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Ben sat down on the stone dragon and put Twigleg on his knee.
“Never mind all this nonsense about masters,” he said. “And don’t keep calling me young master, either! We can be friends, can’t we? Just ordinary friends, okay?”
Twigleg smiled. A tear ran down his nose again, but this time it was a tear of joy. “Friends,” he repeated. “Oh, yes, friends!”
Barnabas Greenbloom cleared his throat and leaned over the pair of them.
“Twigleg,” he said, “what did you mean just now about sending Nettlebrand into the desert? What desert?”
“The biggest desert I could find on the map,” replied the homunculus. “Only a desert can hold Nettlebrand prisoner for a while, you see. Because” — Twigleg lowered his voice, as if his old master were lurking in the dark shadows cast by the stone dome — “he speaks and sees through water. Only water gives him the power to move instantly from one place to another. So I sent him where there’s less of it than anywhere else.”
“He is lord of the water,” said Firedrake softly.
“What did you say?” Barnabas Greenbloom looked at him in surprise.
“It’s something we were told by a sea serpent we met on the way here,” explained the dragon. “She said Nettlebrand has more power over water than she does herself.”
“But how does he do it?” asked Guinevere, looking inquiringly at the homunculus. “Do you know, Twigleg?”
Twigleg shook his head. “I’m afraid I don’t know all the secrets the alchemist told him. When one of his servants spits or throws a stone into water, the image of Nettlebrand appears. He talks to us as if he were actually there, even if he’s at the other end of the earth. But no, I don’t know how it’s done.”
“Oh, so that’s what you were up to beside that water cistern,” said Sorrel, “when you tried to make me think you were talking to your reflection. You treacherous little locust! You—”
“Stop it, Sorrel!” Firedrake interrupted her. He looked at the homunculus.
Ashamed, Twigleg bent his head. “She’s right,” he murmured. “I was talking to my master.”
“And I think you’d better carry on doing just that,” said Zubeida.
Twigleg turned to look at her in surprise.
“You may yet be able to make amends for your treachery,” said the dracologist.
“Exactly the same thing occurred to me, Zubeida!” Barnabas Greenbloom struck the palm of one hand with his fist. “Twigleg could be a kind of double agent. What do you think, Vita?”
His wife nodded. “Not a bad idea.”
“What exactly does a trouble agent do?” asked Sorrel.
“Simple! Twigleg just has to act as if he were still spying for Nettlebrand,” Ben explained. “But he’ll really be spying for us. Get it?”
Sorrel wrinkled her nose.
“Yes, of course! Twigleg could go on fooling him!” cried Guinevere. She looked intently at the homunculus. “Would you do it? I mean, wouldn’t it be too dangerous?”
Twigleg shook his head. “I wouldn’t mind that,” he replied. “But I’m afraid Nettlebrand will have found out by now that I betrayed him. You’re forgetting the ravens.”
“Oh, they turned back into crabs,” said Sorrel airily.
“He has more than just those two ravens, fur-face,” snapped Twigleg. “For instance, there was the one out at sea when you played that trick on him with the stone. He was the bird I used to ride on, and he was already suspicious. Your stone will have annoyed him to no end.”
“So?” growled Sorrel.
“Don’t you have anything but fur inside your head as well as on it?” cried Twigleg. “Doesn’t it strike you that he may have been so furious that he rushed off to see my old master? Don’t you think Nettlebrand will suspect something if the raven tells him we were crossing the Arabian Sea on the back of a sea serpent? Although I told him the dragons were hiding in a desert thousands of kilometers farther west?”
“Oh. I see,” muttered Sorrel, scratching herself behind the ears.
“No.” Twigleg shook his head. “I don’t know if it’s such a good idea for me to report back to him. You mustn’t underestimate Nettlebrand!” The homunculus shuddered and looked at Firedrake, who was gazing down at him anxiously. “I don’t know why you’re looking for the Rim of Heaven, but I think you ought to turn back for fear of leading your worst enemy exactly where he wants to go in his wicked dreams.”
