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The dracologist twisted one of her rings thoughtfully. “I know of no story that speaks of a dragon with such powers,” she replied. “This is really very, very strange.”
“Nettlebrand is a very strange being, anyway,” said Professor Greenbloom. He leaned against a column. “I’ve only told Vita and Zubeida this, but when he came after me in Egypt he crawled up out of a well. Out of water. Odd for a creature associated with fire, don’t you think? Where does he really come from?”
They were all silent, baffled.
“And do you know the strangest thing of all?” continued Barnabas Greenbloom. “Nettlebrand hasn’t turned up here!”
The others all looked at him in alarm.
“I mean, that’s why I came myself!” said the professor. “The monster tracked me down to get his scale back, so I thought his next move would be to find Ben. I assumed he might attack Firedrake, too, because he likes to hunt other dragons. But he hasn’t done any of that. Instead, he’s getting his spies to eavesdrop on you. He’s having this village and Zubeida watched. What’s his plan?”
“I think I know,” said Firedrake.
He looked down the hill to where the sea lay in the sunlight. “Nettlebrand is hoping we will lead him to the Rim of Heaven. He wants us to find him the dragons who escaped him in the past.”
Ben looked at Firedrake, horrified.
“Of course!” cried Sorrel. “He doesn’t know where they are. When he took the dragons by surprise in the sea here, the sea serpents helped them get away, and since then he’s lost all trace of them.”
Firedrake shook his head. He looked at the humans, a question in his eyes. “What am I to do? We’re so close to our journey’s end, but how can I be sure Nettlebrand’s not following us? How can I be certain one of his ravens won’t be following me under cover of darkness if I fly on?”
Ben was transfixed.
“That’s right,” he murmured. “He’s probably known for ages what the djinn said. And Twigleg saw a raven back there in the ravine, didn’t he? Oh, no!” Ben brought his hand down on the back of the stone dragon. “We’ve probably been a great help to the monster. He was just waiting for us. And I even asked the djinn his question for him.”
No one said anything. The Greenblooms exchanged anxious glances.
Then, very quietly, so quietly that Ben could hardly hear him, Twigleg said, “Nettlebrand doesn’t know what the djinn told you, young master.”
The words had come out of Twigleg’s mouth as if of their own accord. As if they were tired of being held back and swallowed all the time.
All the others looked at him. All of them.
Sorrel narrowed her eyes like a hungry cat.
“So, just how do you know that, little titch?” she growled in a menacingly low voice. “How come you’re so certain of what you say?”
Twigleg did not look at her. He didn’t look at anyone. His heart was beating as if it would burst out of his narrow chest.
“Because I was his spy,” he replied. “I was Nettlebrand’s spy.”
29. Twigleg the Traitor
Twigleg closed his eyes. He was waiting for Ben to brush him off his shoulder or Firedrake to breathe dragon-fire over him and turn him into some kind of bug — but nothing happened. It was very silent among the old columns, that was all. A hot wind, blowing off the land to the sea, ruffled the manikin’s hair.
When still nothing happened, Twigleg opened his eyes and glanced sideways at Ben. The boy was staring at him with such horror and disappointment that his gaze cut the homunculus to the heart.
“You!” stammered Ben. “You? But … but what about the ravens?”
Twigleg looked down at his thin, spindly legs. They were all blurred because his eyes were full of tears. The tears ran down his sharp nose, dripping onto his hand and into his lap.
“The ravens are his eyes,” sobbed the homunculus, “but I … I’m his ears. I’m the spy the professor heard about. I gave everything away. I told him that the professor had two of his scales, and you were looking for the Rim of Heaven and were going to ask the blue djinn the way, but … but …” He could say no more.
“I might have known it!” snapped Sorrel. And in a single bound she turned on the homunculus, reaching for him with her sharp claws.
“Leave him alone!” said Ben, pushing her away.
“What?” Sorrel’s coat was bristling with rage. “You’re not still standing up for him, are you? Even when he tells you himself how he’s betrayed us to that monster?” She growled, bared her teeth, and took another step forward. “I felt all along there was something not quite right about this little creep. But you and Firedrake were so crazy about him. I ought to bite his head off, that’s what!”
