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Outside, a raven cawed among the palms.
15. Twigleg’s Second Report
Twigleg was hurrying away through the twilight. The sun was sinking red beyond the ruins, and the columns cast long shadows across the sand. The stone faces carved on the old walls looked even eerier at nightfall than by day, but the homunculus took no notice of them. He was used to ferocious stone heads grinning down at him in his master’s castle. Just now he had other concerns on his mind.
“Where, for heaven’s sake,” he muttered as the hot sand scorched his feet, “am I supposed to find water around here? There’s nothing but ground baked as hard as my master’s scales. The sun’s sucked up every last drop. Oh, dear, he’s going to be really furious with me for reporting back so late. Really, truly furious.”
The homunculus ran faster and faster. He hurried into ruined temples, investigated palm groves — and finally found himself sitting in the dry riverbed entirely at a loss. “And that wretched raven’s gone and disappeared, too,” he wailed. “What am I going to do? Oh, whatever am I going to do?”
As the sun sank behind the scorched brown hills, black shadows reached out to Twigleg. Suddenly he clapped his hand to his forehead.
“The sea!” he cried. “What a fool I am. The sea!”
He jumped up so quickly that he fell over his own feet. Nimble as a squirrel, he raced along the dry riverbed, tumbled and slid down the dunes by the shore, and landed on the fine sand of the beach. The salty waves of the sea lapped the shoreline and the sound of their breakers filled his ears. Surf sprayed in his face. Twigleg clambered up on a rock with the waves washing around it, and spat into the dark water. Slowly, distorted by the movement of the waves, his master’s image appeared. It grew larger and larger, spreading over the vast surface of the sea.
“Where’ve you been all this time?” Nettlebrand roared. He was shaking so violently with fury that the dwarf Gravelbeard kept staggering to and fro on his back.
“I couldn’t help it!” cried Twigleg, wringing his hands. “We got caught in a storm, and then the raven left me in the lurch, and human beings caught me, and — and —” His voice broke. “And then the boy freed me and took me with him, and I couldn’t slip away at first, and then I couldn’t find any water, and then —”
“And then, and then, and then!” snarled Nettlebrand. “Stop boring me with your useless twaddle! What have you found out?”
“They’re looking for the Rim of Heaven,” said Twigleg.
“Aaaarrgh!” spat Nettlebrand. “I already knew that, you fool! Did the raven eat what little brain you’ve got before he flew away? What else?”
Twigleg mopped his damp brow. He was already drenched with sea spray. “What else? Oh, no end of things, but you’re getting me all confused, master. I’ve been under a lot of strain, you know.”
Nettlebrand gave an impatient grunt. “Carry on cleaning!” he growled at the dwarf, who had just settled down between the spines of his crest hoping for a little nap.
“Well,” said Twigleg, “there was this other human being who told them a very strange story. All about dragons being attacked by a monster coming up out of the sea. Was that you, master?”
“I don’t remember,” growled Nettlebrand, closing his eyes for a moment. “And I don’t want to remember, understand, spider-legs? They got away from me back then. They got away even though I almost had them in my jaws. Forget that story. Never mention it again or I’ll eat you up, too, the way I ate your eleven brothers.”
“I’ve forgotten it already,” said Twigleg hastily. “Completely forgotten it. There’s a black hole in my memory, nothing but a black hole, master. Oh, there are so many black holes like that in my head.”
“Shut up!” Nettlebrand furiously slammed his paw down on the cracked flagstones of his castle floor. His image on the shining water grew to such an enormous size that Twigleg ducked his head in terror. The manikin’s knees were knocking, and his heart was thumping up and down like a rabbit on the run.
“Well,” said Nettlebrand in a dangerously soft voice, “what else did you find out about the Rim of Heaven? Where are they going to look for it?”
“Oh, they don’t know yet. They’re planning to visit a woman who’s an expert on dragons and lives on the coast — the coast that I’m not to remind you of. Although she doesn’t know where the Rim of Heaven is, either, and that’s why —”
“That’s why what?” bellowed Nettlebrand.
“That’s why they’re going to ask a djinn,” Twigleg babbled. “A blue djinn with a thousand eyes. Apparently he knows the answer to any question, but he has to be asked by a human being, so the boy will have to do it.”
The homunculus fell silent. To his great surprise, he realized that he was feeling anxious about the human boy. It was a strange, unaccustomed sensation, and Twigleg couldn’t understand how it had crept into his heart.
“Aha!” growled Nettlebrand. “Wonderful! We’ll let the little human do the asking for us. How very useful!” He stretched his hideous mouth into a nasty grin. “So when do we get the answer, spider-legs?”
“Oh, it’s probably going to take us a few days to reach the djinn,” Twigleg faltered. “You’ll have to be patient a little longer, master.”
“Huh!” grunted Nettlebrand. “Patient! Patient! My patience has run out. I want to go hunting properly again. I’m sick of cows and sheep. Follow the boy and his friends and report back whenever you can, do you hear? I want to know exactly where this dragon is. Have you got that?”
“I’ve got it, master!” murmured Twigleg, pushing the wet hair back from his forehead.
Nettlebrand’s image on the sea began to fade.
“Wait!” cried Twigleg. “Wait a moment, master. How am I going to follow them? The raven’s flown off!”
