resemblance.”
“Ha, ha. Very funny.” The carpet shook as Leech righted himself.
Through a hole in the fabric, Bayang nervously saw the choppy bay waters slide past. “All of you, don’t move!” she warned. “I don’t know how much longer this carpet is going to hold together.”
Even as she spoke, a foot-long strip ripped off from the left edge and fluttered away across the water. The next moment, Koko gave a frightened whoop as a piece disintegrated underneath him.
Leech was laughing even as he hauled Koko onto a still intact section. “Time for a diet, pal.”
Kles petted the carpet as if it were alive and pleaded as one flying creature to another. “Hold, please, hold. Oado of the Winds, help us,” Scirye muttered hastily. Bayang did some praying to her own deities.
Despite their pleas, patches, some as large as a fist, began to break away and loose threads whizzed past in a haze. The more they lost of the carpet, the harder it became to fly. A rogue wave slapped at them so that they bounced upward, and the now sodden fabric became sluggish. The rug no longer responded quickly to Bayang’s corrections, instead rising and falling like a roller coaster car despite all her attempts to hold it steady.
“Why does it smell like wet dog all of a sudden?” Leech wondered.
“Actually, more like wet griffin,” Scirye teased.
“I beg your pardon,” Kles said stiffly. “Griffins don’t smell like dogs, wet or dry.”
Bayang fought the carpet as it tried to nose into the water. Thirty yards, twenty, ten, and then they were over the surf line where the spray rose, wetting their clothes in a fine drizzle.
Having carried out its last duty, the carpet seemed to disintegrate into a cloud of fragments and thread, and they pitched forward onto the sand of a small beach.
Koko sat up, spitting out sand. “Let’s take the bus back.”
“After we’ve had a chat with that dragon,” Leech said, slipping the unattached loops from his ankles.
“I was afraid you’d say that,” Koko groaned.
Scirye
Kles spat out a leaf of seaweed. “I’ve seen rocks make more graceful impacts,” he said to Bayang. “The clumsiest fledgling from my eyrie—!”
“Now, Kles,” Scirye said as she brushed sand from her clothes, “I couldn’t have handled the carpet as well as she did.” She added in a voice that suddenly dripped with mock sweetness, “After all, she only said she knew how to fly a magical carpet, not land one.”
Momentarily blinded by strands of seaweed that hung down from her head like a damp green wig, Bayang parted the strands and peered at the pair. “Without me, the only thing you could have done with that rug was use it for your naptime,
little girl
.” The last two words had the desired effect as both mistress and griffin bristled. “And let me point out that any landing you walk away from is a good one.”
“Says you.” Koko wrung out his handkerchief. “I got to get me a new one of these if I’m going to travel any further with you.”
“You can be as fussy as an old cat sometimes,” Leech said in exasperation. “Put up with it like the rest of us.” Then he pointed at Scirye, Kles, and Bayang. “And as for the three of you, remember that the dragon is our enemy, not one another.”
Bayang grunted her embarrassed agreement and pivoted, flinging the seaweed from her head, and Scirye turned her back on the woman.
While Kles rose into the air and shook sand from his fur and feathers, Scirye retrieved a piece of the carpet about two feet square. On it, she lay her remaining axe. “We’ll hide our weapons in here,” she said. The boys placed their axes on top of hers but the elderly woman threw her chain away.
Scirye didn’t ask her why. As annoying as Bayang could be, the Pinkerton agent had a confident air that suggested she could handle anything—from flying a carpet to improvising a weapon from whatever was near or simply fighting with her hands. And she found
“Ha, ha. Very funny.” The carpet shook as Leech righted himself.
Through a hole in the fabric, Bayang nervously saw the choppy bay waters slide past. “All of you, don’t move!” she warned. “I don’t know how much longer this carpet is going to hold together.”
Even as she spoke, a foot-long strip ripped off from the left edge and fluttered away across the water. The next moment, Koko gave a frightened whoop as a piece disintegrated underneath him.
Leech was laughing even as he hauled Koko onto a still intact section. “Time for a diet, pal.”
Kles petted the carpet as if it were alive and pleaded as one flying creature to another. “Hold, please, hold. Oado of the Winds, help us,” Scirye muttered hastily. Bayang did some praying to her own deities.
Despite their pleas, patches, some as large as a fist, began to break away and loose threads whizzed past in a haze. The more they lost of the carpet, the harder it became to fly. A rogue wave slapped at them so that they bounced upward, and the now sodden fabric became sluggish. The rug no longer responded quickly to Bayang’s corrections, instead rising and falling like a roller coaster car despite all her attempts to hold it steady.
“Why does it smell like wet dog all of a sudden?” Leech wondered.
“Actually, more like wet griffin,” Scirye teased.
“I beg your pardon,” Kles said stiffly. “Griffins don’t smell like dogs, wet or dry.”
Bayang fought the carpet as it tried to nose into the water. Thirty yards, twenty, ten, and then they were over the surf line where the spray rose, wetting their clothes in a fine drizzle.
Having carried out its last duty, the carpet seemed to disintegrate into a cloud of fragments and thread, and they pitched forward onto the sand of a small beach.
Koko sat up, spitting out sand. “Let’s take the bus back.”
“After we’ve had a chat with that dragon,” Leech said, slipping the unattached loops from his ankles.
“I was afraid you’d say that,” Koko groaned.
Scirye
Kles spat out a leaf of seaweed. “I’ve seen rocks make more graceful impacts,” he said to Bayang. “The clumsiest fledgling from my eyrie—!”
“Now, Kles,” Scirye said as she brushed sand from her clothes, “I couldn’t have handled the carpet as well as she did.” She added in a voice that suddenly dripped with mock sweetness, “After all, she only said she knew how to fly a magical carpet, not land one.”
Momentarily blinded by strands of seaweed that hung down from her head like a damp green wig, Bayang parted the strands and peered at the pair. “Without me, the only thing you could have done with that rug was use it for your naptime,
little girl
.” The last two words had the desired effect as both mistress and griffin bristled. “And let me point out that any landing you walk away from is a good one.”
“Says you.” Koko wrung out his handkerchief. “I got to get me a new one of these if I’m going to travel any further with you.”
“You can be as fussy as an old cat sometimes,” Leech said in exasperation. “Put up with it like the rest of us.” Then he pointed at Scirye, Kles, and Bayang. “And as for the three of you, remember that the dragon is our enemy, not one another.”
Bayang grunted her embarrassed agreement and pivoted, flinging the seaweed from her head, and Scirye turned her back on the woman.
While Kles rose into the air and shook sand from his fur and feathers, Scirye retrieved a piece of the carpet about two feet square. On it, she lay her remaining axe. “We’ll hide our weapons in here,” she said. The boys placed their axes on top of hers but the elderly woman threw her chain away.
Scirye didn’t ask her why. As annoying as Bayang could be, the Pinkerton agent had a confident air that suggested she could handle anything—from flying a carpet to improvising a weapon from whatever was near or simply fighting with her hands. And she found
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