Read an Excerpt
Chapter 2
One of the younger thieves stepped over to Sylvie. "Are you all right, Your Highness?"
She looked up in surprise. "Oh hello, Thomas."
He pulled a linen handkerchief from his sleeve.
"What's that for?"
"You seem to be crying, Your Highness."
"I am not crying!"
"Of course not."
"And save the 'Your Highness' for my mother."
Thomas bowed his head. "I'm sorry to have offended you."
Now Sylvie really did lose patience. "Thomas, you're a thief! A thief! That's the way you were conceived. Stop acting like a courtier!" Nonetheless, she did dab at the corner of her eye with the handkerchief. "Sorry," she said in a quieter voice. "It's not your fault."
"It probably is. A thief is usually at fault."
"Not this time. I messed up that scene all by myself."
"Yes, Your Highness."
Sylvie gave him a sharp look. "Thomas," she said, shaking her head, "why don't you go off and steal something?"
The servants were setting the armor against the wall when they noticed the breastplate growing brighter, then blindingly bright.
"Hey!" Pingree cried, jumping up on a chair. "They're doing it again!"
"Everyone to your places!" King Walther shouted as the roof lifted away and the girl's face reappeared above them. Her tongue was lodged in the corner of her mouth as she reached down with an enormous rag. Everyone dove for cover, the jester closing himself inside parentheses, Queen Emmeline wedging herself into a dependent clause, and Sylvie racing to the Acknowledgments page, where she disappeared among a dozen names, including the author's pets and several friends without whose help this book could not have been written.
The Reader wiped carefully at the strawberry jam. She squinted, licked a corner of the rag, and rubbed at the place again. It was not a pleasant sight.
That's the last time I walk through that sentence! thought Sylvie.
The Reader blew on the page, then began looking for where she'd left off. That took a while. It always takes Readers time when the characters aren't where they belong. Sylvie raced breathlessly through the undergrowth of description, emerging on page 3 just in time to blurt: "But I don't want anything, except — "
The king, confident of his lines now, made a show of anger: "Except what, for heaven's sake? Speak!"
"Tell us, darling," said Queen Emmeline, gliding across the page in a shushing of silks. Her hair, Sylvie noticed, was perfect.
Sylvie blushed, but stood her ground. "I'm sorry. I can't marry anyone."
"What do you mean?" The queen's voice had an edge.
"I have everything, but I have done nothing. Before I marry, I must do one Great Good Thing."
"What sort of thing?" The queen's eyes narrowed.
"Don't you think marrying Prince Riggeloff is doing a great thing?" said the king.
"No," said Princess Sylvie. "Even if I trusted him, which I don't, marrying is what I do after I do the Great Good Thing."
"But this is absurd!" the queen exclaimed hotly. "You're twelve years old! It's time to think of marriage, not — adventure!"
The princess could feel the cool shadow of the Reader overhead and hear her breathing. Story-book characters live for the sound of Readers breathing, especially as it softens and settles like the breath of dreamers. It gives the characters courage to go on through the most difficult plot twists. This Reader's breathing continued to accompany Sylvie right to the end of the book.
It quieted in Chapter Three, when Prince Riggeloff, embittered by the princess's refusal and desperate for a rich bride, sent his band of retainers and hired ruffians to rob the castle. The breath caught in the Reader's throat when the horrid man in the Cave of Diamonds demanded that Sylvie kiss the open wound on his forehead. The breath came and went, sighing, halting with fear, as she rescued the blind owl from the thornbush, and later as a great fish saved her from drowning by swallowing her, its body transparent as glass. Finally there was the short intake of breath, followed by a sigh, as Riggeloff met his horrible end, and the ancient Keeper of the Cave turned into a young prince.
Then the most extraordinary thing happened. The Reader murmured the final words to herself, gave a little hum, and turned to the front again. She flipped past the Acknowledgments and Contents and started over! Such a thing had not happened since the very earliest days, when a certain young person, a girl with dark blue eyes, used to peer down into the kingdom almost constantly. That was many years ago, a strangely exciting time. The girl would read the words over and over in a sort of whisper, surprised and pleased as if they were her own. You didn't find Readers like that nowadays.
The main characters were bone tired after their first full-length performance in years, but Sylvie rallied them by throwing herself back into her role. The others responded and soon were giving their best performance ever.
"Father," she said, and paused. There was dignity in the way she carried herself, her chin lifted, her voice soft but clear. "I cannot marry Prince Riggeloff."
King Walther seemed stunned. "Not marry Riggeloff?" He walked to the window, considering her words, then turned to face her. "For heaven's sake, child! He is handsome, rich..."
She lowered her head. "Kind, brave," she said, "yes, I am aware of his qualities."
"He has everything!"
The girl flashed him a look. "So have I!"
"You don't have a husband!"
"What?" came a voice from above. "What's going on?"
Sylvie glanced around at the ladies-in-waiting, imagining that one of them had forgotten when to come in. They were always forgetting their entrances.
"Where's the suit of armor?" cried the same echoey voice. Suddenly, everything was thrown on its side as the Reader began riffling through the pages.
"Where's the funny part?" They heard the voice somewhere above them as the cascading pages tossed them about. The Reader started opening and reading at random, trying to find the part that had made her laugh, but she could make no sense of what she read because the characters barely had time to arrive before she flipped to another page.
"Whatcha looking for, Claire?" came a boy's voice out of heaven.
The Reader stopped turning pages and held the book open against her. "I was trying to find something."
"You like that book? Princesses and all that stuff?"
Sylvie poked her head from a thicket of description.
"So what?"
"Why don't you read something real, like volcanoes? Do you know anything about volcanoes?"
"I know lots of things."
"Like what?"
"I know how to read a book without slopping food on it."
"Phoo."
"Anyway, what's so real about those treasure maps of yours?" said the girl.
"There really is treasure. I read about it in a magazine. They sent out this expedition."
The girl laughed. "I don't think they'd use your maps. You make them up and burn them around the edges to make them look old."
"So?"
"So they aren't any realer than my book."
"You should try it, just around the edges. It looks neat."
"Are you crazy? What's this thing you've got with matches?"
"What thing?"
"If Mom ever found out..."
"I just like to make things look old. Like parchment. Your book would look really neat."
"You want to burn the edges of my book?"
"It isn't your book, anyway."
"It is so. Grandma gave it to me before she went into the hospital the first time."
"You got any witnesses?"
"She gave it to me, Ricky. She called me into her room and gave it to me."
"Let me see."
"Keep your sticky fingers away!"
The voices were cut off as the book snapped shut. Darkness closed over castle and forest. Slowly, Sylvie stood. "Are you there, Father?" she called softly. The backup lights had not yet come on.
"Over here," came his distant voice. "Page 23, I think."
"Is Mother all right?"
"I wish Readers would be more careful. Her dress is ruined."
"Her dress is messed, the Reader's a pest, and that's no jest." In the darkness, Pingree's voice sounded like a scratch on black slate.
There was the usual buzzing sound for the backup lights, but only some of them came on. The king called for the mechanic.
"I'll be glad to fix it, sir."
"No, Thomas," said the king. "You're a thief, remember?"
"Yes, sir."
"Thieves aren't helpful."
"No, sir."
"Where would we be if we all started playing parts that weren't written for us?"
"I'm sure I don't know, sir."
"Sylvie, is it beginning to get lighter in here?"
"You're right, Father!"
"We're not ready!"
"Hurry!"
The book flew open, pages flittering, and stopped at the half-page illustration on page 35, the one with Sylvie riding inside the invisible fish to the bottom of the Mere of Remind. Sylvie raced over and slipped into the picture. It was one of her favorite scenes, and she wasn't surprised the Reader had returned to it. What did surprise her was the huge tear that fell onto the page like a great, warm jellyfish. She looked up. The Reader's nose was red, and her underlip quivered. Then she moved away and Sylvie could see only the ceiling of a room and a lighting fixture. Either read the book or close the book! she thought.
For several minutes the ceiling light stared down at them like an unforgiving sun. Finally there was movement in the room, and the girl returned. At least her brown curls appeared along the eastern horizon. What was she doing?
The book remained open. Just open. Sylvie waited a long time, listening to distant breathing. The fish twitched its tail expectantly.
"Excuse me," Sylvie said, climbing out of the fish's mouth onto a rock. She still couldn't see, so she clambered up the cliff near the top of the page. The woods lay to the east, as always, but beyond it there seemed to be more woods, a different woods. The sound of breathing grew soft and regular, and Sylvie realized the girl had fallen asleep.
"Sylvie, what are you doing?" It was her mother's voice from the page after next.
"Just looking around. Did you ever notice that forest over there?"
"You get right back in that fish, young lady! Do you realize the book is open?"
"Just a minute."
She was sure the other forest hadn't been
there before. "I'll be right back." She hurried along the cliff and down a sloping path into the woods. An orange bird screamed at her: "Reader! Rawwwk!"
"Oh, hush!" Sylvie said irritably.
Up ahead, the cool woods she loved changed into a different place altogether. The oaks and beech trees of her father's kingdom gave way to ragged palms and plants with rubbery leaves. Sylvie knew she shouldn't go farther. If it was against the rules just to look at the Reader once in a while, she could imagine what her parents would say about leaving the kingdom!
Yet right before her lay a world strangely different from the orderly land she lived in. Only a narrow strip of white, like a margin, marked the borderline, and a tropical breeze blew across it from the other side, carrying the heavy smells of flowers. Her obedience to her parents made her hesitate. They were probably wondering where she was right now. Still, when had any character had the chance to explore a Reader's dream? It was irresistible!
She took a deep breath. "Here goes," she whispered, and stepped across.
Copyright © 2001 by Roderick Townley
