Chapter Two

To Cloud Castle City

Pofftikkle! thought Nimble Missst. Ridiculous. suppose they’ll all be gathered around Gramma’s throne. They’ll gape at me when I fly through the skylight opening. I should seep in the back way and creep up the stairs. They’ll be expecting me through the skylight. Why should I do what they expect? Aren’t I doing enough as it is? Queen of the Boad, All Fidd and Leee Combined. Ridiculous. And wed to Zootch, Prince of Blossom! Utterly ridiculous! Fabulously! Pofftikkle! Why is Kinng Forr retiring? I’ll tell ye why, Nim. One word. Zilp. She’s the one who’s sick of it. Sick of being Queeeeeeeeeeeeeeen. Ridiculous. Queen with fifteen ‘e’s. Seven or eight weren’t enough for her. No, her Blossom snobbery demanded fifteen. And I must wed her nephew Zootch! What a name! Ridiculous! It sounds like slipping on ice. And what a timid lackwit he is. He’s not completely ugly, but I don’t believe I’ve ever heard him speak a word. Well, hard to blame him, stuck as he always is in the company of his arrogant haughty clutch of a mother, the Quing. Always spouting about rudeness, she is. She INVENTED rudeness! The Quang’s not so bad when you get him away from the Quing, but he folds up timid just like his son when she appears. They say she never allows Zootch to be pried from her side. Hmmmmm. Well, I have a snapjaw mind. When he’s wed to me, he’ll be pried from her side and from mine, too! I have my little plan. Ho, what there, my favorite tricklestream!

The sparkling green cloud of Nimble Missst sank low to a mountainside meadow divided by a tumbling tricklestream. She settled on the stream and rode it down the grassy hillside to where it joined a slow-moving brook. In wisps she fluttered back to the top of the meadow and rode the stream again. Dozens of times she did so such. Finally, seemingly exhausted, she jelled to red vest, red pantaloon, silver cape Nimble Missst and sat resting in the long cool grass.

“Ye are no tricklestream,” she said, plucking one long single lash of grass and brushing it across her smoke ash green cheek. “Ye are a tickle stream! None better than ye between O’Tan Falls and Orrun Mountain. Ah, enough of fun. Now for business. Snapjaw mind, tune up well. Soon I will need ye.”

So saying, Nimble Missst tossed the lash of grass into the tricklestream, misted and rose to drift toward Orrun Mountain, which, truth, loomed before her.

I’ll cloud until I top the rim, she thought, and then I’ll jell and swoop on wing. I won’t sneak. That would be ridiculous. Why sneak? I have a plan. Partially. It’s forming. Queen of the Boad, All Fidd and Leee Combined. Ridiculous, true, but maybe when I manipulate one thing over and another thing under, something worthwhile may be achieved. Something … Ho! Yes! Not Queen! QUEN! One ‘E’! I’ll decree it!

The rising green cloud jelled to Nimble Missst speeding on wing over the rim of Orrun Mountain Hollow. Below her, Cloud Castle City sat snug in its scoop under Orrun Mountain Crag. Flanking the single ribbon of green cobbled road, the orchards of everblooming sarajando trees spread white and pink across the floor of the Hollow. Nimble Missst dove for the jeweled turrets and spires rising above the obsidian streets of Cloud Castle City.