Quest III: the Most Beautiful Gift, and the Ring of Power

“Okay,” said Minsky, “what duck next? Most beautiful gift, or Ring of King?”

“I don’t know,” the Queen said. “They both sound – difficult. Who is, or was, this King Suleiman? I don’t remember hearing his name before; he can’t be one of our connections. And ‘the most beautiful gift in the nine worlds’ – we’d be hard put decide on a most beautiful in our own world, much less any other. Besides, which of the infinite did our poet consider ‘the nine’ worlds: the first nine? the last nine? the biggest nine of those recognized back when he or she wrote the poem? Has anyone any ideas?”

The silence lengthened. Then everyone spoke at once: “The most beautiful gift would be a perfect – “feather,” said Polly; “sea anemone,” said McLaren; “honey-comb,” said Broad, who had resumed his bear form; “marsh-rat lodge,” said Minsky; “jewel,” said Toby; “salad,” said Bunnysweet.

Everyone looked at Bunnysweet. She blushed a pink so bright it gleamed through her fur, and stammered, “Oh, excuse me, I should have known I wasn’t part of the conversation! Do forgive me for interfering; I’m so ashamed.”

“No, no, don’t feel bad,” said the Queen. “Your suggestion is a good one – or, at least as likely to be the right answer as any of the others.”

They looked down, they looked at each other. Finally Rose knew what to say. “Toby, you are my counsel. Advise me!”

Toby jerked her attention back to those present. She displayed briefly, in ‘leader-among-almost-equals’ mode. Then, in her most dignified judge-addressing voice, she said, “In my considered opinion, we should go and ask Grandmamma.”

“Who dragon’s Grandmamma is?” asked Minsky.

“My Grandmamma is the Venerable Kami of the Unstoppable Tides,” Toby told him. This time there was nothing modest in her display.

“Dragon god?” said Minsky. “Da, should be able help. Let’s go!”

Rose begged to go, but it was judged too dangerous. Her weight would slow Toby’s flight. The main time-twister was still drifting aimlessly, but the smaller off-shoots were growing larger and more menacing. Toby would have to be very nimble.

* * *

The Venerable Kami was at home in her mist-palace. She welcomed her granddaughter, and the strange fluffy mite peering out from under Tobermory’s folded wing.

An un-anchored time shift? What were they thinking of, to let that happen? The resulting time-storm could devour not only that plane, but the adjacent ones in turn. She had been feeling a certain recalcitrance in the tides of that plane, a certain confusion; she had been contemplating a visit to recalibrate them. If Toby could take care of it, that would be helpful, as Kami had several other petitions before her: a series of rogue waves on the plane of Honour, two solar tsunami about to collide among the chief planets on the plane of the Confederation. Dismissing the time-storm would be excellent practice for Toby. After all, all law and no magic, make dragons ... dracoliches.

Toby would need?

The Ring should be easy, Grandmamma told her. A powerful djinn was sleeping in one of the bronze amphorae by the Waterfall Gate. They should rub the amphora with the djinn inside, but carefully avoid the others. One held a sleeping demon; another a small black hole. The fourth was full of gin, a new recipe from Brandyburg. They should not lift the covers or disturb the contents in any way. The djinn would fetch them the Ring.

The most beautiful gift? Ah, yes. Grandmamma swung her lovely head back along her marvellous neck, and, fastening her exquisite teeth into a shoulder scale of heart-stopping beauty, slowly pulled it out. The sky dimmed, the breeze cried out in terror. Then, as Toby and Minsky watched, mesmerized, one drop of blood gathered, brighter than all the rubies in all the dragon hoards that every were or would be. It gathered, but did not spill. It flattened, gathered other colours into it without in any way diluting its ruby glow, spread...

“Dragon god grow new scale,” Minsky whispered.

As the new scale expanded, the sky filled with light again, and the breeze with music.

Grandmamma set the scale she had removed on the mist in front of her granddaughter, and nodded that Toby should take it.

Toby said, “I can’t touch it. It is too beautiful!”

Grandmamma bestowed a dragon’s kiss with the tip of her tongue on Toby’s forehead. “Of course not, dear – but I’ll wrap it so you can take it with you.”

Slowly and silently the scale changed. It resembled liquid light, flowing; melted gems, coalescing. Finally it resembled a scallop shell, the most beautiful shell in all the worlds, and Toby was able to pick it up. She started into the speech of thanks from the most junior of the junior members of a family to the most senior and august. The Venerable Kami again touched Toby’s forehead with her tongue, and phased off to another plane.

“Dragon Grandmamma really Something,” said Minsky after a moment’s respectful silence. “Got gift; need Ring. So better find Waterfall Gate.”

“This way,” said Toby.

* * *

“Too bad Grandmamma not say which amphora got Djinn,” Minsky said, as he walked around the four identical containers. You know, dragon?”

“Grandmamma always wanted us to figure things out for ourselves,” Toby sighed, “even if it took us weeks.”

“Don’t got weeks,” said Minsky, “don’t got days. So hero figure out.” He sniffed the nearest amphora, laid his ear against against it, jumped back, shook his head in a complicated pattern, thrust a clawed digit into his hear, and wiggled it vigorously. “Not that one.” He went on to the next one, and listened again, then tapped it gently with one claw. “Hmmm? Not what Dragon Grandmamma said . . .” At the third he said, “Maybe . . .” and at the fourth, “Aarrrghhhhhhhhhh!”

He returned to the third, spat on his paw, and rubbed a circle round and around, harder and harder. It began to shine even more brightly than the glistening surface of the metal; it began to glow.

“Enough already,” said a muffled voice. “You wanna scrub a hole in my second-best bed?” The lid lifted, smoke poured up, and coalesced into the form of a yawning djinn. It waggled its fingers in greeting.

Toby hesitated. Did she rank the djinn? did it rank her? A salutation between equals might give away bargaining strength that they would need. She settled for member-of-a-superior-family-greets-member-of-family-of-lesser-status – surely the thing wouldn’t be sleeping in Grandmamma’s amphora if it, too, were descended from gods?

“You woke me for some good reason?” the djinn inquired dismissively.

“Very good reason,” said Minsky. “Heroes need Ring from King Suleiman. Most Venerable Dragon-God of Unstoppable Tides say you give Ring to heroes.”

“But the Dragon-God, She Who Must Be Obeyed in All Things, is not in residence at the moment,” said the djinn. “Why should I trouble myself to give a valuable magical artifact to a hatchling wyrm and a scruffy little furball from an inferior plane?”

“Hokay,” said Minsky, “we wait. Dragon Grandmamma come home, we tell dragon Grandmamma amphora with gin half empty. Dragon Grandmamma not be pleased djinn drink half her gin.”

The djinn blanched, and took several moments to regain the appearance of substance. “No need to disturb the Venerable Kami with small housekeeping details,” it said hurriedly, “though you should understand that it’s thirsty work, sleeping for years on end. And, besides, you should have told me that She was your friend’s Grandmother.”

“The Ring,” said Minsky.

“Yes, yes, let me think . . . I do believe . . .” it faded out.

“Sorry I took so long,” said the djinn. “I was trying to find the manual, but nobody has seen it for aeons. The Ring is no use without it – I mean, it’s very powerful, but we can’t even remember how it turns on. I suppose I could go with you – I’d better not stay here, anyway – I’ll probably be able to figure it out for you.”

“The Ring,” said Minsky.

“My rates are very reasonable,” wheedled the djinn.

“The Ring,” said Minsky. “Big lout don’t want hero get annoyed.”

The djinn sighed a sigh that for a moment or two blew the water back up the waterfall. It handed Minsky the Ring.

“Thanks, big lout,” said Minsky. He slid the Ring up his forearm. It fitted securely around his biceps. “Okay, dragon,” he told Toby, “Now we go home, fix time-twister good.”