Quen Nim by Steve Shilstone Page A

and Leee Combined?” asked Jay Dot of no one in particular.
    â€œDo ye know your own daughter?” snarled Rindle Mer, pacing, pacing, pacing, flexing and relaxing, flexing and relaxing, her webbed-fingered hands.
    Old Dabber, deep in thought, sat, chin resting on the palm of his right hand.
    Directly beneath Cloud Castle City, a softly smiling hutter, who was in fact not a hutter, slept on, unaware of and unaffected by the newly hatched dismay attending the stunning reality of the Boad, All Fidd and Leee Combined stripped in a sudden shocking flash of its Royalty.

Chapter Twenty-Seven
    Zootch Ponders
    Zootch sat up, yawned and stretched. He was momentarily surprised to see himself wearing hutter field boots and tannerbritches. Huh? …Oh … Ah, yes. He touched the invisible Cap of Cloak on his head.
    She should give up and come flying in today if I calculate correctly, and of course I do, thought Zootch. Now where should I plant myself to be found? She’ll probably head straight for Cloud Castle City to confess her defeat. Hmmmm … Or maybe she won’t. She might go straight to the Queeeeeeeeeeeeeeen. I need to find a spot where it won’t matter and I can see her wherever she goes. More important, where she can see me. Yes, just this side of the drawbridge will do nicely. When she appears, I’ll lift the Cap of Cloak, give her a peek, then jam it back on. That’ll plant the future, true and bold, no turning back. Whew … Gives me a shiver. I’ll be Kig.
    Zootch melted on his tongue the last of the gadapple blossom petals he’d brought away from the Outerest Orchard. He sprang jauntily to his feet and stepped to the path. He whistled an old Blossom pruning tune as he strolled with his thumbs thrust in the waistband of his tannerbritches. He nodded to hutters combing, clipping, and raking the fields. The hutters blinked and smiled vaguely.
    An oddment, thought Zootch. Ah well, early morning drowsiness, I suppose. The hutters mayhap do not perk up until later in the day. Logical it is, with all of their singing, dancing and storytelling at night. When I’m Kig, I should do something to brighten their mornings. Dawn fireworks, perhaps? Dawn fireworks. Hmmmm … A certainty. I’ll decree it!
    Zootch puffed out his chest and walked taller. He so such already felt himself to be Kig. He could almost feel the elegance of the crown. He wore a smile of benevolence.
    I will be known throughout forever as Good Kig Zootch. Zootch, the Good. Zootch, the Kind. Zootch, the Most Intelligent. Zootch of the Agile Mind. I shall eat ladgecake every day and snack on gadapple blossom petals in season.
    Down the path stumbled and staggered a wild herd of fleece tended by a pair of wild miffens. The little puffball miffens, one orange, one purple, zoomed through the air banging at the waddlers of the darbeast flooce in front, prodding him to lead the others on. Zootch stepped aside to let ‘em pass and spoke to a pair of honeytraders trailing in their wake.
    â€œRare day for wild fleece, eh?” he said amiably. He even bowed, so such almost doffing his Cap of Cloak, but checking himself in time.
    â€œTo be sure, hutter. Rare day for more than one reason. Isn’t it delicious? Won’t we have a story to tell when we get home to Honeygold?” eagerly gossiped the trader on the left, the one wearing a white and yellow striped jerkin. “Did you ever see or think a thing like that could happen?”
    â€œWhat happened? I’ve been away,” asked and explained Zootch, a weed patch of worry sprouting in his snapjaw mind.
    â€œOh, then, don’t you know?” said the other trader, the one on the right, the one wearing yellow cap, yellow shirt, white vest, yellow leggers. “The Castle Boad is without Royalty!”
    â€œHow do you mean?” asked Zootch, feeling weak in the knees.
    The first trader nudged in front of his partner and dramatically