March 22, 2011

Queen Amzo of Clover takes center stage in one small piece of one story, ZOM FALBU. She’s offstage and important in many others. Below her picture is the description of her first meeting with the time-traveling shapeshifter, Zom Falbu.

You possess a brightness, roamer. I understand now with a better clear why you are a keeper of tales. Yes, yes, Queen Amzo knew Scong Lodd. But wait. That jumps the hill. You must hear all of the story. You must hear it all if ever I would see Jom. The Queen, alone in the night, hurried across the courtyard straight at me. She wore a shimmering white cloak decorated with gold threaded bees. I sent a probe to sponge her mind and was shocked to find it blocked behind the mark of shapeshifter. Kem zole! Jare ay! I was shocked double, roamer, at what happened next. She stopped below my window and stared directly up at me. ‘Are you here yet?’ she whispered. I did nothing. Stunned. I was stunned. ‘Zom Falbu, are you here yet?’ she whispered again. Double stunned. My name. I began to trickle. ‘No,’ she hissed. ‘Stay as you are. I’m coming in.’ She slid along the wall and disappeared. In a nince she appeared behind me inside the tower on the stairs. ‘Dribble in here. We’ll talk,’ she whispered. I shifted, oozed inside and blobbed blue on the stairs. She beckoned me to follow and led the way down the stairs and into the night shadow of the stairwell. She whispered urgently. I made no sound or effort to move. I felt the crumpled Road List buried in my midst. I drank in her words. The diamonds in her crown flashed glint when she nervously nodded her head. This, roamer, is what she said. ‘So, Zom Falbu, the shapeshiftress. It is true. Help, he said. You will help, he said. He said he would block my mind from you. You would try to probe, he said. That would not be the way. He said that. Did you try to probe, Zom Falbu?’ ‘Yes,’ I managed to say. ‘Ahh,’ said the Queen. ‘Then truth. Hope. I will tell you. Seven bar days ago, a lifetime of misery, my Lorelei Lo, my little honeylump of love, was snatched away out of my arms to become the new Princess to the Dragon. Torn dreams. Nightmare.’ She began to gasp and choke and sob. I, an oozling of scant life, did not know what to do. So I did what I felt. I shifted to image Queen Amzo, crown, cloak and all. It charmed a success. She no longer wept. She stared instead. Flej jakus. I stared back. ‘Good,’ she finally said, unsmiling. ‘That is as so he said.’

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