This Star Won't Go Out

“Oh sh’op, me a’int too sure Dog Killa ova there rip’t me robe . . . He thinks it ’az ya!”


Mayhem was everywhere in the hall, people hitting each other, wine all over the place. The newly appointed king had given the captain’s robes of velvet and silk, along with casks of wine to the crews. It was his way of “showing” them he was one to be trusted. And they all did.

BladeSlip stood up at the front of the two long, wide tables filled with food. He cleared his throat to get attention but they ignored him. He loudly asked for attention. No one seemed to notice.

THWACK!

A yelp of pain issued from a sea-lizard standing on the table. BladeSlip had thrown his dagger and it stood, sharp edge down, in the lizard’s long tail. The whole hall stared at their king whilst the lizard nursed his wound. A weasel stood holding the blade of BladeSlip, staring in weasel disgust at the purple blood on the metal part.

“You! Weasel! Give me my blade!”

BladeSlip was enraged. He had asked them to look and listen, but they had ignored him. He knew he had to do something to gain respect, and the only way to be respected, was to be feared.

The weasel scurried quickly to BladeSlip, too quickly, in fact. He tripped over an empty bottle of beer, and the ones around him laughed heartily. Though they quickly stopped to the icy glare of King BladeSlip, eyes twitching fiercely.

“You . . .” he started, spitting everywhere, “are . . . you are imbeciles! All of you! An’ me? Well, oi am the only person with sense in this here kingdom! Might I remind you who the king is? ME! I AM THE KING! When oi say listen, I truly mean listen!”


Silence was the only sound for two minutes. BladeSlip knew by this time he had their full attention, and they obviously respected him more (the lizard’s tale had completely fallen off). He didn’t want them to hate him, though, so he began, in a different manner.

Clapping a nearby parrot on the back, he began, laughing:




“Aye, people sometimes have to blow their steam off, eh? How ‘bout filling your goblet of wine?” The fellow people were startled by this sudden mood change, though they dared not question the mighty feared BladeSlip.

“Ah, my darling, have you come to join me?”

It was a glorious morning in Topal Land. The birds were singing, the sun was up, and Loolane was on a terrace, over-looking all of his ville. It was a routine of Docknel’s wife, though rarely did he ever come to visit with her. He only came when they had to talk of important matters.

“Oh, Loolane . . .”

Loolane was worried at the stress in her husband’s voice. Rarely did he see her, and she wondered aloud what it was this time.

“What should bring you to come up here this particularly wonderful morn? Surely nothing to ruin our good moods?”

“Nay, nothing like that . . . Just, well, I couldn’t sleep last night, and when I finally did some young ebitillies came in and woke me. I . . .”

She waited a moment to see if her husband would pick up where he left off, though when he didn’t she inquired, “Why shouldn’t you sleep?”

“Oh . . .” Docknel hesitated. “Eh, I’m not really sure, actually. I had that poem the young hogmaid recited . . . though for what reason I can’t say.”

“Oh yes! Many people have talked of this poem, though I was already inside, tucking young ’uns in bed when there was entertainment. Mayhaps you remember it? I have to say I love these poems young ’uns recite dearly!”

“Nay, marm, I don’t remember, though if you don’t mind I have to go speak to . . . What’s her name? Jennily; yes, thanks!”

He gave her a kiss and rushed as fast as he could down the stairs. After five minutes he was in the great dining hall, asking if anyone knew where Jennily was. Many different replies were his answer from a group of porcupines.

“Aye, king sir, tha gel went thaddaway!”

“Nay, nay, Jennilimmigally nots—’er name was in that thur kitchen a ‘snatchin’ food.”

“Hoi, thou art all wrong! Tha gel? She went ta tha archard, with tha other yun’ ‘ogmaids.”

“Nay! Jennily is not there! She—”

A young churchmouse interrupted, giggling loudly. “Scuze me, but tha miz Jennily is in her bed, hiding from questions people have about the riddle! Heehee, youze is ah wrong! Heehee!”

A few of the porcupines tutted, horrified at the rudeness of the mouse.

“Thanks for all your help!” Docknel said to the group.

“But since she is her friend—”

“Ey! Best frenn’!”

Docknel sniffed. “Since she is Jennily’s best friend—,” the young mouse looked triumphant, “—I think shu’d know where she is more than you. But thanks!”

The porcupines nodded and walked away, scoffing

him.

“Imagine! The nerve . . .”


Docknel was in the hallway in front of young Jennily’s room. He knocked, though it seemed they were busy with something else.

“Sir, if’n you don’t mind, I think I’ll go in an’ tell ’em someone’s at the door, ok?”