“You have been busy!” said Marianne, getting up. “But what happened to the money? Surely this wasn’t that expensive!”
“They were fresh out of jeweled crowns, or I would have bought one,” said Robin, holding forth a small pouch. “Instead, I took to the liberty to—shall we say invest—the reward.”
“It’s rather light,” said Marianne, taking the money purse.
“Be careful when you look inside,” advised Robin, “I’m fairly sure the banker’s eyes fell out when I showed him our stash.”
“Robin, you are so funny!” said Marianne as she emptied the bag’s contents into her palm. Several gold coins fell out. Marianne gave Robin an unimpressed look. She gave the pouch another jiggle. A thin, circular object dropped from the bag, was caught in the wind’s breeze, and began to drift away. “Careful with that!” cried Robin, snatching it before the wind carried it into the tree’s branches. “We’re going to be eating off that for the next few years!”
“Well if it’s a plate, it looks like it will be a rather ineffective one,” said Marianne. “There’s a hole in the center. And what’s it made out of? Paper?”
“I don’t know what it’s made of; nobody does. But I do know that for all its apparent frailty, it’s indestructible.” At this Robin bent the disk in half, then watched as his purchase sprang back to its original form. “That’s why it was so expensive.”
“How expensive?” came the strained reply.
“This,” said Robin forcefully, holding it in front of Marianne, “is worth 9,900 gold coins. At least, that was the price. Wars have been fought for less than that.”
“But what does it do? All I see are some curious scratches.”
“What does it do? It allows us to not be robbed every other minute because we’re hauling around a sack of money! As for those ‘scratches,’ the merchant said that he purchased it from a trader who was passing through. It’s so rare that anyone would buy it for twice the amount I paid! On the back there’s some kind of lizard drawing imprinted.”
“That’s a dragon,” Leo informed him.
“Well, I suppose it takes one to know one,” shot back Robin.
Leo crossed his arms. “Robin, can you spell ignoramus?”
“Y-O-U.”
“That imprint is a depiction of one of the infinite kinds of foreign dragons.” Leo snorted confidently.
“And just my luck: I ended up stuck with the most cantankerous breed.”
“‘Cantankerous.’ I see you’re moving beyond the one syllable.”
“Bickering gets us nowhere!” Marianne handed the palm-sized article back to her brother. “Appreciative as I am of your investment, I have to wonder what happened to the rest of the hundred gold pieces. I hope these horses weren’t too pricey—after all, we do have Leo.”
“Well, for some reason, I didn’t feel like announcing to the world that I was the proud owner of this fire-breathing monstrosity!” Robin countered. “If anything bad happens in any town we visit, they’ll blame us before we can say—”
“You’re not my owner,” said Leo, crouching down and staring Robin in the face, his smoldering breath pulling Robin’s hair forward as he inhaled. “And as for your ludicrous claim that I could get you in trouble, I answer that you’ve been the one who’s needed me in every tight spot.”
“Stop this!” cried Marianne, barging between the two, who seemed on the verge of tackling each other. “First of all, Robin, I ask that you use some common sense and see that this fight would be completely one-sided unless you somehow achieve the ability to spit fire! And Leo, you shouldn’t let his gibes get to you so much! You’re probably a hundred times his age. Robin cannot change shapes, so I beg you, Leo, either go somewhere to cool off or switch forms.”
In the twinkling of an eye, Leo was inside the glass ball. “Thank you,” Marianne whispered, placing the ball back into her pocket.
“I suppose I should be the one to hold onto this.” Robin put his inscribed acquisition away. “At least my dragon doesn’t have an attitude problem,” he added. “Now, as I wanted to tell you before, the hundred gold pieces went for more than some ponies. Take a look at this, Marianne,” said Robin proudly, drawing out a sword. “It was the finest they had. Made by elves,” he added. The sword was indeed an incredible weapon. Its hilt looked like it was entwined with golden vines. “Watch this,” said Robin, grasping the sword with his hand. Immediately, the vines moved, contouring themselves to fit Robin’s hand. “It feels like you’re fighting with a weapon made out of air, the sword’s so light. The blade itself could split a hair.” Robin demonstrated by pouncing forward and deftly slicing off a leaf from the tree. Satisfied with his skill, Robin remembered Marianne’s hunger. “You must be starved.”
“Aren’t you even a bit hungry?” asked Marianne. “I mean, there’s food for both of us.”
“Well, the ride back here was kind of long,” said Robin, avoiding Marianne’s penetrating eyes. “Let’s say that originally there were provisions enough for three.”
Chapter the Thirteenth
Heat was still pulsing steadily as the sun reluctantly climbed down the ladder of sky. Mid-afternoon found Robin lying next to Marianne under the boughs of a splendorous tree whose leaves splintered the sunlight.
“Robin,” said Marianne, turning to her side to face him, “Do you know what Neville and Beatrice told me before I left?” Marianne’s mind skipped back to her former life of confinement.
“What?” asked Robin lazily.
“They told me that we would have been dead if it hadn’t been for them,” Marianne said, looking at her hands.
“Marianne,” said Robin tenderly, casting his eyes away from the blue abyss above. “Do you know what I’m dreaming about when I shake at night?”
Marianne sat up. “Well, that’s a bit off the subject.”
“No, it’s what all this comes down to. If you really were watching me all night at Penelope’s castle, surely you noticed it. It happens almost every night,” Robin replied, giving a shudder.
“I supposed you were having a dream about our parents,” Marianne said.
“Maybe it’s about them in a way,” he said, worrying his brow. “But I usually dream about what happened the night after they left.” Robin seemed to be trying to find the words to explain.
“Listen,” said Robin, his voice quaking. Marianne moved urgently toward Robin on her knees, her fingers digging into the earth. “By the time Mother and Father departed, it was nearing the end of the war. People were expecting the imminent surrender of the wizards, so everyone was a bit off guard.” Robin pulled his hands through his hair and continued. “Our parents had been sent to eliminate this powerful wizard who’d probably done the worst damage to our side. His name was Grimholdt.”
“Grimholdt. Sounds pretty villainous,” said Marianne.
“Well, right after our parents left us with Beatrice, Neville got word that he was going to be needed in battle the next day. Now, Neville had never seen service. His wealthy father threw him into the military because Neville was a failure at everything else, and also I suspect his father wouldn’t have minded if Neville came home on his shield.”
Marianne raised her eyebrows.
“Anyway, on that fateful day, Neville decided to make a break for it. He had