“Ah, you’re going to try the brownie saliva trick,” said Vita Greenbloom.
Sorrel grinned at her. “Dead right I am. Watch this.”
She was about to spit on the stones she held in her paw when Twigleg suddenly jumped off Ben’s shoulder and landed on hers.
“Sorrel!” he cried in agitation. “Let Firedrake breathe dragon-fire on the stones.”
“Why?” Sorrel looked at him in surprise and wrinkled her nose suspiciously. “What do you mean, little titch? Don’t meddle with what you don’t understand. This is brownie magic, get it?” And she pursed her lips again to spit on her stones.
“Oh, you pig-headed pointy-eared brownie!” cried Twigleg desperately. “Can’t you see those are no ordinary ravens? Or do you only ever open your eyes to tell one mushroom from another?”
Sorrel growled at him angrily. “What are you going on about? A raven is a raven is a raven.”
“Oh, no, it’s not!” cried Twigleg, flailing his arms around so excitedly that he almost fell off her shoulder. “A raven is not always just a raven, Miss Cleverclogs! And your silly little stones will only put those birds up there in a bad mood. Then they’ll fly away and tell their master. They’ll tell him where we are, and he’ll find us, and —”
“Calm down, Twigleg,” said Ben, patting the homunculus soothingly on the back. “What do you suggest we do, then?”
“The dragon-fire!” cried Twigleg. “I read about it in that book. The book the professor gave you. It can —”
“It can turn enchanted creatures back into their real shapes,” said Barnabas Greenbloom, looking thoughtfully up at the sky. “Yes, so they say. But what makes you think those are enchanted ravens, my dear Twigleg?”
“I … I …” Twigleg sensed Sorrel looking at him distrustfully. He made haste to climb back on Ben’s shoulder.
But the boy, too, was looking at him curiously.
“Yes, what makes you think so, Twigleg?” he asked. “Is it just their red eyes?”
“Exactly!” cried the homunculus, in relief. “Their red eyes. Precisely. Everyone knows that enchanted creatures have red eyes.”
“Really?” Vita Greenbloom looked at her husband. “Have you ever heard such a thing, Barnabas?”
The professor shook his head.
“You have red eyes yourself,” growled Sorrel, looking at the manikin.
“Of course I do!” Twigleg snapped back at her. “A homunculus is an enchanted creature, right?”
Sorrel was still looking at him suspiciously.
“Why not try it, instead of just blathering on?” said Guinevere. “Those really are very peculiar ravens. Twigleg could be right.”
Firedrake looked thoughtfully at the girl, then at the ravens.
“Yes, let’s try it,” he said, putting his head over Sorrel’s shoulder and blowing a shower of blue sparks very gently over the little stones in her paws.
Sorrel watched, frowning, as the sparks went out, leaving only a pale blue shimmer on the stones. “Brownie spit and dragon-fire,” she murmured. “Okay, let’s see what happens.” She spat on each stone, rubbing in the saliva well.
The ravens had come even closer.
“Just you wait!” cried Sorrel. “Here goes. A present from a brownie.” She jumped up on the stone dragon’s head, put her arm back, aimed, and threw. First one stone, then the other.
Both hit their mark.
This time, however, they did not cling for long. The ravens shook the stones out of their feathers with a cry of fury and dive-bombed Sorrel.
“Help!” she cried, leaping down and landing in safety behind the stone dragon. “Oh, by death cap and yellow stainer, I’ll get you for this, Twigleg!”
Firedrake bared his teeth and moved in front of the humans to protect them. The ravens shot through the air above the temple dome — and suddenly began to tumble and fall.