, in the alive world, just below the dawn horizon, where the ice sheet stretches out forever, there comes a black speck. Impossible to tell at this distance what it is, but the very fact we can see it at all means it is bigger than anything we have previously known.
 
Back in the dream, the Giggle Monkeys still talked among themselves.
 
“Time she met the Bird,” the whole said as one.
 
“That’s you, Miss Princess,” chimed Goandermi. “Now don’t forget.”
 
Which bird? Forget what?
mouthed Stormy, as she slid from Sortofington into a deeper untroubled sleep …
 

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