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No more Februaries

It was a bright summers day and the birds were singing but nobody seemed to be happy. The weather had been nice, the flowers blossomed, the bees hummed but everybody seemed to be in a bad mood. Everyone was talking about the „situation“ but Sigrun did not really understand what that was all about. She had been trying to get her parents to go out for a bicycle ride but they had their eyes glued on the news and had no time. Sigrun asked what was going on but they just murmured complicated sentences like. „Economists say that the index calculation rate for the next quarter is not looking good..“ Sigrun shook her head and said with a firm voice:

– But you promised we would do something fun today!

That was enough to break the spell, her parents looked at each other and nodded.

– Ok then, her mother said, what do you want to do? Sigrun rattled her brain and said: Lets buy some ice

cream and watch a film together on TV! On their way to the store they saw a scruffy looking

man holding a sign that read: The End is Near!

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– Oh no, an other economist! Sigrun sighed but her mum shushed her.

- Nonsense, child, an economist would be wearing a suit!

Once they got back home, Sigrun scooped the ice cream into bowls before running into the living room.

- Well, this is pretty nice, her dad said cozily when the three of them sat like a nice big blob on the sofa. The movie began and they laughed for a few minutes until suddenly the broadcast was interrupted.

- We interrupt this program because of the „situation“, the announcer said. Three worried men in suits appeared on the screen. – Oh no! Sigrun thought. Not again! The three of them looked conjoined, like a three-headed troll or Siamese twins.

– Do Siamese triplets exist? Sigrun asked. – Sssh! her mum said. Don’t be silly, we have to listen

carefully! One of the men took the lead and said in a gloomy voice:

– We expect next year to be very bad. There are those who don’t believe that economic reports can have feelings but I’m telling you, my report cried when I calculated the outlook for next year.

Her parents froze, their hair stood on end. Sigrun looked at her bowl of ice cream. They were not going to ruin this evening, she thought, so she grabbed the remote and changed channels.

– NO! her dad shouted. – This is important! They didn’t miss anything. The same thing was on the

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next channel as well and the one after that, too and her parents were pale with worry again.

Sigrun walked out into the garden. She sat on the soft grass on her front lawn but no-one was outside, all the neighbours were watching the doom and gloom on television.

Sigrun kept an eye on her parents in the living room. She had prepared a cozy evening for the family but now everything was ruined. The three men in suits had now vanished from the screen to make space for a commercial break. She couldn’t hear the sound but saw some strange black boxes with slogans dancing across the screen.

– Take control of your time! they said. – You only live once! Get into the box! Don’t waste your precious time! TIMEBOX®

Suddenly the front door opened and her dad spurted towards the car.

– Where are you going? – Just hang on, he said, we’ve decided to wait for

better times! As Sigrun looked on, the woman next door also

ran out to her car, as did a man further down the street. Her dad soon came back, carrying big plates covered in bubble wrap. Her mother watched keenly as he removed the coverings from the plates and, using a hex key, screwed together three black boxes on the living room floor. Sigrun sat on the sofa, keeping an eye on them while she played at bursting the bubble wrap.

– We’re not taking part in this „situation“, her dad

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muttered. – I guess our Greek island trip isn’t going to happen. He directed a mournful gaze towards a picture of a sailboat up on the wall but Sigrun’s mother sulked and sighed.

– Yes, life will become tough if this 0.5 point drop on the national average materializes.

– What happens then? Sigrun asked, getting a bit worried.

– Nobody knows, really, except for the economists, her mother said, – but you can bet it will be bad, really really awful!

Her father was generally not considered a hand-yman, even though he was often described as innovative and solution-focused in his office job, so he was quite proud when the shiny black boxes stood fully assembled on the living room floor. They were the size of a large, slim refrigerator and made from material that resembled smoked glass. He placed them end-up in their bedrooms while Sigrun’s mother tidied the house, tied down loose objects in the garden, reversed the car into the garage and filled the freezer with any food that might spoil. She set the internet bank account to automatically pay all bills for a whole year and left a message on the ans-werphone:

This is the family at 19 Margo Court. We’ve decided to wait until things blow over. Please get in touch later.

– The future holds a better day, her mum sang. It was actually one of the TimeBox® company’s jingles.

– When are we coming out of these boxes again? Sigrun asked.

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– They will open up automatically as soon as the „situation“ is over!

Then they each stepped into their black box; mum, dad and Sigrun.

Sigrun was full of curiosity as she got into the box. The glass was transparent, her ears popped when the door fell shut and a blue light came on. For one moment, everything turned pitch black, but then the box opened up. She took some careful steps into her room and shivered as she felt the dampness of the floor. She walked into the living room and jumped as a flock of seagulls took flight. A small deer had been lying on the sofa; it sprang to its feet and leapt out the window. In the middle of the living room there stood a mighty pine which had put down its roots through the floorboards, and a fern in one corner had taken over the floor. A crow cawed. Sigrun looked up and saw blue sky through a large hole in the ceiling. Her skin crawled when she caught sight of the crow that sat there with a big spider in its beak before taking flight.

She walked into the kitchen and didn’t flinch when a squirrel appeared in the sink and bounced out through the broken kitchen window. The woods behind the house now reached all the way up to the wall, and the window had obviously been smashed by a tree branch. The kitchen cabinets were wide open and there was a swallow’s nest in her favourite bowl.

– Ugh, the economists were right, this does seem to be a horrible crisis, she thought as she tried her best not to disturb the little birds chirruping in the cabinet. The box had presumably broken down so Sigrun tried to

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be as quick as she could – the family wasn’t getting out again until the crisis had passed. She moved some bram-bles out of the way and noticed that the family photos on the wall had faded. She waded through a carpet of ferns that had blocked off her parents’ bedroom and pushed hard to get the door open. Once her eyes had adjusted to the darkness she saw her parents standing stock-still in their boxes behind smoked glass. They were bathed in a blue light, making them pale and ghostly. Her dad looked like he was just about to say something and her mum’s eyes were almost shut, as if someone had snapped a bad photo of them. Sigrun was going to tell her mum that her box had opened for some unknown reason; she pulled hard at the handle and braced her leg against the box but nothing happened. She knocked on the glass but her parents remained just as rigid; she slammed the glass, but to no avail.

– MOTHER! MOM! she shouted and nearly burst into tears; then she tried to think logically. – A hex key! I need a hex key! she thought and went back to the living room. – It must be here somewhere, she thought, struggling to open the door to the garage. Then a shrill voice rang out behind her.

– Don’t go in there! There’s a bee hive in the garage. She turned around and saw a boy standing outside

in the garden. He was wearing a brown, old-fashioned woollen sweater and blue sweatpants with a hole in one knee.

– Who are you?

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– My name is Markus, he said. You need to come with me.

Sigrun looked at him. – Do you have a hex key? – What? the boy said. – I’m looking for a hex key. You know, one of those

curved irons with six corners on each end. – No, the boy said.

– A hex key won’t fix anything. Come on, hurry up. The front door is stuck so you’ll have to go out through the window, and bring a coat and shoes. The living room was on two levels but the lower level was half–full of water. A frog sat on the sofa table which was floating in a sort of pond. – I can’t get across, Sigrun said, there’s a frog on the sofa table. – Just hop across, he said. Sigrun skipped between chairs and climbed out through the broken window. The garden was overgrown with yellow grass.

– Is the „situation“ still on? she asked and looked around. She could hardly recognize her neighbourhood. It had been swallowed by the woods.

– It’s much worse than that, the boy said. They walked down the street which was hardly a

street anymore. Large trees reached up from the asphalt. It was as if the city had fallen under a spell. The houses were either grey or faded from the sun, rain and wind, the paint either flaking off or worn away. Brambles and thorns had crawled up the walls of the houses. It looked as though all the people had disappeared, as if

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the world had been abandoned. There were strange signs on letterboxes and front doors:

GOODBYE MONDAY!

By the crossroads there was a rotating billboard showing a slogan:

A WASTED DAY NEVER COMES BACK! TIMEBOX®

A straight line of large, mossy mounds stretched along the side of the road.

– Are those cars? They look like porcupines! What happened? Where are all the people?

– Ssh, Markus said, – we have to be careful. Hurry.

Sigrun followed Markus across an abandoned motorway until they reached a river flowing through a green valley in the centre of the city. They followed the river into the suburbs where blocks of flats rose to one side and up on the hill there were large, faded villas vanishing into the forest. They headed in that direction, sneaking through the gardens until a boy in a multi–coloured hoodie called out and told them to enter one of the houses.

Sigrun stepped inside. The foyer was large and airy, and the walls were covered in art work and antiques. Human heads resting on pillars lined a wall – human heads cut in stone with gaping eyes made of black pearls.

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They entered a living room where a strange bunch of children awaited them. The children hardly seemed to belong to the same country or the same era. From the house you had a view of the whole city through a large window. There wasn’t a soul in sight. Not a single person. On the big apartment building across the river, a gigantic sign flashed:

NO MORE FEBRUARIES!

Sigrun was absolutely mystified.

An elderly woman appeared. She wore a black dress and had her hair in a long, grey braid. She smiled when she saw Markus, walked directly up to Sigrun and greeted her warmly.

– Welcome, dear, my name is Svala. Have a seat with the other children.

She walked into the kitchen and came right back with a warm plate of freshly baked cinnamon buns. Sigrun watched her with mistrust. She looked kind, maybe too kind. Sigrun had read the story of Hansel and Gretel often enough to decline the offer. She was starting to realize this wasn’t a dream but she still wasn’t convinced it was reality. The city was crumbling. Everyone had disappeared. She glanced towards the open door where the boy was standing, seemingly keeping watch. One of the children began to cry.

– I want to go home. The sobs came from a girl with blond hair.

Svala spoke to her in a soft voice.

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– Don’t you cry, dearest. It’s alright. If all goes well, you’ll soon be able to go home.

– Where’s my little sister? Where’s everyone gone?– I need you to help me find out, the woman said.Sigrun looked out the window, at the leaves blowing

through the streets, at the faded signs, the deserted world, and felt exactly the same. The woman picked up a pair of binoculars and gazed across the city.

– We must wait for the others. Our numbers are about to grow.

She left the binoculars and went back to the kitchen. Sigrun sneaked up to the window and picked up the binoculars. Someone had to be around, somewhere in this whole city. She had caught sight of a blue light in one of the houses, like a television flickering. She pointed the binoculars towards the light.

– GOOD TIMES IN A MOMENT! – TIMEBOX®

Sigrun looked through the living room window. There were faded flowers in vases, glasses on tables, the sofa grey with dust. It looked as if the apartment had been hastily abandoned. She looked for the glow, there had to be a TV there with people watching. But then she saw a woman in a box; she was absolutely still and her face stiff as a doll. Everyone was boxed up, just like her parents.

Then Sigrun saw a girl come running down the street. The girl had draped her coat across her shoulders so it looked like she had blue wings. Like a moth drawn to the glare of a night light, she fluttered towards the

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house but kept turning around to call out to a boy who was following her.

– There’s a girl out there, Sigrun shouted. – She’s coming this way.

Markus looked out the window.– It’s Kristin, she’s found someone.– Tell her to hurry back inside. Dusk has fallen. The

wolves might come out soon, Svala said.The girl with the coat appeared in the doorway,

accompanied by a bewildered-looking boy.– Come on in and have a mug of hot chocolate, Svala

said. – Something has happened to the world but we’re going to fix it.

– Are there any more kids coming? Markus asked.– No, said the girl with the coat, – I didn’t see anyone

else.– Where am I? asked the newcomer. – Where is

everyone? There’s nobody outside!– Lets just introduce oneselves first. My name is Svala,

she said.– My name is Petur, the boy said.– Welcome, Petur. There’s no need to be afraid.Sigrun looked at the old woman and her delicate

hands. She looked at the furniture, the carpet on the floor and the lights on the ceiling. The house hardly looked like a home, more like a mixture of a museum, a library and a research laboratory. Sigrun shook her head when the old woman offered her chocolate cake and a glass of milk. She ate nothing, thinking of Hansel and Gretel’s fate.

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– Follow me, Svala said.The children followed Svala into an office. An ancient

vase stood on a pedestal and on a shelf there lay a helmet, cracked as if someone had struck it with a sword. You could see tatters of an old tapestry up on the wall and a picture of an enormous castle; the castle looked old, but the drawing was recent. There was a sheath there, a silver ring, a small carved elephant and a narwhal’s tusk. The walls were covered in ancient maps showing the world as people of the past had imagined it. Someone had circled various places with a marker. On the world map there was a yellow sticker which read: “Stories of the curse of the princess of Pangea.”

Svala pulled a curtain aside to reveal an ancient picture on the wall. It was colourful and masterfully drawn. It featured a man who was clearly a king, leading a rhinoceros by the reins. A girl could be seen carrying a great big catfish. A boy was leading her towards a small pond. And elsewhere a girl lay resting in something that appeared to be a glass casket.

– Who is the girl in the glass casket? Sigrun asked.– Her name is Raventine, the princess of Pangea. I

have collected thousands of stories of the girl in the glass casket and of how that story relates to what happened here. I’ve dug up relics and ruins and I’ve found the trail. I think I may have discovered the only way to rid the world of its curse but I need some help.

Svala projected a video clip onto the wall. It showed a man standing in a deserted city, pointing towards a hill.

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He shook his head and said in a dark voice: “Someone has disturbed her peace! The curse has been awakened!”

The kids sat and stared. It was dead quiet outside. Nobody around, no lights in the city except the pale blue glow coming off the silent houses. On the wall there was a flatscreen TV which seemed to show images from webcams all over the world. It was the same everyw-here. Nobody to be seen, ghost houses, ghost streets and ghost cities, everything abandoned and empty but far from dead. The world was green and lush, woodland covered the asphalt and the concrete. The world really had fallen under a spell.

Svala grabbed a pile of papers and slammed it down on the table, making the children jump.

– Would you like to hear the story?The children nodded.Svala began her story.

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The Three Sisters

Once upon a time, when the human race numbered but a few and wandered the forests as hunters and gat-herers, a woman gave birth to three sisters.

Their mother soon realized that one of them was blind and deaf; she could only talk.

One was blind and mute; she could only hear.One was mute and deaf; she could only see.

The sisters grew up and they made up for each other‘s shortcomings. The hearing sister had an unusually keen ear, the sighted one could see better than an eagle and the sister who spoke could scream so loud that wild animals would run away. So together they ran around the forest, finding their way much better than anyone with perfect sight and hearing.

But people feared the sisters and believed them to be bringers of bad luck. One day their mother was forced to take them into the forest and leave them to die.

But even the wildest animals did not hurt them. The seeing sister would gaze deep into the eyes of each beast, the hearing one would listen to them with great consideration, the speaking one would stroke them and whisper kind words in their ears.

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Cows came and gave them milk, horses would carry them across the mountains and wolves fetched them rabbits and pheasants. They found shelter in an enormous hive the bumblebees made for them.

The sisters lived and thrived, and ran through the for-est during the night provoking fear and terror amongst the people. A brave young man was chosen to kill the sisters and bring their hearts back as proof. The young man set off on his quest and finally found their bee-hive in a clearing in the woods. He hid underneath a thick pelt, clutching a knife in his hand. He saw a young woman come home, whispering to a small bird sitt-ing on the palm of her hand. He pricked his ears and listened to her chant. He lay still that whole day and heard her whisper cow chants and horse chants and a chant to sooth the bloodthirst of wolves. Never before had a human being spoken with the animals in such a way.

He was still lying in wait when the hearing sister returned home. She came to a halt and heard a throbb-ing heartbeat that belonged to neither of her sisters. She followed the sound, reached underneath the fur and pulled the young man from under it. The seeing sister glared into his eyes and gazed far into the depths of his soul while the one who could only talk hissed into his ear:

– You have learned chants which will make you

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powerful. But know this: the animals must never be turned against people. NEVER! He who does so will lose what he loves best.

The young man fled back into the forest. For hours he wandered until he came across a stag. Instinctively he reached for his knife, but instead of throwing it he whispered a chant. And thus it came to pass that he came back riding a stag, instead of bringing the sisters‘ hearts. The people knelt in front of him and made him their king. He tamed horses and cows and elephants and built a palace larger than any house seen before. Thus the first town came into being, which became the first city, which became the first kingdom, which was given the name of Pangea. And so the centuries passed.

A special team of whisperers served the kings of Pangea, generation after generation. And even though not all the kings of Pangea were peaceful, nobody dared turn the animals against people.

There was no word of the sisters but in legends they tended to appear as bad omens. And now rumor had it all three sisters had been seen somewhere in Pangea. One had been spotted on a mountain top on a full moon, another appeared to a fisherman and the third was sitting in a crow‘s nest.

But King Dimon the 13th never heard of this. Because he was in love – head over heels in love.

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Life and Death

For some time now, King Dimon of Pangea had been unusually dreamy. Royal advisors and courtiers would see his mind wander, he would sit for hours gazing at nothing, and everyone knew the reason. Dimon had met a beautiful woman while out hunting in the woods. She was fishing for trout by a small pond. A mighty tiger lay at her feet.

He greeted her and she greeted him and said her name was Vorsol. Her eyes were like floating jellyfish, her hair billowed like kelp on the tide, and her lips were red as star fish.

– Star fish, Dimon thought. – Star kiss.His heart was wriggling like a newborn dolphin.Together they swam out to an islet on the pond

where they sat all day underneath an old rowan tree, chatting and chewing on blades of grass. When night fell he had fallen so deeply in love that he invited her to move into the palace with him.

– You should stay here with me, she said with a smile, as if to tease him.

– But who will rule the kingdom? the king asked.– Sometimes you can rule more by ruling less, she

said and yanked a twitching trout out of the water.

And that was what the king decided to do. As soon as he could, he jumped up on his horse and rode out to the woods.

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– See you in the autumn! he called out to his advisor.– Then who will rule the kingdom? Refur asked.– Sometimes you can rule more by ruling less, Dimon

replied and ran off.

Dimon and Vorsol spent the entire summer together in a hut by a small pond and the giggles and the laughter echoed far into the night. He told her about his dreams of expanding the kingdom but she just embraced him and said:

– Hush now, all we need is one meadow and a hand-ful of dandelions and a pond.

And in time, a tiny being came to life in her womb and to the king, the world had become as sweet as sugar and every sound was birdsong.

When the child was ready to enter the world, Vorsol

was carried up to a tower room and placed on a bed of silk with a view across mountains and valleys where parrots fluttered between the tree tops. But it was a difficult labour. A day passed and then a night, and when the child finally arrived a call went out from the tower:

– A GIRL IS BORN!The queen looked at her gave a faint smile and said:– She is so beautiful.Then she closed her eyes and never opened them

again. The midwife took the child in her arms while the king tried to wake his one true love but she did not awake.

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King Dimon put his head in his hands. His heart was about to burst. It was as if someone had taken a pair of scissors and was cutting the harp strings in his chest, one by one. It was as if a little star had collapsed in his chest and turned into a black hole, sucking in all joy, all flavour and all colours from the world around him. He could not believe the kind woman who had kissed him just a moment ago could be gone for good. He gazed towards the horizon, at the sun and the wind and the world which went on turning as if nothing had happened. The flies kept on buzzing. The birds chirped cheerfully so Dimon cried out as loud as he could:

– STOP SINGING! I COMMAND YOU TO STOP SINGING!

Suddenly he heard a low, delicate keening, so gentle that his heart immediately fell into a new rhythm. He took his newborn girl in his arms. He was clumsy, with great big hands that had never before held such a tiny being. She smelled as sweet as a flower and looked at her father with curious seal–like eyes, a deep and wise gaze. He laughed and cried at the same time and she began to cry again.

– She‘s hungry, the midwife said.A messenger took off, he searched house to house

for a woman who could nurse an infant. And that was how they found Thordis. She had gentle hands, a pretty smile and golden hair. Brimming with milk, she gave the child all the care she needed.

Within Dimon, the anger and sorrow swelled. Everything had been going his way, but now fate had

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turned on him. That night the king swept the queen up in his arms and rode out to the woods. He buried her by the little pond where they had spent the summer.

The news spread throughout the kingdom that a beautiful girl had been born – with skin white as snow, lips red as blood, her hair black as a raven‘s wing. Her father shut his eyes and said: By all good powers, I will climb mountains and win wars. All for the sake of her happiness. Her name shall be Raventine.

Dimon carried her out to the balcony so that the people could see a princess had been born. The crowd cheered and the poets wrote ballads. No-one could have suspected that decades later she would be standing on that same balcony while the people stared back, their eyes full of fear and terror.

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Exel

If the king had been restless when he was in love, it was nothing to his grief. Refur, the king‘s advisor, attempted to console him and brought the king out for a walk to distract him. He had trained a swarm of bumblebees to hover around his head like one of Saturn‘s rings. On his shoulder he carried an old squirrel and two black pythons accompanied him.

Refur showed the king how glorious his kingdom was, far beyond any other kingdom in the world. They walked past a monkey that ran up a tree to fetch some coconuts which it piled up next to an old woman who was knitting a sweater. Nearby, a rusty rhino pulled a plough. The kingdom was flourishing, the barns were full of rice and every jar brimming with jam, but that was no comfort to the king.

The elder Jako went down to the very depths of the library, desperately seeking words of wisdom that might unleash the king from his chains of sorrow. The royal chefs prepared luscious meals. They served up an ostrich grilled whole and filled with great auk, which was filled with turkey, which was filled with flamingo, which was filled with chicken, which was filled with ptarmigan, which was filled with parrot, which was filled with a hummingbird, which had a honey-glazed bee up its bum. But the king had no appetite.

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At night, the king would be overcome with sorrow and roam through the castle like a caged lion. The royal doctor counted the beats of the king‘s heart and asked:

– What joy would be big enough to heal this deep sorrow?

The king replied:– I would have to conquer the whole world.– Then there‘s not much I can do for you, the doctor

said.But at that moment, a thin voice was heard behind

them.– I know what it takes to conquer the world.The king turned around and saw a tall, dreary man

appear in the doorway. The man was so grey he melded into the castle wall. He was dressed in a grey suit and clutched a silver ruler in one hand. As he approached the king, he quite clearly took care not to step on any lines. His steps were out of sync, the floor tiles being of various sizes so that every third step was either tiny or enormous. He cleared his throat and said in a somewhat reedy voice:

– I hope I‘m not interrupting, your majesty, but my name is Exel and I believe I can be of use to you.

– Where did you come from? the king asked.– I take care of your accounts, your majesty, he said.– Oh? The king was surprised. – Why would you

know how to conquer the world?– I‘ve made some calculations, Exel said. – You‘ll need

lots of gold to conquer the world, and I have found a way to turn air into gold.

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The king raised his eyebrows and the royal physician shook his head.

– Well, the king said, – what do you require in order to change air into gold?

– I‘ll need an attic room and a bucket full of haggis.The king had never heard such nonsense but curiosity

drove him to bring Exel what he had asked for.

The next morning a bright ray of light shone through the keyhole of the garret room. When the king opened the door he was blinded by the glare. The room was full of chunks of gold, crystals and glittering diamonds. Exel sat at a desk next to the shimmering pile, proud as a peacock. He was weighing gold and entering numbers into a thick file.

– Told you so! Exel smiled and kept on weighing. His face was glowing amid the gold.

– What‘s the trick? the king asked.– I trained the crows to bring me all that glitters in

exchange for haggis, Exel said triumphantly.A golden gleam appeared in the king‘s eyes when he

saw the treasure and a tiny drop of sorrow evaporated from his soul.

Refur was skeptical.– We‘ve never let the crows seek out gold before, he

said.– No worries, Exel said. – I‘ve done the math. It will

all take care of itself.

It wasn‘t long before the rulers of the neighbouring

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kingdoms began to covet the gold. They claimed the gold was coming from their own treasuries. They gat-hered an army and surrounded the city of Pangea, demanding their gold back.

– You‘ve gotten us into trouble now, Exel! the king thundered.

But Exel scratched his head for a while before he said:– No worries, your majesty. I think we can solve

this. I believe that the smallest creatures can defeat the biggest army.

– How can that be?– Trust me! Let me speak to the whisperers!Refur was skeptical:– We‘ve never turned animals against people, your

majesty.The palace trembled from the marching of the

enemies so that the little girl woke up and began to cry.– They are a threat to me and my child! Dimon said.

Do what is needed Exel!

The king‘s whisperers heeded Exel‘s advice. They worked day and night. They whispered to termites, bumblebees and army ants. They whispered to wasps and fireflies. The hissing and humming and buzzing grew louder and louder until the third day when the insects were set free. They came rushing out of the palace and attacked the enemy. Fleas jumped under clothes and armor, while termites gnawed through arrows and shields. Moths chomped at laces and belts leaving the soldiers bare-bottomed and vulnerable when the wasps attacked with needle-sharp stingers. Crying soldiers

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rolled on the grass and jumped into lakes. By the time dawn broke, the armies were red and swollen from the stings and bites. A white flag was raised but fell to the ground when termites chewed the pole to pieces.

Dimon looked smiling at his surrendered enemies. His first smile in months actually.

– What do you suggest my loyal Exel? Should we drive them away or execute them?

– I suggest we give them the gold, Exel said.– What? the king said, stunned.– I have calculated all possible strengths, weaknesses,

opportunities and threats in this situation. We pay the soldiers to join us and we conquer the kings that attacked us.

It all went precisely as Exel had said. The enemies surrendered and were given golden medals, weapons and honor. Thus a double team set off to conquer the next city and there they played the same trick. Dimon‘s kingdom spread like wildfire in a westerly wind. The palace grew, the kingdom flourished and Dimon became famous where his name had been unknown.

Dimon looked at the world map with considerable pleasure but Exel said:

– We are still far from ruling the whole world.– Now what do you recommend Exel? the king

asked.Exel looked out of the window, over the plains

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where he could see herds of horses, elephants and bulls, roaming rhinos and packs of lions.

– The smallest animals defeated the largest army but we won‘t conquer the world unless the bigger animals join us.

The king smiled but Refur had turned red in the face. Bumblebees sat on his bald head in the shape of a cap.

– When the three sisters taught your ancestors the art of whispering, it came with a promise never to turn the animals against people!

– Don‘t you worry about old myths, the king said. – As long as I win, good prevails.

The king sent out a decree. Whisperers were given new and vicious chants. Reluctantly they whispered until bulls snorted and braced their horns. Rhinos grunted, armored to attack and the lions roared, hungry for blood and meat. Dimon gazed at these herds, so obvio-usly invincible. Mooing, panting, grunting, bellowing, screeching and squeaking. Birds of prey hovered like black clouds above the palace. He shook his fist at the gods.

– I‘ll show you who‘s the greatest. In the name of my daughter Raventine I will conquer the world! Generals! Gather your forces! Bridle the rhinos! Sharpen the horns! Feed the lawyers! I‘m off to conquer the world!

And so Dimon kissed little Raventine goodbye and set off with his army. He crossed the twelve mountains, the four deserts and the endless forests. He went further

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than the ear could hear, further than the eye could see and even further than the mind could imagine.

In the capital, all grew oddly still and quiet once all those animals had left for their mission. The little girl was left at the palace with her nurse Thordis, one hundred servants and one thousand guards. The king had so ordered that she should be the world‘s happiest child. Exel took care of the daily life of the palace and his experts calculated precisely what would be best for a small child. Raventine was the sole heir and without her, all of Dimon‘s conquests would be for nothing.

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Raventine and the Pond

The earth shook as Dimon and his army rode from country to country. Birds and wild beasts vanished days before the army appeared and cities were left deserted as the people ran to the hills. An army like this had never been seen anywhere in the world. Never before had a war been waged with wasps and armored rhinos. The thunderous din and the vicious roars were enough to persuade the bravest fighters to throw down their weapons. Those that didn‘t give up were as good as doomed. Rhinos carved out gashes in the front line, berserks came darting through with growling lions on a leash. Then came the cavalry, slashing away right, left and centre until they had reached the hide–outs of counts and kings in no time. Hyenas and wolves were left behind in the ruins of towns that continued to fight back.

Once battle was over, Dimon would arrive in a silver chariot pulled by a black horse, strong as a bull. He drove across battlefields, past groups of injured and defeated soldiers and great big pyres circled by vultures. He would have the kings and emperors brought before him, offering them coffee and a bun while Refur opened his briefcase and said:

– This is a declaration in triplicate of complete

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surrender and eternal loyalty to Dimon - the king of Pangea. Sign here, and here, and here.

The chroniclers worked day and night, sending back magnificent stories of great battles and heroic deeds.

The kingdom flourished. In the east, the palace was known as Krabaduso rundi – the head of the octopus; it was as if the palace had sprouted tentacles reaching through the entire world. In the west it was called the Whirlpool because that was where all the wealth would flow, as if into an enormous drain. The king’s palace glowed in the shining sun, it grew like a conch up on the hill above the city of Pangea, and in the centre, the beautiful princess Raventine.

At this moment she was sitting by the window

watching craftsmen decorate the golden walls with black and white pearls. She had watched towers rise and towers on top of them and so on and so forth, until the tallest spires seemed to touch the clouds and scrape the stars.

Raventine owned everything in the world but she had never been outside of the palace. Exel said it was too dangerous. She had waited for the king so long she was bursting with impatience. She gazed at the city and heard the distant sound of cheering and noise. – I wonder what the people are celebrating? She looked at the seven towers rising above the mountain tops in the east. She longed to go there. She glanced down at the palace walls, wondering if it she could climb down,

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she wondered if it would hurt if she fell down. She had never had a bump or a scratch in her life. When King Dimon heard she had started walking he issued an order:

– From now on, all sharp corners are strictly for-bidden throughout Pangea.

Dimon had the palace lined with carpets and silk cushions. Guards kept watch, ready to catch Raventine wherever she could possibly fall over. For the first few years of her life she loved nothing more than running up to the edge of the stairs and having them catch her. She would get butterflies in her stomach as she headed for the hard marble floor and then she’d laugh when the guards caught her in a silk blanket. They would sigh in relief, knowing it was not only her life which was at stake but theirs as well. Raventine was so well looked after that she had never even scraped her knee and found out how fun it can be to pick off the scab.

Raventine stared out toward the horizon in the hope of seeing a messenger crow bringing word from her father. For several weeks not a single crow had been seen. She had a large pile of letters which she read over and over again.

My dearest daughter. After this last battle you now own a new diamond castle in a city which has been renamed after you, the city of Raventine. Let‘s visit it together once victory is ours ...

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The letters contained descriptions of fearsome mountains, dark forests and golden cities. He wrote of strange nations, wild beasts, savages and jungles full of cannibals. He told her of peculiar creatures, bizarre fish and great battles. Raventine shut her eyes and tried to remember her father. She tried to recall his eyes, his nose and voice. His letters were all she had. Her father had practically become a collection of words:

My dearest daughter. Now we have travelled the world for ten years and it is bigger than I could ever have imagined. When I come home I will show you the place where your mother rests underneath a weeping willow. I am the only one who knows of it. There is a forest there and a beautiful pond full of wriggling trout.

Missing you - father

A red panda jumped into Raventine’s lap. She stroked it gently. The panda was the size of a raccoon; it was rare and precious like everything Raventine owned. Raventine scratched the panda behind its ear and watched as a vagrant dog jumped from roof to roof down in the city. She wanted to pet the dog.

– Wouldn‘t you like to play with a dog like that, my little panda? she whispered but the panda buried its nose in her neck, tickling her with its whiskers.

The dog went running after a child and Raventine wanted to play with this child but she knew that was not likely. She had watched as hundreds of children

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turned up all scrubbed up and on their best behaviour to undergo the friend test. Without exception they would turn around gloomily several hours later, their mother scolding them, the father striding angrily ahead. It was no more than a week since Exel had brought his file and announced the results in his typically dry fashion:

– The incredible has happened yet again, he said. Out of the three thousand exceptional children who underwent the friend test, not one of them could be considered Raventine‘s equal. Isn‘t that extraordinary?

Everyone in the hall applauded except for Raventine. She looked at him and asked:

– So can none of them be friends with me?– Unfortunately not, nobody passed the test, Exel

replied.– Can I take the test? she asked.– Why? Exel asked, surprised.– Well, to find out if I‘m good enough for myself, she

said.Exel laughed and said:– That‘s how clever she is; no other child could have

thought of such a thing.

Raventine was furious but she knew how to take revenge. She drew a line with a chalk on one of the palace corridors. She waited patiently for Exel to come strutting and watched him come to an abrupt halt. Then she ran and drew more lines all around him, leaving him standing petrified in between.

– Why can‘t you step on lines? she asked in a teasing voice.

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Exel tried to tiptoe between the cursing and shouting:– GUARDS! GUARDS! Mop the floor!– Aren‘t I clever? No other child could have thought

of such a thing, Raventine said with a laugh.Exel was shaking with fear but he didn‘t scold her.

No-one was allowed to scold her, that was a royal decree.

Raventine watched as the dog and the children disappeared around a corner. Nurse Thordis came up to her and said in her gracious way:

– You‘re gazing out the window.– Yes, Raventine said. I want to pet a dog. I want to

scrape my knee.– You‘re talking nonsense, child.– I want a friend.– That‘s not up to me, my dear. The children did not

pass the friend test. You‘ll have to discuss this with your father.

– When is he coming back? she asked.– Once he‘s conquered the world. Then all gets

better, mark my words. Go speak to Jako, he can give you some wise words.

Raventine ambled off but Thordis stayed behind, longingly gazing out the window. In the city there was a child and a family she had longed to see ever since the fateful night when she was fetched and given the honour of becoming the royal nurse.

Raventine wandered down golden corridors and went

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into the courtyard where the elder Jako sat, looking after catfish and waterlilies in a tiny pond and taking care of her animals. She owned a zoo of bonzai animals; a tiny rhinoceros the size of a cat and two elephants, not much bigger than puppies. But her favourites were Brokki and Sokki, the two white deer who came when she called. Servants and guards were not allowed to speak to Raventine, they weren‘t educated enough, but Jako was allowed to talk as long as he spoke in wise sayings.

– Good day, Jako, she said.– Good day, Raventine, Jako said. – A friend is as

sweet as a flower.She sat by the edge of the pond and the fish swam

calmly over to her. The catfish were well kept; some were the size of giant salamanders or small crocodiles.

– It‘s my birthday soon, Raventine said.– Age is not measured by years, Jako muttered.– I‘ll be ten.– Ten is a magic number, Jako said.– My father‘s sending me more animals, she said.– Phew. I hope he doesn‘t send a giraffe, Jako said and

ran a hand through his grey hair.– Was that a word of wisdom? she asked teasingly.Jako scratched his head and pondered the question.– Every giraffe is too long for me, he said sagely and

grinned, – that sounds like wisdom, doesn‘t it?– We‘ll have a great party when father gets back,

Raventine said, somewhat sadly.

Her little forest by the pond was surrounded by low stone walls. It was full of small oaks, tiny pine trees

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and cherry trees that hardly came up to her knees. The leaves were delicate and the stems were slender although the trees were hundreds of years old. There was a dollhouse there made of ebony, and mushrooms that were so big she could sit underneath them and take cover from the rain or the sun. She walked through the forest and whispered.

– Brokki! Sokki! Where are you?She rustled the grass she got out of her pail and then

the white deer came running. She took Brokki in her arms and stroked him gently.

According to a royal decree, nothing dangerous could come near the princess. The guards killed every bug they saw but Raventine always managed to find the occasional centipede, ladybug or cockroach that she‘d trap in an old jewelry box and hide in her little doll-house. She told nobody about the bat that slept hanging underneath the porch. The last time she‘d pointed out a bat, a guard had stuffed it into a bag. And she told nobody about her friend who was a spider. The spider lived in the dollhouse attic. This was the ghost room where Raventine kept the naughty dolls.

By taking the wings off flies they‘d turn into black bears and the bumblebees would become tigers.

Nobody knew of the insect collection until Thordis found a wingless bumblebee and took it away.

– That was a tiger! Raventine said.– You can‘t turn a bumblebee into a tiger!Raventine pursed her lips and sobbed:

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– You‘re not my mother! And if it wasn‘t for me, my mother would be alive.

Then Thordis grew silent, her face softened and she embraced Raventine.

– Don‘t say that, child. Don‘t you ever say that! Nothing in the world can be a little child‘s fault!

Thordis looked steadily into her eyes:– I believe that somewhere your mother is watching

you. When you laugh, she laughs too.Thordis slid a hand into her apron pocket and pulled

out a cookie. Raventine dried her tears and nibbled at the cookie. She looked at her necklace, the one memory she had of her mother, and said:

– I wish I had a mother.Her words pierced Thordis‘ heart, because she had

nursed her, she had fed her and dressed her and read stories to her ever since the day she was born.

Raventine stopped collecting bugs and spent more and more time looking for ways to get out and see the world. She had grown so much the palace was like a coat that‘s too small, bursting at the seams. She said goodbye to Jako and went back to her window. She had to make some friends. She had to get out, she couldn‘t wait any longer. She gazed down the endless wall and was preparing to step out onto the window sill when a messenger crow appeared with a note tied to one leg. Her heart skipped a beat. The crow bowed and held out its sharp claws. Raventine whispered a little chant to thank the crow and untied the small piece of paper fastened to its leg.

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My dearest daughter. I‘m writing this letter from the furthest corner of the northern world. We have conquered the south and joined the east with the west and now all that remains is the far north. Soon we shall raise our flag on the roof of the world, where the compass points in all directions – at the world I have conquered for you.

All my love – father.

Raventine jumped for joy and shouted:– Father is coming home! He‘s coming home!She ran through the corridors of the palace, waving

her letter.– My father is coming home! Hurry up, Thordis, let‘s

prepare for his homecoming! We can celebrate all my birthdays at once!

Thordis hugged her and smiled, the servants danced around them, but then Exel appeared with his file. He said drily:

– That is good news. Once he‘s conquered the ice cap, the journey back home should take no more than two years.

For a moment Raventine‘s smile disappeared, but then she said:

– It doesn‘t matter, he‘s coming home!She sat at the window once more and watched swans

flying in formation. She wished for a hundred swans to carry him home on their white wings.

REVIEWS

“A sparkling and entertaining adventure story in two time eras with a clear moral which, however, never turns into a sermon.”—FRIDRIKA BENONYSDOTTIR, FRETTABLADID

“The largest box of chocolate written in the Icelandic lang-uage that I have ever laid my hands on ... This is con- fectionery for the mind! Wow! It is so good that I forgot to make notes … This is a book for the 3 year old, the 30 year old, the 300 year old.”—AUDUR HARALDSDÓTTIR, CHANNEL2, NATIONAL RADIO

“Magnason succeeds in telling a very entertaining story, a fairy tale that encapsulates a powerful and haunting message without any hint of preaching. With his customary effortless style he puts old remembered fairy tales into new context to create a plotline that is at times thrilling.This demonstrates yet again that Magnason is one of our very best storytellers.”—ANNA LILJA THORISDOTTIR, MORGUNBLADID DAILY

“Here we have a timeless fairy tale, and Magnason’s depic-tion of this magical world is magnificently well realized.”—JON BJARKI MAGNUSSON, DV DAILY

For further information please contact Forlagid Publishing /

Braedraborgarstigur 7 / IS 101 Reykjavik / Iceland /

e-mails: ua@forlagid.is; vala@forlagid.is;

tel: (+354) 575 56 00; fax: (+354) 575 56 01; www.forlagid.is

TIME CASKET

When things are looking bad and economists predict a massive financial crisis, Sigrun’s family is lucky - they can crawl into their black boxes and wait for better times. But one day, her box opens and she is confronted by an aband-oned city in ruins, with everyone stuck in black boxes waiting for things to get better.

Sigrun meets a strange old lady in a house full of children and archaeological artefacts. The old lady tells them a story of a greedy king who conquered the world but yearned to conquer time. With a magical casket, transparent like glass but made of spidersilk, with such a dense weave that even time cannot penetrate the walls, the king can spare his beautiful princess the ugly days, the dark days, the rainy days, the normal days and the worthless days. One day a small boy opens the casket and the princess discovers that 20 years have passed, the kingdom is crumbling and the king has gone mad.

There seems to be a connexion of some sort between the old woman’s story and Sigrun’s world. She and her friends must find the link, which will hopefully show them how to fix the world. 296 pp.

Andri Snaer Magnason (b. 1973) has written novels, poetry, plays and directed a film. He is the only author that has won all three categories of the Icelandic Literary Awards, Fiction, non Fiction and Children’s / YA. His previous book, The Story of the Blue Planet, has been published in 30 countries. It got a Green Earth Book Award and the UKLA Literacy Award. The play from the story has been produced on large stages in 10 countries. He received the Janusz Korczak award and the Kairos Prize in 2010.