Diana Wynne Jones’s Fantastical Journeys Collection. Diana Wynne Jones

magic of Gallis again, I thought.

      “No need to hurry,” Rees said amiably. “Anyone care for some more lunch?” He held up the cloth bag he was carrying.

      “Yes, please,” Ogo said. He was always hungry.

      Plug-Ugly was always hungry too. He advanced on Rees, tail swinging, and stood on his hind legs against Rees’s knees with one large paw stretched towards the cloth bag. Rees laughed.

      As Plug-Ugly’s paw touched the bag, there was the tiniest hissing. I saw two bright red eyes staring from the cuff of Rees’s sleeve.

      “Oh, have you got a pet rat?” I said. My cousin Donal had a rat when he was younger, which he used to let climb about inside his clothing. And the truth was, I was prepared to be interested in anything to keep my mind off Ivar and Riannan.

      Rees laughed again. “No, not a rat,” he said. He shook his arm a little and a tiny red lizard ran out, long and thin, and raced up his sleeve to his shoulder, where it coiled around and glared down at Plug-Ugly.

      “Oh!” I said.

      “Her name is Blodred,” Rees said. “She’s a dragon-lizard.”

      “They’re very common here in Gallis,” Riannan said. “A lot of people make pets of them. Rees has had Blodred since he was five years old. Don’t you have them in Skarr?”

      “No,” we all said.

      Finn added, “Nor in Bernica, but I’ve heard of them. I think it may be too cold for them north of Gallis.”

      Ogo leant above me to look closely at the lizard. It really could have been a tiny dragon. It had a sort of frill that looked like wings on its faintly pulsing red sides. “Does she fly?” he asked.

      “No, not really,” said Rees. “Those are not proper wings – just skin she can spread a bit and glide on. And,” he added proudly, “they come in all colours, but red is the very rarest.”

      We all sat down again and had more lunch. Ivar and Riannan sat close together and talked to each other in little broken sentences. As far as I could tell, she was asking about Ivar’s life on Skarr and he was trying to compliment her on her singing. In between, they stared at one another as if they were seeing the most marvellous thing in the world. And they both blushed a lot.

      All in all, I was quite glad to concentrate on making Aunt Beck eat. Then I was pleased that Plug-Ugly was behaving rather badly and trying to take crab away from people. I don’t think that there had been any crab in his life before this and he discovered he had a passion for it. I had to shout at him – not that it made much difference. After that, I kept my attention on Blodred, who was eating tiny shreds of crab she held in her delicate red fingers. I even watched Green Greet pecking away at an apple turnover.

      It was a relief to me when Rees said we had better get moving.

      “Aileen, you drive,” Ivar said.

      So I climbed into the cart and took the reins, while Rees went ahead with Ogo and Finn to show the way. We went through uplands of perfect beauty, where streams poured musically over rockfalls covered with wild flowers, while blue peaks towered behind; and all I could think of was Ivar and Riannan walking behind, talking in murmurs and laughing. There were gaps in the peaks we went through, where I could see the sea, blue as Riannan’s eyes, or lakes in valleys or, on one occasion, a huge golden view of Gallis stretching away southward, full of fields and distant orchards. Moe did not like this. She shook her ears and made it plain she was not used to mountains. But all I could think of was Ivar and Riannan walking behind.

      We stayed that night at a way station. It was a sort of barn with wooden bunks and a hearth in it. There was another hearth outside where you could cook any food you had brought with you and a well for water. We sat outside and ate crab again. Gallis is so beautifully warm that we could have slept outside if we’d wanted to.

      There are no inns in Gallis, Rees told us. There are wine shops and drinking places down on the plains, all carefully regulated by the priests. You can only drink within certain hours, he said. “But it’s much more relaxed than it used to be, now Gronn is Holy High Priest,” he told us. “Gronn’s long talks with Gareth made quite a difference to his outlook.” Then he told us other customs of Gallis which I now forget. I was trying not to notice Ivar attending only to Riannan. Aunt Beck simply sat. Finn yawned. Ogo was the only one who really listened to Rees.

      We went on next morning through more lovely mountain scenery. The way was steadily uphill and Moe was not happy. Ogo and I had to take hold of her bridle on either side and positively haul her along. Rees and Finn drew further and further ahead. Ivar and Riannan, though loitering, were well in front too.

      “Oh, come on!” I told Moe crossly.

      “I’m doing the best I can,” Aunt Beck said from the cart.

      “I didn’t mean you!” I snapped. Then I found I was crying. Big tears ran down my face and I gulped as if I were choking.

      Ogo said, “Don’t be unhappy, Aileen.”

      “I can’t help it!” I snarled. “Here’s my aunt gone back to childhood and left me to manage everything, and we keep travelling and journeying, and I haven’t the least idea how we’ll get to Logra, and I don’t think I’ll find my father! Ever!”

      “Oh, we’ll get there,” Ogo said. “Somehow. After all, we have the Beast of Skarr on our side and the Great Bird of Bernica. And now we even have a Dragon of Gallis too, though I admit she’s a bit tiny.”

      I stared at Plug-Ugly plodding ahead of me up the track, long legs, small head, ugly markings and all. Not to speak of smelling of crab. I shoved my sleeve across my wet eyes and stared again. “You don’t mean—”

      “Yes, I do,” Ogo said. “You can’t deny he’s fairly magical. And Green Greet talks sense, not like other parrots. Green Greet knows what he’s saying.”

      “I suppose you’re right,” I said, beginning to feel rather awed. “We might have at least two of the Guardians with us then.”

      “So we’ll get to Logra and find your father,” Ogo said, “if he’s still to be found. And I had a feeling you were quite enjoying being in charge—”

      “Not when I couldn’t dance at the fair,” I said.

      “But most of the time,” Ogo said. “Come on. Admit it. And you shouldn’t make yourself miserable over Ivar, you know. He’s not worth it.”

      I hadn’t realised my feelings had been that obvious. “I’ll have you know, Ogo of Logra,” I said, “that I chose Ivar long ago to be my husband!”

      “I know,” Ogo said. “But you were small then and he seemed quite grown-up. I’ve been hoping for years you’d see your mistake.”

      “Mistake!” I almost shrieked.

      “Gran always says you make mistakes,” Aunt Beck said from the cart.

      “Be quiet, Beck,” Ogo said. “Yes, a mistake. You have brains, Aileen. Ivar’s really quite stupid. You’d be bored stiff if you had to be with him all the time. I know I am. He seems to think that being a prince makes him perfect.”

      I thought about this. I suppose I had never credited Ivar with brains. Donal was the one with brains, and I had always known this was the reason Mevenne preferred Donal to Ivar. But she gave Ivar anything he wanted, all the time. All the children at the castle knew there was no point having a disagreement with Ivar. He would go to his mother and she would punish the person who disagreed with him. Thinking about it, I saw that this was Mevenne’s way of making it up to Ivar for the fact that she was not very fond of him.

      My earliest memories of Ivar were of being faintly sorry for him. Mevenne spoilt him rotten, but she never hugged him as she hugged his brother. Aunt Beck, who was not a hugging kind of person, hugged me whenever