Bastian remembered that the wounded Atreyu had not been able to climb that slope, not by his own strength at least, because no one who has ever reached the Magnolia Pavilion can say how he got there. For this victory must come as a gift.

  But Bastian was not Atreyu. If anyone was now entitled to bestow the gift of this victory, it was he. And he had no intention of letting anything stop him.

  “Bring workmen,” he commanded. “I want them to cut steps in this smooth surface. I wish to make my residence up there.”

  “Sire,” one of the oldest councilors ventured to object, “that is where our Golden-eyed Commander of Wishes lives when she is here.”

  “Do as you’re told!” Bastian roared at him.

  The dignitaries turned pale and shrank back from him. But they obeyed. Workmen arrived with mallets and chisels. But try as they might, they couldn’t so much as chip the smooth surface of the dome. The chisels leapt from their hands without

  leaving the slightest dent.

  “Think of something else,” said Bastian angrily. “My patience is wearing thin.”

  Then he turned away, and while waiting for the Magnolia Pavilion to be made accessible, he and his retinue, consisting chiefly of Xayide, the three knights, Hysbald, Hykrion, and Hydorn, and Ilwan, the blue djinn, took possession of the remaining rooms of the palace.

  That same night he summoned all the ministers and councilors who had served Moon Child to a meeting in the large, circular hall where the congress of physicians had once met. There he informed them that the Golden-eyed Commander of Wishes had left him, Bastian Balthazar Bux, power over the endless Fantastican Empire, and that he was now taking her place. In conclusion he demanded perfect obedience.

  “Even, or I might say especially,” he added, “when my decisions are beyond your understanding. For I am not of your kind.”

  He then announced that in exactly seventy-seven days he would crown himself Childlike Emperor of Fantastica and that the event would be celebrated with such splendor that it would outshine anything ever done in Fantastica. And he ordered the councilors to send messengers forthwith to every part of the realm, for he wished every nation of the Fantastican Empire to be represented at his coronation.

  Thereupon Bastian withdrew, leaving the councilors and other dignitaries alone with their bewilderment.

  They didn’t know what to do. What they had heard sounded so monstrous that for a long while they could only stand there silently, hanging their heads. Then they began to deliberate. And after many hours, they came t