FullReads

“I shall go there right off,” said Ting-a-ling.

“And what will you do when you get there?” said the youngest magician, whose name was Zamcar. “This dwarf is a terrible little fellow, and the same one who twisted poor Nerralina’s head, which circumstance of course you remember. He has numbers of fierce slaves, and a great castle. You are a good little fellow, but I don’t think you could do much for the Princess, if you did go to her.”

Ting-a-ling reflected a moment, and then said that he would go to his friend, the Giant Tur-il-i-ra; but Zamcar told him that that tremendous individual had gone to the uttermost limits of China, to launch a ship. It was such a big one, and so heavy, that it had sunk down into the earth as tight as if it had grown there, and all the men and horses in the country could not move it. So there was nothing to do but to send for Tur-il-i-ra. When Ting-a-ling heard this, he was disheartened, and hung his little head. “The best thing to do,” remarked Alcahazar, the oldest of the magicians, “would be to inform the King and his army of the place where the Princess is confined, and let them go and take her out.”

“O no!” cried Ting-a-ling, who, if his body was no larger than a very small pea-pod, had a soul as big as a water-melon. “If the King knows it, up he will come with all his drums and horns, and the dwarf will hear him a mile off and either kill the Princess, or hide her away. If we were all to go to the castle, I should think we could do something ourselves.” This was the longest speech that Ting-a-ling had ever made; and when he was through, the youngest magician said to the others that he thought it was growing cooler, and the others agreed that it was. After some conversation among themselves in an exceedingly foreign tongue, these kind magicians agreed to go up to the castle, and see what they could do. So Zamcar put Ting-a-ling in the folds of his turban, and the whole party started off for the dwarf’s castle. They looked like a company of travelling merchants, each one having a package on his back and a great staff in his hand. When they reached the outer gate of the castle, Alcahazar, the oldest, knocked at it with his stick, and it was opened at once by a shiny black slave, who, coming out, shut it behind him, and inquired what the travellers wanted.

“Is your master within?” asked Alcahazar.

“I don’t know,” said the slave.

“Can’t you find out?” asked the magician.

“Well, good merchant, perhaps I might; but I don’t particularly want to know,” said the slave, as he leaned back against the gate, leisurely striking with his long sword at the night-bugs and beetles that were buzzing about.

“My friend,” said Alcahazar, “don’t you think that is rather a careless way of using a sword? You might cut somebody.”

“That’s true,” said the slave. “I didn’t think of it before;” but he kept on striking away, all the same.

“Then stop it!” said Alcahazar, the oldest magician, striking the sword from his hand with one blow of his staff. Upon this, up stepped Ormanduz, the next oldest, and whacked the slave over his head; and then Mahallah, the next oldest, struck him over the shoulders; and Akbeck, the next oldest, cracked him on the shins; and Zamcar, the youngest, punched him in the stomach; and the slave sat down, and begged the noble merchants to please stop. So they stopped, and he humbly informed them that his master was in.

“We would see him,” said Alcahazar.

“But, sirs,” said the slave, “he is having a grand feast.”

“Well,” said the magician, “we’re invited.”

“O noble merchants!” cried the slave, “why did you not tell me that before?” and he opened wide the gate, and let them in. After they had passed the outer gate, which was of wood, they went through another of iron, and another of brass, and another of copper, and then walked through the court-yard, filled with armed slaves, and up the great castle steps; at the top of which stood the butler, dressed in gorgeous array.