Tuesday Blue and the Mage's Tower

Here is a story I wrote as a gift to a friend's young daughter for her birthday. The friend has agreed to allow me to post it here in all it's glory; my first attempt at a children's story.

Tuesday Blue and the Mage’s Tower

In the land of Far Away, Tuesday Blue was having a staring contest.

It was cold and dark down in the basement but Tuesday didn’t mind the cold or the dark. She came down here often to visit with her friends and to hide from her father, who was always trying to make her study boring things like geography and maths and manners.

One of Tuesday’s friends was Winnie. Winnie was a rat, and a very wise one at that. Tuesday always brought her pieces of cheese from the castle kitchen and, in return, Winnie showed Tuesday all the secret passages in the castle.

Ezekiel was Tuesday’s other friend. He was very old and sometimes grumpy, but in a way that made Tuesday laugh. Ezekiel had been lost down in the basement years ago and stayed there ever since, collecting dust until Tuesday found him one day. Now she polished him up and put him on his own shelf, with a little purple cushion to sit on. She often came down to visit and tell him stories about wise wizards, brave knights and powerful princesses.

Tuesday stared at Ezekiel and Ezekiel stared back.

“I don’t think this is fair,” said Tuesday, after a while. “You don’t need to blink because you’re a skull! You don’t even have eyeballs!”

“Ah, so you admit defeat!” Ezekiel cried happily. “In that case I win and you have to do what I ask!”

Tuesday frowned and thought about this. It still didn’t seem fair to her but she had promised, after all.

“OK, Ezekiel,” she said. “What do you want?”

“I want to get out of this basement for the day!” said Ezekiel. “I’ve been down here for years and it’s boring!”

“It’s not boring!” said Tuesday. “There are all kinds of interesting bugs! And you don’t have to learn geography! And you’ve got Winnie for company.”

“Winnie,” said Ezekiel grimly. “Is not as interesting to talk to as you might think.”

Winnie squeaked indignantly and scratched her nose.

“Tuesday!” called a voice from upstairs. “Tuesday I’d better not find you down in the dust again! You know you’re not allowed down there!”

“It’s Matron!” Tuesday whispered to the others. “Father must have sent her to fetch me for lessons! Come on, Winnie, we need to go. We can use the secret tunnel to the garden!”

“Wait!” said Ezekiel. “Take me with you! Please, Tuesday! We had a deal!”

Tuesday hesitated for a moment.

“Oh alright! But be quiet! I don’t think skulls are supposed to talk, you know!”

She picked up Ezekiel off his purple cushion and took off running to the secret tunnel, with Winnie scampering ahead of her.

The castle gardens were vast and very beautiful. It took a whole team of gardeners to look after them. Every day they worked to trim the hedges and cut the grass, to water the flowers and feed the fish and the frogs that lived in the ponds.

The gardens were Tuesday’s favourite place in the castle. She loved smelling all the pretty flowers, hunting for earthworms in the soft mud and counting ladybirds on the bright green leaves. She loved to pick fresh apples and ripe peaches and eat them in the sun. She loved the sounds of the babbling streams and singing birds.

The secret tunnel came out at the far end of the garden, between the hedge maze and the water fountains. No-one else knew the tunnel was there, which was the point of a secret tunnel, but that also meant it didn’t get cleaned at all and when Tuesday stepped out into the light she was covered in dust.

“Uh oh!” she said, looking down at her dirty clothes. “Father isn’t going to like this. Come on, Winnie, I think I can wash it off in the fountains.”

Winnie squeaked in approval and off they went.

“I haven’t seen these gardens in many years,” said Ezekiel happily. “It is so lovely to be out and about again. Just look at it! The flowers! The sunshine! That beautiful chicken!”

“That’s a peacock, Ezekiel,” said Tuesday.

“That’s French for ‘beautiful chicken’,” sniffed Ezekiel.

Winnie squeaked.

“Winnie doesn’t think you speak French,” said Tuesday.

“Winnie should mind her own business!” grumbled Ezekiel. Tuesday grinned because she knew he didn’t mean it. Ezekiel liked being grumpy but he was a good friend.

They soon reached the Fountain Walk, which was a gravel path leading between two rows of fountains. There were fountains of mermaids and dolphins, fountains of sea birds, the water dripping from their wings, and fountains of strange flowers. Some were made of copper or brass, others were carved from stone and some had even been inlaid with precious stones that gleamed in the sunlight.

Tuesday’s favourite fountain was a great big volcano that sent a torrent of water up into the air every few minutes to come pattering down in thousands of drops like rain. That wouldn’t be very good for cleaning her clothes, she realised, so she went to one of the mermaid ones to wash.

“Where would you like to go next, Ezekiel?” she asked, scooping handfuls of cold water to splash her face.

“Do I get to choose?” Ezekiel asked.

“Of course! It only seems fair since you’ve been cooped up so long!”

“Hmmm…well in that case, I’d like to go up to the top of the tallest tower! That way I can see the whole kingdom!”

Tuesday looked back up at the castle. There were many towers there, some with pointed spires of bright blue slate, others with parapets and weathervanes. The tallest tower, though, was the Mage Tower. Tuesday’s father had told her it was called that because an old wizard lived there in ancient times, serving as an advisor to the king until he tried to take over and rule the kingdom himself. No-one was allowed in the Mage Tower now – the door was locked.

“Hmm,” Tuesday thought out loud. “We’ll need to get the key first.”

Winnie tilted her head in questioning.

“I know, Winnie,” said Tuesday. “But it’s OK. I have a plan.”

The Keeper of the Keys was a grumpy old man named Hargreaves, who had worked at the castle for longer than Tuesday could remember and had a face like a disgruntled trout – all downturned mouth and bulgy eyes. His office was in the servant’s section of the castle, where Tuesday was technically allowed but always seemed to be shooed out of. This, of course, made it all the more desirable to Tuesday.

Winnie showed her a tunnel behind a curtain of ivy that flowed like a waterfall of leaves over the old garden wall. It took some squeezing in places, and crawling in others, but soon afterward Tuesday emerged into a cupboard in the pantry through an old trap door. She gave Peter the kitchen boy quite a fright as she emerged, once again filthy with dust, from the floor.

“Shh!” she warned him as he jumped and almost dropped his pots and pans.

“What are you doing here?” he asked. “You scared me half to death.”

He paused.

“Why are you holding a skull?”

“Hello,” said Ezekiel.

“That’s Ezekiel,” explained Tuesday. “Nevermind him. I’m on a special mission.”

Peter narrowed his eyes in suspicion. He had been involved in Tuesday’s special missions in the past and twice they had gotten him into trouble with Monsieur Le Bouff, the head cook.

“This isn’t going to be like the time we put flies in the cupcake mix, is it?” he asked.

“I was going to give them to the frogs! And no, nothing like that. I just need to borrow some honeybread.”

“You know you can just ask us to make you some honeybread? You are the pri-”

“Don’t say it!” Tuesday put a hand over his mouth. “Anyway, I can’t have people know it was me who asked for it. Will you help me? Please?”

Peter thought about it.

“Fine,” he said. “But only because we’re friends.”

Monsieur Le Bouff was a huge man, in every sense. The belly beneath his apron was vast, his gestures were grand and exuberant and his voice was booming as he sang to himself and stirred the giant stew pot, standing atop a stool to reach over the top.

“Monsieur,” Peter called up to him. Monsieur Le Bouff didn’t hear him and kept stirring.

“Monsieur!” Peter tried again but Monsieur Le Bouff was singing far too loudly to hear Peter’s little voice.

Finally, Peter grabbed an empty saucepan and banged on it with a spoon.

“Sacre blue!” the head cook exclaimed in his thick accent. “Such a racket! What is it kitchen boy? Why do you disturb me while I am working? Have you no sense at all?”

Peter merely pointed to where Winnie was sat atop a great wheel of cheese on the cheese table. Winnie waved.

“Rat!” screamed Monsieur Le Bouff, leaping from his stool. “A rat in my kitchen!”

Lifting his ladle aloft, Monsieur Le Bouff charged into action. Unfortunately, for Monsieur Le Bouff, Peter had spent several minutes spreading butter onto the floor tiles. With a “whoop!”, the big head cook slipped and fell on his behind, sliding across the floor and knocking over a tableful of ingredients. Peter slipped quietly away as chaos erupted, several of the other cooks running to help Monsieur Le Bouff. Some of them slipped too while others struggled to lift the giant man back to his feet.

Winnie helped herself to a big chunk of delicious cheese and scampered away into a hole in the wall. No-one noticed Tuesday as she crept over to the bakery and helped herself to a succulent honeyloaf, wrapped in greaseproof paper. She was gone before Monsieur Le Bouff had gotten back to his feet.

Tuesday met Winnie in the tunnels and, together with Ezekiel, they climbed through the castle walls to Hargreaves’ office.

Hargreaves was a cantankerous man, stuffy and pompous. He bullied the other servants relentlessly, certain that his control over the castle keys meant that he was more important than them. His office was his fortress, kept locked at all times, even when he was inside it.

But Hargreaves had one weakness.

He smelled the sweet scent of the honeyloaf before Peter even reached the door and, by the time the kitchen boy had knocked twice, the lock was already being unlocked. Hargreaves loomed over Peter, eyes bulging, hooked nose flaring, his mouth positively watering as he looked down at the honeyloaf on the silver tray.

“What is this, boy?”

“Honeyloaf, sir,” said Peter, as meek as could be. He didn’t have to pretend. Tuesday might not have been scared of Hargreaves but Peter was.

“I can see that, you simpleton,” grumbled Hargreaves. “Who sent it?”

“Monsieur Le Bouff sent it, sir,” said Peter. “To make amends for the recent dip in standards.”

Tuesday didn’t know for sure that Hargreaves had complained about the food recently but it seemed a safe guess. Hargreaves was the kind of man to complain about everything. He groused about the gardens, criticised the cooking and whinged about the wine. Nothing was ever good enough for Hargreaves. Tuesday held her breath, hiding behind a suit of armour just a little way along the corridor, and hoped she’d guessed rightly.

“Well,” Hargreaves grunted. “My fish pie was a little cold yesterday. And my carrot soup this morning was too carroty. It’s about time that fat oaf Le Bouff pulled his considerable weight around here.”

With that Hargreaves snatched the tray from Peter and slammed the door without so much as a thank you. The key clunked in the lock a moment later.

“What now?” Peter asked, coming over to Tuesday’s hiding spot.

“Now you go back to the kitchen before they realise you’re missing and you get in trouble. We’ll wait here. Hargreaves loves honeyloaf. He’ll eat the whole thing and be so full he’ll fall asleep. That’s when we strike.”

“Well OK,” said Peter. “Try not to get in trouble, Tuesday.”

“Thanks for your help, Peter.”

With Peter gone, Tuesday crept back to the door of Hargreaves’ office and waited, peeking in through the keyhole. Sure enough, Hargreaves was digging into his honeyloaf with gusto, shovelling great handfuls into his downturned mouth. By the time he was done, his lips and hands were sticky and his belly was swollen with food.

Wiping the sweat from his brow, Hargreaves eased himself up from his desk chair and went to collapse on to the sofa. Within moments he was snoring.

“Now, Winnie,” whispered Tuesday.

Winnie squeaked in confirmation and wiggled her way under the door. Through the keyhole, Tuesday watched her scamper over the Hargreaves desk in search of the key. She climbed up the leg of the chair and leapt onto the top of the desk. She sniffed around the paperwork and the letter opener and the very sharp pencils but she couldn’t find the key anywhere.

Hargreaves moved slightly, grumbling in his full-bellied slumber and, with a jingle, the keys fell from his pocket to dangle by a thin piece of elastic from his belt. Winnie looked at Tuesday who looked back at her through the keyhole. Trying to get the key from the belt would be dangerous but Winnie was a brave little rat.

She slid down the leg of the desk and carefully approached the dangling keys. They were hanging just a few inches above the floor. Carefully, carefully, Winnie pulled the keys down, stretching the elastic so she could nibble at the knot.

Hargreaves let out a snort but did not wake.

Carefully Winnie kept nibbling. Tuesday started to panic as she realised what was going to happen. She tried to whisper to get Winnie’s attention but she was too far away to be heard and she dare not knock the door and wake Hargreaves.

The knot broke. The keys fell into Winnie’s little paws. The elastic, no longer held down, pinged upwards and hit Hargreaves right on the nose. Everyone held their breath apart from Ezekiel, who didn’t have to. Hargreaves murmured, rubbed his nose and kept on sleeping.

“Phew!” said Tuesday after Winnie squeezed back out from under the door, the keys held in her mouth. “That was a close one! Well done, Winnie! Now we can get into the Mage Tower!”

“Tuesday!” her father’s voice echoed down the corridor.

“Oh no! How does he keep finding me?” Tuesday ran the other way, leaving dusty footprints on the bright red carpet.

The door of the Mage Tower was big and studded with dark squares of metal. The wood looked thick and heavy and when Tuesday gave it an experimental knock, it sounded very solid.

It took several attempts to find the right key on Hargreaves’ ring. There were big keys and little keys, squiggly looking bronze keys and bright silver keys. The key for the Mage Tower turned out to be a big black key that sat heavy in her hand. She put it in the door and turned it with a “clunk” and the door creaked slowly open.

The carpet beyond was frayed and dusty and led a short way in before it met a set of winding stairs.

Tuesday looked at Winnie, then shrugged and began to climb.

“Don’t worry, Ezekiel,” she said to the skull in her hands. “We’ll get you to the top in no time!”

“Oh, I do hope so,” Ezekiel replied. “I remember the view being beautiful.”

They climbed up the stairs for a long time before reaching the first landing, where a set of double doors greeted them. With no other option, Tuesday pushed them open.

The hallway beyond was vast, far bigger than she thought would possibly fit inside the slender tower she’d seen from outside. Pillars ran down each side of it and the floor was black and white check, like a chessboard.

At the opposite end, a huge suit of armour stood before an open arched doorway. Tuesday could see that the stairs continued on from there.

She stepped forward and, as soon as she did, the great suit of armour sprang to life and drew its sword, taking a step one square closer to her. She froze.

“Magic armour!” she breathed. “Winnie, did you see? It moved!”

Winnie squeaked and took a step from a black square to a white one. The statue moved again, its ancient joints creaking.

“I think we need to get across without it touching us!” said Tuesday, pursing her lips in thought.

“That sword looks very sharp!” said Ezekiel. “Maybe we should go back?”

“No! I promised I’d take you to the top of the tower!” Tuesday insisted. “And I’m not going to let some old rust-bucket stop me! We can get past if we work together!”

She frowned at the puzzle for a moment and then clicked her fingers.

“OK, I’ve got it!”

She took another step forward and to the right.

The armour moved towards her once more.

“Now you go, Winnie, but go left!”

Winnie did as she was told and the armour took its next step in her direction.

“So long as we keep moving apart, we can get past!” said Tuesday. “We just need to be careful and work together!”

And so they did. Each step they took, the great old armour moved a step towards them but then the other would move and it would step the other way again. Tuesday was right, they reached the other end of the room without it coming close to either of them and, as soon as they crossed through the doorway, it crumbled into pieces.

“Wow!” said Tuesday. “That was dangerous! Who would put such a room in this tower?”

“Well it was the home of a mage, once upon a time,” said Ezekiel. “Maybe he didn’t want to be disturbed?”

“I wonder if there’ll be other puzzles. Let’s keep going!”

So they continued to climb up the tower.

The next landing they found had a familiar set of double doors. Once again, Tuesday pushed them open and went inside. What they saw in the room beyond made Tuesday gasp and Winnie squeak and Ezekiel’s jaw drop. It was OK though because Tuesday picked it back up off the floor and put it back on his face.

The great wide hall beyond was filled with table after table. There must have been nearly a hundred of them, all laid out identically with the same long red tablecloth. On every one there were dozens of keys. Big keys, small keys, bronze keys, golden keys and silver keys. There were wiggly keys and waggly keys and zig-zaggly keys. There were more keys than Tuesday had ever seen in her life.

“Wow!” she exclaimed. “I bet old Hargreaves would love this room! He loves keys!”

“Bah!” said Ezekiel. “He only likes them because they make him feel important!”

“Well if he had all these he’d feel like the most important man in the world!”

Winnie squeaked and pointed. The door on the other side of the room was shut.

“Come on,” said Tuesday. “But let’s be careful.”

They reached the door without any trouble and Tuesday tried to push it open but it wouldn’t budge.

“Locked!” she said. “And I bet one of these keys opens it too!”

She frowned at the door and noticed a sign hung above it that said “Mind Your Manners – Courtesy Costs Nothing”. She’d often heard her father say the same thing and he had made her study many lessons about politeness and which fork to use first.

“There are so many keys!” she said. “We’ll never the right one in all this lot!”

Tuesday looked up at the sign again and made a thinking face.

“But maybe we don’t need to…”

She reached out a hand and knocked on the door.

There was a click from inside and the door swung open.

“Yes!” Tuesday punched the air. “Come on you two! We must be nearly at the top by now!”

After passing through the door she closed it neatly behind her and said ‘thank you’, just in case.

Another winding staircase took them further up the tower.

“We must be nearly there! We must be!” Tuesday told herself over and over until it became a chant as she climbed the stairs. She had known the Mage Tower was tall but she hadn’t realised just how many more steps it had than any other tower in the castle.

Finally, they came to another door but this one was stuck fast. No matter how she pushed on it, Tuesday couldn’t get it to budge.

“We’ll have to find another way in, Winnie,” said Tuesday. Winnie squeaked and began to sniff up and down at the bricks for any tell-tale signs of a secret passage. Finally, after sniffing and scratching and squeaking for a few minutes, Winnie found a loose brick.

Excitedly, Tuesday dropped to her knees and pulled the brick free. Then another and then another until there was a space big enough to crawl into. Judging by the soot everywhere and the distant light overhead, she’d found her way into the back of the fireplace. Carefully, she crawled forward, peeking out through the fireplace into the room beyond.

It was very, very dark inside the Mage’s Tower. All the windows had been shuttered closed. The room was quite big, with a round table in the middle and books everywhere. They lined the bookcases and stood in teetering piles on the floor. They covered the armchair and spilled over onto the carpet.

“Wow,” said Tuesday. “The mage must have really loved books!”

Just as Tuesday was about to creep out into the room, she heard a deep rumbling sound. Someone in the room was snoring. The mage couldn’t be here after all this time, could he?

The deep snoring sound came again, far louder than Hargreaves or her father had ever snored. She thought the nose that noise came from must have been enormous!

Tuesday was so curious she just had to look. She crept out from the fireplace and darted behind a big green armchair. She looked around the room but saw no sign of the snorer.

The snore came again, even louder, and the hot breath of it ruffled her hair.

Slowly, she looked up. In the rafters, wrapped up in the very roof of the tower, was a great green dragon. As soon as she looked up at it, its eyes flicked open.

It gave a great yawn and Tuesday couldn’t help but notice its big white teeth.

“Well, well,” it said as it began to stretch and shiver, uncoiling its long body from around the rafters. “It’s been a long time since I’ve had a visitor here. What’s your name, little girl?”

“Tuesday,” said Tuesday because she didn’t want to be rude. “What’s yours?”

“My name is Zarzathelion. What brings you all the way up to the top of this tower, Tuesday?”

“My friend wanted to see the view. Why are you sleeping up there?”

“Well my body is so very long,” said the dragon. “That there’s nowhere else I can get comfortable but in the roof.”

“That doesn’t sound very comfortable at all. I thought dragons slept on big piles of gold.”

“I don’t have a big pile of gold. I have a big pile of books but they aren’t very comfortable at all. Too many hard edges that stick into my belly.”

The dragon’s long neck lowered down from the rafters, bringing its face closer to her.

“Did you really come all the way up here just to see the view? Despite all the traps and stairs and dangers?”

“Yes. I promised my friend that I would.”

“Well I must say, I am impressed. I wish I had friends as good as you.”

“Don’t you have any friends?”

“No,” said the dragon sadly. “I am trapped up here, all alone. I had a Master once but he left and never returned. I think he must have forgotten me.”

Tuesday felt terrible for the poor dragon. Even with all those books to read it must have been so lonely up in the tower by himself.

“I wish I could help you and your friend see the view,” said the dragon. “But the windows are all shut and boarded and I can’t open the roof because my claws are too big and clumsy.”

“Open the roof?”

“Oh yes. The whole roof is designed to open up. My Master used to use it to study the stars at night and watch the sunrise in the morning.”

Tuesday thought about it.

“Your master? You mean the mage who used to live here?”

“Clever girl!” the dragon cooed. “You’re right! The great mage Ezekiel was my Master.”

“Ezekiel?!”

Tuesday pulled out Ezekiel the Skull and held him up.

“Zarzathelion!” cried Ezekiel.

“Master!” cried the dragon. “Master, after all these years! I thought you would never return!”

“Ezekiel, you were the mage?” Tuesday was shocked. Winnie squeaked because she was shocked too and she didn’t want to be left out. “This was your tower?”

“Yes,” Ezekiel admitted. “Long, long ago, when I was alive, I was a powerful wizard and advisor to the king but…I grew greedy. I thought I knew better than everyone. Soon, it wasn’t enough to simply advise the king, I wanted to rule the kingdom for myself!”

Tuesday gasped. She knew Ezekiel could be grouchy and grumpy but she couldn’t picture him betraying his king. He had been a good friend to her.

“I know!” Ezekiel cried. “I know it was wrong! I can see that now! I listened to all your stories, Tuesday. The ones about the wise wizards, the brave knights and the powerful princesses. Those stories changed the way I think about things.”

Tuesday frowned.

“It’s OK,” Ezekiel sighed. “Thank you for bringing me up here, Tuesday, but I know I don’t deserve to see the view. You should take me back down to the basement with the spiders and the shadows.”

“Master, no!” cried Zarzathelion. “Don’t leave me again!”

“No,” said Tuesday. “I know you did bad things in the past, Ezekiel, but that was a long time ago. You’re my friend now. And I made a promise to you. Show me how to open the roof.”

“There is a lever on the wall there,” said Zarzathelion eagerly. He pointed with his great long tail.

Tuesday placed Ezekiel down atop a pile of books and strode to the lever. With both hands on it she gave a mighty pull. At once, there was a crunching and a groaning in the walls as ancient clockwork sprang to life. In a shower of dust, the spire of the roof parted, opening like a flower and folding away, letting the sunlight pour into the old chamber.

Zarzathelion was thrilled. He let out a whoop and sprayed a burst of flame from his nostrils up into the air. He jumped up on the edge of the open roof and stretched his magnificent wings.

“Master!” he cried. “It is beautiful! Let me take you flying, Master! You and your friends!”

“What do you think, Tuesday?” Ezekiel asked. “Do you want to go for a ride on my dragon?”

Tuesday could barely contain her excitement.

Winnie climbed up on her shoulder and Tuesday took Ezekiel in her hands and Zarzathelion used his tail to lift her up onto his back.

“Hold on tight!” he said and with a mighty beat of his beautiful wings, they were off.

They soared high above the kingdom, so high that the castle looked no bigger than a toy. The city stretched out from there, hundreds and hundreds of houses with bright red rooftops and smoking chimneys. The river ran through it like a glittering snail-trail, all the way to the shining sea.

Zarzathelion swooped down over the woods, so low that Tuesday could see the deer running between the trees and bird nests in the upper branches.

He whooshed past the mountains, where the white foxes played in the snow.

He flew as high as the clouds, so close that Tuesday could reach out and trace her fingers through their cotton.

Finally, he flew back down and perched atop the tower once more.

“Oh, that was beautiful!” said Ezekiel. “Thank you so much, Zarzathelion. Thank you, Tuesday! I never thought I would see the kingdom again! I missed it so much!”

“Tuesday!” called a voice in the distance.

“Uh oh,” said Tuesday. “He found me again.”

Winnie squeaked.

“Yes, I suppose flying around on a dragon was probably not the best hiding place.”

“Tuesday get down here this instant!”

That was her father’s serious voice. It was one thing hiding and running away from lessons but when father used his serious voice, she had to behave.

She peered from Zarzathelion’s back down to the courtyard of the castle, where her father stood with his hands on his hips looking very cross.

“Could you take me down there, please?” Tuesday asked the dragon. “I would rather not have to walk down all of those stairs.”

“Master?” the dragon asked.

“Of course,” said Ezekiel. “Whatever Tuesday wants.”

Zarzathelion stretched his wings again and plunged off the tower, circling once around the courtyard before coming down to land.

“What is the meaning of this?” her father demanded as she climbed down from the dragon’s back. “Skipping your lessons! Hiding! You’re covered in dirt! And I hear there was some commotion in the kitchen that I suspect might have something to do with you! And now I find you here cavorting around with a dragon! And you were up in the Mage Tower, which was locked, as I recall! That probably explains Hargreaves’ missing keys too, now I that think of it…Is this any way for a princess to behave? What do you have to say for yourself?”

Tuesday looked down and scuffed her shoes in the dirt a bit.

“Excuse me, your highness,” said Ezekiel. “If I may. It is all my fault. Tuesday made me a promise and everything she did today was in order to keep that promise.”

Tuesday’s father frowned down at the skull.

“And who are you?” he demanded.

“I am Ezekiel. Formerly the Great Wizard Ezekiel.”

“You’re Ezekiel the Mad Mage? You’re the one who tried to take over the kingdom, all those years ago? Tuesday, where did you find him?”

“In the basement, father.”

“Tuesday, it’s called a dungeon. And we don’t use it anymore. You shouldn’t be down there.”

“But Ezekiel is my friend! And he was all alone down there! I couldn’t just leave him. That wouldn’t be right, would it, father?”

Her father sighed. He knelt down and placed his big heavy hand on her shoulder.

“Tuesday,” he said. “You’re a brave girl. And your compassion will make you a great ruler one day. But you also need to learn to be responsible. We all have duties we need to fulfil in order for the kingdom to work. Everyone from the chimney sweeps to me, we all have to work together. Do you understand?”

“Yes, father,” said Tuesday.

“No more running away from your lessons?”

“No, father.”

“Good girl,” he stood up and looked at the dragon and then at Ezekiel. “Now, what am I going to do with you two?”

“Father, please!” said Tuesday. “I know Ezekiel was bad in the past but that was a long time ago. He’s been in that old dungeon for years and years. And poor Zarzathelion was locked in the tower. Can’t they be forgiven now?”

“Well, forgiveness is an important attribute too,” her father mused.

“I will take responsibility for them,” said Tuesday. “I will!”

Her father looked at her for a minute, pursing his lips and stroking his beard.

“Very well, Tuesday,” he said. “They will be your responsibility. As the princess of this kingdom, you may decide what their fate should be.”

Tuesday looked down at Ezekiel and then up at the dragon.

“I have an idea,” she said.

And so, it was decreed by Princess Tuesday Blue that the Mage Tower be reopened and all the traps disabled. Ezekiel’s dusty old room was cleaned up and all the books were organised and anyone who liked could come and read them. Zarzathelion stayed there too (though he was given a proper place to sleep) and gave the children rides up and down the tower so they wouldn’t have to climb all the stairs.

Tuesday returned to her lessons but, in her free time, she would still explore the secret passages of the castle with Winnie and often visited new Library Tower.

Finally, since Ezekiel had grown so fond of Tuesday’s stories, he became the librarian, in charge of looking after all the books in the library and reading tales of adventure and bravery to the children. His favourite story of all was about a powerful princess who always kept her promises and once rescued a dragon from a tower.

THE END