Welcome, brave reader, to a story that isn't K/N or K/J or K/D fluff. Of
course the location and some of the characters still belong to Tamora
Pierce, may she write many more books set in Tortall.
Returning to his councilors later that afternoon, Kadar found them arguing about what the smallest object placed beneath the mattresses should be. Kadar had to separate the two old councilors-who were attempting to strangle each other with their extremely long beards-before he shouted for silence.
"Now," he called, once the riot had calmed into a dull rumble, "we need to decide what object it should be. Each of you can stand up and tell me which object you choose and why you have chosen it, and then I will make the final decision." This shocked the room into silence, according to the old traditions the advisors were to remain in complete control with the emperor only as a token figure until the emperor reached his mid-thirties. All the advisors, and there were quite a few of them, could remember Kadar in diapers and they didn't like taking orders from him even if he was the emperor. So they promptly picked up their shouts where they had left them off-mid word in a few cases-and continued, completely ignoring Kadar.
"Grain of sand!"
"Rice!"
"Flour!"
"Your rule highness Emperor Kadar, it is my humble opinion that in order to select the most sensitive princess possible, which we have previously decided is essential for the continuation of the ruling line and, or course the government of Carthak, it is necessary that we procure and place under the mattresses of the prospective princess a single crystal of extra-fine sugar." This last comment had come in multiple installments as the shouter- a long winded advisor in whose humble opinion run-on sentences made one appear wise-had needed to stop and regain his breath several times. After this Kadar sank down to his seat in despair, pulled a clump of wax from his pocket, and fashioned ear plugs for himself before settling down for a long afternoon nap. ....................................
Kadar was jerked from a wonderful dream of firing all his councilors by a shrill scream, one that was only made bearable by the wax in his ears.
"Silence!"
For the first and last time in their life-long careers the councilors were actually silent. Well, not entirely silent-all of them were gripping their ears and whimpering in pain after the sharpness of the yell. Most of them were cowering underneath the table.
Kadar jumped out of his slump and found himself face to face with the Graveyard Hag. He swallowed in fear as she winked at him. Then she turned her attention back to the councilors and her countenance immediately became grumpy again.
"Now," she yelled, and Kadar was glad he still had his earplugs in, "you are all probably wondering why I have come to pay you a visit." All of the councilors broke into fervent nodding. "I have come because all of you idiots have been making an absolute mess of things." The councilors glanced at each other guiltily. "Not you, dear Kadar," she said, smiling at him in a way that made shivers run down his spine. "I have decided it is time for me to take the matter into my hands."
The councilors looked at each other nervously. One of them began scribbling furiously at scroll with the words "last will and testament" on top. Kadar hoped she was still pleased with him. He had tried to restore all of her old temples after taking the throne, but he felt he might have missed a small one. She smiled at him again; all right, he thought, I didn't miss one.
"None of you," she continued, glaring under the tables, "has the slightest idea what the smallest object ought to be." One of the braver ones opened his mouth to stammer a protest but the man next to him clamped a hand over his mouth-unfortunately for him, duck tape had yet to be invented. "The smallest object must be a sub- atomic particle." Here, she paused to allow them to scratch their heads, seeming almost amused at the amount of dandruff falling to the floor. "This, of course, requires the splitting of an atom, a task which I will gladly perform when the time is right."
"Er, thank you," said Kadar. What should one say when a god offers to do one a favor? He asked himself. He'd have to find a way to upgrade the etiquette curriculum for royal children.
"No trouble at all, dear." Squeaking loudly, a rat scurried up to the Graveyard Hag. She held it in her cupped hand and murmured something Kadar couldn't hear into its ear before releasing it.
"Now, you," she gestured to one of the younger, more athletic councilors, i.e. his hair wasn't entirely grey and he walked without a cane. "Go invite princess Brunhilda." He saluted and left the room at a trot. It was the fastest he'd moved in ten years.
Then with a sound like a hyena howling, she vanished. Kadar breathed a sign of relief and called for order. For the first time in his life, the councilors actually obeyed him. Kadar had to hold back a burst of laughter as he realized that some of them had lost their wigs during the encounter.
After a mere twenty-two and a half minutes or argument, it was decided that an object large enough to be easily noticed should be placed underneath one mattress as a preliminary test. They asserted that it should be a beautiful object so that the princess would think it was a surprise gift and not be insulted. If the princess passed the first test a meeting would be held to determine what the second object should be.
After another seventeen and two thirds minutes it was decided that a perfectly round semi-precious stone would be placed under one ostrich- feather-mattress. Kadar selected a large stone that fit perfectly in his grip. The princess would have to be a troll not to notice it.
Thank you for reading something other than an Alanna-goes-to-the- convent story. Reviews are very much appreciated.
Sign # 2 that you are a book worm: In art class, you suddenly find yourself sketching scenes from the last book you read when you are supposed to be taking notes on pottery technique.
Returning to his councilors later that afternoon, Kadar found them arguing about what the smallest object placed beneath the mattresses should be. Kadar had to separate the two old councilors-who were attempting to strangle each other with their extremely long beards-before he shouted for silence.
"Now," he called, once the riot had calmed into a dull rumble, "we need to decide what object it should be. Each of you can stand up and tell me which object you choose and why you have chosen it, and then I will make the final decision." This shocked the room into silence, according to the old traditions the advisors were to remain in complete control with the emperor only as a token figure until the emperor reached his mid-thirties. All the advisors, and there were quite a few of them, could remember Kadar in diapers and they didn't like taking orders from him even if he was the emperor. So they promptly picked up their shouts where they had left them off-mid word in a few cases-and continued, completely ignoring Kadar.
"Grain of sand!"
"Rice!"
"Flour!"
"Your rule highness Emperor Kadar, it is my humble opinion that in order to select the most sensitive princess possible, which we have previously decided is essential for the continuation of the ruling line and, or course the government of Carthak, it is necessary that we procure and place under the mattresses of the prospective princess a single crystal of extra-fine sugar." This last comment had come in multiple installments as the shouter- a long winded advisor in whose humble opinion run-on sentences made one appear wise-had needed to stop and regain his breath several times. After this Kadar sank down to his seat in despair, pulled a clump of wax from his pocket, and fashioned ear plugs for himself before settling down for a long afternoon nap. ....................................
Kadar was jerked from a wonderful dream of firing all his councilors by a shrill scream, one that was only made bearable by the wax in his ears.
"Silence!"
For the first and last time in their life-long careers the councilors were actually silent. Well, not entirely silent-all of them were gripping their ears and whimpering in pain after the sharpness of the yell. Most of them were cowering underneath the table.
Kadar jumped out of his slump and found himself face to face with the Graveyard Hag. He swallowed in fear as she winked at him. Then she turned her attention back to the councilors and her countenance immediately became grumpy again.
"Now," she yelled, and Kadar was glad he still had his earplugs in, "you are all probably wondering why I have come to pay you a visit." All of the councilors broke into fervent nodding. "I have come because all of you idiots have been making an absolute mess of things." The councilors glanced at each other guiltily. "Not you, dear Kadar," she said, smiling at him in a way that made shivers run down his spine. "I have decided it is time for me to take the matter into my hands."
The councilors looked at each other nervously. One of them began scribbling furiously at scroll with the words "last will and testament" on top. Kadar hoped she was still pleased with him. He had tried to restore all of her old temples after taking the throne, but he felt he might have missed a small one. She smiled at him again; all right, he thought, I didn't miss one.
"None of you," she continued, glaring under the tables, "has the slightest idea what the smallest object ought to be." One of the braver ones opened his mouth to stammer a protest but the man next to him clamped a hand over his mouth-unfortunately for him, duck tape had yet to be invented. "The smallest object must be a sub- atomic particle." Here, she paused to allow them to scratch their heads, seeming almost amused at the amount of dandruff falling to the floor. "This, of course, requires the splitting of an atom, a task which I will gladly perform when the time is right."
"Er, thank you," said Kadar. What should one say when a god offers to do one a favor? He asked himself. He'd have to find a way to upgrade the etiquette curriculum for royal children.
"No trouble at all, dear." Squeaking loudly, a rat scurried up to the Graveyard Hag. She held it in her cupped hand and murmured something Kadar couldn't hear into its ear before releasing it.
"Now, you," she gestured to one of the younger, more athletic councilors, i.e. his hair wasn't entirely grey and he walked without a cane. "Go invite princess Brunhilda." He saluted and left the room at a trot. It was the fastest he'd moved in ten years.
Then with a sound like a hyena howling, she vanished. Kadar breathed a sign of relief and called for order. For the first time in his life, the councilors actually obeyed him. Kadar had to hold back a burst of laughter as he realized that some of them had lost their wigs during the encounter.
After a mere twenty-two and a half minutes or argument, it was decided that an object large enough to be easily noticed should be placed underneath one mattress as a preliminary test. They asserted that it should be a beautiful object so that the princess would think it was a surprise gift and not be insulted. If the princess passed the first test a meeting would be held to determine what the second object should be.
After another seventeen and two thirds minutes it was decided that a perfectly round semi-precious stone would be placed under one ostrich- feather-mattress. Kadar selected a large stone that fit perfectly in his grip. The princess would have to be a troll not to notice it.
Thank you for reading something other than an Alanna-goes-to-the- convent story. Reviews are very much appreciated.
Sign # 2 that you are a book worm: In art class, you suddenly find yourself sketching scenes from the last book you read when you are supposed to be taking notes on pottery technique.