before. Now I went cold. Daisy was breathing fast, and Pattoo had crumpled. It was so unfair. She’d done nothing at all.
But now the Gardeners were pompously bringing the Two Thousandth Rose in a gilded basket, and the royal ones were bending over it and exclaiming.
It reached Lady J, and she too peered down.
What a nasty sight. This green and puce monster craning in over the new rose, which was itself extremely hideous.
It was exactly the color Daisys vomit had been. And it was a funny squirty shape. And it had a perfume that, even through all the other perfumes, was so sweet it could make you gag.
“Ah, how lovely,” swooned LJL, gentle and melting.
She undoubtedly thought it was.
Oh, I could have killed her. I truly would have liked to, right then and there.
We were all for it anyway. And why? I’d merely glanced up. Daisy had spilled the rotten oil because she had to wear a stupid fashion. Pattoo had simply been there.
My eyes burned. No one was more surprised than me to see a huge burning teardrop, heavy as a hard-boiled egg, thump from each of my eyes. They plunged into the lawn.
As I was gawking at this extraordinary thing, everyone else began to shout and howl, and a hot and frantic sensation filled the rose-thick walk.
Like a fool, I thought they were angry at me for spilling tears .
Then I looked up again, and it wasn’t me at all.
You can’t always see the moon. At night sometimes the clouds are thick as wool. And in the daylight, if the moon is there, it’s transparent as a soap bubble.
Now I could see the moon clearly by day, and it was quite beautiful, and odd. It was a silver globe, shining bright, and slimly striped with soft red.
Something seemed to hang under it-—an anchor, perhaps, to moor it to the ground when it set?
Which was fanciful and silly, because the moon wasn’t like that at all. And this was decidedly not the moon.
Princess Flara yowled, “An invasion! An enemy! Help! Save us all.‘’
Panic.
I had seen this happen years ago, also in the Garden, when a swarm of bees suddenly erupted from a tree. Princes and princesses, ladies and gentlemen, and all their flounced and spangled kids, wailing and honking and running for their lives.
I’d been a kid myself, about six, and I just sat down on the grass and waited for the bees to go by.
Usually, if you leave them alone, they don’t sting you.
However, this was not a bee. What was it?
Someone supplied the answer, which also made no sense.
“A hot-air balloon—a balloon !”
They were off anyway, galloping up the lawn and on to the paths of the Rose Walk. I noted lots of tube dresses had already been split, some up to the waist! And lots of sticky oil was being spilled.
I looked at Daisy and Pattoo. A few of the other maids and a handful of slaves were lingering too, scared but undecided.
The “balloon” passed over the upper air and was hidden behind a stand of large trees.
Pattoo said, “We ought to follow Lady Jade.”
“The bees can have her,” I muttered, nostalgically.
Daisy blinked. “But if it’s an invasion …”
Invasion, by the Waste. Where else could it come from?
Another of the maids, dressed in tasteful parchment silk, said uneasily, “Once a madman from the Waste flew over in a… balloon … and poured burning coals on the Garden!”
“When was that?” Daisy asked, wide-eyed.
“Oh… once.”
The slaves were trotting off into the trees. A slave hasn’t ever much time for him-or-herself, so even the moments before we were invaded or had burning coals slung at us were valuable.
Pattoo, though, turned resolutely and began to pad heavily up the path after LJL, who had promised us all “something” bad.
Daisy reluctantly said, “We’d better.”
The others were also drifting off together, upset and dutiful.
If I stayed here, unless the invasion was total and nothing mattered anymore, then I’d be blamed, and I was in trouble already.
Just then we heard the alarm trumpets
But now the Gardeners were pompously bringing the Two Thousandth Rose in a gilded basket, and the royal ones were bending over it and exclaiming.
It reached Lady J, and she too peered down.
What a nasty sight. This green and puce monster craning in over the new rose, which was itself extremely hideous.
It was exactly the color Daisys vomit had been. And it was a funny squirty shape. And it had a perfume that, even through all the other perfumes, was so sweet it could make you gag.
“Ah, how lovely,” swooned LJL, gentle and melting.
She undoubtedly thought it was.
Oh, I could have killed her. I truly would have liked to, right then and there.
We were all for it anyway. And why? I’d merely glanced up. Daisy had spilled the rotten oil because she had to wear a stupid fashion. Pattoo had simply been there.
My eyes burned. No one was more surprised than me to see a huge burning teardrop, heavy as a hard-boiled egg, thump from each of my eyes. They plunged into the lawn.
As I was gawking at this extraordinary thing, everyone else began to shout and howl, and a hot and frantic sensation filled the rose-thick walk.
Like a fool, I thought they were angry at me for spilling tears .
Then I looked up again, and it wasn’t me at all.
You can’t always see the moon. At night sometimes the clouds are thick as wool. And in the daylight, if the moon is there, it’s transparent as a soap bubble.
Now I could see the moon clearly by day, and it was quite beautiful, and odd. It was a silver globe, shining bright, and slimly striped with soft red.
Something seemed to hang under it-—an anchor, perhaps, to moor it to the ground when it set?
Which was fanciful and silly, because the moon wasn’t like that at all. And this was decidedly not the moon.
Princess Flara yowled, “An invasion! An enemy! Help! Save us all.‘’
Panic.
I had seen this happen years ago, also in the Garden, when a swarm of bees suddenly erupted from a tree. Princes and princesses, ladies and gentlemen, and all their flounced and spangled kids, wailing and honking and running for their lives.
I’d been a kid myself, about six, and I just sat down on the grass and waited for the bees to go by.
Usually, if you leave them alone, they don’t sting you.
However, this was not a bee. What was it?
Someone supplied the answer, which also made no sense.
“A hot-air balloon—a balloon !”
They were off anyway, galloping up the lawn and on to the paths of the Rose Walk. I noted lots of tube dresses had already been split, some up to the waist! And lots of sticky oil was being spilled.
I looked at Daisy and Pattoo. A few of the other maids and a handful of slaves were lingering too, scared but undecided.
The “balloon” passed over the upper air and was hidden behind a stand of large trees.
Pattoo said, “We ought to follow Lady Jade.”
“The bees can have her,” I muttered, nostalgically.
Daisy blinked. “But if it’s an invasion …”
Invasion, by the Waste. Where else could it come from?
Another of the maids, dressed in tasteful parchment silk, said uneasily, “Once a madman from the Waste flew over in a… balloon … and poured burning coals on the Garden!”
“When was that?” Daisy asked, wide-eyed.
“Oh… once.”
The slaves were trotting off into the trees. A slave hasn’t ever much time for him-or-herself, so even the moments before we were invaded or had burning coals slung at us were valuable.
Pattoo, though, turned resolutely and began to pad heavily up the path after LJL, who had promised us all “something” bad.
Daisy reluctantly said, “We’d better.”
The others were also drifting off together, upset and dutiful.
If I stayed here, unless the invasion was total and nothing mattered anymore, then I’d be blamed, and I was in trouble already.
Just then we heard the alarm trumpets
Similar Books
My October
Claire Holden Rothman
This Battle Lord's Quest
Linda Mooney
The Arctic Code
Matthew J. Kirby
Little Girl Lost
Tristan J. Tarwater
Dead Room Farce
Simon Brett
Up in Smoke
Alice Brown
Pilgrim’s Rest
Patricia Wentworth
The Berlin Conspiracy
Tom Gabbay
The Boy Who Plaited Manes
Nancy Springer
