Free Dragon Rider by Cornelia Funke Page B

mounting the raven. “I’ll be back soon.”
    “Oh, no, you won’t,” said Nettlebrand crossly. “You’llsend me news by water, understand? That’s quicker than flying back and forth all the time.”
    “Water?” Twigleg made a face. “But it could be difficult to find water on the mountain, master!”
    “Ask the dwarf where to look, beetle-brain,” spat Nettlebrand, turning around. Treading heavily, he lumbered slowly over to examine the tapestry with its shimmering silver dragon. Thousands of threads had gone into its weaving. Nettlebrand stood very close to it.
    “Perhaps they really are back,” he murmured. “After so many long years. I knew they couldn’t hide from me forever! From human beings, perhaps, but not from me.”

10. The Spy
     

     
    T wigleg looked back uneasily as the raven took off from the ruined castle walls and rose into the sky. The little homunculus had only ever left the castle when Nettlebrand’s hunting instincts took him down to the valleys to prey on sheep and cows. And even then they traveled by way of underground passages, for Nettlebrand was a flightless dragon, whose heavy golden armor would have made it impossible for him to rise from the ground. Instead, he swam along underground rivers deep beneath the earth, and if he came up to the surface it was only at night, under cover of darkness. But now the sun, high in the sky, was bright and hot, and Twigleg had only a raven for company.
    “Is it much farther?” he asked, trying not to look down.
    “It’s the mountain over there!” croaked the raven, streaking like an arrow toward it. “The one with the stump-shaped peak.”
    “Do you have to fly so fast?” Twigleg dug his thin fingers into the raven’s feathers. “This wind is almost blowing my ears off.”
    “I thought we were in a hurry,” replied the raven without slowing down. “You’re not half as heavy as that dwarf, even though you’re not much smaller. What are you made of, air?”
    “Good guess.” Twigleg was shifting uncomfortably back and forth. “Air and a few other choice ingredients. But the recipe’s lost.” He peered ahead. “There! There’s something shining in the grass!” he exclaimed suddenly. “Oh, sacred salamanders!” His eyes opened very wide. “That stupid dwarf was right. It
is
a dragon.”
    The raven circled over Firedrake where he lay coiled up among the rocks. A few meters away from him Ben and Sorrel were bending over the map, with three mountain dwarves standing beside them.
    “Let’s land on that rocky ledge,” Twigleg whispered to the raven. “Just above their heads, where we can eavesdrop on them.”
    When the raven landed on the ledge Sorrel looked up suspiciously.
    “Fly away now,” Twigleg whispered to the bird. “Hide in that fir tree until I give you a signal. The brownie won’t notice me, but you seem to worry her.”
    The raven rose in the air again and disappeared among the dark fir branches. Twigleg cautiously moved right out on the ledge.
    “Okay, I’ll admit it,” the brownie was saying. “So we didlose our way a bit, but it doesn’t really matter. We’ll reach the sea tonight all the same.”
    “The only question is
which
sea, Sorrel,” said the human. He was only a small human, still a boy.
    “You know something, cleverclogs?” hissed the brownie girl. “You can do the steering tonight. Then at least I won’t have to put up with your sniping if we go the wrong way again.”
    “Where are you going, anyway?” asked one of the dwarves.
    Twigleg pricked up his ears.
    “We’re looking for the Rim of Heaven,” said Ben.
    Sorrel gave him such a hefty nudge in the ribs that he almost fell over. “Who said you could tell any old chance-met dwarf that, eh?”
    The boy became very quiet.
    Twigleg moved a little farther forward. The
Rim of Heaven
… what on earth could that be?
    “He’s waking up!” one of the dwarves announced suddenly. “Look, he’s waking up.”
    Twigleg turned his