The Eyes of the Dragon

108

By the time he had finished, it was seven o’clock.

Outside, a dim gray glow had come over Delain-that clotted storm-light was as bright at seven as it would be at noon, for the greatest storm of that winter-and perhaps the greatest in history-had come to Delain. The wind howled around the eaves of the castle like a tribe of banshees. Even down here, the fugitives could hear it. Frisky raised her head and whined uneasily.

“What do we do now?” Dennis asked.

Ben, who had gone over Peter’s brief note again and again, said: “Until tonight, nothing. The castle’s awake by now, and there’s no way we could get out of here without being seen under any circumstances. We sleep. Get our strength back. And tonight, before midnight-”

Ben spoke briefly. Naomi grinned; Dennis’s eyes grew bright with excitement. “Yes!” Dennis said. “By the gods! You’re a genius, Ben!”

“Please, I wouldn’t go that far,” Naomi said, but by then her grin was so broad it seemed in danger of splitting her head in two. She reached over, put her arms around Ben, and kissed him soundly.

Ben turned an absolutely alarming shade of red (he looked as if he might be on the verge of “bursting his brains,” as they said in Delain in those long-ago days)-I must tell you, though, that he also looked delighted.

“Will Frisky help us?” Ben asked when he got his breath back.

At the sound of her name, Frisky looked up again.

“Of course she will. But we’ll need…”

They discussed this new plan for some time longer, and then Ben’s lower face seemed to almost disappear in a great yawn. Naomi also looked tired out. They had been awake for over twenty-four hours by then, you will remember, and had come a great distance.

“Enough,” Ben said. “It’s time for sleep.”

“Hooray!” Naomi said, beginning to arrange more napkins in a mattress for herself beside Frisky. “My legs feel as if-”

Dennis cleared his throat politely.

“What is it?” Ben asked.

Dennis looked at their packs-Ben’s big one, Naomi’s slightly smaller one. “I don’t suppose you’ve got… um, anything to eat in there, do you?”

Impatiently, Naomi said: “Of course we do! What do you think-” Then she remembered that Dennis had left Peyna’s farmhouse six days ago, and that the butler had been skulking and hiding ever since. He had a pallid, undernourished look, and his face was too narrow and too bony. “Oh, Dennis, I’m sorry, we’re idiots! When did you eat last?”

Dennis thought about this. “I can’t remember exactly,” he said. “But the last sit-down meal I had was my lunch, a week ago.

“Why didn’t you say so first thing, you dolt?” Ben exclaimed.

“I guess because I was so excited to see you,” Dennis said, and grinned. As he watched the two of them open their packs and begin rooting through the remainder of their supplies, his stomach gurgled noisily. Saliva squirted into his mouth. Then a thought struck him.

“You didn’t bring any turnips, did you?”

Naomi turned to look at him, puzzled. “Turnips? I don’t have any. Do you, Ben?”

No. A gentle and supremely happy smile spread across Dennis’s face. “Good,” he said.