Thronegarden Andrew Dickerson (the little red hen ebook TXT) 📖

The stairs narrowed in a spiraling pattern as Rat descended deeper into the castle; many of the stones had cracks, which needed to be carefully navigated to avoid a trip or fall. After surviving the treacherous staircase, Rat was greeted by a high scream as he exited into the salon. Madame Hart the master stylist rushed over to him wearing a mask of powder and rouge that exaggerated her dismay.

“Good gracious, what is this fashion statement,” she shrilled, tugging at Rat’s greasy, unkempt hair and filthy rags.

“What is that smell?” Lady Petticote the perfumer sprayed a mist of lavender before her like a bubble. “Did something die?”

“No, it is this disgusting boy,” Madame Hart replied, covering her mouth, which was smothered with red lipstick.

“It would take a miracle to do anything with that birds nest he wears on his head,” Mistress Taverner the hairdresser expressed.

“The boy is not even wearing shoes,” Colter the shoe maker despaired.

“Those clothes are tattered and ill-fitting, a disgrace to the industry,” Greyduke the tailor sighed nonchalantly.

“Perhaps if we combined our skills, we could rescue the situation,” Madame Hart mused.

The group armed with combs, measuring tape, perfumes and mirrors converged on Rat maliciously, leaving the child to stumble backwards until his back was literally against the wall.

“You can’t do it now,” Rat advised.

“Why not, child?” Lady Petticote asked. “It should have been done a long time ago.”

“Queen Etherelle has ordered a great celebration for her daughter Princess Damselfly’s birthday and everyone is needed to help by royal proclamation.”

The whole congregation gasped with shock. Madame Hart’s rouged cheeks seemed to almost burn with excitement.

“Well, why didn’t you say so sooner, you, horrible boy,” Mistress Taverner scolded.

“How can the child have a birthday party when none of us are getting any older?” Greyduke the tailor questioned.

“All children should be entitled to a birthday party,” Madame Hart softened. “Especially our little princess.”

“Does that include me, madame?” Rat asked.

“You?” Madame Hart choked. “What are you still doing here? Get out of my sight. We all have much work to do.”

“Wait when is this birthday party to begin?” Master Colter enquired.

“As soon as the princess awakes,” Rat replied over his shoulder as he ran for cover. There was another series of distressed cries as Lady Petticote rushed to find a new scent, Master Colter searched through his samples for the softest leather to make a new pair of shoes and Madame Hart hastily sought an outfit from the wardrobes that would be suitable for the occasion. Rat did not understand their reaction as none of them would be invited to the party itself, only one person from outside the royal apartments had ever been asked to enter the inner sanctum and that had been as a nursemaid for the princess when she was born. After a couple of years, the nursemaid was sent away now the child had grown, but Damselfly had cried for two days straight until the nursemaid had been brought back and since then she had never left the child’s side. Rat dreamed of being the second person to enter the royal chambers. He did not know how but one day he would find a way to get past those ornate golden doors.

As Rat reached the performers’ level, he was assailed by the smell of saltpeter. A blast of hot air nearly burned his eyebrows and a haze of heat blurred his teary eyes.

“Apologies, dear boy, I was not expecting company,” Nova the pyromancer said as he patted Rat’s smouldering rags.

“I… I… I have a message.”

“Don’t worry about that now,” Nova interrupted enthusiastically. “I need an audience for my new show,” the performer entreated.

Rat was dropped heavily into a chair while Nova, dressed in a bright orange coat with a large collar, prepared for his latest performance. Rat tried to speak about his news though his tongue seemed to be tied in knots, and before he could do anything about it, Nova had begun to breathe fire. Nova was extremely talented; capable of creating shapes within the fire, he produced a dragon followed by a phoenix and last of all a fiery peacock. Rat was still in a state of shock, having nearly been incinerated. However, Nova took this expression as a challenge and began a barrage of tricks, which illuminated the whole room.

“What is going on in here?” a voice broke the spell and Nova puffed out a ball of smoke guiltily.

Once the air cleared, Rat could see it was Pan the juggler who had interrupted the private performance. He was dressed in multiple colours like many of the troupe who plied their trade in the arts.

“Is Nova trying to burn down the castle again?” Harlequin the dancer added haughtily, stretching her beautiful neck to look down on the sorry pyromancer.

“You didn’t force the boy to sit through another one of your tragedies, did you?” Polter the first acrobat criticised.

“I always thought they were more like comedies,” Geist the second acrobat laughed.

“Perhaps the boy would prefer to hear one of my songs instead,” Lark the singer suggested with a well-practiced smile.

“Well, actually I…” Rat stumbled.

“Hear that, Lark, he doesn’t like your melodies,” Pan stirred.

“Well, I never,” Lark sulked, her golden hair falling in waves around her cherub face.

“I am sure the boy has his own reason for being here.” Pilgrim the bard brought a sense of normality to proceedings.

Pilgrim was a poet laureate, expert story teller and the leader of this merry band of circus performers.

“Is there news?” Pilgrim asked confidently.

“Yes, very important news,” Rat stuttered. “Queen Etherelle has declared that there be a surprise birthday party for her daughter the Princess Damselfly.”

“They will want music.” Lark brightened. “Now where are those minstrels?”

“They will need dancing.” Harlequin puffed out her chest with