Richards took his time sizing up the gap before leaping. He climbed over exposed rocks up to the moorland where Bear stood. Richards now wore a lionskin cloak, crafted by Bear from the pelt of Tarquin.
"Do I have to wear this? It makes me feel like a kid playing at Hercules," said Richards, fingering the tawny skin.
"I beg to differ," grumbled the lionskin. "Hercules, is it now? I don't think so. I've seen bigger pecs on a pigeon."
"I didn't choose this body," said Richards.
"I've told you before, pal!" said Bear. "Shut it or I'll sew your mouth up." He shook his head. "You'd think being skinned would shut it up, wouldn't you? You really would."
"Mee-owww," said Tarquin.
"Where's me needle?" said Bear, reaching for his flap. "Quiet? Good. Come on, Mr Richards. Who'd not want a lionskin cloak? And it has promised to behave."
"I told you," protested the lionskin, "I was enchanted. Enslaved! I'm not now. I'll be good."
"Yeah," said Bear doubtfully. He cupped his paws and shouted back to the island. "You sure you're not coming with us, Lucas?" called Bear to the tramp.
"Although it pains me to do so, I'm afraid I must say no. This is not my stop," said Lucas.
Richards scratched his beard, another highly annoying thing about being human. It had been a week since they'd left Circus's tower burning in the void. Little more than a small garden's worth was left.
"Are you really sure?" said Richards.
"Yes, but I thank you from the bottom of my heart for your help. I am too old to catch squirrels, and a little too cocksure to avoid being turned into a pig." He smiled. "And I have my nice new coat to keep the rain from my bones."
"Keeps the weather out nicely does dwarfskin," said Bear.
"You have been most kind," said Lucas, tipping Circus's soiled turban in salute. "And for your many kindnesses I have a gift for you." He began patting his numerous pockets. "The time has come for repayment. You are indeed right, young Richards, you should always be kind to your fellow man. For who knows what… oh, where is it? Aha! For who knows what wonders it may bring in return? It's all karma, you know. Anyway, here you are. Gifts from me unto you." He leant across from the wobbly island to present Richards with a small piece of glossy paper, grubbied by long carriage and folded many times.
"Thanks," said Richards. "I'm sure I'll treasure it."
"I'll be buggered if it's any use. If you'd have caught me in the old days I'd have magicked up a set of epic items for you, some 'phat lewt', as I believe they say. But then, despite my cheerful manner and insightful wisdom, I am a tramp, and therefore a bit mad." He shrugged. "And for you, Bear — " he fished out a wrinkly dwarfskin pouch tied at the top with a cord "- a piece of Optimizja. This island is all that remains of it now, and that will soon be gone. Take this rock, a small part of the land. The pouch should keep it from evaporating."
"Gee, thanks," said Bear. "Nice. A stone in a dwarf's nutsack." He secreted it somewhere in his innards.
Lucas leant back into the wood and looked into its tiny patch of sky. "Night draws in. I must be away. Bear, if you would be so kind?"
"Be a pleasure, mate." Bear ripped a large limb from one of the few remaining trees. "Last chance…"
"Oh, don't worry about me!" said Lucas. "I'll be fine. There may be no squirrels left here, but there are other nourishing things for a man to eat." He eyed a chaffinch speculatively. It wisely flew off onto the moor.
"Hokey dokey! Prepare to cast off!" shouted Bear. He rammed the tree limb hard between the island and the exposed roots of the moorland and forced it free. It drifted away.
"Bye!" yelled Bear, waving. "Bye! I'll miss him, you know," he said to Richards. "Even if he was a bit hard on the old nostrils."
"How terribly touching," said Tarquin.
"Needle," stated Bear.
"My lips are sealed. Voluntarily, I might add," said the lionskin.
Bear scowled at Tarquin until the skin shut its amber eyes. "You're a bit quiet, sunshine," said Bear.
"Hmmm," said Richards.
"Hmmm? What's with the hmmm-ing?"
"This," said Richards, holding up the tattered paper. "It's a 1987 train timetable for the Thames Valley line."
Bear pulled a face. "A rock in a scrotum and an old train timetable? How very generous."
Richards shivered. A mist the consistency of custard swept across the moors. The sun must have gone down some time before; he could only tell because the dismal murk of the fog had faded to dark grey. Freezing water trickled down the neck of his mac.
"It's that way," said Richards. "Trust me, I have retained a link into the skin of the world. I can feel Rolston through it. He's over there." He pointed into the mist. "Somewhere."
"Oh, puh-lease," said the bear, walking on. Richards did not follow. "Stay here and sulk if you like," the toy called back, "but I'm going this way. I'm not sticking about on these moors till my stitching rots. I'm positive this is the right way."
"Well, I'm not," said Richards. "Not in the slightest. I defy even you to find your way off these moors."
"We'll see about that. I'm the brains of this outfit."
"Your head's full of stuffing."
"That's as may be, but it's better than what's in your head." The bear stopped and looked back. "Shit for brains," he said, and looked immensely pleased with himself.
"That's just juvenile," said Richards. "Come on! Pl'anna told me that Rolston was in Pylon City. He's that way." Bear squelched as he walked away. "Look, we both want to get there!"
"It's not that wa-ay!" sang Bear.
"Even if he's not there, we should go and find him!" said Richards. The bear carried on walking.
"Oh, for fuck's sake!" Richards swore. "Come back!"
"No."
Richards began a long tirade aimed at the back of the soft toy.
"I'd save your breath if I were you," said Tarquin. "He strikes me as rather pig-headed."
"Are you being funny?" said Richards. He was cold and annoyed.
"No, no, perish the thought," said the lionskin. "I'd never try to cheer myself up. Best dwell on my new status as outerwear with a frown, don't you think?" the lion grumbled. "It's perhaps best that we don't go to Pylon City anyway. The pylons have been here for a lot longer than most things here."
"They're from Reality 19, the Dragon Era game cycles," said Richards shortly.
"If you say so. I am a creature of this place, I lack your useful external perspective. As far as I am concerned the pagoda was part of a land now long dead, shattered some time past by Lord Penumbra's armies. There are pylons like it everywhere. That tower was evil. It sucked me in. Though I was told never, ever to go there as a cub, I did."
"Curiosity skinned the cat, eh?" said Richards.
"That is very unkind and also a mixed metaphor. It's not surprising really, that even a mighty being such as myself should be so bewitched. Legend has it that it was the only remnant of an ancient civilisation. All other trace of it had been completely wiped away by time. But the Dragon Tower remained. Too evil to die, apparently. That is how he trapped me."
"Or you're just exceedingly gullible. Are lions as bright as dogs? I always wondered that," said Richards
The lion growled. "How was I to know I was going to spend two hundred years as a fence post? I couldn't escape, and that dwarf could turn me to stone any time he wanted, it was child's play to him! Child's play!" The lion let out a low rumble, making Richards acutely aware he was wearing a dangerous carnivore round his neck.
"Sorry," said Richards. "I'm tired and cold and hungry, none of which I have much experience with. It's all a bit wacky, and none of it is real, which is irritating."