172. The Aftermath

 

172. The Aftermath

Alpin sent word that Pepperpot was just outside the palace. He was in a state of shock, clutching his beloved sculpture of Penia. To this day, I do not know if he was trying to protect her, but I think he probably was. Yes, though he could not understand what was happening, he was trying to protect Poverty to the bitter end. Perhaps that was why he fought against us like a fiend when Uncle Gentlerain and I tried to get him to climb up into the chariot we were riding on and it was finally Polyantha, the dragoness who pulled our chariot, that got fed up with the struggle and scooped him up and carried him off in her claws. Just in time too, for the Sherbananians were beating the statue with sticks and knocked it down as soon as we rushed off with Petey. His screams as he saw her fall under the multitude that climbed on her were horrendous. One of the ambulance birds had to fly by and my sister Thistle, who was acting as a nurse, leapt heroically onto our dragoness and jabbed Pepperpot in the arm with an injection loaded with an effective tranquilizer.

“Sic semper tyrannis!” chirped the birds around us, thinking Thistle had ended him. But, of course, that was not the case. The ambulance bird carried him off to safety, sound asleep.

“Let us hope his nightmare is over,” sighed my uncle."May he have sweeter dreams. We´ll see what we can do for him when he wakes tomorrow." 

“Now where is Viruta?” I blew into the horn through which I communicated with all-seeing Apple Alpin.

“Probably on her way to Venezuela, like Mathilda,” said Alpin. “She took all the money she could and left Sherbanania exactly a quarter of an hour before the time you gave her was up. That’s why she was watching the clocks. Yes, she took the money with her. Well, all she could.”     

Uncle Gentlerain refused to let me go after her. He said she was used to fleeing and could take perfect care of herself. We were not going anywhere until we had ended the mess  there was below us.

“Forget that crook  for the timebeing and see what you can do to calm the rioters.”

“Where is Jane?” I asked.

We had forced her to stay in the communications area with those of  her children that accompanied her.

“We´ll get her on the megahorns,” I said. “She might be able to control her people.”

And that is how Jane got to be the first and for life president of Sherbananawood.

Aside from the battered statue of Penia, there was no money and there were no bananas or shacks or palace or any of anything because the rioters had torched the whole place. But there was hope.

Or so I thought. For then Uncle Gentlerain spoke.

“Happily everaftering is not something most humans know how to do. Or are allowed to do by others. Don’t tell her anything, because it won’t happen just yet. But when she manages to get things going and this place begins to look as if it will prosper, someone from a neighboring country will try to foil her. Or a local boy may want to replace her. One of her many sons, most likely.”

“No!” I cried.

Uncle Gentlerain nodded sadly.

“The question is, will you want to return and save her again? How many times will you be wanting to do this? How many can you do it without becoming human yourself? And therefore dying in the attempt?”

“No,” I said.

“This time, you were lucky. Your friends rallied. But the next time you need help, you might not find it. You needn’t decide now. You’ll have some years to think about this. But tell your apple friend not to make any more promises.”