Story recorded by bard Janann Davis.
Illustrations by artist Andra Placintescu. Instagram: @it.s_just_andra
As he flew through the soft, warm air of the Menagerie Coast, the Traveler sought the blue girl he had visited for some time. Small and full of whimsy, yet strangely pitiable, the child of the Ruby of the Sea was someone he wanted to get to know better. The girl played funny tricks with a light spirit and was quick to laugh, even when her eyes were sad. He could feel the sadness in her now as his ethereal form found Jester in the garden behind the chateau. She sat upon a blanket, hugging her knees tightly to her chest while looking up at the blue sky and wispy clouds. He wanted to be of comfort; to cheer her if he could. Settling his form beside her own, he left the ethereal to materialize as a mirror of her posture, hugging his knees to his chest, his green cloak pooling around them both.
“Tell me a story, Traveler,” his Jester implored him.
He had introduced himself as a humble traveler when he had first met the girl, and the name had stuck. What could he say? He liked the anonymity and mystery she lent him. It was romantic, and he was such a sucker for romance.
“My Jester. What kind of story would you like?”
“One from far away from here,” his Jester sniffed and set her chin on her knees, “I hate it here.”
“You can always leave…”
This suggestion earned him a frustrated glare from the daughter of the Ruby of the Sea, his hands coming up, palms out to defend himself from her evil eye as he laughed.
“Very well,” he moved to sit with legs crossed beside her, “Have I ever told you about Princess Cirrus?”
His Jester shook her head while keeping her chin on her knees, the movement making her head look loose, as if on a marionette. She turned her head and looked at him, ready for the tale.
“Once upon a time, there was a kingdom called Afaraway. It did not have a king, however. Nor a queen. Instead, it had four siblings, all born at the same time.” He paused as she opened her mouth, face twisted in slight confusion.
“But how is that possible, Traveler?”
“Magic.”
“Really?”
“No, little one.” He arched a brow at her to quell any more interruptions.
She settled, though her lips quirked up in a tiny smile, the sadness surrounding her seeming to lift.
“Go on.”
After a moment, the Traveler continued.
“Prince Stratus caused trouble wherever he went. He was a brute and felt that strong armies and magic would keep Afaraway safe. Princess Nimbus was difficult. She got along with very few people, but that was not always her fault. Prince Cumulus went out of his way to be supportive and gentle with all his siblings, favoring debate and diplomacy over force. And Princess Cirrus believed that kindness and love would conquer all.
“One morning, Princess Cirrus was visiting from Afaraway. She had wanted to get gifts for her siblings as their sixteenth birthdays were approaching. She spent the morning wading in the tidepools not far from the Menagerie Coast, searching for pearls and finding hermit slugs instead. She had managed to fill a large jar of them when an old lady came from the trees and asked for the jar.”
“Why did she want the jar?” Jester lifted her head, canting it curiously.
“Because, Little Sapphire, the old woman knew Hermit slugs are a delicious delicacy if prepared properly… and can also be used to make a powerful poison.”
“Oh…”
The speculative gleam in Jester’s eye did not sit well with the Traveler, but he continued.
“The old lady came closer to the princess, and Princess Cirrus could see kindness in her eyes and agility in her long, gnarled fingers. The woman’s clothes looked well-made and clean, and she did not seem addled, save for wanting a jar of slugs. Princess Cirrus smiled at the old lady and told her she would trade the jar for the woman’s cloak. It was a pretty color of blue,” he touched his Jester’s nose, “Not unlike some girls I know.”
His Jester giggled, tucking her face behind her hands.
“But the old lady declined the offer of the princess, continuing to search the tide pools for hermit slugs to no avail. Eventually, she left, and Princess Cirrus felt very guilty for having found them all – especially since she had truly little interest in the things. She did not like the taste of hermit slugs very much, and if the old lady did, she should have them. Princess Cirrus went home.
“The next day, Princess Cirrus went to the tidepools again, but this time to look for hermit slugs. She got twice as many as the day before and, when the old lady arrived to look for some hermit slugs herself, Princess Cirrus presented her with two large jars plus the one from the day before.
“‘I am sorry,’ she said. ‘I was looking for birthday gifts for my brothers and sister and forgot that, just because I want something, I’m not entitled to it.’”
“I love when you do the voices,” Jester piped in, her eyes shining with interest, the sad shadows gone from her eyes.
“Thank you, dear. May I continue?”
“Oh, yes,” she nodded.
The Traveler smiled and went back to weaving his tale.
“The old lady smiled and invited Princess Cirrus back to her home for tea and cakes. The princess accepted and followed the woman back into the woods by the shore. As she walked, she noted that the path she walked was well-worn and sparkled with crushed shells from the beach. She was enchanted and began daydreaming as she was led away from the beach and deeper into the arboreal labyrinth.
“When they arrived at the old woman’s house, she was delighted to find a picturesque cottage seeming to grow from a copse of conifers, their needle-like leaves making the thatch roof of the dwelling. The interior was just as charming, and the old lady bade the princess sit and make herself at home while she brewed the tea.
“Princess Cirrus perched primly on a footstool while she waited, her eyes taking in the homey jumble of collected things scattered about the old woman’s home.
“‘I like your home,’ she said toward the kitchen area.
“‘Thank you, dear. I like it myself,’ the old woman approached with a large tray covered in cakes, cookies, and pastries, setting it down on a low table by the hearth. ‘Please do help yourself while I finish the tea.’
“The princess needed no further encouragement. She moved to sit by the tray to choose which sweets to sample first. The chair was well-cushioned, and she sank a little into its overstuffed folds, almost instantly comforted and unwilling to shift lest her languid feeling lessen.
“Suddenly, she caught a tiny blur of movement from the corner of her eye. When she sat up, she could make out a dusky auburn weasel of some kind. It darted under the furniture and made its way to the tray of sweets. It climbed the chair the princess had chosen in which to sit. As it perched on the arm, it swung its head in her direction, its beady eyes sizing her up and finding her less interesting than the offerings of the tray. And who could blame it, really?”
Jester laughed softly, drawing an answering smile from the Traveler.
“Princess Cirrus leaned forward, taking a cinnamon roll from the tray, and presented it on a napkin to the weasel. The weasel took the entire pastry in its little arms and began to eat it, crumbs flying everywhere.
“‘Alto! Bad boy. You behave,’ the old woman laughed from the doorway to the kitchen.
“She rolled a fragile-looking brass tea cart with a full service of tea clattering and clinking on its top, putting it beside the tray of cakes. Princess Cirrus rose to help her but was not needed and sat again. As the old woman joined the princess in an adjacent chair, she offered a hand to the weasel. He jumped onto the waiting palm provided, taking the remains of his cinnamon roll with him.
“‘Be careful with this one. He is a bit of a scamp,’ she chuckled and poured the tea for them both, handing a cup to the princess.
“Princess Cirrus laughed and sipped the sweet, red tea. Almost at once, she felt better. The princess had not known she had not been feeling her best until she drank the tea, but she indeed felt better. She smiled at the old lady.
“‘Forgive me. I do not know your name. I am Cirrus,’ she offered her hand to the old woman.
“‘I am Virga,’ the old woman reached to shake her hand, but Alto seemed to object, nipping the thumb of the princess.
“Princess Cirrus pulled her hand back quickly as Virga stood up, chastising the weasel, and putting him into an iron birdcage with his remaining cinnamon roll.
“‘I am so sorry. Alto is odd around strangers,’ Virga retook her seat, wringing her gnarled hands. “Did he hurt you?’
“‘Oh hardly!’ the princess lied around her wounded thumb in her mouth. It was only bleeding a little, and she didn’t want to seem baby-like. Her brothers teased her about that sort of thing all the time.”
“I wish I had brothers,” Jester interrupted wistfully.
“No, you do not,” the Traveler leveled a knowing glance her way.
“Do you have brothers?” Her tone was too excited.
“Do you want to hear the rest of this story?” His tone was less excited.
“Yes.”
The Traveler continued.
“Virga and Princess Cirrus had a lovely chat over tea and several cakes. When it was time to leave, Virga offered her pretty, blue cloak to the princess. She had changed her mind and felt that her new friend was worthy of the gift, having been so thoughtful to catch Virga her favorite dinner.
“‘This is the Cloak of Coriolis,’ she told the princess as she folded it carefully to place in a bag. ‘It is magical and will protect the wearer from non-magical projectiles. If your brother has a rock thrown at him, it will simply divert to one side or the other and fail to impact him.’
“The princess’s eyes grew wide.
“‘I had no idea it was magic,’ she said, accepting the gift from Virga. ‘I am sure my brother will treasure it always.’
“As Princess Cirrus left the lovely home to follow the sparkling path back to the coast, she thought she heard a dark voice say…
“‘See that he does.’
“As she turned to see the speaker, Princess Cirrus only saw that the door to the cottage had closed, though there was a silhouette of an iron birdcage in the window.”
The Traveler stopped speaking, having finished his tale.
Jester smiled brightly.
“What happened then? Did the brother like the cloak? Was the voice she heard Alto’s?”
“Those are all tales for other days, my friend,” the Traveler stood, looking down at his Jester.
“But what happened to the old lady in the woods?” Her eyes were wide as she looked up at him.
“She was felled by a pair of siblings from Rexxentrum. Hanna and Gregor, I believe.”
“But the old lady was nice!”
“Yes, well… One can never really know people,” He shrugged and tapped her nose, smiling. “Farewell for now. Maybe we will share another story soon.”
And he slipped back into the ethereal to watch his Jester a moment longer, her happy smile restored as she once more watched the clouds glide by.
Ephemera
Rather Lumpy Knit Cloak
A small green knit cloak (or it could be a blanket? Hard to tell, it’s a bit lumpy and not super well-knit).
Pink and Purple Sprinkles
Several pink and purple sprinkles fall out of these two pages. Someone must have been eating pastries…
Jester's Bedtime Tales 