Read The Eye of Zoltar for Free Online

turn.
    ‘I would sooner eat dog’s vomit than—’
    ‘ENOUGH!’ yelled the Queen in a voice so loud that everyone jumped.
    ‘Leave us,’ she said to the people in the room, and the royal retinue, well used to being able to make themselves scarce at a moment’s notice, all made for the door.
    ‘Not you,’ she said to the royal poodle cleaner-upper who had been quizzed earlier.
    ‘My dear …’ began the King when the servants had left, but his entreaties fell upon deaf ears. The Queen’s fury was up, and instead of holding his ground he cowered in front of her.
    And that was when I felt a buzzing in the air. It was subtle, like a bee in fog at forty paces, but it meant only one thing – a spell was cooking. And if that was so, it could only be from the ex-sorcerer, Queen Mimosa.
    The Princess crossed her arms and stared at her mother.
    ‘You will do as you are told, young lady,’ said the Queen in a measured tone, ‘or you will not be in a position to do anything at all.’
    ‘Do your very worst!’ spat the Princess, her face curled up into an ugly sneer. ‘I will not be ordered about like a handmaiden!’
    The Queen, very slowly and deliberately, pointed her index fingers at the Princess. These were the conduits of a sorcerer’s power, and when brought out or pointed anywhere near you, it was time to run, or beg, or duck for cover. The King must have seen this before, for he winced as a powerful surge of wizidrical energy coursed from Queen Mimosa’s fingers. There was a thunderclap, several drapes fell from the walls, and all the window glass suddenly decreased in size by a tenth and fell out of the frames with an angry clatter.
    This wasn’t the spell, of course, just the secondary effect. When the peal of thunder had receded into the distance, I tried to figure out what spell had been cast, but nothing seemed to have changed.

The Princess changed
    I looked at the King, who was as confused as me, then at the Queen, who was blowing on her fingers as sorcerers are wont to do after a particularly heavy spelling bout. She seemed quietly confident, and not unduly worried – something
had
happened, I just wasn’t sure
what
.
    That was when I noticed the Princess, who had such a look of confusion on her face it was hard to describe. She stared at her hands as though they were entirely alien to her. The King had noticed her odd behaviour, too.
    ‘My little Pooplemouse?’ he said. ‘Are you quite well?’
    The Princess opened her mouth to say something, but nothing came out. She tried again and looked as though she was going to cough up a toad or something, which is not as odd as it might sound, as that was often a punishment bestowed upon disobedient children by their mother-sorcerers.
    The Princess opened her mouth again and this time found her voice.
    ‘Begging your pardon, Your Majesties, but I don’t half feel peculiar.’
    ‘My dear,’ said the King, addressing the Queen, ‘you have given our daughter the voice and manners of a common person.’
    ‘My nails!’ came a voice behind us. ‘And these clothes! I would not be seen dead in them!’
    We turned around. The servant who had been ordered to remain had broken strict protocol and spoken without being spoken to first, one in a very long list of sackable offences. The Queen caught the servant’s eye and pointed to her reflection in the mirror. The servant looked, then shrieked and brought her raw hands up to her face.
    ‘Oh!’ she said. ‘I’m so plain and ugly and common! What have you done, Mother?’
    ‘Yes,’ said the King, ‘what have you done?’
    ‘A lesson to show our daughter the value of something when you have lost it.’
    ‘That’s our daughter?’ asked the king, staring at the servant, then at the Princess, who had started to pirouette in a mildly clumsy fashion in the centre of the room, listening joyfully to the faint rustle of the pink crinoline dress she was wearing. The Princess might not be enjoying being a