"And there it is," announced the king, jumping to his feet. "I knew you wouldn't let me down. You are, and always will be... a genius. Thank you."
"You're welcome," replied the old shopkeeper softly.
It was Tank who piped up next.
"What are you going to do about it?"
"That, my young friend," said the king, patting Tank on the shoulder and having to stand on tiptoes to do it, "is the 64 million dollar question."
"Is there not some way you could ask for the last vote to be retaken?" posed Peter.
"I could use my power as king to demand that the motion be voted on again. I don't have to provide a reason, but it's risky. If I were to do that, and if the vote turned out the same, it might give Rosebloom and his followers an excuse to challenge my position and call for a vote of no confidence in me. If that were to happen... well, it could change everything. It might open the floodgates for anyone who's ever crossed swords with me to exact revenge; it might even present Rosebloom with the opportunity to become king himself. Perhaps that's just what he wants."
" As long as I'm still breathing he bloody well isn't going to get it. I should have turned that snot nosed little oik into a pile of decomposing dragon dung a long time ago. This is the last straw."
Astonished, Tank and Peter shared a look, having never heard the old shopkeeper use such language. If the situation weren't so dire, it would almost have been funny.
"Be that as it may," stated the king purposefully, "even if I did arrange for the vote to be retaken, it would be impossible for me to turn up to the meeting without the ring on, or even with my hand covered up. Each and every one of them would know that something odd was going on, and that too might force some sort of vote of no confidence against me. Not wearing the ring is not an option."
"Then we make a copy," stated Tank coolly, a big grin crisscrossing his face. "Think about it. If you go in there, an exact replica on your finger, whatever's affecting the abacus won't be able to draw the power it needs. Rosebloom and his cohorts will have no control, and the vote will go exactly how you predicted it would. Better still, they'll have no idea how you've done it, and they might even try and check whichever dark artefact it is, to see where the fault lies, presenting an opportunity to catch them red handed."
Looking pleased with the suggestion, the king replied.
"I'd need to call for a revote within the month, ideally as soon as possible. Do you think you could come up with a quality forgery in such a short space of time?"
Tank glanced across the workshop at the master mantra maker, who was muttering to himself and shaking his head. Striding over, Tank spoke up.
"We can do it. You know we can. Those Greek crystal growing mantras that we found last month would help a great deal. We have the resonance die caster to help with the colour. The biggest issue would be forging the metal... but are you really telling me that we can't do that?"
"It's not that we can't do it. It's more about the timeframe. Two months... maybe. Six months... certainly. But a month? I'm just not sure it can be done."
With his smile having disappeared, sadness and loneliness returned to the king's eyes. It almost broke Peter's heart just to look at him.
"Yes, yes... alright, we can do it. Just put the poor little dragonling eyes away for now. We get the idea," put in the old shopkeeper.
"Are you sure?" asked the king sceptically.
"Yes, yes, yes, I'm sure... now, get out of here. The brains of the outfit here," he said, motioning his giant jaw in Tank's direction, "and I have a massive amount of work to do."
Before he turned to go, the king said,
"I'll be waiting."
"I know," replied the old dragon. "Good luck."
"To us both."
With that, the king turned and, with Peter beside him, marched off in the direction of the exit, leaving in silence, the already arguing voices of Tank and the shopkeeper echoing eerily down the aisles of bookcases. Reaching the front door to the shop, the king turned to Peter.
"Thank you. I know you'd probably like to spend more time here, talking with me, but right now, it simply isn't possible. Every second that I'm missing puts me and anyone else I care about in danger. I really have to go. But don't for one minute think that I don't care, and wouldn't want to spend months or years talking to you about everything. I've been through some scary stuff in my life... but what's happening now far outweighs anything I've ever seen, or even heard about. It's that bad. So for now you'll have to be patient. But know this... I'm thinking of you. I trust you and your friends with my life and more importantly, with the fate of the entire world, because potentially, it's what all this could boil down to. So... for now, it's good to see you. Thanks for the help, and... stay safe." And with that the king unlocked the door, disappeared beneath his cloak and, without a sound, disappeared into the deserted street. Following an instant later, Peter couldn't find any sign of the monarch.
23
Isn't it Ironic?
Striding purposefully beneath the slender trees that lined the quiet, suburban street filled Peter with a sense of security. Not really knowing quite why, to be honest, it should have been the other way round. When above ground, most dragons feel a little insecure when they can't see the sky for whatever reason. But here the peace, the quiet, the... normality of it all made him long for everything that these people had. Undoubtedly they had mortgages, loans, work problems and all those sort of things, but right here and right now, he'd have swapped all that to live in one of these houses for the rest of his life with... JANICE! At least, that's what he told himself as he turned the corner into the street where she lived.
In the distance he could just make out her bright pink mini in the fading evening light. Smiling as he spotted it, that car seemed to sum her up perfectly. Petite, bright, bubbly, cheerful and full of zooooooooom! Heading for her rented house, he briefly wondered what sort of car he'd be. Ruling out sports cars and 4x4s as far too powerful, and the more flashy cars as far too pretentious, he finally settled on something like a family MPV, a VW Touran or a Ford S Max. Having always had an affinity with babies, children, dragonlings... whatever you like, and the fantasy that had just been playing out in his head, living in one of these houses with the bubbly bar worker of course featured both of them having kids.
"Phewww." He blew out a huge sigh as he reached the gate to her house. Before attempting to open it up, he rolled up the sleeve of his coat and checked his watch. The hands read exactly 7.29pm. Hesitating a little, he found himself sweating profusely despite the cold night air, with his stomach feeling as though he'd been thrown around on a particularly vicious fairground ride. Obsessive about his timekeeping, he glanced again at his watch, and although not quite sporting 7.30 (by only a few seconds), he commanded his wobbling legs to work, very hesitantly opened the gate and strolled up the neat path to the brightly coloured door. With a small bouquet of flowers hidden snugly behind his back, he knocked gently with his, by now, shaking hand. Almost instantly a light appeared in the glazed semi circular window of the door, and after the briefest of rattles, the door itself swung open to reveal Janice, looking... STUNNING!! It wasn't in a dressed up kind of way. Tight fitting light coloured jeans together with calf length light brown boots were set off by the cosiest looking, green, chunky knit sweater. Homely but beautiful, plain but gorgeous... that's all that he could think as Janice waved him inside with her 'light up the room' smile. Once she'd closed the door, he whipped out the flowers from behind his back like a street magician and presented them to her.