Settling In

King-Thomas left again, promising to return the next day and begin Jinx's education. He cautioned Jinx against experimenting in the workshop, saying that the magic one could work there was dreadfully powerful and wasn't to be played with by neophytes. Jinx figured that 'neophyte' must mean somebody who liked to fool with dangerous things, and insisted he wasn't a neophyte, which seemed to worry the King: observing this reaction, Jinx explained further in simple terms King-Thomas could understand, stating that he detested magic and certainly wasn't about to try playing with it. This reassured the King, and he left, complaining of the incessant demands on him and apologizing for his inability to spend more time helping Jinx to adjust. "I suggest," said King-Thomas, "that you talk with Vernon if you need more help, not I. Sadly, I haven't the time to formally introduce you, I must go back to my farspeak network and announce your knighthood to the nobility, but Vernon is a dear friend of mine and I'm sure you'll get along excellently well. Go through the Gate to the left of the Vision Room, introduce yourself politely, and don't be embarrassed if you find him disturbing at first."

Jinx considered this an odd thing to say, for he'd found that the things which disturbed him most were things King-Thomas was personally responsible for creating. Maybe this Vernon liked doing magic that was even worse. If that was so, Jinx thought, he didn't even want to meet the man.

(Is there anything else around that could bite me?) asked Elanor, rubbing against his leg affectionately.

(I doubt it. Don't go through the Gates, though.)

(You mean the doors? Okay. Can I go into the not-real place?)

(I don't see why not. I'm not sure what good it'll do, since you can't speak.)

(You have to speak? I could try.)

(You do that. I'm going to check out this 'library'.)

Elanor scampered eagerly off toward the Vision Room, and Jinx went into the library to see what he could discover. He stood in the middle of the room, expecting something to happen, then realized it was waiting for him to speak. He considered, then asked "What does 'good' mean?" for he wished to learn what humans meant by the word, and why it was so important to them.

The books all around him shimmered and changed, then settled down and became real again, and a book on the top shelf to his left leaped out and fell into his hands, startling him. He nearly dropped it, but was too curious not to find out what it was, and opened it. It opened to a particular page with a picture of a dragon facing it, which pleased Jinx. It began to speak, in a gentle voice like a gifted storyteller.

"Deep within the innocent heart of every child is one seemingly simple question: what is Good? It is in hopes of answering this puzzling question that I begin my tale, a tale of great Good and great Evil, a tale of purest virtue and foul wickedness: the tale of the dragon Derammovrix and the good knight Sir Harold."

"Once upon a time, there was a small village beneath a grim, gray mountain. The good, simple, decent folk who lived in the village went about in the deepest fear, every day, for all knew the mountain was the home of the worm Derammovrix. One might well ask why, if the villagers knew of the threat, they did not take their village elsewhere, but this story is not about them, so one would ask in vain."

"Deram, for so we shall call him, was a most wicked dragon indeed, such as you, gentle reader, could not imagine in your worst nightmares. He measured thirty spans of rope from his scaly snout to the tip of his terrible tail, a hideous beast of scarlet and black, brooding over his cave full of gold and jewels, and venturing out only to amass more treasure, or to feed."

"And when he fed, he brought great grief and travail to the simple villagers who lived under his mountain, for Deram was a epicure of sorts, and he ate nothing less good than human virgins."

"As you, dear reader, might expect, virginity was not popular in the village for this reason, but one maiden described thusly was Esther the Fair, the daughter of Ron the Wood-cutter, for she was promised to the good knight Harold when she came of age."

"Alas! One day, when Sir Harold came, bearing flowers to Esther's door, he was met by Ron, who wept without shame as he told Harold that Esther was no more. The kindly wood-cutter gestured, speechlessly, to a great hole in the roof of his humble house, indicating that the beast had grabbed her as she slept. Sir Harold begged the kindly wood-cutter for even the slightest hope that Esther yet lived, but Ron shook his head, and explained that he had watched the beast devour her as he flew off: as a token of proof, he produced one of Esther's dainty toes, which had fallen from the maw of the hideous worm."

"Sir Harold turned aside, wracked with despair, and wordlessly handed the flowers to Ron, who accepted them with tears in his eyes: so noble and chivalrous and pure was Sir Harold that the blooms that the good knight had brought his love over the years never faded, but retained their freshness even yet. Then he left without a backward glance, tears blinding him as he strode away, leaving the grieving wood-cutter in his house full of blossoming flowers, which the man, wiping away bitter tears, was trying to plug up the hole in his roof with."

"This sort of thing had happened many times before, indeed often enough that most reasonable people would think it served the simple villagers right for staying, would think 'simple' a singularly fit epithet for the townsfolk. However, it had never happened to Esther before, and Sir Harold was jolted out of his knightly simplicity and confronted with the thought that perhaps Deram wasn't safe to have around. One might wonder why Sir Harold had never noticed any previous victims of the dragon, but this may be explained by the fact that Harold was in love with Esther and no other, and that in his case love was not merely blind but blind, deaf and very, very simple."

"The good knight resolved that he would destroy the worm Derammovrix, or perish in the attempt: he set out for the dragon's lair, bearing nothing but his faithful sword and a canteen of pure spring water, for Sir Harold was great in virtue but poor in purse, and possessed no armor or shield. Yet his righteous fury and betrayal gave him strength as he climbed the mountain, striding onward with a brilliant, cold light in his eyes, caring nothing for his own fate but determined to wreak his righteous vengeance upon the hideous beast."

"Deram stirred uneasily in his dank cave, somehow aware that a great and bold spirit was approaching: he gazed about his lair, with a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach. To be honest, dear reader, this feeling may have been from digesting Esther, who, as it happened, was not as good as either the dragon or Sir Harold had thought she was: yet, surely, part of his digestive upsets were from feeling his doom approach him, step by step!"

"Sir Harold paused outside the entrance to the beast's lair, and offered up a prayer to the gods of purity. Then, unhesitatingly, he strode in, his sword gleaming with a fierce light matched only by his blazing, righteous eyes. Stride after stride he made, and the stink of wyvern grew greater with every step, until at last he emerged into a great cavern, lit with an unearthly glow, and spied the dreadful worm!"

"It lay before him, filling the cavern, and it did not react, for Sir Harold had used a tunnel the beast knew not of, and he was behind it! The good knight stood still, not even daring to breathe, and was put to the sorest trial he'd ever had to face. He wished with all his heart to slay the beast, that instant, but doing so would mean stabbing it in the back! Yet it had killed his Esther, without warning, treacherously thrusting its talons through the roof of her house. Did it deserve any fairer treatment than it had given to his only love?"

"One might well think that Sir Harold, due to his near-total lack of common sense, would be untroubled by such a dilemma, but it must be understood that Morality, Good and Evil have nothing whatsoever to do with making sense anyhow, and that Sir Harold's underpowered brain, though capable of conveniently overlooking the fact that he had no armor and a sword that had most recently been used for carving the roast beef (which proved beyond its capacities), was quite capable of becoming utterly dismayed at his moral dilemma."

"Sir Harold knew well what honor would demand of him. It was said that a truly virtuous man could not fail against evil, that a truly noble knight always issued a challenge before slaughtering his enemy. Yet Harold was tormented by the sight, on the dragon's vast back, of a missing scale, exposing vulnerable flesh! In truth, it must be noted that this missing scale was actually the result of cunning trickery with paint, for the dragon's evil was touched with a wicked humor. However, Sir Harold knew not of this, and his soul warred within him as he stood..."

"And you, dear reader: what do you think happened next? Did Sir Harold treacherously stab the hideous worm in the back? Did he quietly steal away, never letting the beast know he was there? Or did he stride around to stand proud before it, and challenge it to an honorable combat, to the death?"

"Could he have done this, though it be the only honorable solution to his dilemma? Surely only the most chivalrous knight would stand forth boldly, without armor, without the element of surprise, trusting only in his virtue and nobility to protect him! Was Sir Harold indeed that good?"

"The answer should be entirely obvious to any with even the slightest knowledge of Chivalry, for Sir Harold was truly a chivalrous knight, pure and good in every way... In fact, he was delicious."

Jinx was gratified at the explanation. He'd thought it was something like that.

As he considered the implications, he was startled by Elanor's bumping her head against his leg. He dropped the book, which fell up into the place it had come from.

(Oh, Jinx, come look!)

(What, at the giant bird?)

(No, no! I made it find something else, but I'm not sure what it is.)

Jinx left the library and ducked into the Vision Room impatiently, with Elanor tagging along behind, staying in contact with Jinx so they could talk.

(Well, Elanor, I am impressed. You've found a dragon!)

(That's not what I found! I found a human at a desk! Why is it a dragon now?)

(I guess it picked up on my thoughts, then. I just heard a story about a dragon, and this looks just like the one in the story, except it's gold instead of red. It even has its back to us. I wonder if it's really imaginary, or if it was a real story?)

(Oh, Jinx! Are you sure it's safe?)

(Of course.) thought Jinx, hoping it were true. (We're not really there.)

(Are you sure?)

(I'll prove it.) thought Jinx, and he yelled "Hey, Worm!"

They both nearly jumped out of their skins then, as the dragon's head whipped into view and sent a gout of flame directly at them. They scrambled frantically out the door and slammed it behind them, their fur standing on end like it wanted to leave their bodies.

(Of course it's safe, he says! Huh!)

(How was I supposed to know? King-Thomas said that the things couldn't see me!)

(Well, it heard you, tiger. You should go straight back in there and explain to the monster that it can't see you. It must not have been listening when King-Thomas said that.)

(What's this? Your fur is smoldering! Mine too! We stink of brimstone and dragon-breath!)

(Jinx.)

(What?)

(The not-real place doesn't have any smells.)

Jinx froze, then opened the door again, just enough to see through. An enormous eye glowered out at him, and he closed the door hastily, and went to the next door, and opened it to see the human sitting at a desk that Elanor had told him about. Jinx started to shake in earnest. He knew, now, who the dragon was.

He summoned up all his courage and went back to the first door, opening it a bit and facing the huge eye framed in the doorway. "Vernon? Jinx is terribly sorry for his rudeness."

"Ah!" rumbled the dragon. "The creature knows my name! Cat, what excuse have you for such unforgivable behavior?"

"Please don't call Jinx 'cat'. Jinx is people, even if he is extremely stupid sometimes."

The dragon snorted, and Jinx could hear the gout of flame spray against the wall of the dragon's cave. "Serves you right for calling me 'worm', Cat. What on earth led you to do that? You don't appear to be stupid, though you are certainly foolish. However, I have never heard, in all my ten thousand years, of any creature, no matter how foolish, yelling 'Hey Worm' at a live dragon! Cat, you're unique. Are you mad?"

"No, no! Jinx is actually extremely frightened. Jinx isn't angry at you at all, and doesn't blame you one bit for trying to set him on fire."

"Hm! A noble sentiment, sir." said the dragon, greatly amused. "That's not exactly what I meant, Cat. I meant 'mad' in the sense of 'are you a raving lunatic'."

"Jinx would be grateful if you called him by his name, not 'Cat' or 'Sir-Jinx'. King-Thomas gave me that name, but I gave it right back."

"What?" said the dragon, startled.

"I would be grateful if you..."

"Good lord, you're that new knight Tom mentioned! I must admit, I am astonished: I thought old Tom would never knight anybody but drunken noblemen. No wonder he was insufferably smug. So you're Sir Jinx, are you?"

"I'd rather be called by my real name. If you really want to, you can call me 'Sir-Jinx'."

"Heavens, Cat, why should I care what ridiculous title Tom gives you? I shall call you what I please: give me one good reason why I shouldn't call you 'Cat'."

Jinx felt a giddy courage stealing over him. He threw open the door wide, and walked right up to the dragon's vast head: Elanor, shaking horribly, followed, unwilling to leave him facing the creature alone. The dragon gaped at him, astonished at his nerve, and glanced back and forth between Jinx and Elanor, who crouched beside him, glaring at the dragon with her ears flat against her head.

Jinx took a deep breath and told the startled dragon, "You shouldn't call me 'cat' because that isn't my name."

Silence reigned for several terribly long seconds, and then the dragon began chuckling softly.

"Well put, Jinx! I can hardly argue with that! Let's strike a bargain: I won't call you 'Cat' or 'Sir Jinx' if you won't call me 'Worm'. Agreed?"

"Okay."

"Just 'okay'? You aren't going to go down on bended knee and thank me, with tears in your eyes, for sparing your worthless life? I'd thought that was the customary thing to do for people whose lives have been spared by a dragon."

"Jinx isn't exactly people, and also my legs don't work that way."

"Hm. No, I suppose they wouldn't: I can see you'd have difficulty kneeling, Jinx. As for not being people, I'm afraid you've puzzled me there. Why would I be conversing with you if you weren't people?"

"Habit?" wondered Jinx. The dragon chuckled.

"I think we shall be friends: it's not often I meet any sort of being with your fascinating combination of intelligence, courage, and naivete, Jinx. I can think of only one person more courageous than you..."

Vernon paused. "Am I supposed to guess?" asked Jinx politely.

"No," said Vernon, "you were supposed to become offended and haughty. You continue to surprise me, Jinx, in delightful ways: I was almost positive you had approached me driven by pride. As for the person more courageous than you, she's right next to you."

"Elanor?!?" said Jinx, astonished.

"Certainly." said the dragon. "It may interest you to know that she's been threatening me with terrible mayhem if I dare to harm you, and saying that I'll have to get through her first. Perhaps you'd be so kind as to reason with her, as she refuses to believe anything I say to her."

Jinx reached down and touched Elanor, who'd been crouching tensely, ready to spring at any instant.

(Get back, Jinx! I'll hold it off!)

(Elanor, calm down! This is a friend of King-Thomas's! Didn't he tell you?)

(It's been trying to trick me, but I'm not going to listen! Run for it!)

(No, Elanor! Listen! This is a person, like King-Thomas is. His name is Vernon and he wants to be friends with us. Settle down and behave, or I'll freeze you right now!)

Elanor sagged a bit, and some of the fire went out of her eyes.

(It's not dangerous?)

(Indeed I'm not! At least, not to you, dear lady, or to your mate!) thought the dragon. Jinx was startled by the thought, for he hadn't quite registered how Vernon had been trying to talk to her. 'Mate'?

(Elanor.) thought Jinx, earnestly. (He's not dangerous. He even likes you.)

(Why would it... he... like me?)

(Because, dear lady, I have never seen such a moving display of faith and loyalty. Unlike your mate, you were perfectly aware that I could destroy you in a heartbeat, yet you stuck by him nonetheless instead of fleeing me in terror. Permit me to say that your bravery exceeds that of all the humans of Rainmoor, laid end to end.)

(Jinx? He's thinking in gibberish. What is he saying?)

(He thinks you're braver than people, and he's probably right. Vernon? Would humans really be braver if they lay down in a row? That doesn't make sense.)

(Never mind.) thought the dragon, and resumed speaking out loud. "Jinx, Elanor is dreadfully exhausted from her ordeal. The poor thing is liable to topple over at any moment, now that her adrenaline isn't flowing. I suggest that you take her into the other room, sing her to sleep, and return to talk more with me."

"Why would I sing, if I wanted her to fall asleep? Wouldn't that keep her awake?"

"You don't know any soothing lullabies?"

"What are lullabies?" inquired Jinx.

"Never mind. Go, and come back when the poor dear is sleeping peacefully."

Jinx led Elanor into the other room, noticing that she wobbled unsteadily as she walked. She lay down, and Jinx turned to go, but stopped when she emitted a plaintive mew. He took her paw.

(Jinx? Hold me?)

(No, I want to talk with Vernon. Just go to sleep, okay?)

(Please?) she begged, and Jinx hesitated, then gave in.

(Oh, very well. Good thing King-Thomas isn't here to make more wisecracks.)

Jinx lay down himself, and she snuggled into his arms, purring. Quite soon she was asleep. Jinx wondered why the dragon thought singing songs would make her fall asleep faster. He carefully got up, to avoid waking her, and looked down at her for a moment, then shook himself and walked into the dragon's cave again, but Vernon wasn't there. This surprised Jinx, but he sat on his haunches and waited for Vernon to return, wondering what the dragon was up to.

Before long, there was a scraping noise and Vernon appeared, somehow squeezing through a hole in the wall that Jinx would have sworn was too small to let a dragon through.

"Ahhh." said Vernon, sprawling on his belly with his head next to Jinx. "Ask me anything."

"Where did you go?"

"Why, Jinx, even dragons have to eat! I hope you weren't waiting long: I'd stayed out especially so you could sing Elanor to sleep without hurrying. Tell me you didn't dump the poor thing on the floor and rush straight back here! That would be intolerably rude."

"Do you eat human virgins?" asked Jinx curiously.

"Certainly not! I fear you're mistaking me with some of my less intelligent relatives, and being unusually selective on my behalf as well. I manage very well with livestock and such things, thank you, and I believe that I am the first dragon ever to attempt the salad course. You may not believe this, but small shrubs make an excellent salad for a hungry dragon. I pride myself on being an erudite and civilized dragon, and I assure you that the draconian diet does not begin and end with human virgins! I sometimes dig for buttered rolls, or set limed twigs for crabs..."

"What?"

"Don't mind me, I'm just being frivolous and showing off my erudition. Seriously, Jinx, I don't eat human virgins. In the first place, humans are intelligent creatures of a sort and it's impolite to eat something that can talk to you. Secondly, how should I know whether a human is a virgin or not? Do you expect me to carry about a fork and microscope? Or are you thinking that I should fly about, peering in windows and going 'Oops, I'd better not eat that human, it's having too much fun'?"

"What's a 'microscope'?"

"It's a sort of thing made of metal and glass, Jinx. I don't have one: I have no use for one. Tom has one in his workshop, though humans in some of the other planes have far better ones. It allows one to see things much too small to see with the naked eye. Get it?"

"Get what?"

"Picture me flying about with a knife and fork and one of these things. I spot a human female, swoop down, and examine her genitals with the microscope, to see whether I can eat her or not. Oh, and an obstetrical speculum... don't ask!"

Jinx considered this. "I suppose that would be awkward."

"Jinx!" exclaimed the dragon. "You're maddening! Remind me never to try and explain a jest to you again. I explain what a microscope is, and you still don't get it. So I spell it out for you, giving you one of my favorite absurdist images, and you persist in taking it seriously! Honestly, Jinx! I've a good mind to make you search the grassy knolls for wheels of Hansom-cabs!"

"What's a hansom-cab?"

The dragon sighed heavily. "I'm not entirely sure, Jinx: it's from a book I've read. I believe it's a carriage of some sort. Never mind. If it's any consolation, I have exactly the same trouble with Tom, though I've been able to improve him somewhat by sheer stubbornness. He even jokes himself, occasionally, albeit on a dreadfully schoolboy level. Still, one hopes: eventually I'll have you snarking away with the best of them. I must introduce you to Monster, he would be a great help in teaching you."

Jinx paused, and politely changed the subject. "King-Thomas said that you could help me adjust."

"Quite possibly. However, that depends very much on what he wants you to adjust to! I assume he has plans for you: Tom has plans for everybody, whether they like it or not. Has he told you?"

"He wants me to stop one of the other kings, but he doesn't want me to kill him. Why is that?"

"Ah. Might have known: old Tom is always fooling with politics."

"Why do you call him old? He isn't very old."

"Another jest, Jinx: I'm hundreds of times older than him. It amuses me to call him 'old Tom', because he gets all flustered and pompous when I do. It sounds like you'll need a brief primer on Rainmoor for starters, in several areas: Geography, Customs and Politics. That should take a while, actually."

"Why won't he let me kill the other king? I suggested it right away, but he only got upset, and talked a lot of gibberish."

"Ah. Well, perhaps I'll start with Tom. Jinx, Tom expects you to kill the 'nameless pretender'. That's why he hired you. But you must never say so directly: always delicately avoid stating what you're going to do, and he'll be happy. Just out of curiosity, how did you bring it up?"

"I said, 'So you want me to kill King-of-Rainmoor, but not to kill King-Robert?'"

The dragon burst out laughing. It took him a while to control himself, because every time he looked at Jinx's confused expression he started laughing again. Finally, he spoke.

"My dear Jinx, Tom would be quite content if you killed Lord Robert as well, and half the nobility along with him! It's going to be terribly hard to explain this. Tom prides himself on being a paragon of virtue. Unfortunately, he wishes a number of people dead, because of the impossible situation he's in, and that's not something he can admit, even to himself. He's hired you, even knighted you, and is turning you loose in hopes you'll kill off whoever is contending for his throne, but he honestly believes (trust me, I know him very well) that he's not responsible for your actions. Don't misunderstand me, I like Tom: he's a pretty decent being, for a human. But he's far from honest with himself, and you're being caught in the middle. I can tell you some things that you can count on: if you manage to kill off his enemies without getting caught, he'll shower gold on you and give you anything you desire. Even if you try and fail, he'll be fair with you, as long as you're not caught with a bloody sword in somebody's bedroom. However, if you do get caught, I guarantee he'll drop you like a hot potato, and you'll be lucky to escape with your life. Well, actually, to be fair to him, he'd very likely sneak you out somehow, but the point I'm making is that Tom's hired you for a job so dirty that he can't admit it to anybody. Even himself, and that makes the whole situation very complicated. Did you follow any of that?"

"Sort of. King-Thomas does want Jinx to kill people, after all?"

"Certain people. In particular, one very dangerous person. But you mustn't let on that you know it."

"King-Thomas wants Jinx to kill the other kings, but secretly?"

"Exactly. You've got it."

"I told him he wanted an assassin, but he wouldn't listen."

"I'll bet. How I wish I could have seen his face! Do treat him gently, Jinx. If you told him the truth about what he's doing, it would only upset him, and he's a pretty decent human. The ones he wants dead are not paragons, you know. Robert's not essentially a bad sort, but these days he's a wreck, and hopelessly mad, and the Nameless One is utterly treacherous and untrustworthy."

"King-Thomas said that the nameless king was 'evil'. What did he mean by that?"

Vernon considered this. "That's an interesting question. You're the first person I've encountered who doesn't automatically think he knows what morality is all about. Part of Tom's definition of evil has to do with actively opposing him and trying to steal his throne, but that's only a part of it. Tom knows that the Nameless One is trying to kill him, and the thought horrifies him, but what really upsets him is that the Nameless One really lusts after his blood. To Tom, actively wanting to kill another person is a horrible thing, and he's had threats that graphically described how he would be killed. Tom can't handle that: to him, such bloodthirstiness is sub-human. So he went and hired you, and is desperate for you to kill the Nameless One, but even after the threats he's had he can't justify simply putting a price on the man's head. Frankly, I feel for him, because he's in a totally impossible position with his life and his honor at stake, and he's not at all sure which is really more important."

Jinx considered this.

"If it helps any," said the dragon, "I wouldn't concern yourself with protecting his honor. It's quite clear that your role is more to protect his life."

"Why would it protect his life to kill the drunkard king?" asked Jinx, baffled.

"Hm! I like that: I've never heard Robert described quite that way before. Of course Tom's not in danger of his life from Robert. Robert is hardly capable of planning regicide. In fact, he's hardly capable of speech half the time. I'm certain that Tom would like him dead, but only because he's in line for the succession: Tom has no children, so the crown is passed to the highest-ranking noble in Rainmoor upon his death. Tom is horrified at the thought of the crown going to Robert, and I assure you that such a state of affairs would be a disaster. I rather doubt it would last long, though: did you know that Nameless intends to succeed to the monarchy?"

"Jinx would rather see him fail."

"Stepped right in that one. Ouch! No, I mean that Nameless is trying to kill off all the nobles of higher rank. Rainmoor's monarchy is tied up intimately with the magic necessary to run the place, and one couldn't simply take over: one must succeed to the throne in the normal fashion, or Rainmoor would cease to recognize the monarchy. Mind you, the magic doesn't care how you succeed to the throne, and that's what Nameless is counting on. This does narrow the field somewhat."

"Narrow the field how?" asked Jinx, puzzled.

"Well, it makes it quite likely that Nameless is already a Lord of the First Rank. I personally doubt that Nameless could be Second Rank, or we'd be hearing of murders in the Second Rank by now. The Second Rank is not in order of succession, so if a Lord of the Second Rank wanted to succeed, he'd have to kill not only the King and all of the First Rank but then all of the Second Rank as well to be sure of succeeding. All the King need do is grant any noble a Lordship of the First Rank, and the second-rank fellow would be out of luck. The King could do this with his dying breath, and the magic would still hear him and act accordingly. He could even make a knight a First Rank Lord and skip over the entire Second Rank. Even you!"

"Would being a First-Rank-Lord help?"

"Do you really want to be a First Lord? I've already mentioned that the First Lords are being killed by Nameless too."

"What, all of them?"

"Very likely not, if he is in fact one of them. The Lord who was killed was Lord Nicholas, who was next in line to succeed. After him is Robert, then Peter, Gerald and Ivan in order. This tells us certain things: if Gerald is killed, then we can be fairly certain that Ivan is the Nameless One, for only Ivan is impeded by him. If Robert is killed, Nameless could possibly be any of them: in fact, since Robert is not dead yet, Nameless could even be Robert although it seems unlikely. If Tom gets killed and nothing else happens, then Nameless presumably was Robert. If Tom and Robert get killed, then Nameless could be Peter. I hope not, because I quite like Peter: he has a marvelous sense of humor, which isn't common among the nobility. And so on, down the line."

"What happens if all of them get killed?"

"The world comes to an end, and all is night."

Jinx considered this. "Are you joking?"

"Good, Jinx! You're learning! Frankly, if all the First Lords and the King were killed, I dare say the magic would work something out. If all the First Lords were killed and the King lived, then the King would pick new First Lords from the nobility. They would be ranked in the order by which he picked them. In fact, that's our plan."

"What plan?"

"We're not sure which First Lord is the Nameless one. It's easy to suspect Ivan, because he's quite a schemer, but you'd think he'd be more circumspect if he was. Since Nicholas was next in line for the succession and got killed, theoretically it could be any of them, and that's why Tom would be grateful if you killed Robert, even though he's probably not the one."

"It's terribly confusing. Would you explain?"

"I wouldn't bet a tarnished copper piece on Robert's living out the week. He's so obviously the next to go: no matter which First Lord he is, Nameless will want to kill the highest ranking noble. He knows we can logically work out which one he is: for instance, if Gerald is killed next we know Nameless is Ivan. If Tom and Gerald are killed next, then Robert is King and we still know the killer is Ivan. By the same token, if Tom and Peter are killed, then Robert is King and Nameless is Gerald or Ivan. Gerald is extremely boring, but one never knows..."

"You're not helping."

"Oh, it gets worse. If Tom and Gerald are killed, perhaps it's Robert and he wishes everybody to think it was Ivan. Or Peter, I suppose, in which case he'd have to kill Robert and make it appear that Ivan did it. I doubt that's possible, for Peter's quite close to Robert. Of course, if it's Gerald, he'd methodically kill everybody including Ivan, and make Hugo, Charles and James First Rank Lords when he was finished. For that matter, it could possibly be a Second Lord, or even some untitled mage who doesn't understand succession in Rainmoor."

"Can you explain in a way which actually makes it less confusing?""

The dragon sighed, scorching the wall of the cave slightly. "Okay. How's this? Everybody thinks it's Ivan, but it could be anybody."

"Thank you."

"And, no matter who it is, Tom is most at risk because he's being wary and really hunting for Nameless. If Nameless gets him, none of the others will be as difficult. In particular, while Robert lives, Tom has reason to fear: if Nameless can kill Tom while Robert's in line for the throne, then Nameless will have an opportunity to kill anybody else he needs to without worrying about the King's figuring things out. Tom spends much of his time scrying and consulting the signs, and he's trying very hard to uncover Nameless: so hard that he sees evidence of Nameless everywhere he turns. Robert, on the other hand, is hardly aware of Nameless's existence."

"But Robert might be Nameless?"

"You'd better remember to call them all by their titles. I can be rude to whomever I please, as I'm a dragon and friend of the King, but I advise you to behave respectfully. Yes, Lord Robert might be Nameless. And pigs might have wings."

"I never saw one with wings."

"I rest my case." said the dragon.