Queen Peg, who had since caught up with her brother, stared at the creatures in awe. “Are those . . . flying ponies?” she said.
“You like them?” Mr. Pound patted their shining flanks. “The professor put the wings on only last week. They are a belated birthday present for the new rulers of HazelPort.”
“You mean we can keep them?!” She gave a squeal of delight, throwing her arms around a zebra’s striped neck. “Oh, thank you! Thank you! Thank you!”
“They aren’t the only new arrival. The professor has granted me leave so that I might stay on a while here as royal adviser.” He gave a bow. “If it pleases Your Majesties.”
Peter’s eyes glanced toward the empty horizon and then down to his feet. “Tell the professor it pleases us very much,” he said softly.
Mr. Pound—who was not without his own extraordinary gifts—took the boy’s shoulders. “I hear your disappointment, lad. Professor Cake would have liked to come in person, but as you know, he’s very busy with things back on the island.”
Peter nodded. “Rescuing more strangers, no doubt,” he said with a trace of a smile. The boy looked searchingly at the owly browed, red-nosed man. “He knew, didn’t he? The message . . . the eyes . . . this kingdom . . . Professor Cake knew all along he was sending me home.”
Mr. Pound gave an evasive shrug. “Ah, the old man is full of surprises.” The next moment, he burst into a wide smile. “And speaking of surprises—who is this I see?”
“Make way! Step aside! Royal Storyteller coming through!”
“Royal Storyteller?” Mr. Pound could not hide his amusement. “An impressive title!”
Sir Tode clopped through the gates to join them. “Yes, well, I’ve retired from all that knight-errant nonsense,” he said, polishing a hoof. “It was beneath my dignity, really.”
Mr. Pound rubbed his chin, feigning disappointment. “It’s a pity to hear that.” He rifled through his pack and took out a black decanter with a waxen cork. “You see, the professor recently came across this bottled message from a rather distressed hag.”
Sir Tode’s whiskers twitched with apprehension. “G-g-good heavens . . . that’s not a curse in there, it is?”
“Far from it. It’s a cry for help. It seems the poor girl’s gotten herself stranded on an island infested with rats.” He raised an eyebrow. “You ask me, I’d think she’d be pretty grateful to whoever rescued her.”
Sir Tode caught his breath, hardly daring to speak. “She might even . . . undo a certain enchantment?”
“There’s one way to learn.” Mr. Pound offered the bottle to Sir Tode. “I could have a boat ready within the week.”
“A week? Why, that’s . . . so little time.” Sir Tode looked back at his newfound home, at Simon, Peg, and finally Peter. “Your Majesty,” he said timidly. “I wondered whether . . . if you were willing, that is . . . perhaps you would join me?”
Peter squinted at the wide open waters, stretching into forever. There was a song in the waves that he had known his whole life. He smiled. “Maybe a short trip wouldn’t hurt,” he said.
The knight loosed a cheer, clopping about with joy. “Splendid! We must begin our preparations at once!” He snatched the bottle in his teeth and galloped into the palace. “Open the larder! Fetch me a map!” His voice rang throughout the halls. “Come along, Peter! Adventure ho!”
The rescue of the stranded hag was but one of many legendary journeys Peter shared with Sir Tode. Though HazelPort would always be his true home, the boy knew he was not born to rule like his sister. He could never remain ashore too long without feeling the itch to sail out once more. Sir Tode always insisted on joining him—believing rightly that one should never leave a good friend to adventure alone.
With the help of Mr. Pound, Queen Peg was able to rebuild the palace into what a palace should be. The walls and floors were gutted of their clockwork. The mines underground were cleared of their chains, and from that day forward, chores of any kind were strictly outlawed.
Professor Cake never did manage a visit, but his floating library was a popular addition to the landscape; the people were able to learn all about important subjects like history and alchemy and poetics. Gradually, HazelPort drew itself onto the maps of the world—if only as a tiny speck. It was known among sailors as a small, hard-to-find place, filled with kind people and impossible wonders. It was by no means a paradise. There were squabbles and arguments, crimes were occasionally committed and feelings sometimes hurt. But on the whole, the kingdom was a happy one, where all the children obeyed their parents and all the parents doted on their children.
And so it went in HazelPort. As time passed, the children of the kingdom grew to have children of their own, and those children had more children, and so on. The story of Peter Nimble and his Fantastic Eyes was handed down to each generation—the tale of the prince who became a thief to become a king.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
This is a book about thievery, and in writing it I committed a great deal of theft myself. I swiped my dedication from G. K. Chesterton; I snatched inspiration from countless other worlds, characters, and books; even more, I stole time—minutes, hours, days—from beloved colleagues and friends. The following is a partial list of victims . . .
My family, which consists of a storyteller, an artist, a listener, and a looking glass. Whatever home Peter Nimble longed for, it probably looked something like mine.
Marshall and Betty Burke, who supported and adopted me as one of their own.
My early readers, including Laura Fern, Kirby Fields, Chandra Howard, Margaret Robertson, Kevin Snipes, and Mary Unser.
Jon Huddle and Howie Sanders, who took me on before anyone else.
Chad W. Beckerman and Gilbert Ford, who made this book an object worth holding.
Susan Van Metre and Jason Wells, who sent it out into the world.
My wonderful editor, Tamar Brazis, who saw Peter Nimble for what it could be and doggedly insisted I make it so. She is as brave as she is brilliant.
And finally my friend, mentor, and advocate, Joseph Regal, who sits atop his own island and sifts through thousands of glass bottles, each holding a story; I am so grateful that from all the bottles, he chose mine.
Please accept my most sincere thanks. I hope you all consider the hours well spent.
This book was designed and art directed by Chad W. Beckerman. The text is set in 12.5-point FF Atma Serif, a modern typeface that incorporates transitional elements similar to those found in Baskerville. FF Atma Serif was designed by Alan Dague-Greene in 2001 for the FontFont type foundry.
The interior chapter illustrations were drawn in pen and ink by Jonathan Auxier. The title page illustrations were drawn by Gilbert Ford. The display type was designed by Maria T. Middleton.
Jonathan Auxier, Peter Nimble and His Fantastic Eyes
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