CHAPTER 24 - EMERALDS AND ICE

“Oh Muffin,” said Sindy to her companion Bradford Cananticle Monforte IV, Royal, Dauphan of Second Life, “Tell me the story, the real story, about the little crown of King Clothar the III and the Golden Jumble,”Sindy paused. “I remember well the story that at the Council of Worms, that the king found the crown too heavy during the long and heated discussions about freedom for the furriers, and that he had this tiny crown built to lighten the heavy burden, as it were.” Sindy was demonstrating her vast learning and scholarship of many years crammed into half an hour of fast reading at Rains hair salon.

“Ohs,” Said Muffin “Yesf, Yesf, nows lets me thinkf a bit.” As they advanced upon the next glass and lead case followed by The Chair and Sindy’s scarlet clad goons.

Sindy stared at the Small Crown of King Clothar III, it was another spectacular example of the wealth and power of the Monfortes. The base of the crown was perhaps three inches at most, and Sindy thought that perhaps bobby pins were needed to hold it on the royal person. The tall cone shaped crown was encrusted with perhaps 400 carats of small gems, mostly flawless red and yellow stones of perhaps 2 carats each. As the cone approached its apex the diamonds grew larger in size until the were about 10 carats each. At the tip of the cone was a single golden brown diamond of the utmost perfection, it was called the Golden Jumble. Its shine was beautiful and somewhere between liquid amber and transparent gold.

Sindy felt a tug at her division between Elmo and Waldo. Frisky little devil is Monforte thought Sindy and she looked down. There was nothing, Muffin was still holding her arm in one arm and gesturing with his pipe toward the Clothar’s tiny crown. That was weird thought Sindy. Perhaps the emerald Broach of the Worm Oborbos was coming detached. She reached for the hefty broach with its blaze of icy cold emeralds in platinum and hafnium setting. It was cold to the touch. Very cold realized Sindy. Almost painfully cold.

“Wells,” said Muffin, “dere’s ta stories they tells ta childrens and thens dere’s ta truth.” “Which shalls it bees?” asked Muffin.

“Oh Muffin, you know, as they say the truth shall make your free. The true story with all its gossip and family secrets,” Sindy replied.

“Hus hus hus,” chuckled Muffin, “I wishf thats were true,” he said. “Ta truth kills mys ancestor o’l King Chlodric the Paracide.” Muffin paused for a moment to gather his facts, three minuets later he resumed. “Yesf, Uncle Pharamond ta Truthful, he bashed kings Choldorics head ins wif ta stone of Truth.”

Muffin laughed and laughed at some part of the story he chose not to tell. The life of a fairytale King and his Queen was often more nightmare than bedtime story thought Sindy. She remembered the odd fact from the exhibition catalog, that more Monfortes died at the hands or claws of other Monfortes than by ‘natural causes.’ The catalog article had qualified the term ‘natural causes’ because the 10th century strangulation of an infant heir to the throne by another Monforte was considered natural. Just as natural child birth was practice by the Monfortes. Sindy shuddered at the description of the Monfortes concept of natural childbirth.

“Wells, ta facts bes true on both accountsf,” continued Muffin. “Clothar did find tas weight of tas crown toos heavy. Ands, hes had made this tiny crowns. Becauses his heads was tiny alfos. Hes was also calleds Clothar ta Narrows Minded, ans Forgetsfull.” Muffin again burst out laughing.

Muffin’s having a wonderful time thought The Chair who followed the couple just ahead of the goons carrying the porti-throne just in case Muffin tired and needed to sit. However royals had reserves of strength and endurance which were legendary knew The Chair. He had occasionally seen remarkable fortitude by Muffin on the sports fields, and dining halls of Old Andiorns. The Chair remembered the story of the Siege of Tinwhistle Castle in the 8th century, and how King Monforte Pippin I, later known as Pippin the Blind, defeated his son Monforte Pippin II in a stare down no-blinking contest. Pippin I had won after Pippin II’s left eye fell from his head after two weeks. Amazing those royals and their sense of duty.

Next in line were the famed Dozen Faber Eggs. “An nows fors breakfastf,” chuckled Muffin approaching the dozen famed eggs.

In the distance Sindy spotted one of the Sisters of the Order. Dear gods, she prayed. Let Mother Superior not ruin this night of Sindy’s triumph. Drawing in her breath and reaching deep for courage Sindy scanned the room. By the north ground floor exit she saw a door swinging closed and a trail of Adels’ personal security, including the tall and, … well ‘handsome’ was the only word applicable, … the tall and handsome Sister Persequor-Persequi Adel’s Chief of Holy Orders & Retribution other wise called security.

“Thank the gods,” Sindy said under her breath, ‘shes gone”.

The Chair had been watching closely and noticed Sindy’s obvious relief at the sudden departure of the Mother Superior. The Chair was well aware of Sindy’s fear. He knew much of Sindy Blazer, more than perhaps any person, except for the Mother Superior who had ruled Sindy’s childhood with a iron fist and the seeming gentle paw of the Tiger of Circe. The Tiger of Circe… gods save us thought The Chair. Gods save us all.

Just to be sure Sindy scanned the room further for signs of the Order. She easily spotted a dozen Sisters from the Holy Orders and Sindy knew where you could see one there were two more you could not see, or saw only at the risk of your life and that of your family, and if they were departed, then the torment of their souls. On the balcony she recognized Iris Denmont in a taffeta gown from last years collection by Mr. Macy. Denmot had been a classmate in the lower school until she joined the Reserve Sisters Cadet Corps and had disappeared. Sindy would never forget Iris and her amazing skills at sneaking out of the Convent and into town to buy raspberry chocolate nibblets, which she never shared, but always ate in front of the other girls. No that face with its mushy chocolate covered lips and raspberry breath was not easily forgotten. If she had been caught she would have been beaten within an inch, or perhaps a centimeter of her life thought Sindy. But then again she was so good she was never caught. Rumor had it that she was going to become a Sister, but to her surprise Sindy saw her dressed as a nob.

Muffin guided her to the case of the dozen eggs.

Sindy moaned, loud enough for Muffin, The Chair and the goons to hear. She clutched at her heart. The pain was excruciating and she fell to her knees. The broach seemed to sing and vibrate in her agony. Then as suddenly as it came the pain passed.

“Are you all right?” asked a concerned Chair. Muffin was clearly concerned, if not actually worried. Nothing was going to ruin Sindy’s night of triumph. The Chair assisted Sindy to her feet, “perhaps I should take you home said The Chair.”

“No, I’m just fine,” Sindy lied. “Girl problems, don’t worry I’ll be just fine.”

Muffin looked carefully at Sindy. First in her eyes, and then her chest and finally focused on her cleavage. Not now, thought Sindy, later perhaps, but not now. Sindy was tiring of her night of triumph. Muffin however was not looking at Sindy’s cleavage but instead at the broach. A look of recognition fell across his face.

“Is thinks weve seens enouffs,” said Muffin in a voice of deep concern tinged with worry.

“No, no. To the eggs your highness,” Sindy insisted.

Soon the glory of the Dozen Farber Eggs came into view. Sindy had prepared several witty and probing questions to demonstrate here deep knowledge of the Monforte Jewels, but she was on the verge of exhaustion. So she only smiled as Muffin explained the manner in which the jewel encrusted egg shells were filled each morning with poached duck eggs and served to the reigning Monforte.

I need only make it to the Plaque of the Worm Oboros and Ill go home thought Sindy now longing for a soft bed, a down comforter, and a glass of unblended malt whisky with a little anchovy on a toothpick.

As Muffin guided her to the Plaque of the Worm Oboros, Sindy felt dread. Not the dread of the DMV test for your first driving license, and not the dread of the final examination in Medieval Portuguese Literature for which you had not prepared or for that matter not even read a single page in the syllabus marked – critical reading assignments – to be included on the final. But a worse dread, the kind of dread she felt when she kneeled before the Mother Superior and asked for the salvation of her sinful soul.

“Ahiiiiiiiiiiiiaaa,” Sindy heard a horrible scream of pain and anguish. The clutching her heart she realized she was screaming. The room spun about, blinding green lightening filled her eyes and horrible thunder deafened her. She felt like the day she had responded to the other girls challenge to hold the electric cable while they tested their secret hot dog cooker in the shed behind the dormitory. She was hallucinating and The Chair, the goons, and the entire room fluoresced with a fearful green and yellow glow. All except Muffin. Bradford Cananticle Monforte IV, Royal, Dauphan of Second Life, heir to th long abdicated Throne of the True King of Second Life - had become a living Cote de Noir Diamond – both a brilliant burning white light and deepest velvet black void at the same moment. Sindy realized she was going mad. As her sanity lost its grip and madness took its hold the room went black and Sindy Blazer, Queen of the Night lost all consciousness.