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Vita Greenbloom and her daughter smiled.
“Yes, Barnabas, we did,” said Vita, “but however pleased you may be you mustn’t crush my future son’s fingers.”
Guinevere leaned over to Ben and whispered, “You know, I’ve always wished I had a brother. It can sometimes be a real pain being an only child.”
“Yes, I can imagine,” Ben whispered back, although at the moment, he could imagine nothing but the most wonderful things in the world when he thought of his new family.
“See them whispering together?” said Barnabas Greenbloom to his wife. “They have secrets from us already. This could be interesting!”
Then they suddenly heard a sob.
Twigleg was sitting on the floor with his face buried in his hands. Tiny tears trickled through his fingers and dripped on his bony knees.
“Twigleg!” Ben knelt down beside the homunculus, concerned. “But you knew I wanted to stay with the Greenblooms.”
“Yes, yes,” the homunculus sobbed even louder, “but what’s to become of me? Where am I to go now, young master?”
Ben quickly picked him up and put him on his arm. “Why, you’ll stay with me, of course!” He glanced inquiringly at his new mother. “That’ll be all right, won’t it?”
“Of course,” replied Vita. “We could really use your talents as an interpreter, Twigleg.”
“Indeed we could!” cried the professor. “How many languages do you speak?”
“Ninety-three,” murmured the homunculus, and he stopped sobbing.
“I tell you what!” Guinevere tapped his knee. “You can live in my doll’s house.”
“Doll’s house?” The homunculus removed his hands from his face and looked at the girl indignantly. “I am not a doll! No, a nice cool corner of the cellar, surrounded by a few books, that’s what I’d really like.”
“Well, that shouldn’t be any problem,” said Barnabas Greenbloom, smiling. “We have a big old house with a large cellar. But we’ll be away a good deal on our travels, as you know. I hope you can live with that, too.”
“Oh, yes!” Twigleg took a handkerchief out of his sleeve and blew his nose. “I’ve actually enjoyed getting to know the world.”
“Good, then that’s settled,” said the professor happily. “Let’s start packing.” He turned to Firedrake. “Is there anything else we can do for you? When do you plan to set off?”
o;Two dragons at once,” the professor translated. “Which means great good luck for our monastery and the valley! Did it all turn out as the prophecy foretold? Has the return of the dragon rider brought us the return of the dragons?”
Ben climbed off Firedrake’s back and went over to the professor, a shy smile on his face. “Yes, I think the dragons will come back,” he said. “Nettlebrand’s gone forever.”
Barnabas Greenbloom took the boy’s hand and shook it vigorously. Guinevere smiled at him. Ben couldn’t remember ever having felt happier in his life — or more embarrassed.
“But — but it was all of us working together,” he stammered.
“With brownie spit and dragon-fire!” Sorrel slipped off Firedrake’s back. “With homunculus cunning, human reason, an aviator-ace rat, and even the help of a dwarf, although that wasn’t exactly what the dwarf intended.”
“It sounds as if you have a great deal to tell us,” said Vita Greenbloom.
Ben nodded. “A very great deal.”
“Good.” Rubbing his hands, Barnabas Greenbloom exchanged a few words with the lama. Then he turned back to the dragons. “The people here love a good story,” he said. “Do you think there’ll be time to tell them yours before Firedrake sets off on the journey home? They would be very glad to hear it.”
The dragons exchanged glances before they both nodded.
“Would you like to rest a little first?” asked Barnabas Greenbloom solicitously. “Would anyone like something to eat and drink?”
“Sounds like a good idea!” cried Sorrel and Burr-Burr-Chan in unison.
So the two brownies had mushrooms to eat, while Ben polished off a whole mountain of rice and two chocolate bars that Guinevere had given him. Now that all the excitement was over, his appetite had returned.
