Land of Unreason Read Online Free Page B

offer my
respects to Her Most Resplendent Majesty, Queen Titania?" he said in his
best diplomatic manner. "And offer her my services to the small extent of
my powers?"
     
                She looked so pleased that
her expression became a positive simper. "So young and so well
taught!" she said. "I perceive my Violanta has not wasted time. Why,
aye; since your offer is fairly made it will be as gladly accepted, and you
shall be my messenger of amity before His Radiance. Would that delight
you?"
     
                Barber bowed again. "I
can't think of anything I'd like better." He might as well, he told
himself, play out the string; behave as though this whole crazy business were
real and as much a part of his life as, say, the Luftwaffe bombing London. He
would have thought that idea crazy, too, if anyone had mentioned it as imminent
a year or two back.
     
                "Then let's away,"
said the Queen. "My coach!"
     
                A wide-mouthed imp, dressed
in a blue tabard with an intricate design of silver crescents woven onto it,
dropped from the tree branch where he had been sitting and shouted in a voice
of surprising volume: "Ho! The Queen's coach!"
     
                Somewhere among the trees another
voice took up the cry, then another and another off into the distance,
"The Queen's coach! The Queen's coach!" The coach rolled into the
glade before the last shout died away, a structure like that used ceremonially
by the Lord Mayor of London, if anything more elaborate, more gilded, and drawn
by six white horses.
     
                Two footmen leaped down from
the tail; Barber noted with a jar of surprise that they were enormous frogs, in
appearance and costume duplicates of those Tenniel had drawn for Alice in Wonderland. He was diplomat enough not to allow this to upset him, but stepped forward
and handed Queen Titania in. She smiled graciously, and opened her mouth to
speak, but just at that moment the outrider beside the frog-coachman lifted a
trumpet and blew a series of piercing notes. The Queen motioned Barber to join
her; he hopped in, the horses started, and they moved off, surrounded by
running, flying and shouting fairies. Barber's last glimpse of the glade where
he had landed in Fairyland showed him the brownie philosopher, engaged in a
startling series of Catherine wheels behind the vehicle.
     
    -
     

CHAPTER
III
     
                The grove was a mere screen
of trees; once through it, they were in an enormous landscaped park where tall
blossoms on stalks grew in mathematical precision, interspersed with elms and
maples set out in oversize flowerpots. There was no road, but the frog-coachman
seemed to know where he was going, and they rolled along easily, coming to a
stop with another trumpet flourish and the appearance of the frog-footmen at
the door. Barber handed the Queen down.
     
                Behind a row of the
flowerpot trees a factory chimney jutted into the air with a yellow-and-blue
flag hanging limply from a mast at its peak. "Well met," said the
Queen, "His Majesty's in residence at the palace. Come, babe." And
she started toward it.
     
                The grass between was set
with a maze of fountains, playing high with moon-rainbows through their spray.
From one of them a voice suddenly chanted, basso profundo: "Rocked in the
cra-a-dul of the de-ee-ee-eep!"
     
                Bombing is notoriously bad
for the nerves. Barber jumped, caromed into Queen Titania and both sat down.
The water of the fountain heaved itself up into an anthropomorphous shape, like
a translucent snow man and stared at him from lidless eyes.
     
                "Blow me down, here's a
sniveling mortal!" it boomed. "And rouncing round the Queen! You bag
of tripes, I'll better your behavior!" A transparent arm shot out, the
fingers clutching for Barber's face. He ducked, threw up a hand to ward the
grip, and bumped