As it happened, I didn’t have to grab her at all. When I put her on the sundial, Rades couldn’t have even walked on her own. After five—going on six—turns on it, she was an entirely different dog. She dropped to her haunches, flexed newly powerful back legs, and leaped into my outstretched arms. It was like being hit with a flying bag of concrete. I fell over on my back with Radar over me, forepaws planted wide on either side of my shoulders, wagging her tail like crazy and licking my face.
“Stop it!” I whispered, but the command didn’t have much force because I was laughing. She went on licking.
At last I sat up and took a good look at her. She had been down to sixty pounds, maybe less. Now she had to go eighty or ninety. The wheezing and coughing were gone. The rheum drying on her snout was also gone, as if it had never been there. The white had disappeared both from her snout and the black saddle of fur on her back. Her tail, which had been a tattered flag, was bushy and full as it swished back and forth. Best of all—the surest indicator of the change the sundial had wrought—were her eyes. They were no longer filmy and dazed, as if she didn’t know exactly what was going on within her or in the outside world around her.
“Look at you,” I whispered. I had to wipe my eyes. “Just look at you.”
4
I hugged her, then stood up. The thought of finding the gold pellets never crossed my mind. I’d tempted fate enough for one day. More than enough.
There was no way this new and improved version of Radar would fit in the basket on the back of the three-wheeler. One look was enough to convince me of that. Nor did I have her leash. That was back at Claudia’s house, in Dora’s cart. I think part of me must have believed I’d never need such a thing again.
I bent, put my hands on the sides of her face, and looked into her dark brown eyes. “Stay with me. And be quiet. Hush, Rades.”
We went back the way we came, me pedaling, Radar padding along beside me. I made it a point not to look in the pool. As we neared the stone passageway, the rain began again. Halfway along the passage, I stopped and dismounted the trike. I told Radar to sit and stay. Moving slowly, keeping my back to the passageway’s moss-coated side, I slid to the end. Radar watched but didn’t move—good dog. I stopped when I could see the golden arm of that grotesquely over-decorated throne. I took another step, craned my neck, and saw it was empty. Rain pattered down on the striped canopy.
Where was Hana? Which side of the two-part house? And what was she doing?
Questions for which I had no answer. She might still be eating her midday meal of stuff that smelled like pork but probably wasn’t, or she might have already gone back to her living quarters for her afternoon nap. I didn’t think we’d been gone long enough for me to assume she’d finished eating, but that was only a guess. The last little while—first the mermaid, then the sundial—had been intense.
From where I stood, I could see the dry fountain dead ahead. It would give us good cover, but only if we were unobserved until we got there. Just fifty yards, but when I imagined the consequences of being caught out in the open, it seemed a lot further. I listened for Hana’s bellowing voice, louder even than Claudia’s, and didn’t hear it. A few verses of the prong-de-dong song would have come in handy for pinpointing her location, but here’s something I learned in the haunted city of Lilimar: giants never sing when you want them to.
Nevertheless, a choice had to be made, and mine was to try for the fountain. I went back to Radar and was about to mount up on the trike when there was a loud slam to the left of the passageway’s end. Radar started and turned that way, a low snarl beginning deep in her chest. I grabbed her before it could morph into a volley of barks and bent down. “Quiet, Radar, hush.”
I heard Hana muttering—something I couldn’t make out—and there was another of those great ripping farts. This one didn’t make me feel like laughing, because she was walking slowly across the entrance to the passageway. If she looked to her right, Radar and I could stand against the wall and maybe in the dimness go unobserved, but even if Hana were nearsighted, Claudia’s three-wheeler was too big to miss.
I drew Mr. Bowditch’s revolver and held it by my side. If she turned our way, I was going to shoot her, and I knew exactly what I was going to aim for: that red-rimmed crack running down the center of her forehead. I’d never practiced with Mr. Bowditch’s gun （or any gun）， but my eyes were good. I might miss the first time, but I’d have four more chances even if I did. As for the noise? I thought of those bones scattered around the throne and thought, fuck the noise.