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“Goodness!” said Ben again, covering the sleeping Twigleg with his jacket. “You’re lucky to have parents like that.”
Guinevere cast him a questioning glance. “Dad says you don’t have any parents yourself.”
Ben picked a little stone off the wall and fiddled with it. “That’s right. I never did.”
Guinevere looked at him thoughtfully. “But you have Firedrake now,” she said. “Firedrake and Sorrel,” she added, smiling and pointing to the little homunculus, “and you have Twigleg.”
“So I do,” agreed Ben. “But that’s different.” Suddenly he narrowed his eyes and looked westward to where the river disappeared into the mountains. “Hey, I think Lola’s coming back! There, see?” He threw the stone over the wall and leaned forward.
“Lola?” asked Guinevere. “Is that the rat you were talking about?”
Ben nodded. A faint humming could be heard. It grew louder and louder until the little plane landed in expert style on the wall beside them. Lola Graytail opened the cockpit and got out.
“Nothing!” she announced, clambering up on one of the wings and making her way down to the top of the wall. “Nothing, absolutely no sign of anything. All clear, I’d say.”
Twigleg woke up, rubbed his eyes, and looked at the rat, confused. “Oh, it’s you, Lola,” he muttered drowsily.
“That’s right, humblecuss,” replied the rat and turned to Guinevere. “And who, may I ask, is this?”
“This is Guinevere,” said Ben, introducing her. “She’s the daughter of the professor who almost stepped on your plane, and she thinks she saw Nettlebrand.”
“I know I saw him,” said Guinevere. “I’m a squillion percent certain I did.”
“Could be.” Lola Graytail opened a flap under the wing of her plane and took out a miniature lunch box. “But the creature’s disappeared now, anyway. I flew upstream and downstream, keeping so low over the river the fish thought I was a midge and water kept splashing into the cockpit. But I didn’t see any sign of a golden dragon with a dwarf. Not a thing. Not a single golden dragon scale.”
“Well, that’s good!” said Ben, sighing with relief. “I really thought we had him after us again. Thanks, Lola!”
“You’re welcome,” replied the rat. “Glad to be of service.”
She crammed a few bread crumbs into her mouth and stretched out on the wall. “Oh, I do like lazing about!” she sighed, raising her pointed nose to the sun. “Good thing Uncle Gilbert can’t see me. He’d really get his tail in a twist.”
Guinevere was still silent. Frowning, she looked down at the river. “All the same, I bet that monster’s down there somewhere, lying in wait for us,” she said.
“Oh, come off it, he’s buried in the sand,” said Ben. “We know he is. You should have heard that dwarf — I’m sure he wasn’t lying. Come on!” He nudged her with his elbow. “Tell me more about the temple.”
“What temple?” muttered Guinevere, without looking at him.
“The one your mother’s looking at,” replied Ben. “The Temple of the Angry Gods.”
“The Gon-Khang,” murmured Guinevere. “That’s its Tibetan name. Okay, if you really want to know….”
When Barnabas Greenbloom came down the steps of the great prayer hall with Firedrake and the lama, he found Ben and his daughter still on the wall. Between them were Lola Graytail and Twigleg, both snoring. The children were so deep in conversation that they hadn’t heard the others coming.
“I don’t like to disturb you two,” said Barnabas Greenbloom, coming up behind them, “but Ben could try breaking the moonlight now. The lama has brought him one of the sacred stones.”
The monk opened his hands to reveal the white stone. It had a radiant glow even in the daylight. Ben got off the wall and carefully took the moonstone.
o;Come on, dragon rider,” said Barnabas Greenbloom, “I’ll take you to Guinevere before your head bursts with all this wisdom. And I’ll come back for you when breakfast is over.”
“What do you think Sorrel and I should do, Professor?” asked Firedrake, putting his muzzle gently over the man’s shoulder.
“Oh, these people will go along with anything you want, Firedrake,” replied Professor Greenbloom. “Why not have a nice sleep in the Dhu-Khang? No one will disturb you — in fact they’ll say so many prayers for you that you’ll be sure to find the Rim of Heaven.”
“And what about me?” asked Sorrel. “What do I do while Firedrake’s asleep and the rest of you are drinking buttered tea? I don’t like tea and I don’t like butter, so I’m hardly going to like tea with butter in it.”
“I’ll leave you with Guinevere, too,” said the professor. “There’s a nice soft bed in our room, and she brought some biscuits that I expect you will like.”
Then he led the two of them down the steps, through the crowd of monks standing respectfully in the courtyard, and over to a small building nestling below the high wall of the Dhu-Khang.
