‘Piper, run!’ and Piper ran. Why did she run? I shall not tell you, for I do not know. And Piper shall not tell you either, for she did not know. It could be mere fancy. Or perhaps she was happy to be part of the tale, and ran because she wished to stay longer in it till its conclusion.
But then she felt the arms around her again. It was papa! ‘Piper, run!’ his voice repeated. And on she went pursuing the black lion before her. What a magnificent beast it was, and how fast. With teeth white as ivory, a long black-mane, and what a roar.
Yes, such a roar it could make the windows of your room shiver with fright! But Piper was not afraid, for she thought it was her papa. And if Piper thought so she must be correct. And the lion was not afraid, but having the time of his life.
On and on Piper pursued the lion, as fast as her short-legs would allow her. Past rivers and streams. Past the Faery Woods of Everything and the Faery Woods of Nothing, which were different and the same.
Then she tripped and fell over a croocked root. A croocked root from a croocked tree. Now, this tree had not left his root there on purpose or with bad intentions in mind. No, indeed! he had left it there to call Piper’s attention, so the two could play and amuse themselves.
For you see, trees live such boring, dull lives, all stuck in the ground, and with only the company of the Sun, birds, some passing animals and clouds kind enough to greet them, that they want to join in what others do as well.
But this had been such a dreadful idea! Piper was on the ground, weeping and hopelessly calling to the lion, ‘Don’t go. Wait for me papa!’ who had already vanished in the dense forest. Yes, there are always better ways to go about these things. Asking works as well.
But Piper had been hurt, and I cannot do any thing to solve this. Much as the tree could not do any thing but apologise to Piper. But Piper did not care about this tree, and she certainly did not care if she was hurt and curled near this tree. For she had been hurt in a worse way. Yes, in a worse way than sour candy and dentists can make you feel when they pull off your teeth!
She had lost her papa, and that was far worse. Then a white creature, with black strands and cold-blue-eyes approached Piper. Of course Piper did not notice her, for she was curled up in the ground and weeping. Surely you remember? But when she felt the coldness of the tigress above her and sensed her presence (for she casted no shadow, it is true)—she embraced her hairy warm neck and cried ‘Don’t leave me papa. Please, please, don’t go!’
Piper did not know it was not her papa, but we know it. Of course we shall not tell her, or she shall be very sad, and people should be happy whenever they can, for they often share that happiness with others, and that is very fun.
When Piper opened her eyes she found herself on the hard floor of her house. For she did not have a room like you or I might. She did not have countless shelves for picture books, or the author she fancied reading that day. Nor did she have a four-poster-bed to sleep in like a princess, with warm sheets and puffy cushions.
The only furnishings you would find in Piper’s house were the walls, and how thin and fragile they were—thinner than a leaf! But Piper loved them all the same, for they were her only possession—even if they did not support any thing, and a cold wind, sharp as a knife, easily passed them through, calling to Piper, Piper warm me, for I am very cold.
But she did not know how, much as she wanted to. For she was still in turmoil, with fresh tears in her eyes. So she went to the beach, which she much enjoyed and aided her in taking her mind off things. And this was a splendid idea. The warm silky-sand buried and tickled her feet, and this made her laugh, while the winds, hot and cold, played with her scarlet-ibis-red-hair spreading it like a flag as she beheld Elsewhen's five-and-a-half Suns and four Moons in their whimsy ascend and descend. How peaceful it was. What tranquillity. And how did the trees rustled their leaves and the sands stirred.
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Then, Toc, toc, toc, Piper heard inside her hand, and as if it were a basement lid—of half a glove—she took off her palm and kept it inside her rags.
Marching out of a spiral staircase inside it was an entourage of tiny soldiers with spear-hats and grave-solemn-uniforms. They were smaller than the tin-soldiers you keep inside your boxes, but certainly as funny. The leader approached Piper, who was very amused by them—and amiably saluted her, presenting himself as Otto von Bismarck, which you are sure to find in your History Books—as he said,
‘Herr von Herr. Excuse me young lady, could you help us find our playmates?’
This was not what Otto von Bismarck had said, but it was what Piper heard. For adults give long and tiresome speeches and she did not want to hear it. So instead she altered it to what she wished to hear. He was a funny man, round and fluffy, and wearing fifteen uniforms all at the same time. He was a very busy man, and that is good. So Piper greeted him just as politely. But when he showed her the seven posters of his playmates, she was helpless to aid, for she did not know any of them, or she had most likely forgotten them.
Five were knights named Gwayn, Helin, Meliun, Marhaus, Ladinas, Le Démon Aux Mille Visages, and the seventh Mr Promise. She was certain the P stood for that. Grateful for Piper’s help the entourage returned the same way they had appeared from, and Piper restored her hand—now complete—to its proper place. Her thoughts fully removed from the black lion.
But then she felt the same earnest tocs inside her head, so she took off her face. The poor girl! Now, do not believe this hurt her one bit. No, indeed, it was as if she had taken off a mask, smooth and fair as ivory, and there it was in one of her hands, with eyes, and mouth, and all the other things a face usually has—for some do not have it, or they lack it.
And inside her? Beyond the place where the face had been? Why, there were no flesh and bones, it was as empty as a porcelain doll. And yet, not quite. Inside it, at its centre, was a big round Moon—smooth and pretty and bright and pale.
And on top of it, as if it were a giant boulder, was a magical palace with many towers—all different and bizarre and shifting. Near the palace was a ladder, constructed inside the Moon, and as bizarre as the palace’s towers, which went Nowhere and Everywhere.
On this ladder were the men who had called out Piper’s attention, promptly brought by it—for it could stretch itself as much as needed be, or turn so big and wide—to Piper’s other hand, for, if you remember correctly, in the other she had her face.
The men wore very dark and serious uniforms, as if they had returned from some funerary service. On their hats they had tiny winged-skulls, and around their arms some trappings with two big SS. Sepulchral Society, thought Piper, and since this name amused her, this name they shall keep, even if it is not quite right.
The leader of the Sepulchral Society approached her and politely presented himself as Heinrich Lupold Himmler. They were searching for some men. Piper greeted them as politely, but instead of nearing her head she neared her hand to take a better look at them. For, if you remember, it was there where she had placed her face, and all polite conversations should be held face to face. It is written in the Book of Civilised Conduct. You can ask your parents if you want, and they shall tell you the same. You shall see!
Heinrich Lupold Himmler then shewed Piper the wanted posters of the people they were seeking. She recognised some. Not because she knew the men, which she did not, but because Otto von Bismarck had shewn her the same men before. And look! there he was in one of them, with a big jolly smile and the word Wanted beneath. Can you picture it?
Piper certainly could, for of joy she almost dropped her face! And how happy she was to lead them on. And for this the Sepulchral Society was very thankful. She opened the door in her palm, and on they went together to play. They were playmates, she was certain, and every body should have a playmate to play with.
When Piper blinked a third time the little people were gone. Her face was in her place. And the wind kept whispering Cold, cold, I am very cold. Warm me Piper. But this she did not know how to do without burning him, and that was not polite.
So Piper kept enjoying Elsewhen’s horizon, till the key of a voice catched her attention. What did it say? I shall soon tell you. Do not be hasty, or you shall trip and hurt yourself like Piper, and that will bring joy to no one. Here is what it earnestly said,
‘Piper, Piper, look at what I found!’