Chapter the 14th
There were unicorns all over the park with two, three, or four children riding on each one. Off in a corner, a couple of mastodons watched the proceedings as if they were an old couple enjoying the fun of the children. Mothers and fathers ran after their lost children to embrace them. The choir master in his tuxedo was energetically welcoming his lost boys with a special welcome for Nigel and Edmund. The young man who played the harp was playing a happier, livelier tune than he did when Michael came to meet the dragon. Myra sat in state in the middle of the park, shining in full glory as she played with her full complement of dragonlets. Amarilla and Samantha waved to Michael from their unicorn even while Uncle Martin and Aunt Edith smothered them with embraces. The king, still wearing his robes and his crown, went from child to child to congratulate them loudly and effusively for surviving their ordeal as if he were personally responsible for their good fortune. The Crown Prince trailed his father and maintained such a solemn deportment that one would never have suspected there was anything to celebrate.
“This is the best place I’ve ever been to,” said Scott.
“I know,” said Michael.
But a thought stuck in his throat. He looked around once and then a second time without finding the one he was looking for.
"What's wrong?" asked Scott.
"Where's Roger?" Michael asked.
The merrymaking continued unabated. Nobody seemed to have heard him. Michael looked again at Aunt Edith and Uncle Martin and noticed that they, too, were searching the crowd for one more person.
“WHERE IS ROGER?” Michael yelled at the top of his lungs.
The outcry cut off the noise like a hatchet.
“We haven’t seen him,” said Aunt Edith, looking very pale.
“Surely Roger’s here some place,” said Uncle Martin, “He’s always been some place before.”
“Knowing Roger as I do,” said Amarilla, “I assume he found a way to be left behind so that you could be planted on the tree.”
“He did,” said Michael.
“If I knew he’d do that, you would never have gotten me out ahead of him,” said Edmund.
Michael charged Myra with every ounce of his righteous indignation.
"IT'S NOT FAIR!" Michael cried out.
Myra looked at Michael with her bright eyes.
"What's not fair?" asked the golden dragon.
"Roger shouldn't have been left behind!" Michael yelled.
Myra stared at Michael as if she thought she was the most benevolent dragon who had ever lived.
"Now that could be a problem," said Myra.
"What do you mean, could?"
"I mean it could be a problem, but it doesn't have to be,” Myra replied. “If you want Roger back, all you have to do is come and get him."
"Why don't we just cut you up instead?" Michael retorted.
There was a gasp of horror from the crowd. Michael's face turned red.
"It would not be proper etiquette," Myra answered with dignity.
"Since when is it proper etiquette to swallow children?" Michael returned.
The king, trailing his long robe behind him, ran up to Michael.
"You don't understand," said the king. "We got the children back, thanks to you, and all the citizens of Carelin are most grateful for what you have done. Isn't that proper etiquette?"
"Not if we don't get Roger back it isn't."
"But you don't understand," the king blustered, "Roger is a very nice boy and all that, but if you step back and look at the whole tapestry of events from centuries past to centuries to come, you won't see much difference between Roger coming back out of Myra and Roger not coming back out of her."
“Roger was planning on writing a violin part to the lost Tallis mass when he got out,” said Edmund.
“And I’m sure he’ll write a dozen more violin concertos if he gets a chance,” added Nigel.
“Maybe he’ll even write a motet or two for the choir,” Mr. Spitzelbergen chimed in.
“Roger’s too nice not to have him back,” said a girl.
“I would miss him more than I can say if he does not return,” said Amarilla quietly.
Samantha, Uncle Martin and Aunt Edith had no need to say anything to express how they felt.
“Well I’m sure that a little more violin music is all to the good,” said the king, “but surely Carelin can run smoothly enough with a few less violin concertos.”
"You just don't appreciate good violin concertos," Nigel charged.
“Every violin concerto that Roger has not yet written is irreplaceable,” said the harpist.
"HOW DARE YOU QUESTION MY DISCERNMENT OF VIOLIN CONCERTOS!" thundered the king.
Michael looked around at the unicorns, the dwarves, and the goats wearing police uniforms and wondered how a place as wondrous as Carelin could have such a rotten king.
"I'll get Roger myself!" Nigel cried.
Mr. Spitzelbergen grabbed Nigel to restrain him.
"Nigel, I know you are always the first to volunteer for everything, even for alto solos, but this is ridiculous."
"At least I don't have any parents to miss me," said Nigel.
"And you don't think I will miss you if I lose you a second time?" said the choirmaster.
“And so would I!” Edmund cried. “You’re my best friend!”
Nigel was obviously touched, and he almost broke down, but he held himself together. "I'm sorry, Mr. Spitzelbergen."
“I’ll go," said Scott. "Michael's done enough."
"No, I haven',t" Michael replied. “Besides, you don’t even know Roger.”
“So? If he’s in trouble it’s worth while going in to get him.”
“He’s worth a lot of trouble to get him back, all right,” said Michael, hardly believing he had come to care about another person that much.
"Remember," said the girl who had not known the word before, "dragons are always beneficent."
Michael looked hard at Myra.
"Is that true?"
"You can try me one more time if you want to find out," Myra replied.
"And if you're not?"
"Then you and Roger are lost."
In a fit of anger, Michael ran straight into Myra's mouth.
"Roger! Roger!" Michael’s voice echoed in the cavern of the dragon’s mouth.
"Michael!" cried Roger from down below.
Once inside, Michael lost his footing over the dragon’s rough tongue and fell to his knees.
"Here I am!" cried Michael.
"I need a hand!"
Michael put an arm around a tooth and reached down the dragon's throat until Roger grabbed it. Then Michael began to pull him up.
"There you are!" cried Roger.
"There you are!" cried Michael.
"Which way?" asked Roger.
"This way," said Michael, though he shuddered at the sight of Myra’s fangs framing the blue sky.
Michael took Roger by the arm and led him back the way he had come, but he could not keep his balance. Suddenly the opening disappeared. Michael fell, and Roger with him. They never did land anywhere, but after a time, they stopped falling.
"We'll never get out," Michael complained. “I should have known Myra would screw us in the end. I deserve it, but you sure don’t.”
“Maybe Myra knows a better way for us to get back out then the one we tried,” said Roger, but Michael wasn’t sure he was so confident about that. “If this takes very long, I’ll wish I had my violin all over again.”
Michael felt about in the dark in search of something tangible. He did not find anything that felt like a dragon’s stomach, but his fingers closed over a block. Michael picked it up and searched for more. Each block gave out a pale light as Michael touched it so that he could see what he was doing with it. What Michael found himself doing was putting the blocks into the shape of a square violin.
“Here,” he said to Roger when he finished it. “I never thought I’d feel sorry for a kid who didn’t have a violin.”
“You’re learning,” said Roger.
“Learning what?”
“Just learning. Thanks a lot.”
When Roger drew the bow, also made of blocks, over the violin, the scraping sound had no resemblance to any music Michael had ever heard.
“Sorry,” said Michael.
But by this time, Roger laughing.
“Maybe Myra will let us out in self-defense,” said Roger
When he had recovered enough to start playing again, Roger seemed to coax the ghost of notes out of the makeshift instrument. Joining Roger was the sound of a harp, a harmonica and then a tenor singing Danny Boy. Several boys voices joined in and then many more people until it sounded as if everybody gathered in the park had to be singing “Danny Boy.”
“They’re all helping us, aren’t they?” said Michael.
“Everybody helps everybody here,” said Roger.
“Except the king,” added Michael.
“Maybe he’ll learn some day,” said Roger with a sigh.
The darkness moved suddenly, causing both boys to tumble into each other. Then a Brilliant golden light appeared out of the darkness and almost blinded Michael.
"Get on! Both of you!"
It was Scott's voice. Michael gradually took in the sight of a dragonlet with Scott riding it. The dragonlet's eyes were such a mirror image of his own, that Michael knew which one of Myra’s litter it had to be.
“You go first, this time,” said Michael to Roger.
Roger didn’t as Michael pushed him over to the dragonlet where Scott could pull him up.
“Come back for me if you can,” said Michael when the dragonlet appeared to be weighed down pretty heavily.
The dragonlet squeaked insistently, making a good imitation of Roger’s playing on the violin made out of blocks.
“He says he’s strong enough to fly all of us far enough to get us out of here,” said Roger.
“Come on!” Scott prompted him, “we’re tired of missing somebody or other.”
Doubtfully, Michael climbed on behind Roger.
“Better hang on tight,” Roger advised him.
Michael was glad he had taken Roger’s advice when light exploded in his eyes and the park spun around below him where cries of jubilation rang out everywhere. The choirboys were singing and the young man in green was playing his harp. Uncle Martin, Aunt Edith, Amarilla and Samantha all waved to them excitedly. Dragons, singing at the top of their lungs, were flying all over the city with lumber and cinder blocks in their claws to rebuild the city of Carelin. Several store fronts were already snapping into place. A group of dragons slurped up the water that had flooded Main Street when the fountain was destroyed while another group put the fountain back together. Uniformed goats were busy directing traffic to keep some order in the celebration.
“That’s our roof that dragon’s got,” said Roger as he pointed to a young dragon who was carrying a rooftop, dormer window and all in its claws.
“Good thing if your house got wrecked, too,” said Michael.
The dragonlet flew over to Perifell Lane so that his passengers could watch a crew of dragons put Roger’s house back together as if they were pieces of a jig saw puzzles. As the dragonlet flew back towards the park, his flight began to falter.
“Roger! Michael! Scott!” an alarmed Aunt Edith yelled, “get down from that dragon before you fall!”
At the same time, Myra screeched at the dragonlet in what sounded like her equivalent of Aunt Edith’s outcry. Mr. Schnitzelbergen, seeing what was happening, snapped out a command to all the boys who would listen to him.
“Hang on tight!” Roger yelled.
The dragonlet careened towards the ground just as a cluster of boys reached the spot. Michael never quite knew how it happened, but somehow, the boys eased the dragonlet’s landing enough that they received no more than a jolt when they hit the ground. Aunt Edith and Uncle Martin were instantly all over Roger. Myra yanked the dragonlet away to give him a talking-to about knowing his own strength when passengers were at stake.
“I don’t know how I can thank you enough for what you’ve done,” said the king who had instantly made Michael’s arm sore from the way he pumped it.
“Neither do I,” Michael mumbled.
“Just give me your address before you go and I’ll send you a medal as soon as I can have it made,” the king promised.
“That will be peachy,” said Michael as he noticed that Pickleface was glowering at him from behind his father’s back.
“Ah! Peach!” cried the king. “A peach medal! That will be just the thing!”
“Excuse me,” Amarilla interjected, deftly stepping in between Michael and the king.
“My parents and siblings and Yours Truly request the presence of Michael Bullinger and Scott Simpson at our newly reconstructed residence right this minute.”
“Accepted,” Michael replied, glad to have an excuse for getting away from the king.
Amarilla led Scott and Michael over to the rest of the family. Roger was showing off his violin made of blocks and chatting excitedly.
“Now you can play your real violin,” Michael remarked.
“Yea, I suppose so,” said Roger, “and I suppose I will. But learning to play this one will be a challenge. Besides, I want a souvenir of my time inside the dragon. That doesn’t happen to everybody, you know.”
“Thank goodness!” Aunt Edith exclaimed with a shudder.
“We’ll pass a plate of sandwiches when we get to the house,” Amarilla promised.
“Can you pass the bowl of pudding for dessert?” asked Roger.
“I suppose you deserve a reward of some sort after what you’ve been through,” said Uncle Martin.