“A map?” said Sorrel, disappointed, when Gilbert proudly spread this oddity out in front of them. “You mean all you have for us is a map?”
“Well, what did you expect?” Looking offended, the rat put his paws on his hips.
Sorrel didn’t know what to say. Tight-lipped, she stared down at the map.
“Look at that, will you?” Gilbert passed his paw lovingly over the seas and mountains. “This map’s got half the world on it. And very few blank spots — only those places I couldn’t discover anything about. But unfortunately, as I was saying, most of those do happen to be where you’re going. See these ribbons?” He beckoned the two of them over and pulled one of the ribbons. Part of the map immediately unfolded, and another map came into view.
“Cool!” exclaimed Ben.
But Sorrel just made a face. “What’s that for?”
“This method,” said Gilbert, proudly twirling his whiskers, “is my own invention. By pulling the ribbons you can see each part of the map again on a larger scale. Useful, don’t you think?” Looking pleased with himself, he closed the map again and tugged at his ear. “Now, what else? Oh, yes. Just a moment.” Gilbert took a little tray from his desk. On it stood six thimbles full of ink, each one a different color. A bird’s feather with its quill sharpened lay beside them.
“I’ll write down the meaning of the different colors for you,” said Gilbert portentously. “I expect you know the usual: green for lowland country, brown for mountains, blue for water, and so on and so forth. Everyone knows that, but my maps tell you more. For instance, I’ll use gold,” he said, dipping the pen into a thimble of bright gold paint, “for my recommended flight path. And red,” he added, carefully wiping the pen on the leg of the chair and dipping it into the red ink, “to shade in places you ought to avoid because the humans there are fighting one another. Yellow means I’ve heard strange stories about those parts, and misfortune clings to them like a snail trail, if you take my meaning. Yes, and gray means: This would be a good place to rest.” Gilbert wiped the pen on his white fur and looked up at his two customers. “All clear?”
“Yes,” growled Sorrel. “All clear.”
“Excellent!” Gilbert put a paw in his jacket pocket, brought out an ink pad and a tiny rubber stamp, and thumped it down on the bottom corner of the map as hard as he could. “There!” he said, inspecting the mark left by the stamp closely before nodding, satisfied. “Easily recognizable.” He dabbed at the mark with his sleeve, folded the map up with care, and looked expectantly at Sorrel. “So, now we come to the matter of my fee.”
“Fee?” said Sorrel, taken aback. “Rosa didn’t say anything about any fee.”
Gilbert immediately put a protective paw down on the map. “Oh, didn’t she? Typical. Well, customers have to pay me. How they pay is something I leave to them.”
“But I … I don’t have anything,” stammered Sorrel. “Only a few roots and mushrooms.”
“Huh! You can keep those,” said Gilbert scornfully. “If that’s all you’ve got then the deal’s off.”
Sorrel tightened her lips and rose. Gilbert Graytail came only up to her knee. “I’ve a good mind to shut you in one of your own drawers!” hissed the brownie girl, leaning over him. “Since when do people ask to be paid for a little friendly help? You know something? If I wanted to I could just snatch that map from under your fat little ratty bum, but I don’t want to. We’ll find our way to those Himble-layers, or whatever they’re called, without it, see? We’ll —”
“Just a moment,” Ben interrupted. He pushed Sorrel aside and knelt down in front of the rat. “Of course we’ll pay,” he said. “It must have been an awful lot of work making that map.”
“I should say so!” squeaked Gilbert, still sounding affronted. His nose was quivering, and his long white tail was agitatedly tying itself in knots.
Ben searched his pants pocket, took out two pieces of chewing gum, a ballpoint pen, two rubber bands, and a small coin, and laid them all on the floor in front of the rat. “Which do you fancy?” he asked.
Gilbert Graytail licked his lips. “Hmm. A difficult choice,” he said, examining everything very thoroughly. Finally he pointed to the chewing gum.
Ben pushed it over. “Okay. Now let’s have the map.”
Gilbert removed his paw from the map, and Ben put it in Sorrel’s backpack.
“Give me the ballpoint, too,” squeaked the white rat, “and I’ll tell you something else that could be useful.”
Ben pushed the pen over to Gilbert and put the other things away. “Go on,” he said.
Gilbert leaned slightly forward and whispered, “You’re not the only ones looking for the Rim of Heaven.”
“What?” gasped Sorrel, taken aback.
“Ravens have been turning up here for years,” Gilbert went on, still in a whisper. “Very peculiar ravens, if you ask me. They ask questions about the Rim of Heaven, but what they’re really interested in is the dragons said to be hiding there. Naturally I haven’t told them anything about the dragons in my dear cousin Rosa’s part of the world.”
“Are you sure?” asked Sorrel suspiciously.
Looking offended, Gilbert drew himself up to his full height. “Of course I’m sure. What do you take me for?” He wrinkled his nose. “They offered me lots of gold. Gold and pretty precious stones. But I didn’t care for those black birds.”
“Ravens?” asked Ben. “How come ravens? What have they got to do with dragons?”
“Oh, they don’t want the information for themselves.” Gilbert Graytail’s voice sank again. “They’re acting on behalf of someone else, but I haven’t found out who yet. Whoever it is, your dragon had better be careful.”
Sorrel nodded. “The Golden One,” she murmured.
Gilbert and Ben looked at her curiously.
“What did you say?” asked the boy.
“Oh, nothing.” She turned thoughtfully and headed for the gap between the shelves.
“Thanks, Gilbert, and good-bye,” said Ben, following her.
“Give Rosa my love if you ever get back again!” the rat called after them. “Tell her to come and see me again sometime. There’s a ferry quite close to your home, and they don’t put rat poison down on it.”
“Oh, yes?” Sorrel turned back once more. “And what will you give me to deliver your message?” Then, without waiting for Gilbert’s answer, she disappeared between the shelves.
6. Dragon-Fire
“Well, we could have saved ourselves the trouble!” said Sorrel crossly once they were out in the street again. “We come to this stinking city purely to find that stuck-up rat, and what does he give us? Oh, stinking sticky-bun fungus! A map, that’s all. Scribbles on a bit of paper! Huh! I could have found that heavenly brim thing just by following my nose.” She imitated Gilbert’s voice. “‘So, now we come to the matter of my fee.’ I ought to have tied that silly fat podge to his globe with his own tail.”
“Calm down, will you?” said Ben, pulling the hood up over Sorrel’s ears before he led the way along the street. “It’s not a bad map. There are some things your nose won’t tell you!”
“You don’t know anything about it,” muttered Sorrel, plodding crossly after him. “You humans use your noses for nothing but sneezing.”
For a while the two of them walked along in silence.
“When are you going to set out again?” Ben asked at last.
“As soon as it gets dark,” replied Sorrel, almost colliding with a fat man whose dachshund was sniffing its way along the pavement. The dog raised his head in surprise when the scent of brownie reached his nostrils and tugged at his leash, yelping. Ben quickly drew Sorrel away and into the nearest alleyway.
“Come on,” he said. “There’s not so much going on here. Anyway, we’re nearly back.”
“Stones everywhere. Nothing but stones!” Sorrel looked uneasily up at the walls of the buildings. “My tummy’s rumbling louder than those machines with their engines. I’ll be glad to be
out of here again.”
“It must be really exciting to go on such a long journey,” said Ben.
Sorrel wrinkled her forehead. “I’d rather have stayed in my cave. Much rather.”
“But just think of going to the Himalayas!” It sounded so exciting to Ben that he started walking faster. “And flying on a dragon’s back! Oh, wow!” He shook his head. “I’d be bursting with happiness! It sounds like a thousand adventures rolled into one!”
Sorrel gaped at the boy, shaking her head. “Don’t be so daft. What sort of adventures? It sounds to me like cold and hunger. It sounds like danger and fear. We were very well off at home, take my word for it! Rather too much rain, maybe, but what does that matter? You know something? It’s all because of you humans we’re going on this crazy journey. Because you won’t leave us alone. Because we have to find somewhere your nasty furless noses will never come poking in! Oh, why do I bother telling you all this? You’re one of them yourself. We’re escaping from human beings and here I am hanging around with one. Now, that really is crazy!”
Ben did not reply. Instead he hastily shoved Sorrel into the dark doorway of a building.
“Hey! What’s the big idea?” She looked at the boy, irritated. “Are you angry with me now, or what? We have to cross the street, right? The factory’s on the other side.”
“Exactly. Can’t you see what’s going on there?” whispered Ben.
Sorrel peered over his shoulder. “Humans!” she breathed. “Lots and lots of humans. And they’ve got machinery with them, too.” She groaned. “Speak of the devil —”
“You stay here,” Ben interrupted her. “I’ll cross the road and find out what’s up.”
“What?” Sorrel shook her head vigorously. “No, that’s no good. I have to warn Firedrake. At once!” And before Ben could stop her she was out in the street. She dodged between the honking cars and clambered over the low wall around the factory yard.
Cursing, Ben ran after her.
Luckily there was so much else going on in the yard that no one noticed the two of them. A couple of men were Standing beside a large bulldozer, talking to each other. Ben saw Sorrel hide behind the big scoop of the bulldozer to eavesdrop. Hastily he ran across and crouched down beside her.
“I can’t make out what they’re saying!” Sorrel whispered. “At least, I can hear them, all right, but I don’t understand the words. They keep talking about blowing something up. What do they mean?”
“Nothing good!” Ben whispered back. “Come on, quick!” He pulled Sorrel to her feet and ran toward the factory building. “We must find Firedrake. We have to get him out of there somehow. Fast.”
“Hey, you two! What are you up to?” someone called after them.
They swiftly disappeared into the dark shelter of the tall building, but within seconds they heard footsteps following them down the stairs. Heavy footsteps. “That’s the way they went!” someone called. “Couple of kids, it was!”
“Darn it, how could a thing like this happen?” replied someone else.
Ben and Sorrel ran through the empty, dilapidated factory basement. Their footsteps echoed down the long corridors, giving them away. But what else could they do? They had to warn the dragon before anyone discovered him.
“Suppose we’re too late?” gasped Sorrel. As she ran the hood slipped off her pointy ears, and she quickly pulled it up again. “Maybe they’ve already found Firedrake. Maybe they’ve already gone and stuffed him.” She sobbed.
“Nonsense! Come on!” Ben took her paw, and they ran on side by side. The footsteps behind them were coming closer and closer. Sorrel’s legs were trembling, but it wasn’t far now to Firedrake’s hiding place. Then Ben stopped suddenly, gasping for breath.
“Wait a minute — why didn’t I think of it before? We must lead them away from Firedrake. You go on. Tell him to follow the canal to safety. The two of you must swim as far away from the factory as possible. This whole place is about to go up in smoke.”
“What about you?” panted Sorrel. “What will you do?”
“I’ll be okay,” Ben managed to say. “Go on, run! You must warn Firedrake!”
Sorrel hesitated for a split second, then turned and ran. The stairs were quite close now. She rushed around the corner and into the room where she had found Ben. The dragon was lying asleep by the hatch.
“Firedrake!” Sorrel jumped between his paws and shook him. “Wake up, we’ve got to get out of here. Quick!”
The dragon sleepily raised his head. “What’s the matter? Where’s the human boy?”
“I’ll explain later!” whispered Sorrel. “Quick, through the hatch and into the canal.”
But Firedrake pricked up his ears. He rose and went slowly toward the corridor down which Sorrel had run. He heard human voices: two deep male voices, and Ben’s as well.
“So what d’you think you’re doing in here?” snapped one of the men.
“Looks like a runaway to me,” said the other man.
“No, I’m not!” cried Ben. “Let me go! I haven’t done anything — nothing at all!”
Looking anxious, the dragon stretched his neck farther forward.
“Firedrake!” Sorrel tugged desperately at his tail. “Firedrake, come on! You have to get out of here.”
“But the boy may need help.” The dragon took another step. The men’s voices grew harsher and Ben’s more and more uncertain. “He’s afraid,” said Firedrake.
“He’s a human!” hissed Sorrel. “And they’re humans, too. They won’t eat him. They won’t stuff him, either, but they’ll stuff you and me if they catch us and no mistake! So will you for goodness’ sake come on?”
But Firedrake wouldn’t move. His tail was lashing the floor.
“Hey, watch out, he’s trying to make a break for it!” yelled one of the men.
“I’ll get him!” shouted the other.
Feet scuffled on the ground and there was a sound of running footsteps. Firedrake inched a little farther forward.
“Got him!” shouted the man.
“Ouch!” cried Ben. “Let go! Let go of me, you great toad!”
Then Firedrake sprang. Like an enormous tiger, he shot across the cellar of the factory. Sorrel ran after him, cursing under her breath. The human voices grew louder and louder, until the dragon suddenly saw two men standing with their backs to him. One of them was holding the struggling Ben.
Firedrake uttered a low growl. Deep and threatening.
The men whipped around — and dropped Ben to the floor like a sack of potatoes. He scrambled up in terror and ran toward Firedrake.
“You were supposed to get out of here!” he shouted. “I …”
“Climb on,” the dragon interrupted, without taking his eyes off the two men. They were still standing there as if rooted to the spot. Ben, his legs trembling, clambered up onto Firedrake’s back.
“Go away,” the dragon commanded. “This boy is mine!” His low voice echoed through the dark cellar.
The men staggered and fell against each other in alarm.
“I’m d-dreaming!” one of them stammered. “That’s … that’s a dragon!”
But still the pair of them didn’t move. Then Firedrake opened his mouth, roared, and spat blue fire. His dragon-fire licked over the dirty walls, the black ceiling, the stone floor, and filled the room with leaping flames. Terrified, the men retreated and ran away screaming as if the devil himself were after them.
“What’s up? What’s going on?” Out of breath, Sorrel caught up with Firedrake.
“Quick, the canal!” cried Ben. “If they come back they’ll bring twenty more with them.”
“Climb on, Sorrel!” Firedrake said, listening uneasily to the fading echoes of the men’s footsteps. When Sorrel was finally on his back, the dragon turned and strode back to their hiding place.
Bright sunlight was still pouring through the open hatch. Cautiously Firedrake put his nose outside.
“It’s too light!” Sorrel moaned. “Much
too light. What are we going to do?”
“Come on!” Ben grabbed the brownie’s hand and pulled her off the dragon’s back with him as he clambered down. “Firedrake must swim alone. That way he can dive beneath the surface and they won’t see him. We’ll take my boat.”
“What?” Sorrel distrustfully flinched away from the boy and pressed close to Firedrake’s scales. “Must we really separate again? How will we find each other?”
“There’s a bridge.” Ben turned to the dragon. “Swim down the canal on the left and you can’t miss it. Hide under it until we arrive.”
Firedrake looked at the boy thoughtfully. Finally he nodded. “Ben’s right, Sorrel,” he said. “Take care of yourselves, both of you.”
Then he forced his way through the hatch, dived deep into the murky water, and disappeared from sight.
Sorrel anxiously watched him go, and without turning her head she asked, “Where’s this boat of yours, then?”
“Here.” Ben went over to the stacked cartons and pulled them aside. A red-painted wooden boat came into view.
“Call that a boat?” said Sorrel, horrified. “It’s not much bigger than a toadstool!”
“If you don’t like it you can swim,” said Ben.
“Oh, drat it all!” Sorrel listened. She could hear agitated voices far, far away.
Ben quickly crawled behind the stack of crates where he’d been hiding when they’d first met and came out again holding a large backpack.
“Coming?” he asked and pushed his boat over to the hatchway.
“We’ll drown, that’s what,” Sorrel muttered, staring with disgust at the filthy water.
But she helped the boy launch the boat into the canal.
7. Waiting for Dark
No one saw Firedrake as he made his escape along the canal. Twice, boats came toward him, but they were chugging through the water so noisily that Firedrake could hear them a long way off and was able to dive in good time — deep down to the bottom of the canal, where garbage got stuck in the mud. As soon as the dark shadows of the boats had passed over him and disappeared, the dragon came up again and let himself glide on. Gulls circled over his head, screeching, until he shooed them away with a soft growl. At last, he saw a bridge beyond some tall willow trees. Their branches hung low, floating on the water.