Porcelain Princess Read Online Free PDF Page A

recounted how the child’s father had discovered the
Illuminator’s kingdom and given his daughter life.
    It was a book
that Carey had spent all of her own short life searching
for.
    For, if she
found it, it would also show her the way to the
Illuminator’s kingdom.
     
     
    *
     
     
    Their arrival in
the village was a cause for celebration and gasps of wonder in its
own right. No one in the village had ever seen a steam
wagon.
    Even though just
about everyone there had heard tales about these weird
contraptions, and some were even lucky enough to have seen
illustrations of them, in most people’s minds they were fairy
tales, works of imagination rather than working machines. Of those
who believed in their existence, they were surprised by the
reality, having never imagined the vast, clouding plumes of steam,
the roaring, the popping, the clattering, and the angry
hissing.
    Everywhere,
people were crouching low to peer beneath the wagon, looking for
the legs of the horses or oxen they believed must be hidden away
somewhere within the wagon to make it move. They would jump,
startled, as the wagon suddenly enveloped them in an abrupt snort
of steam, like an affronted lady chiding them for daring to peep
beneath her dress.
    Of course, not
everyone was happy with their arrival. There were complaints that
washing hung out to dry had been smudged with soot, that horses,
sheep, cows and pigs had all been startled (though no one
complained of the crows that suddenly fled the nearby fields). But
these people would be placated with tickets promising reserved
front seats for their children at the next show.
    As soon as they
reached the village square, Carey and Grudo began to set up the
theatre box, pulling out awnings and panels from the side of the
wagon, fixing them to other sheets of thick, brightly painted
boarding that had been stored in the trailer beneath the engine’s
wood supply. All quickly and easily slotting together, and held in
place by wooden or iron pegs, it was a contraption that was almost
as ingenious as the wagon itself, yet another piece of mechanical
ingenuity that Carey had inherited form her inventive
ancestors.
    In the back of
the wagon, the others were already preparing for the show,
selecting their costumes, even dressing the regular puppets who
would also be taking part in the play.
    ‘ This
is not my favourite play,’ Dougy gruffly complained as he
slipped into a costume and a heavy head piece specially designed to
make him look like a small horse.
    ‘ Ah,
but it is my favourite,’ Durndrin replied happily as he
neatly adjusted his farmer’s jerkin. ‘And all you’ve got to
do, Dougy my friend, is to remember not to wag that damn
tail of yours when you’re playing being happy!’
     
     
    *

Chapter
6
     
    The
Meaning of Life
     
    As Jacob toiled
in his field, driving his horse and plough before him to turn the
soil, he wondered why his life was full of such arduous, repetitive
tasks.
    He stared
miserably ahead, taking in all the solidly packed soil he still had
to break up.
    He looked behind
him towards the many furrows he had already created. He still had
to sow the seeds, of course, then water them, hopefully with help
from the rain. They would need protecting from the birds, then, as
they put out their first delicate shoots, from the wind too. They
would also need just the right amount of sun. But eventually, God
willing, life would result from his hard work, wheat that would
feed his family and thereby grant them life too.
    And suddenly,
like a strike of lightning could set a tree ablaze, the answer that
had eluded so many important and learned men struck him; he knew
The Meaning of Life!
    ‘ Pen
and paper! I need pen and paper, to write it down before I forget
it!’ he yelped with glee.
    He dropped his
plough. He left his horse in the middle of the field. He ran back
across his carefully turned furrows.
    ‘ Wait, wait; what’s the rush for Jacob?’ cried out one of the
other