‘Goodness,’ said Mary, feeling the tiny pitpatpitpat of Lanmo’s newly alive heart. ‘I thought all this time that you had a beating heart like other snakes.’
‘But I am not like other snakes.’
‘Of course you’re not. You are the only snake I will ever talk to and the only snake who will be my friend and the only snake I will ever love.’
At this, the snake cried a number of tears that were not unhappy. He had not known before that it is possible to cry because of joy. And then he sneezed – pffs – and tried to sound brisk, so that he did not seem overly sentimental. ‘Tomorrow, you must stop going north and take the path that I will show you. You must go to the Land of Perditi where you will be safe. It is a long way, but you are a brave and resourceful explorer so you will reach it. Then you must go to the first city you reach after the mountains and you must take the roads as I direct you when you enter its gates and then you must knock on the house with the blue shutters and the blue door.’
‘And will everything be all right then?’
‘Everything will be as all right as it can be.’
‘And will you visit me there?’ For Mary already knew that Lanmo was going to leave again, because he was giving her so many instructions for the journey. ‘I would like that.’
‘And I would like that, too.’ Lanmo snuggled under Mary’s chin, just as he had when she was a little girl.
‘Good night, my friend.’
‘Good night, my friend.’
‘Sweet dreams.’
‘I have arranged that, yes.’ And Lanmo lifted his head and kissed Mary’s cheek and then was still.
And Mary did dream the whole of the journey that she must make, all night long, and when she woke Lanmo was doing his stretching and waking-dance, right along the branch just above her to make her smile.
‘Oh, you are still here, Lanmo.’
‘Yes. I will ride on your shoulder for the rest of the day and make sure that you have recalled your dream properly and then I must go and be busy in the world with the other humans.’
While Mary washed in the little stream not far away and filled their water bottles, Paul lit a fire – he was good at lighting fires – and heated some water for pine-needle tea. Then he washed, and Shade watched him splashing in the cold water and stubbing his toes on rocks. The cat just licked and licked his fur in the clever way that cats do when it is time for them to wash themselves. And Lanmo swung from the branches of the tree and his golden scales sparkled and he ruffled them so that the breeze made them sing and sound like better times and like a small orchestra, far away, walking to a party, or a wedding.
‘Mary,’ he asked when she sat by the fire with her pine-needle tea, ‘have you married Paul?’
Mary shook her head. ‘We wanted to get married, but then so many bad things happened that it was not possible.’
‘I have the power to marry humans.’
This sounded not very possible to Mary. ‘Are you sure?’
‘Well, the captains of ships and all kinds of other humans may marry humans and humans are very silly, so I don’t see why I can’t marry you to each other much better than any of them. I am magnificent and wonderful and there is only one of me. Therefore . . . I shall marry you.’ He paused and seemed to be making an effort to grin, in as far as this was possible. Certainly his scales bristled with excitement.
Then he wagged his tail to summon Paul and Shade closer, before hanging from a branch above them in a solemn manner. ‘I hereby marry you. Shade?’ The cat looked up at Lanmo’s ruby eyes. ‘You shall be our witness that these two are joined together in the ways that humans prefer.’
‘But we have no ring,’ said Paul, who hadn’t quite expected to get married that day.
‘And I was going to wear a remarkable dress and there was going to be feasting and music and . . .’
Everyone paused for Mary and no one said what she was thinking – that she had wanted her mother and father to be there. Each of them knew it, all the same. Paul – who had lived in an orphanage – might have invited some of the other orphans, but he had no idea where they were now.
Lanmo frowned and licked his tongue in the air with impatience. ‘I cannot help any of that. I can only declare that you are married by all the power that is vested in me and that is a great deal of power.’ He intentionally grew much larger and puffed out his throat like a cobra and glimmered impressively. ‘And dresses . . . One can surely be married wearing nothing at all if one has to.’
Paul winced. ‘It is not quite the usual way,’ he said softly and held Mary’s hand and kissed it. ‘But we could be married and it would be wonderful . . . Oh, but we do need rings.’
‘Very well,’ said the snake. ‘If you insist.’ And he leaned over to Mary until he was almost touching her nose. ‘Mary, you may pick two of my scales – the ones you think are prettiest – and then you must pull them out.’
‘But won’t that hurt you?’
‘It may. I do not know. But they will each make a golden ring for you and for Paul. They will be rings like no other because you are humans like no other.’
And he closed his eyes and waited until Mary had indeed chosen two scales that seemed maybe a little smaller than the rest, so as not to hurt him, and pulled out one of them – which took all her strength. When she held the scale it was finer and thinner than the finest and thinnest silk but it weighed more than a heavy heart. Where the scale once was, a single drop of blood welled up and then rolled and fell, and when it touched Mary’s hand for a moment it shone like a ruby and then it vanished into her skin. ‘Oh, Lanmo. I am so sorry. This must be hurting you a lot.’
‘I am being very brave. You may continue.’
And Mary pulled out another scale and another drop of blood fell and splashed onto Paul’s forehead, and, near where it fell, twenty-one of his hairs changed to a bright golden colour, in amongst the red. This scale was also as thin as thin and very heavy.
Paul and Mary held one scale each.
Then Lanmo opened his eyes and gently kissed Paul on the cheek. At this, the scale Paul was holding turned to liquid and flowed to form a ring on Paul’s finger, a very beautiful ring, with its own tiny scales like a snake.
And next Lanmo kissed Mary. ‘There, I have given you away, although you are not mine, but I do love you and so I have had care of you and now you are married.’ And the scale she held then flowed from where it rested in her palm to form a shining ring on her finger, even more beautiful than Paul’s, with a perfect image of Lanmo looped all around it.
Then the newly-weds and their cat and their friend the snake marched out on the first day of their journey on the snake’s path and – as he had in happier days – Lanmo rode on Mary’s shoulder, flickering his tongue and humming a small sweet tune to himself and occasionally sighing because he was so very comfortable and yet this comfort would soon come to an end.
When the humans had unpacked their gear and lit their fire for the evening, Lanmo told them, ‘Now I have to leave you, but these rings will distract your enemies as you travel, should you meet any. Their eyes will be drawn to the gold and then they will feel sleepy and then they will be confused, and by the time they have recovered themselves you will have run far away.’ He tickled the ears of Shade and the cat lay on its back for a while, remembering what it was like to live in a house and have nothing to do but eat and sleep and play games.