Porcelain Princess by Jon Jacks Read Free Book Online Page B

the wooden
puppets. ‘And we’ll collect any large stones we can find to
surround it.’
    ‘ A
rehearsal; we must have a rehearsal for tomorrow’s show,’ Neris
declared brightly, hoping she could cheer up her disheartened
friends by implying that there would be a show
tomorrow.
    ‘ Yes,
yes,’ Ferena agreed excitedly. ‘And it must be everybody’s favourite; The Porcelain Kingdom !’
     
     
    *

Chapter
12
     
    The
Porcelain Kingdom
     
    Our tale begins,
of course, before the arrival of the Princess in the
kingdom.
    It was an
unhappy kingdom.
    A dark
kingdom.
    A dark kingdom
in as much as that, although the sun shone here as much as anywhere
else, the people sensed only the darkness in their
lives.
    They noticed the
rain storms, or when the sky seemed endlessly dull and dispiriting,
but not the bright and breezy days, which they saw as fleeting and
few and far between.
    They were aware
of the months when their crops were flattened, yet took for granted
the years when the fields produced all they could want.
    They complained
of the market sellers who cheated them, the customers who expected
too much. They couldn’t tolerate the rudeness of others, which
drove them to distraction, such that they had little time for the
problems of others. They raged at selfishness, at ignorance, at
stupidity, at arrogance, wondering why everyone couldn’t be more
like them.
    They walked
through the streets of their town keeping to the shadows, their
heads hanging low, their voices stilled or nothing more than a
whisper, forever nervous of the edgy, unfriendly people that
crossed their paths.
    And over
everything there loomed the high tower, its vast shadow moving
steadily across the town like a cloak of watchful darkness, its
steady progression like a clock ticking away at and devouring the
hours of their lives.
    Then, at night,
when everything else was dark, the tower’s windows blazed with
light, a hellish inferno of illicit, demonic activity.
    No one with any
sense would be around at this time of night. No one would draw
attention to their homes by lighting a candle, or curiously drawing
aside their curtains.
    When the town’s
darkness was at its most complete, the gates within the high walls
surrounding the tower would briefly open. From directly inside the
walls, there would come a clatter of iron wheels on cobbles, the
snorts or neighing of hellish horses readying for the
off.
    They were the
last warnings for any fool still abroad to run for home.
    As the great
gates closed behind it, the black carriage would career through the
streets, the hooves of its equally black horses thundering as they
pumped against the hard stone, the wheels roaring like great
windmills spinning in the most terrifying hurricane.
    Some said that,
as they cowered in their beds, they could hear the crack of the
driver’s whip. But if that were true, then the driver was
invisible. Others swore that they had seen the horses snorting
flames, but most people who had been unfortunate enough to have
encountered them simply refused to relive their
experience.
    The carriage
carried no passenger, everyone knew. Unless you counted the souls
who were about to be given over to the Fading.
    On the seats and
floor, there lay only stacked strongboxes containing books. The
most beautiful books money could buy, with the most wonderful
illustrations imaginable. But these were the works of the
Illuminator, and so they were illustrations that you hoped, you
prayed, didn’t feature you in any shape, or form, or
way.
    For that simple
portrayal would suck the very life out of you. And you would become
just one more victim of the Fading.
    As the carriage
finally headed out of town on one of the many roads leading to
other lands, where the books would be published and sold, another
carriage would enter the town on one of the other roads, its
strongboxes empty and light. Even so, this empty carriage thundered
through the streets, aiming to reach the gates while the town