{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...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Mount Malignant ceased its eruption, having sneezed out the fiery rodent that tickled its molten innards. There were no more shakes or wobbles to be felt, but now a gentle ashfall was settling on Ysenich, disturbed only by the scurrying of a young lad.
The local Wyverkiiri took shelter in the shadows of alleys as he passed down the main street, holding the body of what looked to be a Tyvern. When a whole race was confined to a single city, newcomers stood out like a sore thumb. He may have had their horns, but he was not one of them.
He was making for the house of the only other new comer they had known for a century, and taking directions from a peculiar sock puppet.
When he heard a knocking at the door of his manor, Vrye opened it to a most wretched sight. Cold and falling apart at the seams, poor Sally was limp in Pagne's arms.
"By your mother's warts, what happened to him?" he said as he carefully lifted his son.
Dear Pagne could not stop weeping and sniffling as he tried in vain to reassemble Saloonka's spilling insides. But it was not all grim, from the depths of Sally's wound popped Alphonse, safe and sound.
"Hello, fungus face! We brought you a corpse," he said in that cheery tone that always warmed Vrye's heart.
His less amiable side greeted him with insults that were not worth listening to.
"He's not dead! You can fix him, can't you, Vrye? He's only a little bit broken," Pagne sobbed.
"He will be fine," Vrye said softly and relieved the boy of his burden, taking Saloonka into his arms.
He would not let his son go and do something as silly as dying. With Alphonse's help he was sure Sally would be back in good health in no time.
"Thank you so much for all you've done, Franz."
Vasherri came bustling down the stairs and immediately greeted her boy with a firm hug.
"I was so worried. Why don't you tell me when you're going to do silly things that could get you killed? You're all covered in lint, Pagne darling. Are you hurt? You look exhausted," she said frantically as she squeezed the remaining life out of him.
"Fix him, Vrye..." Pagne wheezed before he went as limp as Saloonka.
"Vrye! Pagne is dead because of that errand you sent him on!" Vasherri roared. "Tonicolo, fetch a match!"
"Hush, Vasherri! Saloonka needs me, and your son is fine. Get him washed, and go with Portia to find the boys some fresh clothes." Vrye had no time to waste, and Pagne was just being dramatic.
Tonicolo came soon after, without the match, and put his ear to Saloonka's throat.
"I don't think he's quite dead..." he said, as if that were not obvious. "I do a little bit of studying in my spare time, mostly about plagues and other diseases but I have read a little about treating wounds. His are a bit more than I think I'm ready for, but I'd like to help if I can."
Vrye stopped turned back to Tonicolo. "In that case, Tonic, come with me."
He made haste for the rear of his manor, taking Saloonka to the hidden chambers of his house in case Nibbs should return. In the farthest and most inconveniently located privy, Vrye pushed open a wall panel to reveal a narrow hall. It would have been a gloomy passage were it not for the bulbs of lightning that Alphonse had installed. Such a dangerous thing was not allowed in the rest of his house, but beyond the stool closet was Alphonse's to do with as he pleased.
"To the laboratory!" Alphonse cheered. Those big blue buttons of his twinkled with anticipation.
"You're not to experiment on this one. You're to fix him," Vrye frowned. He would have to keep an eye on his woolly companion. "Get the door, Tonicolo."
The lad did as he asked, and carefully cleared the questionable items from the largest bench so Vrye could lay Saloonka down.
"You seem quite fond of this one," Alphonse said, slithering out of Saloonka's stomach.
"Of course I am, he's our son," Vrye replied, and felt pleased about the family reunion until Tonicolo ruined the moment with a snide laugh.
"So that creature is Kyos, and you're the Wyverkiiri king?"
"I am Kyos. The thing hanging out of my neck is nothing more than a parasite," Alphonso grumbled.
"You're not Kyos any more," Alphonse chimed in, "now you're just a wet sock named Alphonso." he said with a honk and a snort. "But our son, Vrye! Fancy that. I thought he looked a bit silly in the gizzard, and he even has Nonsense growing right out of his head like I did. I expect he was quite mad with that much of it sprouting out."
"It grows inside your head," Alphonso murmured.
"It always grows both ways," Alphonse laughed. "Can we get on with it then? I'll need my knitting needles, an empty jar, and some spools of Nonsense."
"No Nonsense, Alphonse. Just patch him up," Vrye said.
He knew what Nonsense would do, in that it would be something he would never think possible. Like turning a handsome young Tyvern and a dragon into a two-headed sock-puppet. He did not want to risk a woolly situation with Sally becoming a third head, or worse.
"Alphonse? The Tyvern Alchemist?" Tonicolo exclaimed as he leant over Saloonka.
Vrye busied himself with collecting the least dangerous tools and materials he could find in Alphonse's drawers and cupboards, then brought them to the bench. "If you want to learn about medicine, you couldn't have a better teacher."
"Terrible patient though," Alphonse said. He took a tube of glue in his mouth and spat it into their son. "You better know how to knit if you want to help with this one. You can help too, Honey-shins. I know you can knit almost as well as me, you crafty devil. We will need Nonsense though, just make sure you don't drop a stitch, or you might get caught up like I did."
Reluctantly, Vrye took up a pair of needles of his own. If it would bring back his son, he would knit whatever he was asked to. Which, as it happened, was a new spleen and heart. Vrye handled the heart himself, and left the spleen to Tonicolo while Alphonse set about gluing and patching the rest of Saloonka back together.
"Once he's been reanimated—"
"Surely he's not dead enough for reanimation," Tonicolo interrupted before Alphonse could finish.
"Indeed he's not," Vrye huffed over the clacking of his needles.
"He's quite dead now, but once we're done with him, he won't be." Alphonse grinned, but Vrye could not bring himself to trust him. Especially not after he grabbed one of his contraptions and started waving it about. "Now hurry it up with that heart, and you'll need to put this in it if you want it to work."
While Vrye admired the clockwork of the Amphoerix, Alphonse's lightning-powered gadgets were another matter. He had been on the receiving end of far too many gone awry.
"He's already dead, so it won't hurt—"
In the knick of time, one of Saloonka's eyes popped open, then he grabbed Alphonso's neck and pulled the Alphs out of his belly.
"Who's been putting stuffed toys in my gizzard? FRANZ!"
Vrye made a quick dash to save a tangle of woollen intestines that slipped from the bench when his son sat up.
"You think he's the best teacher for medicine? He couldn't even tell that Saloonka was still alive!" Tonicolo shouted and threw down his knitting.
"Couldn't I?" Alphonse said with a wicked glint in his eye-buttons.
Vrye clicked his tongue and shook his head at his fibrous friend's antics, but before he could give him a strong lecture about experimenting on their son, he noticed Saloonka had wandered off and made a prompt departure after him.
