The Neverending Story Read Online Free PDF Page A

arrival, for five imperial grooms were there waiting for him. They helped him out of his saddle, bowed to him, and held out the ceremonial welcome cup. As etiquette demanded, Vooshvazool took only a sip and then returned the cup. Each of the grooms took a sip, then they bowed again and led the bat to the stables. All this was done in silence. On reaching its appointed place, the bat touched neither food nor drink, but immediately rolled up, hung itself head-down on a hook, and fell into a deep sleep. The little night-hob had demanded a bit too much of his mount. The grooms left it alone and crept away from the stable on tiptoes.
    In this stable there were many other mounts: two elephants, one pink and one blue, a gigantic griffon with the forequarters of an eagle and the hindquarters of a lion, a winged horse, whose name was once known even outside of Fantastica but is now forgotten, several flying dogs, a few other bats, and several dragonflies and butterflies for especially small riders. In other stables there were still other mounts, which didn’t fly but ran, crawled, hopped, or swam. And each had a groom of its own to feed and take care of it.
    Ordinarily one would have expected to hear quite a cacophony of different voices: roaring, screeching, piping, chirping, croaking, and chattering. But that day there was utter silence.
    The little night-hob was still standing where the grooms had left him. Suddenly, without knowing why, he felt dejected and discouraged. He too was exhausted after the long trip. And not even the knowledge that he had arrived first could cheer him up.
    Suddenly he heard a chirping voice. “Hello, hello! If it isn’t my good friend Vooshvazool! So glad you’ve finally made it!”
    The night-hob looked around, and his moon eyes flared with amazement, for on a balustrade, leaning negligently against a flower pot, stood Gluckuk, the tiny, tipping his red top hat.
    “Hoo hoo!” went the bewildered night-hob. And again: “Hoo hoo!” He just couldn’t think of anything better to say.
    “The other two haven’t arrived yet. I’ve been here since yesterday morning.”
    “How—hoo hoo—how did you do it?”
    “Simple,” said the tiny with a rather condescending smile. “Didn’t I tell you I had a racing snail?”
    The night-hob scratched his tangled black head fur with his little pink hand.
    “I must go to the Childlike Empress at once,” he said mournfully.
    The tiny gave him a pensive look.
    “Hmm,” he said. “I put in for an appointment yesterday.”
    “Put in for an appointment?” asked the night-hob. “Can’t we just go in and see her?”
    “I’m afraid not,” chirped the tiny. “We’ll have a long wait. You can’t imagine how many messengers have turned up.”
    “Hoo hoo,” the night-hob sighed. “How come?”
    “You’d better take a look for yourself,” the tiny twittered. “Come with me, my dear Vooshvazool. Come with me!”
    The two of them started out.
    The High Street, which wound around the Ivory Tower in a narrowing spiral, was clogged with a dense crowd of the strangest creatures. Enormous beturbaned djinns, tiny kobolds, three-headed trolls, bearded dwarfs, glittering fairies, goat-legged fauns, nixies with wavy golden hair, sparkling snow sprites, and countless others were milling about, standing in groups, or sitting silently on the ground, discussing the situation or gazing glumly into the distance.
    Vooshvazool stopped still when he saw them.
    “Hoo hoo,” he said. “What’s going on? What are they all doing here?”
    “They’re all messengers,” Gluckuk explained. “Messengers from all over Fantastica. All with the same message as ours. I’ve spoken with several of them. The same menace seems to have broken out everywhere.”
    The night-hob gave vent to a long wheezing sigh.
    “Do they know,” he asked, “what it is and where it comes from?”
    “I’m afraid not. Nobody knows.”
    “What about the Childlike Empress?”
    “The