“What business is that of yours?” Twigleg stopped on the other side of a tall bush. “I — I’m going to wait until we’re over the sea.”
“Why?” The raven pecked a caterpillar off the branches of the bush and looked at the manikin suspiciously. “There’s no reason to wait,” he cawed. “You’ll only make our master angry. What did the djinn say?”
“I’ll be telling our master,” replied Twigleg evasively. “You ought to have listened more carefully.”
“Huh!” croaked the raven. “That blue creature wouldn’t stop growing. I thought I’d better keep out of the way.”
“That’s your bad luck.” Scratching his ear, Twigleg peered at Firedrake through the branches. But the dragon and his friends were fast asleep, while the shadows in the ravine grew ever darker.
The raven preened his feathers and gave the homunculus a black look.
“You’re getting too uppity, manikin,” he cawed. “I don’t like it. Maybe I ought to tell the master.”
“Go on, then, do! Goodness knows that won’t be news to him,” said Twigleg, but his heart beat faster. “Anyway, I can set your mind at rest.” He assumed a grave expression. “I’m going to report to him today. Word of honor. I just have to take another look at the map first. The boy’s map, I mean.”
The raven put his head on one side. “The map? Why?”
Twigleg made a face. “You wouldn’t understand, beaky. Now get out. If that brownie girl sees you, she won’t believe it if I say we have nothing to do with each other.”
“All right.” The raven caught another caterpillar and flapped his wings. “But I’m following you. I’ll be keeping an eye on you. So you be sure to make that report.”
Twigleg watched the raven until he disappeared among the tops of the palm trees. Then he quickly went over to Ben’s backpack, took out the map, and opened it. Oh, yes, he’d make his report. At once. But it would be a special kind of report, a very special kind indeed. His eyes scanned the seas and mountains until he spotted a large, pale brown area. He knew what brown meant. Ben had explained exactly how to read the wonderful map. Brown meant no water. Not a drop of water far and wide. And that was exactly what Twigleg was looking for.
“I’m sick and tired of it!” he muttered. “I’m sick and tired of being his spy. I’m going to send him off to the desert. The biggest desert I can find!”
Only a desert could keep Nettlebrand away from the small human being and the silver dragon a little while longer. He couldn’t have cared less if his master had only wanted to eat the unfriendly brownie! But not the small human. No — he, Twigleg, wasn’t going to help him do that. He’d seen Nettlebrand crunch up his brothers. He’d seen him devour their maker. But Nettlebrand wasn’t going to get the little human into his greedy jaws. Ever.
Twigleg noted exactly where the great desert lay. Then he walked deeper and deeper into the ravine, far from the lair of the blue djinn, far from the sleeping dragon.
Leaning over the waters of the river, the manikin reported back to his master.
22. The Vanishing Moon
Three days and three long nights later, Firedrake was standing on the shores of the Arabian Sea waiting for night to fall. His scales were dusty with yellow sand. It was a long time since he had set out from his northern valley in search of the Rim of Heaven. His cave at home seemed infinitely far away, and the dark sea ahead of him looked like an infinite expanse, too.
Firedrake looked up at the sky. The last of the light vanished as if the waves had swallowed it up, and only the round moon, bright as silver, shone over the water. There was still quite a long while to go before the dark time of the moon and the new moon’s rising, but would he have found the Rim of Heaven by then?
“Ten more days,” said Ben.
He was standing beside the dragon on the sand and, like Firedrake, looking toward the horizon where sky and sea merged. There lay their journey’s end, hidden beyond the waves and mountains. “We ought to reach the palace I saw in Asif’s eye in ten days’ time at the latest. It can’t be much farther after that.”
Firedrake nodded. He looked at the boy. “Are you homesick?”
Ben shook his head and leaned against the dragon’s warm scales. “No,” he said. “I could go on flying like this forever.”
“I’m not homesick, either,” said Firedrake. “But I wish I knew how the others are doing back at home. I’d like to know how close the humans have come, and whether the sound of their machines is already echoing over the dark mountains. But unfortunately,” he sighed, looking out to sea again where patches of silver moonlight floated on the waves, “unfortunately, I don’t have a thousand eyes like Asif. Who knows, by the time I reach the Rim of Heaven it may be too late for the others.”
“Oh, come on!” Ben patted the dragon’s silver flank affectionately. “You’ve made it this far. Once we cross the sea we’re almost there.”
“That’s right,” said Sorrel. She had been off to fill the water bottles. “Smell this,” she added, holding a pawful of prickly leaves under Ben’s nose. They had a heavy, spicy fragrance. “These things prickle your tongue, but they taste almost as good as they smell. Where are the backpacks?”
“Here.” Ben handed them over to her. “But be careful you don’t squash Twigleg. He’s asleep in among my clothes.”
“Don’t worry, I won’t snap his little legs off,” muttered Sorrel, stowing the aromatic leaves away in her backpack. As she bent over Ben’s pack Twigleg stretched his arms out of it, yawning. He looked around, then hastily tucked his head back inside.
“What’s the matter?” asked Ben in surprise.
“Water!” replied the manikin, wriggling down among Ben’s now sandy clothes till only the tip of his nose was showing. “All that water makes me nervous.”
“Just for once we feel the same way,” said Sorrel, putting her backpack over her furry shoulder. “I’m not too keen on water, either. But we have to get across it.”
“You never know who can see you when you’re over water,” muttered Twigleg.
Ben glanced down at him in surprise. “What on earth do you mean? Who’d be looking at you? The fish?”
“Yes, yes, that’s what I mean!” Twigleg giggled nervously. “The fish.”
Shaking her head, Sorrel climbed on Firedrake’s back.
“What utter rubbish he talks!” she growled. “Even the elves aren’t that stupid, and they can chatter on all night.”
Twigleg stuck out his pointed tongue at her.
Ben couldn’t conceal a grin. “Want me to leave the backpack open?” he asked the homunculus.
“No, no,” said Twigleg, “strap it up, by all means, young master. I’m used to the dark.”
“If you say so.” Ben closed his backpack, climbed onto the dragon’s back with it, and strapped himself to Firedrake’s spines. Then he took the compass out of his pocket. If they weren’t going to rely on Sorrel’s instincts, they’d be needing it over the next few days and nights. Hundreds of kilometers of seawater lay ahead of them. There would be no coastline to help them find their way, only the sky above, and none of them knew much about navigating by the stars.