Dragon Rider (Dragon Rider 1)

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” said Barnabas. “Sandmen often live in cacti, and you don’t want to fool around with sandmen. Anyway,” he added, tasting a spoonful of soup, “this is nearly ready. I think you’ll like it. I know a good deal from my wife about the tastes of brownies.” He turned to Ben. “And do you have a family yourself? Apart from Sorrel and Firedrake, I mean.”

Ben shook his head. “No,” he mumbled.

The professor looked at him thoughtfully for some time. “Well, there could be worse company than that of a dragon and a brownie girl, wouldn’t you agree?” he said at last. Searching his basket, he took out three small bowls, three soupspoons, and a tiny sugar spoon for Twigleg. “But if you do ever happen to feel you’d like human company — I — er,” said the professor, rubbing his nose in some embarrassment. “Listen, I don’t even know your name.”

The boy smiled. “Ben,” he replied. “My name’s Ben.”

“Well then, Ben,” said the professor, filling a bowl with soup and handing it to Sorrel, who was already licking her lips impatiently, “if you ever fancy you’d like some human company you must visit my family and me.” He took a crumpled and rather dusty business card out of his pants pocket and gave it to Ben. “There, that’s our address. We could have some interesting conversations about brownies and dragons. Your friends might even care to come, too. I’m sure you’d like my daughter. She knows a lot about fairies — much more than I do.”

“Th-thanks,” stammered Ben. “That’s really very kind of you.”

“Kind? Not in the least.” The professor gave him a bowl of hot soup. “What’s so kind about it?” He handed Twigleg the tiny spoon. “Could you share Ben’s bowl? I’m afraid I only brought three.”

The homunculus nodded and perched on Ben’s arm. Barnabas Greenbloom turned back to the boy.

“On the contrary, Ben, it would be kind of you to accept my invitation. You’re a nice lad, and I’m sure you’ll have some fascinating tales to tell after this journey. Now I come to think of it, I’d call it rather selfish of me to invite you.”

“We’ll bring him over as soon as we’re back,” said Sorrel, smacking her lips. “That way we’ll be rid of him for a bit. By chanterelles and champignons, this soup tastes good!”

stopped Sorrel short. Incredulous, she looked first at Firedrake, then at Barnabas Greenbloom. “Him?” she asked. “How could he have done that?”

At this moment Twigleg bent down from Ben’s shoulder, his pointy nose twitching, and then suddenly raised his head in alarm.

“There’s been a basilisk in here!” he whispered, looking horrified. “Oh, merciful heavens!”

They all turned to look at the little man in surprise.

“Who’s that?” asked Firedrake.

“Oh, him!” Sorrel made a dismissive gesture. “He’s a himincolossus or something. We picked him up in the human camp and now he’s sticking to Ben like a burr.”

Seated on Ben’s shoulder, Twigleg stuck his tongue out at her.

“A homunculus, my dear brownie, he’s a homunculus,” said Barnabas Greenbloom. He went over to Ben and carefully shook Twigleg’s tiny hand. “Delighted to meet you. This really is a day full of the most extraordinary encounters.”

The manikin smiled, flattered.

“My name is Twigleg,” he said, bowing to the professor. But when Firedrake stretched his neck to look over Barnabas Greenbloom’s shoulder, Twigleg lowered his head in embarrassment.

“What was here?” asked Sorrel impatiently. “What did the little titch say? A basiltwist?”

“Sssh!” Twigleg put a finger to his lips. “A ba-si-lisk!” he breathed. “You don’t want to speak its name too loud, furry-face.”

Sorrel wrinkled her nose. “Why not?”

“A basilisk,” whispered Twigleg, “is the darkest nightmare on earth, a black terror that lurks in wells and crevices until someone wakes it. It kills brownies like you with a single peck from its hooked beak.”

Ben looked around uneasily. “You mean one of those things was here?” he asked.

“Yes, one of those things was here,” sighed Professor Greenbloom. “Fortunately I was here to help your friend the dragon. But now it’s time I showed my face back in the camp, before they decide to send out a search party for me. Oh, and when are you planning to leave again?” he asked when he had reached the entrance of the cave. “Or are you going to stay here?”

“Stay here? Not likely!” replied Sorrel. “No, we’ll be flying on as soon as the sun has set.”

“Then I’ll look in again just before nightfall, if that’s all right,” suggested the professor. “I’m sure you could do with some provisions for the journey, and I have a few more questions to ask.”

“We’ll be glad to see you,” said Firedrake, nuzzling Sorrel’s back.

“Yes, that’s right, we’ll be glad to,” she muttered impatiently. “Okay, can I finally tell the rest of you about my adventure now? Or isn’t anyone even interested to hear how I nearly got stuffed and put on display in a museum?”