The Mask Wearer Read Free

the donkey in the forest and that the animal had followed him to the house. Now Edonf was requesting a large amount of money to forget the wrongdoing,and Amos’s parents, unable to pay, did not know what to say or what to do.
    Panic-stricken, Amos crept unnoticed into the cottage. He could no longer bear to see his parents humiliated in this way. Things had to change for him and his family, and it was up to him to do something. He needed to act now. But what should he do? How could he and his parents hope to flee this kingdom that had become like a prison? He looked around, hoping to come up with an idea, a trick that would allow him to get rid of Edonf once and for all.
    While waiting for him to return, Amos’s mother had put some water in the pot above the fire. Frilla Daragon had looked forward to making a soup with whatever her son brought home. Amos had an idea, and he plucked up enough courage to act. To avoid burning himself, he wrapped a thick cloth around one of his hands, then grabbed the big pot by its handle. Unobserved, he went out to the garden, not far from Edonf and one of his men. He put the pot on the ground, took a dead twig in his hand, and began a strange ritual. He danced as he whipped the side of the pot with the twig.
    “Come to a boil, my soup! Come to a boil!” he repeated with each blow.
    Consumed by anger, Edonf did not pay attention to Amos right away. Only after the seventh or eighth “Come to a boil, my soup! Come to a boil!” did Lord Edonf stop his ranting long enough to watch what Amos was doing.
    “What are you up to, you stupid boy?” he yelled.
    “I’m boiling water for dinner, my good lord. We’ll makea soup from stones!” Amos answered, somewhat proud of himself.
    Intrigued, Lord Edonf looked at Amos’s parents, who just smiled slightly. They knew how quick-minded their son was and that he was cooking up something other than soup.
    “And by what miracle can you make soup from stones?” asked Lord Edonf.
    Amos had just hooked a big fish with his bait, and he wasn’t letting it go. His trick seemed to be working only too well.
    “It’s very simple, my lord,” he said. “With this magic wand, I’ll bring the water to a boil and it will be warm enough to melt stones. When the mixture cools off, it will be smooth and deliciously creamy. This is the only nourishment that my parents and I have had for years.”
    Edonf laughed heartily. He raised one of his shirtsleeves and rapidly dipped his hand in the water to check the temperature. As soon as he felt the burn caused by the intense heat of the liquid, his face became livid and he removed his hand in a shriek of pain. The water was truly boiling! His hand as red as a lobster, Edonf jumped up and down as he cursed all the gods of heaven.
    “Quick! Quick! Some cold water!” he shouted, stamping his feet violently. “Quick! Some ice water!”
    One of the guards, who had gone off to inspect the little barn, ran out to help his master. Without hesitation, he took hold of Edonf’s arm and, thinking the water was cold, dipped his hand in the pot again.
    “Let go of my hand, idiot! Let go of my hand or I’ll have you hanged!”
Lord Edonf yelled, tears coming to his eyes.
    The guard did not understand why he was being insulted, or why his master proceeded to beat him. Kicking his backside, Edonf shoved him to the ground. Amos’s parents tried hard not to laugh. Meanwhile, Amos made a compress from the leaves of several plants and handed it to Edonf. The lord finally calmed down, exhausted by the mishap.
    “I want the twig that can bring water to a boil,” he said. “Give me this twig and I’ll give you permission to farm whatever land you want and to hunt on my property. I’ll even give you the donkey!”
    Amos put on a very serious face. His heart was beating madly; he was afraid that Edonf would realize he was being duped, but he did not show his fear. He had to conduct the discussion skillfully.
    “Unfortunately, my