Honeycomb by Joanne Harris (book series for 12 year olds .txt) 📕

hairy legs; the Fishfly Princess, an annoying laugh; and the Mayfly Princess, though beautiful, was frivolous and demanding. He learnt that the Damselfly Princess would only make love in water; the Mealworm Princess was muffin-faced; and the (widowed) Scorpion Queen was addicted to eating her spouses.

One by one, the Lacewing King crossed off the names from his Chancellor’s list until there was only one candidate left: the Silkworm Princess, who was beautiful, modest, virtuous, and good; and who lived in the sunlit Eastern Isles on the far side of the One Sea.

The Lacewing King watched the Princess through his coat of eyes for a month before he made his decision. Then, he issued his commands to the Glow-Worm Chancellor.

“Send word to the Silkworm Princess,” he said. “Tell her of my deep regard, and of my plans to marry her.”

Six weeks passed, which was how long it took for the message (borne by a cloud of golden fireflies) to reach the realm of the Silkworm Princess, and for the Princess to reply. She did so politely, but cautiously, and through the intermediary of her royal translator.

The Silkworm Princess of the Eastern Isles thanks His Majesty the King for his most flattering offer. She feels, however, that such a union should be based on mutual acquaintance and regard. She suggests, with the greatest humility, that she and her entourage should pay a state visit to His Majesty’s court, to determine whether a suitable compatibility might exist between them.

The Lacewing King agreed, though impatiently. Messages took so long to arrive to and from the Eastern Isles that he feared the year would be out before the royal wedding could take place. After that, who knew when his Queen would provide him with an heir?

While he was waiting, he used the time to clear up a minor rebellion among the Long-Nosed Weevils, then to end a minor war against the Queen of the Hoverflies.

Time passed. The Silkworm Princess set out with her royal retinue. Meanwhile, the Lacewing King toured his kingdom with an escort of his most fearsome warriors. He visited the Leaf-Cutter Bees, and resolved their long-standing dispute with the Red-Tailed Bumblebees. He dealt severely with an assassination attempt by the Prince of the Red Ants, and made several useful alliances. By the time he returned to his court, whatever unrest had existed in his kingdom was at an end, but there was still no sign of the Silkworm Princess. The Lacewing King began to question whether he needed to marry at all.

Finally, the royal party from the Eastern Isles arrived. The Silkworm Princess, with her entourage of five dozen handmaidens; her Chancellor; her translator, and her cook. She was as lovely as the King had observed through his coat of a thousand eyes: with jet-black hair that touched the ground, and a gown of a hundred layers under a cloak of yellow silk.

The King greeted the Princess (who spoke only her own language) through her official translator, an ancient silkworm with a hearing problem and a habit of sitting between them to discourage inappropriate contact. Nevertheless, the Silkworm Princess was delighted with the Lacewing King, and was amazed that he seemed to know so much about her habits and tastes.

For instance, he knew, without having asked, that her favourite food was honey-roast ants, cooked in a sauce of nine spices and served on a bed of saffron rice. He knew that she liked music, and so he summoned a quartet of millipedes to play on their harps of a thousand strings. He knew that she slept under yellow silk sheets, with lavender on her pillow. He knew that she bathed in rainwater that had been filtered through rush baskets of jasmine flowers, and, knowing she liked calligraphy, had made sure to provide her with a generous supply of rice-paper sheets, butterfly scrolls, and brushes made of moon-moth antennae.

“Her Royal Highness would have you know her delight,” said the silkworm translator. “And she would have me ask how you came to know so much about her tastes and customs.”

The King indicated his coat of eyes and gave a modest little bow.

For a moment, the silkworm translator stared. At last, he said, “Forgive me. But I fear I may have foolishly misunderstood Your Royal Majesty’s meaning.”

The Lacewing King obligingly explained the many practical uses of a coat of a thousand eyes. There followed a long discussion between the lady and her translator, in which the lady seemed to become more than a little agitated.

Finally, the silkworm translator stood and addressed the Lacewing King. “My lady is unwell,” he said. “She craves your forgiveness, but must retire.”

The Lacewing King, whose research had shown that the Silkworm Princess was sometimes prey to abdominal cramps, and who had gone to the trouble of providing various remedies to deal with this, offered the services of his royal apothecary.

The elderly translator conveyed the message to the Princess. But if anything, the Princess seemed more agitated than ever. She left a few days later, having kept to her chamber for the remainder of her stay. Not even a gift of her favourite mealworm candies were enough to tempt her from confinement, and she left in the night, without saying goodbye, in a covered carriage drawn by a team of dragonflies.

And so the Lacewing King gave up his plan for an alliance. Women, he thought, even Princesses, were not at all reliable, and prone to peculiar fits and starts that, surely, no reasonable man could endure.

Besides, as he told the Chancellor, when that gentleman dared enquire after His Majesty’s plans; the incident had taught him a number of valuable lessons in life; the foremost of which was that there was no such thing as a marriage of convenience.

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RAVELLER

There once was a man whose ambition was to see a certain, fabled mountain. One day, he set out to travel there, taking with him his pack, his tent, his bedroll, and food for the journey.

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