Porcelain Princess (18 page)

‘
Should we work with him after all?’ they asked each
other.

‘
Is
that the only way we will retain any power over this
world?’

And so,
reluctantly, the Elements pledged their allegiance to
man.

*

Yet there was
one small element of the Elements who wasn’t part of this pledge of
allegiance.

He hadn’t even
heard of the pledge. He wasn’t even aware of exactly where he was,
having been imprisoned by man long ago in a tightly constraining
cage of solid iron.

He wanted to
stretch out and break free, but he couldn’t.

Man had unfairly
bound him here – or so he thought, failing to realise that it had
been purely accidental – so all he could do was bind his
time.

He slipped into
a patient slumber, such that he was a little confused when finally
awoken by a dull hammering. But he realised that the cage around
him was stretching, moving; and as the roof of iron above him
snapped away from the surrounding walls, the bubble of Air at last
broke free of the neck of the nail that had confined
him.

As the nail head
snapped clean away, the nail alongside suddenly found itself
expected to do the work of two nails. And so its head snapped clean
away too. The third nail, now faced with holding together what only
three nails could reasonably keep secure, was the next to
snap.

Air had broken
the pledge. And so now Earth broke it too.

She had
originally thought nothing of the ship’s accidental glance against
her coral, believing its iron plating to be impenetrable. But now
she decided to push a little harder after all, breaking more and
more of the seam, the nail heads popping one by one as her steady
pressure buckled the plates.

Thanking her
brother and her sister, Water gleefully poured into the growing
gap, coldly wrapping herself around man after man.

And thanking his
brother and sisters, Fire welcomed man to the flames of
Hell.

*

‘
That
is
the story of
The Sea Empress
!’

‘
But
then again, it isn’t
quite
the same.’

‘
It’s
the story of man against the Elements, using a story
similar
or
based
upon
The Sea Empress
.’

‘
And
isn’t there supposed to be a flaw in the story, Carey?’

‘
Yes,
that’s what you said, before you began reading, I believe
Carey.’

Everyone
remained a little puzzled by the tale. Carey shrugged, as confused
as they were.

‘
That’s what the Princess said; meaning, I suppose, a flaw
that would make the tale all fall to pieces, just as the ship
does.’

‘
What
would be the point of such a story?’

‘
Hah,
perhaps the flaw is that he’s forgotten to
include
it!’

‘
It
seemed a very
apt
ending to me.’

‘
I
suppose they’re ending up in the
chaos
of Hell?’

‘
Yes,
but
they’re
ending up in chaos; which isn’t the same as the
story
itself
falling apart like the ship…’

‘
I
suppose you could say it
does
, if you don’t believe in such
a place?’

‘
This
might
be being a
little
pedantic, but if these
Elements
are
god-like, then how come Fire’s being controlled
down there?’

‘
He
could be
subservient
to the Devil.’

‘
He
could
be
the Devil!’

‘
It
is
a story, with the Elements as people, so…’

Durndrin
shrugged, no longer sure where his reason was taking him. He felt
that he should know the answer, that the others would be expecting
him to be able to work it out, so he was glad when their discussion
was interrupted by a loud neighing of horses just outside their
caravan.

Ferena excitedly
rushed to the door, as if she somehow understood what the impatient
whinnying meant.

‘
It’s
the carriage!’ she breathlessly yelled back into the caravan. ‘It
seems like you might be seeing the Illuminator today after all
Carey!’

*

As before,
Carey’s gleaming white carriage calmly passed by the waiting black
one, dropping her off at the bottom of the winding staircase. As
soon as she stepped inside the palace this time, however, the floor
beneath her feet began to immediately start moving, swiftly
carrying her along through a completely new set of rooms and
hallways.

As she rushed
along a corridor of silver and gold water fountains, she noticed
she was heading for a highly elaborate set of doors that, like the
great doors of the Illuminator’s camera obscura, was decorated with
detailed panels. These weren’t of copper, however, but of either
glossed plaster or ceramic, for they glowed an immaculate
white.

She was tempted
to step off the moving section of the floor and study the panels to
see which story they told. But before she could make up her mind to
do so, the doors swung open before her – and Carey gasped in
astonishment.

The room
directly ahead was of pure white, yet sparkled and reflected light
as if it were a ghostly apparition. As she rapidly neared the room,
she began to realise that it was made entirely of porcelain; the
tables, the chairs, even the mirrors, which were covered in a
particularly thick and reflective glaze.

There was no
carpet, only decorative tiles. The walls, like many of the pieces
of furniture, were overlaid with an ornate, lace-like pattern. Even
the flowers, the roses, lilies and tulips, were of incredibly fine,
white porcelain.

The only flashes
of colour and of real life were the butterflies that fluttered
around the room, bright glimpses of green, yellow, blue and
red.

The flickering
flame of the red butterfly made Carey stop and look around for a
special, particular piece; a pot that was white on one side, fire
red on the other.

The floor
beneath her feet was no longer moving. She had, for some reason,
been left in this room. So she could move around looking for the
pot or plate or cup or whatever it was that–

‘
Oh!’

The Princess
smiled, almost giggling at Carey’s surprise. Being of porcelain
herself, she blended seamlessly into the rest of the
room.

‘
I’m
sorry!’ Carey apologised. ‘I hadn’t seen you sitting there; when I
came in the room I was just–’

She looked about
her with a wave of an arm.

‘
Amazed by the beauty of the room, yes?’ the Princess finished
the sentence for her.

‘
Yes,
yes; I would never have thought it would be possible to build so
many things from porcelain if I hadn’t seen it.’

‘
I
thought you might like to see this room.’

‘
Of
course; but I can’t find it. Is it here, the pot or plate or
whatever it was?’

‘
Plate?’ The Princess frowned in confusion.

‘
From
the story?
The Porcelain Doll
?’

‘
Oh,
of course! I’d heard of your play! I was told it was wonderful!
But…I meant because of another story;
The Porcelain
Room
?’

Carey observed
the Princess with renewed interest.

‘
The Porcelain Room
? You mean the second of the stories
about you? Is that what it was
really
called?’

‘
Then…you’ve heard
of
it?’ The Princess didn’t look too
sure. ‘But you haven’t
heard
it, the story
itself?’

Carey nodded
eagerly. Of course, why hadn’t she thought of this before? The
Princess would know the second part of her own story!

‘
I
must admit, I don’t know
too
much about it myself.’ The
Princess admitted with a chuckle.

‘
What?’ Carey was both dismayed and amazed. ‘But how can you
not
know what happened to you? How can you not
want
to know what happened?’

‘
Well, because it just never really seemed
that
important to me I suppose; I do know
some
of it, after
all!’

‘
Which? What parts of the story
do
you know? Could you
please tell me it?’

‘
Of
course, of course; in fact, that’s why I asked you here. The
Illuminator wanted me to tell you this tale, as he felt sure that
you mustn’t already know it.’

‘
He
knew that? How would he know it?’

‘
Because, because…’ The Princess seemed a little uneasy, like
she was having to think of the best way of wording some
uncomfortable truths. ‘Well, perhaps I should just
tell
you
the story, yes?’ she said breezily.

Carey nodded
enthusiastically.

‘
As
we know,’ the Princess began, ‘we left the end of
The
Porcelain Child
where the father promises the mother that he
will seek out the Illuminator to grant their daughter
life.’

‘
Your
father and mother,’ Carey corrected her
cheerfully.

‘
Please Carey, if I keep referring to them as my father and
mother, then it won’t be the tale I was told, or the story I wish
to tell you.’’

‘
Yes,
yes, I understand,’ Carey said, only really partly
understanding.

The Princess
smiled gratefully.

‘
So,
the father, as he promised, searched and searched for the land of
the Illuminator. He had noticed that a great many of the
Illuminator’s illustrations featured a glorious tower, either
somewhere in the background, or glimpsed through gaps between the
buildings in street or town scenes. In at least one story, which
told how a complete town had been burnt to the ground, he’d also
noticed that the tower mysteriously reappeared whole and
unblemished in the far distance, as if it was indestructible. Of
course, at this point he wasn’t aware of the imperishable nature of
the Illuminator’s tower, but he realised that such a grand edifice
might well be his home.

‘
Even
as he searched for the Illuminator’s kingdom, however he began to
notice something rather strange about his daughter; was it just his
imagination, he wondered, his wishful thinking, or was she really
listening as he told her tales of her mother? He thought he
sometimes caught a flicker of her eyes, a slight increase of the
upturn of her smile. More amazingly still, he sometimes found that
she’d moved while he’d been away. On his birthday, he found a small
parcel containing her red hairbow tied into a shape resembling a
pair of kissing lips.’

The Princess
halted, seeing Carey’s sceptical expression.

‘
It
seems ridiculous, I know,’ the Princess granted, ‘and yes, even he
wondered if he was simply going mad. But
what
a madness, he
thought; it seemed to him that his daughter had life, and that was
such a wonderful thing to believe. His joy soon turned to anger,
however, when one day he came across a puppet theatre that was
putting on a show he instantly recognised as being a story of his
own life;
The Porcelain Child
!’

‘
The
story was already spreading?’ Carey asked.

The Princess
nodded, then continued.

‘
The
theatre owner had purchased the Illuminator’s book of the tale. Of
course, when the father asked the theatre owner how he’d come to
hear of the story, the owner didn’t recognise him. So he happily
showed him the book.

‘
Now,
of course, the father was incensed that the Illuminator had told
his tale without his permission. Yet when he saw the beautifully
accurate pictures of his wife, his daughter; well, he broke down in
tears. And when he touched the pictures, feeling the sense of life
within them; well, of course, he just had to have the book, no
matter how much the owner wanted for it!

‘
Fortunately the theatre owner was a decent man who, thinking
he knew the tale well enough to have no further need of the book,
sold it for a reasonable price. Better still, he had his own story
of a strange town dominated by a looming, forbidding tower; and the
father recognised straight away that this was the tower he’d been
searching for.

‘
He
arrived in the town during the day, and was surprised – as you’d
been when you arrived here, Carey – that everyone seemed to be
expecting him. Similarly, they didn’t seem at all surprised either
when he began to surround his caravan with the most incredibly
beautiful ornaments and furniture they had ever seen; all of it
made entirely of the finest porcelain. Not just vases and plates,
but also chairs, tables, even mirrors!’

Carey glanced
about the room, wondering if all of this was his
creation.