‘It is what he wants. Are you ready?’
‘I am.’
Together the Queen and the sorcerer left the cave and began the long walk around the pool to the engravings on the cliff-face. Ballistar was waiting there, a large pack beside him. He stood as she approached.
‘Will you forgive me for leaving you?’ he asked, reaching up to take hold of her hand.
‘There is nothing to forgive, Balli. You are my dearest friend.’
‘There may be some magic beyond the Gate that will allow me to come back – and still be tall,’ he said.
‘Yes,’ she said. Drawing her dagger, she made a small cut in the palm of her hand, then gripped his pudgy fingers. Reaching into the pouch that hung from her neck, she drew out a small bone, pressing this against the trickling wound. Passing it to Ballistar, she smiled. ‘You may need a friend on the road,’ she told him, ‘and I think Ironhand would welcome a second tilt at the fat tavern woman.’
Holding tightly to the bone he looked up at her, tears spilling to his cheeks.
‘I will always love you,” he said.
‘And I you. Go now, Balli. And know joy.’
The Gateway shimmered and the dwarf hoisted his pack and stepped through.