“Oh, come on, Firedrake!” said Ben. “Don’t look like that.”

The dragon sighed. “Why can’t I ask the question myself?” he said fiercely.

“I know what!” cried Sorrel, jumping up. “We’ll get the homunculkiss to ask it. He’s a bit small, but otherwise he looks like a human being. This djinn with his thousand eyes must be terribly confused by all the things he sees with them. He’s sure to think Twigleg’s a real human being. And if anything goes wrong with the question-and-answer bit, then Twigleg will have a new master and we’ll be rid of him.”

“Stop it, Sorrel!” Ben looked around for Twigleg — and found that he had disappeared.

“Where is he?” he asked, sounding worried. “He was here only a moment ago.” Angrily he turned to Sorrel. “He ran away because you keep winding him up!”

“Nonsense!” the brownie girl snapped back. “That spindly creature is afraid of the blue-skinned djinn with the thousand eyes, that’s why he ran off. Well, all I can say is good riddance!”

“You’re so mean!” Ben shouted at her. He jumped up, ran to the mouth of the cave, and looked out. “Twigleg!” he called. “Twigleg, where are you?”

Barnabas Greenbloom laid a hand on his shoulder. “Perhaps Sorrel is right after all, and the prospect of your journey was too much for the little fellow,” he said. Then he looked up at the sky. “It’s getting dark, dear friends,” he pointed out. “If you really want to ask the djinn your question, you should set off soon. The way to his ravine leads mainly over desert country, which means hot days and cold nights.” He picked up his basket and smiled at Ben again. “You’re a brave boy, Ben. I’ll just hurry down to the camp and get you some provisions for the journey. And a bottle of sunscreen for you, Ben, and an Arab head-cloth wouldn’t be a bad idea. Don’t worry about the homunculus. Such creatures have wills of their own. Who knows, perhaps he simply feels drawn back to the man who made him.”

Then he pushed aside the tangle of thorns at the entrance of the cave and strode off through the evening twilight.

Sorrel went over to Ben and looked around. “All the same, I wish I knew where that manikin is,” she muttered.

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.