3 Dead Princes: An Anarchist Fairy Tale by Danbert Nobacon Page B

heights won’t stand this!”
     
    The Bird ignored him.
     
    “I leave the egg here, Witch, in your good hands.””
     
    “No! No! Nooooo!” wailed The Witch.
     
    “Walterbald found this egg moons ago and he gave it to me, to see if I could crack its mystery.”
     
    The Fool groaned again.
     
    “No pun intended.” The Bird gave a slow smile, and Glamour clapped her hands. Gazing at him, she gave a deep sigh.
     
    “But, why are we even bothering with this egg, if it even is an egg,” interjected Stormy. “Aren’t we losing precious time? What about my dad?”
     
    “Indeed,” cawed, The Gricklegrack. “But patience again, Princess. All this concerns your father.”
     
    “Speaking, like your father, as a scientic,” he went on, looking directly with his nearest eye into Stormy’s own, “this egg is made of a substance we have never encountered. It is hard, yet relatively lightweight. Your father and I tried to er, hatch it. I sat on it for a whole month last winter.”
     
    “Yeh, but what would you know about hatching eggs?” The Fool objected.
     
    “We do have birds up north on the Great Ice Wall where the male protects and hatches the egg.”
     
    “Oh,” said The Fool, nonplussed.
     
    “Then I dropped it from five feet high, ten feet, twenty feet, and so on. There are little dings you will see. The only sign of a crack is the horizontal line running around the top. That was there when Walterbald found it. You see my claw marks where I tried to pry it open. Nothing!”
     
    Stormy went over to the egg and put her hands upon it. It wasn’t cold but it wasn’t warm either. She crouched down beside it and put her ear against it.
     
    “Nothing,” she said
     
    “No matter,” said the great Bird. And at this, he drew himself up to his fullest and most impressive height, causing Glamour to give a little squeal in spite of herself.
     
    “I am the guardian of the egg. I carried it here, but there is dangerous work ahead. Under the circumstances it is proper that I assure the egg’s safekeeping by leaving it with another member of the Order.” He gave The Witch a gimlet-eyed look.
     
    “But I’m not IN the Order,” howled The Witch.
     
    “Kneel,” commanded the Bird in the kind of tone that assured obedience. Rolling her eyes, The Witch somewhat creakily obeyed.
     
    “He’s not going to smash that egg on her head, is he? He’ll break her skull!” muttered The Fool.
     
    “Glamour,” crooned the Bird.
     
    “Sir!” said Glamour, completely entranced.
     
    “Call me M.”
     
    “Mmmmmm,” she hummmmed dreamily.
     
    “Glamour. Be a flame and bring me an egg.”
     
    Glamour disappeared back into the cabin.
     
    “Probably just a foul-smelling rotten egg,” said The Fool to The Witch, nodding at the large egg.
     
    The Witch looked up at him, thoroughly uncomfortable. “Can I get up yet?” she hacked.
     
    “Be patient,” said the Bird. “Ah, Glamour. Would you do the honors?”
     
    “With pleasure,” Glamour replied, reappearing with a brown hen’s egg.
     
    “Witch,” spoke the Bird, “I hereby appoint you into the Order, the first woman ”
     
    “Second,” said Stormy.
     
    “Second? Oh, of course,” said the Bird, gracefully acknowledging his error. “I hereby appoint you, Witch in the Ditch, into the Order of the Accidental Adventurers.”
     
    At which point Glamour cracked the hen’s egg on her mother’s crown.
     
    The Witch in the Ditch howled as if she were mortally wounded, but she was cut short by the great Bird: “As I stand here, I swear by the Order. I swear by all who stand here upon this egg.” He lay a talon upon the egg. “I swear that we shall return to you, Witch and Glamour, with Walterbald, his daughter, and my friend The Fool. And together we shall crack the mystery of the egg.”
     
    “But my father? Can we go to my father now? Can we? …”
     
    “Yes,” said the Bird gravely. “I need help with the