{Illustrated}
Once upon a time Pagne planned parties in a palace of fungus, now he is planning a revolution.
Success requires a cunning plan, hinging on the element of surprise, careful catering, and colourful costumes.
However, an unfortunate ser...
Vrye tossed and turned, evaded by sleep. He could not stop thinking about Sally and the things he ought to do as a father, given that he had so far done quite poorly on that front. While his son would no doubt be happier with Alphonse, he would not be safe. Nibbs was surely sent by Kabech to find him, so Vrye had to figure out a plan to get him off Saloonka's trail for good. Restless and in need of his pipe, he slipped from his silken sheets, donned a velvet robe and had a puff by his window.
Mount Malignant was glowing in the distance, but at first, he thought little of it. That mountain had always been as cantankerous as Kyos. Then, a terrifying tremor shook the house and almost made Vrye drop his pipe. The blasted thing was threatening to blow its cap.
Vrye was so distracted by the goings on outside his window that he failed to notice Nibbs' entrance until the brute laid his hands on his shoulders.
"Still nervous, I see," he laughed as Vrye leapt onto the bed in fright. "What's going on out there? Your whole house is shaking." He seemed to have recovered disturbingly well from his inebriation.
"Probably best to go find the fellows you came with and get back to Hereth," Vrye said, sitting down on the edge of his bed. "There's about to be an eruption."
"If that is the case, I can't imagine Ysenich is a safe place for you either, Vrye. Take the Wyverkiiri elsewhere," Nibbs replied. "I have a feeling Kyos is responsible for this, so I must ride out and meet him for all our sakes."
"How heroic of you. Pagne would be so proud," Vrye said sharply. If the fellow could see what the dragon had been reduced to, he would feel a right pillock.
"Do you really think so?" Nibbs beamed and gave his chest a posturing puff. "Please stay out of danger, Vrye, and keep an eye out for Pagne. I expect I'll be back soon enough if you won't leave for somewhere safer." He turned on his heel and raced out the door.
Vrye never thought he would be so glad to see the fellow leave. He moved from the bed and flung himself into an armchair. Portia wandered in a little while later and placed her delicate hand on his shoulder.
"Thank you for getting the place tidy on such short notice, Port. I'm sorry that the mountain has made such a mess again. I'll get everything cleaned up when the tremors stop," Vrye sighed and squeezed her hand.
"Vrye," Portia looked down at him with a stern, yet friendly, frown, "I told you I'd be here whenever you need an extra hand."
Her face softened and they shared a smile, but Vrye could not hold onto it for long. Were he at all brave like the King he sang ballads about, he would be out there rescuing the lads and his dear Alphonse. Instead, crippled by cowardice, he eased back in his chair and tried to think of matters that did not call for heroics.
"Could you somehow convince your mother to come visit me? I have been terribly unfair to her," Vrye asked Portia.
She had been fussing about his bedside table, but stopped when he broke the silence. "Can I trust you here on your own?" she replied and carried over a throw rug to drape over his knees.
"I promise I won't do anything regrettable without you here to mock me for it," Vrye answered. He felt his age creeping up on him, tucked so cosily into his chair. "Be careful yourself though with this eruption business going on. Walk on the road, not under the eves, and wear a hat."
The distant rumbling grew ever more violent, then came the explosion of a grouchy, old volcano.
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