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The moonstone smashed into myriad splinters, and it seemed to them all that they heard a deep rumble slowly dying away in the heart of the mountain. Then all was still. Very still. They waited.
As the sun slowly rose behind the mountains, they cast their shadows on the monastery. A cold wind was blowing from the snowy peaks as a figure suddenly appeared in one of the holes in the rock, high above the heads of those waiting below.
It was a brownie. He looked almost like Sorrel, except that his coat was paler and thicker. And he had four arms. He was resting his paws on the rock where he stood.
“Twenty fingers, Twigleg,” whispered Ben. “He has twenty fingers, just as the djinn said.”
The homunculus could only nod.
The strange brownie looked down suspiciously, inspected the humans briefly, and then stared long and hard at the dragon.
“Well, fancy that!” he cried in the language of fabulous creatures, which can be understood at once by any other living creature, human or animal. “Thought better of it after all, have you? After so many years! I thought you’d all moldered away in your hiding place by now!” The strange brownie spat scornfully on the rock. “So, what’s happened for them to send you here all of a sudden to ask us for help? And what weird kind of brownie is that you have with you? What’s it done with its other arms?”
“I’ve only got two arms,” snapped Sorrel, looking up at him. “Which is quite enough for any self-respecting brownie, you pathetic puffball. And no one sent us. We came of our own free will. The other dragons didn’t dare come, but they haven’t moldered away.”
“Ooh!” said the strange brownie, grinning. “Pathetic puffball, eh? At least you know your mushrooms. My name is Burr-Burr-Chan. What’s yours?”
“She’s Sorrel,” replied Firedrake, taking a step forward, “and you’re right about one thing: We’re here because we need help. We have come a long, long way to find the Rim of Heaven, and a djinn told us you could guide us there.”
“A long, long way?” Burr-Burr-Chan wrinkled his furry brow. “What do you mean by that?”
“We mean,” said Sorrel, “that we’ve flown halfway around the world just to listen to your smart-alecky remarks.”
“Calm down, Sorrel,” said Firedrake, nudging her aside with his nose. Then he looked up at Burr-Burr-Chan again.
“We come from a valley faraway to the northwest, a place where my kind went many hundreds of years ago when human beings were beginning to take over the world. Now they are reaching out their greedy hands to steal our valley, too, and we must find a new home. So I set out to seek the Rim of Heaven, the home of all dragons. I am here to ask if you know it.”
“Of course I know it!” replied Burr-Burr-Chan. “I know it as well as I know my own fur, although it’s been a long time since I was last there.”
Ben held his breath.
“Then it exists?” cried Sorrel. “The Rim of Heaven really exists?”
“What did you think?” Burr-Burr-Chan wrinkled his nose and looked distrustfully at Firedrake. “Are you sure you don’t come from the Rim of Heaven yourself? Are there really other dragons in the world?”
Firedrake nodded. “Will you guide us?” he asked. “Will you show us where to find the Rim of Heaven?”
For a few long moments the four-armed brownie did not answer. Sighing, he sat down in the hole in the rock where he had appeared and dangled his legs.
“Well, why not?” he said at last. “But I can tell you now, you won’t get much joy from your relations.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” asked Sorrel.
Burr-Burr-Chan shrugged his shoulders and crossed his four arms over his chest. “It means they’ve turned into pathetic, sniveling, cowardly weaklings. It’s been more than fifty winters since I was there, but that’s how it was when last I saw them.” He bent down toward Sorrel. “Imagine, they don’t leave their cave anymore! Not even by night! When I last saw them, they were limp as withered leaves for want of moonlight. Their eyes were cloudy as puddles because of the darkness, their wings were dusty for lack of use, and they had fat bellies from eating lichen instead of drinking moonlight. Yes, you may well look shocked.” Burr-Burr-Chan nodded. “It’s very sad to see what’s become of the dragons.” The brownie leaned forward and lowered his voice. “Do you know who they’re hiding from? Not from human beings, no, they’re hiding from the golden dragon. They’ve been hiding ever since the night he came up out of the sea to hunt them.”
“We know that story,” said Ben, stepping up beside Firedrake. “But where are they hiding? In a cave, you said?”
Burr-Burr-Chan turned to him in surprise. “And what sort of creature are you? White as a milk-cap, and in the company of a dragon. Don’t tell me you rode here on his back!”
“Yes, indeed he did,” replied Firedrake, nuzzling Ben.
Burr-Burr-Chan whistled through his teeth. “So you’re the dragon rider! It was you who broke the moonstone that summoned me?”
Ben nodded. The lama said something in a quiet voice.
“Yes, yes, I know.” Burr-Burr-Chan scratched his head. “That old story: Silver will be worth more than gold when the dragon rider returns.” The brownie narrowed his slanting eyes and looked Ben up and down. “Yes, the dragons are hiding in a cave,” he said slowly. “A wonderful cave deep within the mountain range known as the Rim of Heaven. We dug that cave for them — we, the Dubidai, the brownies of these mountains. But we never meant for them to bury themselves alive in it. When they hid there after the golden dragon had hunted them, we withdrew our friendship and came back here. As we left, we told them there was only one way to make up the quarrel: We would return to them on the day they summoned us with a moonstone to help them overcome the golden dragon.” He looked at Firedrake. “I will take you to them, but I will not stay, for they still haven’t summoned us.”
“The golden dragon is dead,” replied Firedrake. “Dead and buried in the sand of a distant desert. They needn’t hide anymore.”
