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Ànemos snorted as the eggs came into sight under the blue feathers. Then he stretched his neck until his nose was touching the silvery shells.
‘Can you see it?’ Guinevere was still afraid of addressing the Pegasus, whose sadness surrounded him like a warning.
At first he did not reply. But then he straightened up and looked at Guinevere.
‘I think one of them is white,’ he said, as the geese settled back on the nest with a soft humming sound. ‘White like its mother.’
Guinevere nodded. She felt the tickling in her nose that said she was going to shed tears. Tears of happiness.
‘I think the second is blue,’ she said
. ‘I’m not sure about the third. Its coat is still damp with the egg white.’
The geese closed their eyes as if that was the only way they could concentrate on their important task.
Ànemos bowed his head to Guinevere. He bowed it very low.
‘Thank you, human daughter,’ he said. ‘For the first time in weeks, my heart does not feel like a stone in my breast.’
Then he took a last look at the nest, and went to the stable door. Before going out, he stopped once again.
‘Is there any news of your father?’ he asked.
‘Yes! They’ve found the island!’ Guinevere replied. She did not add that she hadn’t been able to get in touch with Ben since then.
Ànemos nodded. Guinevere could read his feelings in his face. The outline of that tiny wing brought him comfort and hope – but also the fear of losing what he loved again.
‘My father has promised to save your children,’ said Guinevere. ‘And he’s very good at keeping his promises.’
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Shrii
Everything is dangerous, my dear fellow.
If it wasn’t so, life wouldn’t be worth living.
Oscar Wilde, An Ideal Husband
Ben’s head had hurt so badly only once in his life before. On the day when a Mokêle-Mbêmbe, a fabulous African animal that is a cross between a lizard and an elephant, had hit him across the temples with its jagged tail. This time the pain was further back and got worse when he opened his eyes. For a moment he saw everything in such a blur that he thought the figure bending over him was human. But when he saw it more clearly, Ben realised it was a monkey. Not just any monkey, but an Assam macaque, as Twigleg would have told him. Its amber eyes were inspecting him with a far from friendly expression. He was in the dim light of a hollow tree. Three small monkeys that Twigleg would have introduced to him as lorises perched in the air roots that hung from the roof of the hollow, and a gibbon and three more macaques were sitting on projections inside the trunk, looking down at Ben with hostility.
Barnabas and Hothbrodd were lying a few steps away from him, as thoroughly tied up with lianas as he was.
‘I tell you they were bait!’ Ben heard one of the macaques chattering. ‘We never ought to have brought them here! The poachers that Kraa deals with don’t often venture so far into the forest!’
‘Patah is right, Shrii!’ twittered a loris. ‘Kraa sent them to find us! They’re his spies!’
‘Oh yes? Then Kraa is more stupid than I thought,’ mocked the gibbon. ‘That green giant is so heavy we had to haul him up here with lianas. Not to mention the way he stinks of fish!’
Ben suspected that he could understand the monkeys and the ape because Hothbrodd was with them. You understood the world and the creatures in it so much better if you had a couple of fabulous beings among your friends.
Ben thought he heard the rustle of feathers behind him, but he was tied up too tightly even to turn his head.
‘Did you ever see a creature like this green giant, TerTaWa?’
Ben had never heard a voice that reminded him so much of Firedrake. There was the same power in it. And whoever it was talking, he was large!
Hothbrodd let out an angry roar and tried to break his bonds. The monkeys commented on his efforts with chattering that sounded both anxious and amused, and the macaque who had first bent over Ben was menacingly swinging a cudgel that looked thicker than its furry arm. Maybe that was the reason for Ben’s headache.
