Re(dis)organized

The Three Graces, by Canadian sculptor Gerald Gladstone, erected in the early 70's in the  Queen's Park complex, next to MacDonald Block, when it was still OK to spend public money on nice things. The western plaza of MacDonald Block is a secret garden with a short artificial waterway, featuring many fine pieces of public art. There are lots of places to sit under mature trees and enjoy shade and calming green. The plaza is deserted most of the time. 

My thanks to the vanishingly small share of my growing number of subscribers who answered last week's poll.

Your responses allow me these insights:

• I have no readers in any of the places listed in the first question
• I have at least one reader using my blog to learn English as a second language (I am deeply humbled, and now very nervous about getting the language wrong and ruining everything)
• The favourite topic of my readers by a long shot is "life of a government bureaucrat"

Without further ado then, let's make a long overdue visit to the Ruler and her advisors.

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The Ruler of a small but pleasant realm picked herself up out of a pile of rubble, shook the plaster dust out of her hair, wiped more dust out of her eyes and looked around, assessing the damage.

The place was a shambles. 

The Ruler called out to the Wizard for help. Then she remembered she had been reassigned. She called for her new Advisors.

"Artemis? Pathos? Barney? Are any of you there?" She paused; heard nothing. She tried again. "Cyrus? Petunia?"

Cyrus, her newest most trusted advisor, also dust covered and a bit bruised, shortly appeared in what was left of her chamber door.

"Has the Great Troll been dreaming?" the Ruler asked Cyrus as she tried to get herself upright.

"It appears he has," said Cyrus. He helped his new boss to her feet. 

The Great Troll had long been a restless sleeper. When in his troubled dreams he kicked his great stinking feet, realms throughout the kingdom felt the blow. But for years the impacts had been small enough to dismiss as rumour. No one took them seriously. Until just this very minute.

"How bad is it?" asked the Ruler.

"We've lost about a third of the realm," said Cyrus.

"Which third? Artemis' shop? Barney's?" The Ruler knew her weak spots.

"Artemis'." 

"OK," said the Ruler, sucking it up. "So we're down strength. But we have what we need to carry on," she half said, half asked.

"Maybe," said Cyrus, trying to break the news gently. "We are renamed by this calamity and we have yet to figure out what that means."

"But we are good at that," said the Ruler, not daunted by the prospect, "conjuring stuff out of nothing is what we do."

"That is true," Cyrus replied, "but, you have a new Boss to the First Power and a new Emperor."

"I have not forgotten that," said the Ruler, moving abut her chambers putting chairs and other small furniture to rights. A thought came to her as she busied herself tidying up. "What of the File Perilous? Has that been lost?" she asked, daring to hope.

The File Perilous had come to the Ruler's realm not long before; it was hot as a pistol and bristling with poisoned spines. The Ruler and her Advisors had managed to extricate two of the poisoned spines and take the temperature down a notch. She hoped as her reward that another Ruler would be given the file. 

"That's the worst news of all," said Cyrus, and he pointed to the chamber door.

The File Perilous stood there, filling the frame, a horrifying apparition of heretofore unimagined girth and fury. The Ruler saw that where the two poison barbs had been removed three more had grown in their place. She could feel the heat from across the room.

"I'm back," said the File Perilous.

To be continued ...

Thanks for reading!

Have a great week!

Karen