Jinx’s eyes snapped open suddenly, and he lay there in the dark, certain that something alarming was happening, yet without a clue to what it might be. He lay very still, breathing shallowly to suppress any unnecessary sound, straining his night-vision to see what had alerted him. Surely it couldn’t be wild animals? This was no place for any sort of animal. Those Rainmoor wizards had driven them all away, and there wasn’t an animal within miles of their stinking castle.

Except him, of course, a tiger sort of animal.

No, that wasn’t true. It couldn’t be true. He was, after all, half human, though he did not look it, and from his wizard father he’d gotten hands that could hold a sword, and a mind that was as good as a normal human’s (not counting those damned wizards). He was people, even if his father didn’t think so. But then there was the other half, the tigress that was his mother and had given him the form of his body and the savagery and wariness that kept him alive, not to mention the night-vision that he was straining to its limits, trying to see what had jolted him out an uneasy sleep. Humans couldn’t do that, and it was always a problem because he did look like a tiger. Did that make him an animal? His mind ached as it ran over the old dichotomy, and it was then that he noticed the magic eye.

It didn’t look like an eye, it looked like a tiny firefly, but Jinx recognized it and unthinkingly let out a hiss of frustration and anger. He caught himself doing it, and cut it short with his usual sense of shame, and as he held his breath, staring fixedly at it, the Eye wavered and then flew off in the direction of Rainmoor at tremendous speed.

Jinx’s tail lashed nervously as he considered his situation. It had seen him, and it was heading back to its master to report. That much was obvious- it was exactly what a wizard spy thing could be expected to do. Jinx considered idly that his racing thoughts must have identified him as a person, for he knew what these Eyes were- he knew this Eye would have magically compelled any animal to flee. That was its job, and he’d seen the Eyes do it, seen woodland animals running until they collapsed in frothing exhaustion. It wasn’t much consolation that it hadn’t compelled him, because it was obviously fetching its master, doubtless some powerful wizard, and Jinx had no intention of being around when the wizard finally arrived.

Jinx would never know how sorely confused the Eye had been over him. It sensed thoughts to distinguish humans from animals, and it had been unable to decide what Jinx was because his thoughts were fairly intelligent but unmistakably tigerish. It had finally decided in favor of Jinx’s being human merely because his thoughts had become more complex and detailed than any animal’s could be, but the thoughts had never lost their fierce, tigerish flavor, the brittle wariness of a cornered jungle cat. The Eye’s report was destined to give a certain magician a terrible headache from trying to figure out what his spy had spied…

Though Jinx expected the worst from the Eye’s departure, he was nevertheless relieved to see the last of it. He watched it go without making a sound, and when it was lost to sight, he set off at a right angle to it, wary of following it too directly for fear of encountering it again. The fur on the back of his neck still bristled slightly from the experience, and he wondered again how he could have been so stupid as to agree to meet anybody at Rainmoor, even if they did live there and even if they were willing to pay him just to come there. The whole thing was ugly and strange- he’d been minding his own business passing through a town when this rich-looking man accosted him for no good reason at all.

Jinx had developed a finely tuned sense of town and city dangers by sheer necessity, and he’d recognized at once that the man was not an immediate threat. He also spotted that the man was edgy and nervous, but there were any number of possible explanations for that, not least Jinx himself. It seemed that six-foot tigers, even when walking on two legs like humans, made the real people nervous. The sword Jinx carried probably didn’t help, either.

Jinx was used to thinking of humans as baffling creatures that rarely made sense, and for that reason he hadn’t tried to make sense of it when the strange, rich-looking man emerged from the shadows and said “Jinx, I will pay you fifty gold pieces if you will come to me in Rainmoor the next full moon. Can you do that, or would sneaking in be too difficult for you?”

Jinx liked the idea of being paid fifty gold just for meeting the man in the King’s castle. He had been scornful, explaining that he could sneak in anywhere if he wanted to and Rainmoor was no different. Then, after he’d agreed, he’d learned more about Rainmoor and become appalled. The place was nothing but a nest of wizards! The man had even given him a magic rock, which he claimed Jinx would need: Jinx didn’t tell him that he’d rather give up the fifty gold than use the cursed thing. But in the end it wasn’t the money that decided him: he’d said that he could get into Rainmoor easily, and he was damned if he was going to have some wizard laughing at him for giving up. What he was going to do once he got there was a mystery, but that would take care of itself, probably. Besides, there was always the fifty gold pieces to consider. Gold was useful stuff- when he had it, the humans treated Jinx like people, almost.

Before long, Jinx was climbing to the top of a small mountain, the mountain Rainmoor. He figured the castle had to be on the other side of the mountain: it certainly wasn’t on this side. The mountain itself seemed to fit the description he’d heard. It was fairly steep and went up to a point, and bore little resemblance to the hills and valleys around it. Just for the hell of it, Jinx climbed straight up to the point, which was amazingly even and conical, and peered over the top at the castle…

No. There was no castle on the other side. From his lofty vantage point, Jinx could see that there was no castle in any direction. Did he have the wrong mountain? Jinx considered that perhaps the castle was invisible. That would be just like wizards, to do a thing like that. It also explained the stone he’d been given, a guiding stone that would glow when Jinx, holding it, pointed to the man.

Jinx had buried the stone in his pack and tried to pretend it wasn’t there: he’d wanted to throw it away, and had argued about it, lashing his tail agitatedly, but the rich man had insisted he keep it, claiming that Jinx would not be able to locate him without a guiding cantrip, which the stone carried. Now Jinx reluctantly dug it out, holding it gingerly in his furry hand. He began to point back the way he came, and then stopped in haste, realizing the thing was going to be making magic and he’d be touching it. Jinx shuddered, and got a scrap of cloth out of his pack, wrapping it loosely around the stone. He was barely willing to use the thing in the first place: touching it while it did magic was out of the question.

Jinx pointed off to the west, feeling slightly foolish. Nothing happened, so he began to revolve slowly, his arm sweeping gradually over the hills and valleys. Nothing. Jinx considered that maybe he was dealing with a flying invisible castle, and began pointing at the sky, with still no reaction. Could the thing be dodging him? Or did he have to touch the cursed rock to get it to work? He gingerly touched the stone with the tip of one finger, the fur standing up on the scruff of his neck as he did so. Nothing happened, but he’d thought something might. While delicately touching the stone, he once more scanned the horizon, pointing in every direction, and then scanned the sky for good measure. Nothing at all. Jinx’s hand dropped to his side in disgust, and it was then that the stone flared into painful brightness.

Jinx dropped it like it had burned him, though it hadn’t, and it shut off again, landing in the dirt and rolling a few feet. He hardly noticed, for he was starting to tremble as the horrible truth dawned on him. There was no castle to find. Getting into Rainmoor might indeed be difficult, but finding it was not. He was standing on it.

Then he laughed, perhaps a little hysterically, and picked the guiding rock up again. He felt giddy and strange, as if he was dreaming the whole thing, and could not fear the magic stone he held, even as it shone brightly in his hand. How frightening could a magic rock be, compared to Rainmoor itself? He was standing right on top of an entire mountain (granted, a small one) filled with magic and wizards, and he was afraid of a glowing pebble!

Still in the giddy, fey state of danger too great to be taken seriously, he playfully experimented with the glowing rock, pointing it this way and that. It did seem to glow more brightly when pointed at one side of the mountain, but not much. Perhaps he was to go to a particular spot. Then what? Dig, maybe. If only he’d brought a shovel! Jinx giggled nervously at the twisted notion of attacking a stronghold of powerful wizards with a shovel, and began wandering over the face of the mountain, following the glow of the magic rock.

By the time he’d found the spot he was looking for, his fey mood had gone completely, and he’d gone back to holding the rock with a scrap of cloth. He was about halfway down the mountain where trees and underbrush began to encroach upon the smooth conical expanse of the mountain, and it was getting on toward evening: the top of Rainmoor still glowed with the fading light of dusk, but Jinx was in shadow and preferred it that way. He wondered if perhaps his mad amusement had been brought on by standing on the tip of Rainmoor, but thought it was probably a result of being unable to flee. As he’d gotten closer to the surrounding woods, his fear had lessened to the point that he was able to feel it again, something which he could not feel properly thankful for.

He searched hectically among the underbrush, looking for some sort of door, his edgy nerves shown in the way he swiped viciously at the bushes, lashing out as if his hands were paws. He’d cut the lightly furred palm of his hand doing this, but did not notice. The stone said that he was in the right area, but the spot it pointed to moved around within an area of about fifty feet. Human feet, he thought: it would be about a hundred of his feet, unless you counted his lower leg as part of the foot. He snarled under his breath at yet another reminder of the human world, and continued to search.

It occurred to him that if the stone was pointing at the man who’d invited him, and if the man was walking around in whatever dank, gloomy caves they had in there, then the stone was pointing at a spot inside the mountain, not at an entrance. That made sense, and it explained why he wasn’t finding a door anywhere: he was walking around on the roof of the man’s house. Where would the door be? If the door led to a stairway, it might be directly over the man’s location. Jinx couldn’t find one, though. However, if the door led to a passageway, it would be lower on the mountain, leading straight in, and Jinx would have to look farther down and ignore the rock for a moment. That suited him, and he did so.

There was still no door, but Jinx spotted a depression in the ground that looked unnatural. He looked closely at it and realized that it fitted the magic rock perfectly. With a resigned shrug, he carefully placed the rock into the small hole, then jumped back wild-eyed and hissing, ears laid back, for the rock whined shrilly and then exploded with a blinding flash of light and a smell of scorched earth. Jinx crouched tensely, his carefully learned upright posture gone, his blood pounding in his ears as he stared fixedly at the expanding hole in the ground. A shaft of light shone out, blinding his dusk-adjusted eyes for a moment, and then there was a neat square hole in the ground, and the man who’d hired him was standing there.

“I must say, I’m impressed at how quickly you found me…” said the man, and then he asked, “Is something wrong?”

Jinx struggled to regain control of himself, shaking his head as if to clear it and letting out a half-suppressed snarl. It had been a long day, and a scary, uncomfortable one, and that bit with the exploding rock had startled him so badly that he desperately wanted to either flee or attack something. But what? The rock was gone, there wasn’t anything else on the whole damn mountain, and this man before him was going to give him money now. Attacking him would be utterly inappropriate, and fleeing would mean not getting his reward. Jinx was a tense, rigid statue, his adrenaline roaring through his mind, and his mood was all too plain.

The man was no fool. “Damn it, I should have changed the key procedure,” he said. “Did the flash upset you?”

“Jinx hates that sort of thing.” Jinx managed to say.

“I’m very sorry. Had I thought about it, I might have realized that the secondary effects of that key procedure could be disturbing to you…”

He watched Jinx carefully, as if he wasn’t sure this wild beast was safe to allow into his house. Jinx noticed it, and was ashamed. His tiger side had saved his life often, yet it was just as capable of making him into the living image of a dangerous animal. It was horrible when that happened in situations where Jinx desperately wanted to be thought of as a human, because he looked almost exactly like a tiger. He had to make a special point of his having hands, and his being able to talk and think, and he had to walk upright, and even then he knew that there would always be a doubt…

Jinx realized with a shock that he was still in a predatory, feline crouch, lashing his tail agitatedly, the claws on his feet digging into the dirt. In fact, though his hands bore no claws to match the feet, he was trying to dig his fingers into the dirt as if they were claws. Ashamed, he hastily stood up, fighting off the tiger reactions with practiced skill, looking the man in the eye, saying “I feel better now.” in a tone that refused to admit discussion.

The man relaxed visibly. “Do come in,” he said. “You must have had a long day. Come sit by the fire and relax for a while, before we talk business.”

Jinx followed him down the corridor, feigning nonchalance, his tail twitching nervously and revealing his true feelings. He glanced over his shoulder and winced to see the corridor closing itself up after him, but he kept on walking, grimly determined not to act inappropriately. As he entered the man’s house, this resolve was tested severely.

The place was vast, luxurious, and filled with obvious magic everywhere you looked. The ‘fire’ the man had mentioned floated in the air, a big roaring bonfire without wood or smoke. It occupied the center of a clearing fifty feet in diameter, and cast its bright flickering light everywhere. It seemed to be creating more light than a fire should. Overhead was an early evening sky with the stars beginning to come out, which was impossible because there had been no large hole in the top of the mountain. Also, the sky outside had been cloudy and forbidding, and this sky was clear.

Jinx saw all this in a flash, and tried to back away from it all, but the passageway continued to close up behind him, gently pushing him out into the room. Soon he found himself pressed against a perfectly ordinary cave wall, which showed no sign of an exit. Jinx gathered his courage and looked around.

There were doors leading everywhere, but not just to rooms: some opened out on grassy plains, or jungles, and some led to underwater scenes or stormy skies. A few were closed, but the rest hung open, as if the man liked to see all the places he had access to. A fish swam into view in the underwater scene. It looked at Jinx, apparently didn’t like what it saw, charged through the doorway and promptly fell to the ground, flopping around frantically. The man hurried over, deftly picked it up and tossed it back through the door, at which it floated in confusion for a moment, then swam away as fast as it could.

“I must remember to have you around the next time I go fishing.” said the man. “You make a great lure. It’s not easy to find something a fish will go through a Gate after, you know. Oh, are you hungry? I wasn’t thinking.”

“Jinx isn’t hungry.”

“Well, when you are, you’re welcome to anything I have, Jinx.”

Jinx pointed at a closed door. “What’s behind that one?”

The man looked smug. “See for yourself,” he said, and opened it, revealing a roaring inferno that cast a savage, searingly brilliant light over the room. The man closed it again.

“You have a door into Hell?” asked Jinx, wary but fascinated.

“Oh, no!” protested the man. “Only an evil mage would have a gate to Hell. No, it’s the Sun. You probably don’t realize that the Sun is a tremendous fire, very far away. My gate to the Sun is very useful to me.”

“Do you toss people through that door if they annoy you?” asked Jinx.

“Certainly not!” exclaimed the man. “Such an idea! I use it myself, for an energy supply. Really, Jinx, do you take me for an evil warlock? I’m quite offended!”

“No offense,” said Jinx. “Would you be so kind as to close the other doors as well? Jinx finds them… distracting.” The stress of the strange environment was weighing on him, drawing out his old manner of speaking. It had been a long time since he was trained to speak by a kindly human, taught phrases such as ‘Jinx belongs to Sir Irwin. Jinx doesn’t bite.’, yet still the old habit recurred at times.

“Certainly.” said the man, and did so. It wasn’t much help, because Jinx was noticing other things now, such as the starry sky overhead with its constellations marked out by delicate glowing lines, and the disconcerting tendency of the wood paneling to ripple like the wood grain was a river, and most distressing, stuffed animals like hunting trophies dotted here and there. One was a lithe black panther, fullgrown and not that much smaller than Jinx himself. It was beautiful, almost beautiful enough to justify its display in this way, but that was little comfort. Jinx thought that his own body was not quite as shapely, though he was built along the same lines, and he hoped he wasn’t going to end up a stuffed tiger. The black panther crouched stiffly, facing him, and when Jinx looked closer he was shocked to see it looking back at him with a fascinated gaze from clearly living eyes, obviously not dead at all, just frozen by some sorcery. In just such a place, his wizard father had mated with his tigress mother and created Jinx, for no better reason than senseless whim…

“Oh, you’ve noticed Elanor! Don’t worry, it’s not what you think. Here, I’ll let her meet you. Elanor! Thaw!”

The panther began moving stiffly, and then stretched and bounded eagerly over to Jinx with great interest, gazing at him with glowing eyes.

“She’s a watch beast,” said the man. “Elanor is one of my most trusted guards. She roams Rainmoor in astral form, keeping an eye on my enemies. I link minds with her every few days, and if she finds anything dangerous, she tells me, in a sort of crude, animal fashion. She may not use language, but such a beast has very clear imagery when threats are concerned, and the mind-images are very nearly perfect in their accuracy and vividness. She’s a dear girl, even if she is an animal, and very much devoted to me. Although I see she’s taken a fancy to you right away. Perhaps you’d, ah, enjoy her company, shall we say, at times when she’s not working? I’ve regretted, at times, the… ah… limited nature of her life here with me. Seems unfair to the poor girl, somehow, after all the help she’s been. She’s working full-time now, but I could give part of her territory to one of the owls, if you wanted to, ah…”

“Jinx is not an animal,” said Jinx. “Jinx is a person. Jinx is offended at what you’re suggesting.”

He shrank away from the panther, embarrassed at the way she was rubbing sensuously against him. He couldn’t afford to let this man think he was an animal, or he might end up a statue himself, prowling Rainmoor in astral form for the rest of his life, or he might end up being the gigolo for the man’s pet panther. The insulting thing about that was what it implied about him: he wasn’t an animal, he just looked like one. He hoped the man would call off his pet quickly, before she managed to get a reaction out of him that would make matters worse. His sense of smell told him, through instincts he hadn’t known he had, just how interested she was.

“Oh, you needn’t be offended,” said the man. “I wasn’t suggesting anything. Elanor! Go back to work, and freeze!”

The black panther gave the man a reproachful look, and returned to where she’d been, casting glances at Jinx over her shoulder, moving reluctantly and seemingly grudging every padding step. Back in her guard position, she froze in place, and the man continued.

“Don’t worry, the job I’m hiring you for is very different. Besides, you surely know me well enough to realize I wouldn’t compel anybody to do work for me…”

“Jinx doesn’t know you at all. Who are you?”

The man seemed thunderstruck. He sputtered for a moment, then laughed.

“Jinx, my friend! Don’t you know your own King?”

“Jinx doesn’t have a King. Jinx does what he pleases.”

“Ah, but you do!” said the man. “And a good, just King as well, if I do say so myself. I must say, I’m surprised at you. Do you even know my name?”

“No. Should I?”

“Perhaps you can’t read. It’s on all the proclamations. I’m King Thomas.”

“Oh.” said Jinx. “That King.” He’d heard occasional talk of a King Robert, and of a nameless King Of Rainmoor as well.

“The King, Jinx, not ‘that king’. I am the rightful king, sir. The pretenders are, as they have ever been, unworthy scoundrels or fools seeking to usurp the throne, and one in particular has gone too far, making hideous threats and committing murder, and he must be stopped. That’s where you come in.”

“Do you mean King-Robert,” asked Jinx, “or King-of-Rainmoor?”

King-Thomas sputtered a bit, then became very calm and earnest.

“Jinx, they’re not the King. They’re pretenders. Lord Robert is not a problem. He’s hopelessly mad, and he believes that proclaiming himself King is all he must do. Oh, he’s not a bad sort, quite decent at heart, but I assure you, nobody takes Robert seriously. The second one you mentioned is the man I was speaking of, a dangerous, evil man. He killed First Lord Nicholas, or so he says. He is known only through letters and proclamations, and none have ever seen him. He claims to have no name. Some say that is because he’s a demon from Hell, and dares not use his name for fear of being compelled to return to the fiery pit.”

“His name isn’t ‘King-of-Rainmoor’, then?”

“‘King’ isn’t a name, Jinx. King is a rank, the highest rank of nobility.”

Jinx was silent, for he’d never been able to understand what humans meant when they talked about things like ‘rank’ and ‘nobility’ and ‘good’ and ‘evil’, which they seemed to do incessantly. He gathered his thoughts, trying his best to think like people, even remembering to speak like a person instead of speaking like Sir Irwin’s harmless pet.

“So you want me to kill King-of-Rainmoor, but I don’t have to kill King-Robert. Is that it?”

King-Thomas sighed heavily. “I never said I wanted you to kill anybody. To hire an assassin is an evil thing, one I will never stoop to. It is better to be cast down with honor than to cling to the throne by methods so foul that I would become the same as those who would destroy me. I said I wanted you to stop the nameless pretender, or ‘king-of-rainmoor’ as you insist on calling him. I suppose it would do no good to point out that I, I am the rightful king of Rainmoor.”

“If you like.” said Jinx, puzzled. “I thought you were King-Thomas.”

“Never mind. Do you understand? You are to stop him, not assassinate him.”

“Wouldn’t killing him be the simplest way of stopping him?”

“Don’t say such things! I don’t wish to hear about it. What you must do is go among the denizens of Rainmoor, pretend to join his cause, and seek to discredit the nameless pretender. If he doesn’t have a cause, you can try to learn more about him. Perhaps you can learn his name: perhaps you can reveal him as the evil creature he is. I will meet you here periodically, and you will tell me of your progress.”

“Why me?” asked Jinx, utterly confused at the barrage of meaningless concepts.

King-Thomas looked earnestly into his eyes. “I don’t think I could explain it to you. I have searched the outlying provinces for a suitable champion, and I have heard much about you, Jinx. I will say that I was greatly moved by your fearless defense of Sir Irwin, and the way you stood over his dead body while the forces of evil raged around you. Few can boast of such loyalty. Yet I find, now, that you seem unaware of the truth of the political situation and even show disquieting tendencies toward assassination. This troubles me. However, I consulted the oracles and stars, and I am certain that you are the one I need. The magic of Rainmoor itself seems to suggest this. Who can say why? I am not infallible: I was unable to learn more, and the reasons are dark to me. Yet I trust you, somehow, strange creature though you be. I will not quail.”

Jinx was shaken at the King’s mention of Sir Irwin, the man who had saved his life years ago, shortly after he’d been banished from his wizard father’s house. The knight had been astonished to see a young tiger standing on its hind legs and trying to fight off a pack of attacking wolves by throwing rocks at them. Strangely, it seemed to fear him even more than the wolves.

Jinx had taken his attention from the wolves, looking fearfully at Sir Irwin, and as he did a wolf behind him seized him, and when Sir Irwin heard Jinx’s yowl of pain he set upon the wolves with his sword and drove them off. This stunned Jinx, for he’d seen Sir Irwin as another attacking monster even more dangerous than the wolves. He still tried feebly to escape, but hunger and injury had left him too weak to run away. Sir Irwin held him down gently, soothing him with soft words and petting him.

Jinx was baffled, for the man didn’t try to twist his wrist, didn’t kick him or stamp on paws or tail: he just stared at Jinx with a completely unfathomable expression on his face. Sir Irwin was a compassionate man, and the young creature he was hanging onto was as cute as a tiger kitten and quite helpless, obviously injured.

Jinx had nowhere to go and nobody to care for him, and he was not able to resist the kindness of Sir Irwin for long. It was something he had never known, except from his tigress mother, and she was dead. His fear crumbled gradually, replaced by helpless trust and acceptance, and when he dragged himself nearer and laid his furry head in Sir Irwin’s lap, there was no turning back. He became Sir Irwin’s pet, and rapidly became a sort of adopted son. Sir Irwin named him, and, as cat owners will, became convinced his pet was a person and should be treated as such. Since Jinx’s mind was part human, he responded by learning all that Sir Irwin could teach, and soon learned to speak, although other humans tended to think of this as a trick.

Sir Irwin taught Jinx to wield a sword, to eat with table manners, to stand up straight and look people in the eye. Sir Irwin also, unwittingly, taught Jinx to never drop to all fours, to never snarl or hiss, to never knock anything over with his tail or sit curled up comfortably before the fire. Jinx grew up knowing that Sir Irwin cared for him, and that most other humans thought it strange and unfitting for a knight to keep such a pet. There was always an argument, whenever they went among other humans, tried to stay at an inn, joined a group of other knights or attended the court functions of the outlying provinces. Sir Irwin was adamant: it was both of them or neither, and nothing could sway him. He called this honor and decency. Most other humans called it silly, sentimentality or idiocy. Jinx knew only that Sir Irwin would stand up for him no matter how many other humans were against him.

Ever since then Jinx had defended Sir Irwin passionately, only to fail during the battle the King had mentioned. The King’s sources had tactfully omitted the end of the story, about how Jinx, finally realizing that Sir Irwin was dead, had wandered forlornly away from the battle, distraught, caring nothing for the curses and cries for aid of Sir Irwin’s fellow knights. Jinx was shattered by the experience, and had never really gotten over it.

King-Thomas looked at him as if expecting his questions, and Jinx, coming back to the present, realized he had a few.

“Isn’t your home a bad place for Jinx to meet you, if you want Jinx to be a spy? And how much are you going to pay?”

The King, scandalized, exclaimed, “Not a ‘spy’, Jinx! Call it a… you could think of it as a…. I can’t explain. You can call it ‘spying’ if you must. Just remember not to put it that way to anyone else, all right, dear boy?”

“And pay?”

“My dear Jinx, if you carry out your duty well, you are bound to be knighted. Then you’ll be ‘Sir Jinx’. Isn’t that compensation enough?”

Jinx was unimpressed. Why would he want to change his name?

“As for meeting me in my home!” said King-Thomas, beaming. “This is not my only home: in fact, it’s the place I stay at least often. It’s… How shall I put this? Too shabby for a proper King.”

Jinx looked around, mystified. If this was shabby, he didn’t even want to see a fancy place. Too much magic, too big, too strange… Jinx felt uncomfortable just being there. He was not about to consider going anywhere fancier.

“You see, as you’ve no title, no rank, and you’re not a servant, you couldn’t possibly meet me in my home, so we’ll make other arrangements. I will meet you in yours!”

Jinx didn’t get it, and the King spelled it out for him.

“This, Jinx, is your new home. How’s that for payment, eh? Impressed?”

Jinx was, indeed, impressed. He was more than impressed. He was appalled.

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.

The passageways, if you could call them that, didn’t so much wind as bubble sinuously through the rock of Rainmoor, like a network of linked caves extending in every direction. Jinx almost felt comfortable with that: for some reason he’d been expecting long, perfectly straight corridors with thousands of doors along them. Compared to that, the winding strings of little caves were cozy and reassuring. However, as with anything else in Rainmoor, there were things about the caves Jinx found disconcerting, such as the perfectly spherical shape of each small cave, and the smooth path that went from cave to cave, winding back and forth and up and down but never becoming the slightest bit difficult to walk on. If that wasn’t enough to convince Jinx that these endless caves were all created by magic, there was the light. It was perfectly ordinary light, the sort of cheerful sunny light one would take pleasure in on a lovely Spring morning, and it came from nowhere at all. The walls did not glow, there were no lamps or magic torches, yet the light continued to shine anyway, giving no explanation for itself. Magic, obviously.

Jinx cringed slightly as he realized that his place had been lit exactly the same way, and he’d never noticed. He’d even gone to sleep with the light on, looking up into the fake starry sky, and still it hadn’t occurred to him to look about for lanterns. Perhaps it was because people usually didn’t stare at lamps.

“Why isn’t anything square? The big room with the fire was round like this, but the other rooms were square like ordinary rooms.”

“Actually, Jinx,” replied Lord Peter, “that’s unusual for Rainmoor. Most of Rainmoor is like this. Those who go to the trouble of putting corners in their rooms are either fabulously wealthy, like King Thomas, or dreadfully conservative, like Gerald. Come to think of it, I’ll show you Gerald’s Court, and then you’ll understand perfectly. This way!”

He stopped leading Jinx through a long, mostly straight series of caves, and began climbing some steps that emerged from the floor. Jinx was more comfortable in the string of caves, for this flight of stairs tunneled into solid rock and wound madly about, as if it was twisting around caves constantly. As Jinx continued to climb, he noted that there were portals cut into the walls of the tunnel, opening into empty caves still illuminated with the mysterious light. The disconcerting thing about that was, there was no telling where in the cave the portal would enter: sometimes it was like a door and you could walk into the cave easily, sometimes you were looking down tens or hundreds of feet to the cave floor, and most disturbing of all was when the passageway led up into a horribly vast cavern that had to be too big to fit inside Rainmoor mountain.

Jinx hung back, not willing to walk into the open and stand on the floor of the unforgivably huge place. He saw small specks moving about, high in the air, and wondered if they were bats or dragons.

“Come on, old boy, it’s quite safe. This is a Nexus, don’t you know.”

“What’s a Nexus?”

“It’s a sort of place where you can get from anywhere to anywhere else.”

“Oh.” said Jinx. “It’s a Gate, to another plane?” He hesitantly, wonderingly walked on, to stand on the rock floor in the open and gaze in helpless bafflement at the ceiling, seemingly miles away.

“Oh, no. It’s all in Rainmoor, don’t you know.”

“Jinx didn’t know… Does this look bigger than it is? This cave wouldn’t fit into the mountain.”

“Dear me! I hardly know where to begin. Certainly it wouldn’t fit into the mountain, and even if it did, however would we fit the others?”

“Others?” asked Jinx, with a sinking feeling: he feared Lord Peter was talking gibberish, but was more afraid he’d understood the man all too well.

“Oh, yes, thousands of others just like it. Mind you, we don’t really need them, they just came with the place. ‘Thousands’ only counts the ones we’ve been to, of course: logically, there must be millions of Nexuses this large or larger. A lot of young mages go looking for the Grand Nexus, a Nexus thousands of times larger than this one. I must admit I find the idea terribly exciting…”

Jinx was speechless.

“Rainmoor isn’t a mountain, you see: Rainmoor is a plane. An infinite plane, of solid rock, just filled with these caves and tunnels and Nexuses and things. It’s a very strange place in some ways, you know. The walls of these caves contain countless smaller caves, and the walls of those contain even smaller caves, and so on. One of our best mages proved that Rainmoor consists entirely of air for that reason, because all the walls are really only smaller caves, getting smaller and smaller. Logically, there’s no rock in Rainmoor, just the structure. Going in the other direction, we have the Nexuses. This is one of the medium ones, some of them are much larger. They tend to be about this size, but there is the possibility of the Grand Nexus to think about, perhaps one in which these Nexuses are part of the structure of its walls. Nobody has ever proved the Grand Nexus exists, or that it doesn’t exist, although it is generally accepted that if there is one Grand Nexus then there are infinitely many of them. The same goes for ones in which Grand Nexuses are part of the structure of their walls, and so on. It’s even speculated that there might be Nexuses of infinite size, in which case Rainmoor would be another sort of infinity that happens to be bigger. Sometimes I’d like to just forget all that beastly Court business and just go and explore! One could go on forever, and never reach the end…”

Jinx turned and strode back the way he came.

“Oh, Jinx,” cried Lord Peter, rushing after him, “do come back! We won’t explore today, I promise! We’ll just go and visit Robert, or perhaps swing by Gerald’s Court…”

“Jinx is going home!”

“Oh, please, Jinx!”

“Jinx is not about to fly through the air and go through a hole in the ceiling! Jinx is going to go home and pretend he’s in some place that makes sense!”

“Oh, but you needn’t fly through the air, Jinx!” pleaded Lord Peter earnestly. “There aren’t that many of us, and we’re all settled in the same spot, anyhow. I never meant you should use the Nexus, I was just showing it to you. What you need to do is walk up into the Nexus and then right down the next tunnel. This passageway sort of swoops up into the Nexus and back down again. If it helps any, you’ll still be within a few hundred yards of your home, in case you thought you were being asked to teleport miles away…”

Jinx had stopped, as his friend seemed terribly unhappy about going straight home again. He stared huntedly back up the tunnel, as if the sheer size of the place was going to snatch him and gobble him up.

“I don’t have to go anywhere far away?”

“Indeed you don’t! Why, Jinx, if you really must give up on my little tour, I wouldn’t dream of stopping you. Or would that be ‘starting you’? Anyhow, you are quite free to do as you wish. I do hope you will let me show you around, though! I was quite looking forward to it.”

“…okay…” said Jinx grudgingly. “As long as we go straight through the damn place.”

As they emerged again onto the floor of the Nexus, Jinx exerted all his willpower to keep from turning and going back again. The other part of the tunnel was hundreds of feet away, and as Jinx set out across this short but alarming distance, his mind was numbed by the sheer scale of the place.

It left him feeling so unreal that he didn’t even jump when, a few hundred yards away, a long chain of gigantic white cubes burst from one of the holes in the floor and roared toward the ceiling, shaking the ground under Jinx’s feet. Each cube was easily the size of the Roc Jinx had seen, and there seemed to be endless numbers of the things. Although the wind from the thing’s passage whipped at his fur, Jinx stood and watched it dazedly as it thundered out of the hole and dwindled in the distance. It went into another hole, so distant that Jinx could hardly see it, and he stared blankly after it, his mind simply refusing to accept that the ceiling could be that far away. He turned to Lord Peter questioningly.

“Don’t ask me what that was.” said Lord Peter. “It certainly wasn’t anything of ours.”

A faint, eerie rumble came down from the ceiling, the sound of the thing’s passage bouncing off the distant ceiling and finally making its way back to them, echoed and distorted out of all recognition. Jinx shivered, suddenly feeling the reality of the place again, and the terrifying strangeness of it. They continued on, but Jinx didn’t relax until they’d entered the tunnels again.

“Come to think of it,” said Lord Peter, “we should be able to avoid the Nexus from here on out. I’m fairly sure that we can stick to the caves and still get wherever we want to go, it’ll just take longer.”

“Good. Where are we going, anyway?”

“Well, how about Gerald’s Court? That would be the ideal antidote for what we just ended up seeing. He might even have his minions serve us tea, if we’re polite to him. Possibly not, I tend not to be polite to him. Still, it would be soothing in a boring way: a real fireplace, cubical rooms, square people talking boring politics… I’m game if you are.”

“How far is it?”

“Not terribly far…” said Lord Peter, and they walked through the strings of little caves, following this branch or that, taking stairs up and down to other strings of caves, until they stood before a incongruously rectangular wooden door of nice oak paneling. Lord Peter knocked.

“Hello?” came a voice from behind the door. “Who’s there?”

“The nameless pretender, my love! I’ve come to kill you all, do let me in, please!”

The door opened, and a man looked out and said “Oh, Lord Peter! Might have known it was you! Lord Gerald is sleeping, but do come in anyhow.”

“Charles! You’re not Gerald, how splendid for you! How grateful we are for your hospitality!”

“We?” said Charles. “Oh!”

“Allow me to introduce Sir Jinx, and I do hope you’ll be good enough to call him ‘Jinx’ and me ‘Peter’, Charles. And have you any objection to Jinx’s calling you ‘Charles’?”

“Oh, no, no, of course not.” said Charles, looking at Jinx with great interest. “Do come in and sit down. I’m honored to meet our newest Knight, and you needn’t use my title if you don’t wish to. Tea?”

“Charles!” exclaimed Lord Peter. “You paragon of miraculous perceptiveness! We would love some tea, dear fellow. We’ve just seen the most astonishing Nexus manifestation to date, and need to be restored with tea and soothing company…”

“What’s all this racket?” came a grumpy voice from the other room. The door opened to reveal a squinting, sleepy man in pajamas. “Peter. It would be Peter. Go away, won’t you?”

“Why, Gerald! And here I thought you were sleeping the sleep of the not-sufficiently-wicked and couldn’t possibly be roused! Allow me to introduce Sir Jinx, the newest Knight!”

Lord Gerald rubbed his eyes, looked at Jinx in disbelief, rubbed his eyes again, and scowled.

“Peter…” he said in a tone of obvious disgust.

“Lord Peter.” prompted Lord Peter, warningly.

“Lord Peter, this is an outrage! I have had enough of your foolish tricks, sir! Kindly leave, and take your trained animal with you!”

“Oh, I say, Lord Gerald…” said Charles, shooting a nervous glance at Jinx, who, shocked by the insult, had reached instinctively for his sword…

“Steady, Sir Jinx.” said Lord Peter, who had dropped his playful manner entirely. “Gerald, it is your behavior which is outrageous. You may outrank Sir Jinx, but you do not outrank me, and I insist you apologize to him at once. I will not tolerate such rudeness to a knight of Rainmoor, sir!”

“By God,” said Gerald, searching Lord Peter’s eyes. “You’re serious.”

“You force me to be serious, Gerald. Apologize. Now!”

Lord Gerald stammered, and finally managed to say “Ah, Jinx…”

“Sir Jinx.” prompted Lord Peter, menacingly.

“Sir Jinx… I apologize.”

“Does that satisfy you, Sir Jinx?” asked Lord Peter, turning to face Jinx, who was mystified and rather amazed at this little drama on his behalf.

“Jinx accepts his apology, if that’s what you mean. Did you have to do that?”

“Sir Jinx, I will not tolerate the ridicule of a knight of Rainmoor. Certainly I had to. No other way to get it through Gerald’s head.” Lord Peter had relaxed considerably when Jinx accepted the apology.

Lord Gerald glowered at him. “I’m going back to bed. Unless you want to make me jump through more hoops for this new knight? And, sir, I shall complain to King Thomas tomorrow.”

“Who,” added Lord Peter sweetly, “knighted him in the first place. I wish you the best of luck.”

“Not about him, idiot. About you.”

“By all means. I’d complain about you, but he already knows you’re a pompous ass. Sweet dreams, and may flocks of harpies sing you to their nest.”

Gerald turned on his heel and departed. He seemed about to slam the door after him, but managed to control himself enough to simply shut it, very firmly.

“Peter… May I still call you ‘Peter’?” asked Charles.

“Certainly, if Jinx can still call you ‘Charles’ instead of ‘Lord Charles’. I think we’ve all had quite enough ghastly courtliness for the next few years.”

“Peter, why do you hate Lord Gerald so?” asked Charles. “Is it that you think he is the Nameless One?”

“Good lord, no! It’s more likely to be you, or Jinx, or that chair there than Gerald! Him, the Nameless Pretender? Unthinkable!”

“But why do you hate him so?”

“I don’t, Charles. Gerald is truly gifted at being obnoxious, and as he’s not subtle one has to step on him quite hard to make him behave. King Thomas won’t do it, because King Thomas is too polite. Robert won’t do it unless Gerald offends him personally. That leaves me, and I dislike intensely the way Gerald treats his underlings. I’d much rather Gerald treated people with at least a pretense of respect and didn’t constantly force me to step on him, but as long as he treats people I like with contempt I shall stomp away with gusto. I know it doesn’t change him, so I just do it to relieve my annoyance. I just stomped on him ruthlessly, in the presence of you and Jinx, because I’ve quickly developed a liking for Jinx and Gerald insulted him appallingly. It’s a damned good thing he isn’t the Nameless One, because even so he’s going to be howling for my blood…”

“Can you be sure he isn’t the Nameless One?”

“Charles, I’m surprised at you.” said Lord Peter. “If you’re so concerned, why don’t you stop dancing attendance on the man and go your own way? Or dance attendance on us for a while: we still haven’t had our tea.”

“Oh, I’m sorry! It slipped my mind.” said Charles, and began making tea. “As far as my ‘dancing attendance’ goes, these days Lord Gerald hasn’t got the loyalty he used to get, you know. Lord Hugo refuses to speak to him now, after an argument they had, and Lord James doesn’t come around very often, so it’s just me now…”

“Charles, the man is quite capable of making his own tea. You’re a Lord of the Second Rank: there’s no reason you should act as his servant.”

“But, Lord Peter, if he does turn out to be the Nameless One, perhaps he’ll make me First Rank when he becomes King!”

“When he what?” sputtered Lord Peter. “Charles, your first loyalty is to King Thomas, not Gerald, even… no, especially if he is the Nameless Pretender! Good lord, man, you’ve been driven mad by housework and tea-making! I realize Gerald is a tyrant, but he doesn’t own you! Whatever are you thinking?”

“I’m sorry, Lord Peter…”

“Peter! Don’t call me Lord Peter, Charles, I refuse to allow a perfectly decent though rather dull man to bow and scrape to me! Jinx, what do you make of all this? Let’s have your opinion.”

“I think Lord-Gerald’s a jerk, and Charles isn’t very brave.”

“What do you think of that, Charles? Tell me the one thing wrong with Sir Jinx’s statement.”

“No, no, I fear he’s right. I’m not very brave, Peter.” said Charles, as he poured tea for them.

“No, Lord Charles.” said Lord Peter, gently. “He got your name wrong, and you thought nothing of it. You have a title, sir, even if you don’t ask your friends to use it. You needn’t punish Sir Jinx for omitting it, but it’s sad that you don’t even notice the omission. Gerald’s trained you well.”

They sat in silence for a while, drinking their tea. Finally Charles spoke.

“Peter, all I’ve ever wanted was to be a Lord of the First Rank. That’s why being Second Rank is nothing to me. I’ve studied until my eyes were sore, everything I’d need to know: the magic, the court manners, how to address people… It’s been my life work.”

He spoke steadily, but his eyes were moist. “Now look at what I am. I thought Lord Gerald was the model of a ideal First Lord, and I undertook to serve him, thinking that King Thomas would promote somebody who was like him in every way. All that happened was, I became, every day, more willing to grovel before Lord Gerald, not even understanding what was happening to me until this very night. Finally I understand what I have become. I am a servant, Lord Peter.”

“Oh, I say, Charles!”

“See? See? ‘Charles’, you say. You, yourself, reminded me I had a title, yet how easily you forget! And for that, Lord Peter, I have no-one to blame but myself…”

“My dear boy! I beg of you, don’t talk like this! It’s most distressing!”

“What’s wrong with being called ‘Charles’?” asked Jinx, puzzled.

“Ah, my knightly friend! Be grateful you don’t understand, sir. You have self-respect, it’s clear, and so it truly doesn’t matter to you. I was a Lord of the Second Rank, once, and I have proved how meaningless that is by showing the world what a Lord of the Second Rank is, a servant.”

“Charles, stop it!” said Lord Peter, put out. “There is nothing shameful about being Second Rank, sir!”

“No, of course not. I’m wrong, as usual. It is I who am the servant. That I should come to this! I yet remember battling for the glory of the King, as a knight, for, Sir Jinx, once I was a knight myself.”

“You’ve got to get a grip, Charles… Lord Charles. This will not do. Why, you’ve been one of the most faithful Second Lords, man, for years! Except for this strange entanglement with Gerald…”

“Have I, Lord Peter? Have I? Do you truly mean that?”

“Oh, quite, no question! Boring but faithful. We’ve got to get you out of Gerald’s clutches. I knew all along that he shockingly abused his rank, but it hadn’t occurred to me how serious it had gotten. You must stop running about, making tea for Gerald and washing his socks…”

“Lord Peter, has not the King suffered the loss of one of the First Lords?”

Lord Peter stopped, startled. He stared at Lord Charles in momentary confusion.

“What? Ah! Charles, you conniving little Second Lord, now I see what you’re driving at! What a politician you are! Lord Nicholas was killed by the Nameless Pretender, so you feel you should be promoted! Huh! At least your lordly ego hasn’t been completely crushed by Gerald. I might have known all that maudlin rubbish was a front. Huh!”

“Lord Peter, I am saddened at your tone. Shall I give up my dream of being a First Lord, and resign myself to being Lord Gerald’s servant?”

“Charles, I wish you’d try to be sensible. There’s no vacancy for being a First Lord since Nicholas was killed, as you know quite well, because there’s no quota. And there’s no reason you have to be Gerald’s servant. Certainly King Thomas is going to promote somebody to First Lord eventually, perhaps soon. I would even say that, with your record of faithful service to the King, you’d be as good as anyone for First Lord. But what do you want from me? Tell me, straight out, and if you start weeping about feeling like a servant I shall know you’re not fit to be a Lord of the First Rank. Sir! What are you asking?”

Lord Charles paused, collecting his scattered thoughts.

“I beg of you, Lord Peter, to suggest me to the King as an appropriate Lord of the First Rank. I shall show respect for all, including those of lesser rank, for I know all too well what it is like to be scorned. And, I shall pledge my life to the preservation of the true King.”

Lord Peter pondered this for a few seconds, and spoke.

“Very close. I’ll do it on one condition. There’s one word in there that is wrong. Change that one word, and I’ll believe you. I’m only giving you one chance at it. Tell me what the word should become.”

Lord Charles thought for a moment. Then he had it.

“I ask that you do this for me, sir. I do not beg.”

“And don’t you forget it!” said Lord Peter. “Very well, I’ll suggest you. You understand that I don’t have the power to do more than that?”

“Of course.” said Lord Charles. “Still, who else would King Thomas be listening to?”

“True. Shameless flattery, but true. It’s nice you’re so good at shameless flattery, but don’t get carried away with it. Now, Jinx and I have an appointment elsewhere, so…”

“We do?” asked Jinx.

“Unless you’d like to stay and talk politics some more.”

“I’d rather talk about something I understand.”

“Well,” said Lord Charles, “we’ve also been talking about courage, and power. I’m certain you understand those things perfectly.”

“I don’t think those are things to talk about. You either have them or not, so why bother?”

“Come on, Jinx,” said Lord Peter. “We must be going.”

They left, and as soon as the door shut behind them Lord Peter said “I’m so damn tired of bloody politics.”

“If you wanted to leave, why didn’t you just say so?”

“It would have been rude. Anyway, I left as soon as I could, Jinx. Was it too terribly boring?”

Jinx thought for a moment. “Yes.”

“I agree completely. The only interest in it, for me, was seeing how a real politician’s mind works.”

“What’s a politician? I’ve heard the word before, but nobody’s ever been able to explain it so it makes sense.”

“Hmmm… A politician is somebody who will pretend anything to get a higher rank. A politician will talk for hours and never say anything totally honest. A politician isn’t good for anything but talking to other politicians. Fortunately, being a First Lord calls for all these sterling qualities and very little else.”

“Are you a politician, Peter?”

Peter laughed, but there wasn’t much humor in it. “I’m going to suggest to King Thomas that Charles be made a Lord of the First Rank, although I think he’s rather a pathetic toady. I’m doing it not so much because I think he’ll be a good First Lord, but to annoy Gerald. What do you think I am?”

“Would it be bad to make him a First-Lord?”

“Oh, no. There are some Second Lords who are far better people, and you’ll probably meet one of them shortly. However, I don’t think any of them are willing to be a First Lord. Part of it is that the First Lords have to deal with ten times the politics and only get the privilege of being allowed to put people to death and order them about. But the main thing is that it’s open season on First Lords these days. So why not toss up another target? Maybe it’ll confuse Nameless. My own opinion is that Nameless is some title-less wizard who thinks he can force the magic of Rainmoor to accept him: when wizards get into politics, they quickly become all talk and no action. One thing about Nameless is that he’s good with action…”

“Where are we going, Peter? I don’t have any appointment.”

“It was just an excuse, Jinx, more bloody politics. We’re going to visit Robert. With luck, Sean will be there as well. I could use their company, because every time I touch politics I sink lower and lower while trying to get out. Robert and Sean laugh at politics, and I need that, right now. Besides, I like to spend time with Robert, as he hasn’t much time left for this world. Oh, Jinx: when we’re with Robert don’t ever mention Nameless.”

The path that they’d taken was leading up as it twisted about: Jinx wondered why none of the tunnels in Rainmoor were laid out in a perfectly straight line. It was impossible to see more than a few caves ahead, so you couldn’t see where you were going until you were almost there. Jinx tried to imagine what Rainmoor would be like if its tunnels and caves were in straight lines, then hastily stopped. The last thing he wanted to imagine was being in a network of tunnels that extended infinitely in every direction, never coming to an end, particularly since that was precisely where he was.

They arrived at a place where the small caves of the tunnel opened out into a larger cave. There was a sort of archway, and Peter marched straight through it, calling out “Robert? Sean? Are you there?”

Jinx was surprised to notice that they’d walked straight into Robert’s living room. Why wasn’t there a door? He didn’t have time to reflect on this, for a large, burly man had come through another archway, exclaiming, “Peter, old boy! How nice to see you, always welcome here.” He reeked of the drink Jinx had gotten rid of, and staggered cheerfully up to Peter, embracing him.

“Robert, I’d like you to meet Jinx. He’s the new knight, you know.”

“New knight?” said Robert, rather dazedly. “Oh, yes, silly of me, that new knight.”

He looked at Jinx, blinked, and looked again, swaying slightly. “I say, Peter, does he really look like that, or am I imagining it? Sort of a big cat with stripes, you know.”

“Why, Robert! Perhaps you’d better get some sleep.” said Peter, winking at Jinx.

“Nonsense,” replied Robert stubbornly, “rubbish. Who cares what he looks like, any friend of Peter’s is a friend of mine also. Sir Jinx!”

He shook Jinx’s hand with great decision, saying “Sir Jinx, I am honored to have you come here to be in my house, Sir Jinx. Don’t mind me, my eyes play tricks on me sometimes. I say, Peter, why is he wearing furry gloves? Is he cold?”

Peter burst out laughing. “I’m sorry, Robert, I couldn’t resist! You’re not seeing things. Sir Jinx does actually look like a tiger. He’s also quite a decent chap, and you should get on marvelously. Particularly since Gerald managed to utterly surpass and exceed his already impressive capacity for ghastly rudeness at Jinx’s expense, considering your dislike for Gerald and your tendency to act as his polar opposite at every possible opportunity.”

“Sir Jinx, do you have any of an idea of what he’s talking about? Peter’s always going on like that…”

“I’m not sure, Robert, but it’s probably about Lord-Gerald and how obnoxious he was.”

“Ah yes. Gerald. Obnoxious. Yes. Why, doesn’t he like stripes? Did you clash with his tapesr, tapsistr.. those ugly pictures he hangs on his walls?”

“He called Jinx a trained animal.”

“My God! Bad Gerald! He can’t go about calling Knights names like that. We must complain to the King, Sir Jinx!”

“I thought you were the King, Robert.” commented Peter, amused.

“No, Sean’s King right now. I’m the really King, but I’m not well, so Sean’s being King until I feel better. You know, Peter, I feel bad about making Sean King, even for a little while…”

“Oh? Why is that, Robert?”

“Don’t tell anybody, but… I think somebody’s trying to kill the King.”

Peter’s eyes were sad. “Don’t worry about it, Robert.”

“But, Peter, I don’t want anybody to kill Sean. I’m sorry I made him King, it’s not fair. I should go in there right now and be King again, right now. How can I be a good King if I make somebody else get killed in my place?”

“Don’t worry about it, Robert.”

“Really, Peter, is that fair?”

“Don’t worry about it.”

“Oh, all right. Anyway, we have to complain to the King now, and I don’t know how to do that if the King is me. Follow me!”

He staggered into the other room, not noticing that Jinx was hanging back to talk to Lord Peter.

“Isn’t Nameless-King also trying to kill Robert?”

“Don’t tell him that, please, Jinx. The poor man’s doomed anyhow, whether he knows it or not, and he’s just reminded me what a decent fellow he is, beneath all the drink. Damn Nameless, anyhow! Couldn’t he just skip Robert?”

“But if he skipped Robert, he’d be trying to kill you!”

“He probably is, Jinx. The difference is, I can defend myself, I hope.”

As they entered the other room, Robert was kneeling before a man sitting on an improvised throne, who wore an outlandish crown big and garish enough to shame an Emperor.

“You must see, my liege, King, sir, about how bad Gerald is. Here’s a perfectly good knight, who just happens to be sort of furry and stripy, and Gerald calls him names. I think Gerald shouldn’t even be a lord if he can’t be polite to knights, even if they are sort of unorthod… unothrd… weird.”

The man on the throne noticed Jinx, and sat up, curious.

“Sean!” exclaimed Lord Peter. “How nice to see you. Allow me to introduce Sir Jinx.”

Sean came down from the ‘throne’, setting aside his preposterous ‘crown’, and shook Jinx’s hand unhesitatingly. “Robert was telling me about you, Jinx, but I thought he was delirious. Have a drink?”

“Jinx would rather not, unless you have something to drink that won’t make him sick in the head.”

“Suit yourself. How about you, Peter?”

Lord Peter glanced at Robert, who’d managed to get to his feet when Sean stood up, but had promptly passed out from the sudden change in altitude.

“Perhaps not today, Sean. But do allow us to stay for a while, we’ve just had an encounter with Gerald and Charles.”

“Oh, sure. Gerald and Charles, eh? Both at once, or one at a time?”

“Well,” said Lord Peter, “first Gerald insulted Jinx, and left in pajamas and a huff, and then Charles trapped us with a woeful story of how terrible it was to be Second Rank.”

“No, honestly? The preposterous little rat! Him and Gerald deserve each other. Maybe Nameless will wipe him out as well, just on general principles.”

“Oh, Sean, I hope you’re not the one who’s been telling Robert about Nameless!”

“No, no, I wouldn’t do that. I think it was James, actually. Hugo and James came over here one night, absolutely furious. They said they weren’t ever going to serve Gerald again, so to reward the first sensible thinking either of them’s ever done I got them hammered. Then they started going on about Nameless. Hugo thinks Gerald is Nameless, James thinks Charles is Nameless, and Charles presumably thinks Hugo is Nameless. Needless to say, I think they’re all idiots. Unfortunately, I left them alone with Robert for a minute and when I came back poor Robert was horribly upset and I threw them out. Robert wouldn’t calm down until I offered to be King for him, and then he gave me his crown and was much happier. I think the poor fellow feels guilty about that, but I’m not going to tell him that he’s still in danger. I’m just practicing every defense I’ve got, since Robert can’t even light a candle at this point.”

“Is there any way I can help?” asked Lord Peter. “By the way, Charles thinks Gerald is Nameless, not Hugo.”

“That figures. He thinks Gerald’s Nameless, so he keeps serving him anyway. What a cretin.”

“I know, Sean, I know. You must admit he’s a consummate politician, though: you should have seen him over at Gerald’s, it was magnificent. What an act! He quite took me in, I really believed his rubbish about how he felt like a servant…”

“He bloody well should. That’s all he’ll ever be.” remarked Sean.

“And needs to be First Rank in order to feel good about himself, and needs me to suggest him to King Thomas now that Nicholas is dead.”

“You’re not serious!”

“Oh, he wasn’t as barefaced as all that about it.”

“You’re not going to do it, are you? Peter, that’s disgusting!”

“Sean, name one other Second Rank Lord willing to become First Rank at this point. Or is this your way of volunteering? You know I’d much rather suggest you.”

“Certainly not. I’ve got better sense than that. But do you really have to suggest that wretched toady? Honestly, Peter, there must be somebody else.”

“That there is not, Sean. The general opinion seems to be that no First Rank Lord is safe. The only people willing to be First Rank now are people like Hugo and Charles and Victor. You know the type.”

“Power-mad toadies without any sense.”

“Quite. You must admit that Charles doesn’t look so bad by comparison with the others.”

“But do you have to suggest him, Peter? King Thomas doesn’t actually have to fill the slot Nicholas left. Doesn’t it make you feel rather unclean?”

“Thank you, so much, Sean! I was wondering for simply hours how I felt about it, and now I know: unclean. Sean, I told Charles that King Thomas didn’t have to fill the slot, and it was a half-truth. It just so happens that some of Rainmoor’s magic works better if there are five First Lords, don’t ask me why. For that reason, there have usually been five First Lords at any given time, and it’s no good telling people to stop speculating who the new First Lord is going to be.”

“You don’t say! Bits of the magic work better, eh?”

“The aspects might interest you, Sean. With only four First Lords, the magic is not as powerful as it might be with regard to protecting and defending, particularly in regard to nobility like King Thomas and Lord Robert who’re high in rank. It’s something to do with the Five being a good arrangement for the magic’s stability: King Thomas explained it to me, but he lost me about half-way through.”

“You’re saying that my protections aren’t working as well as they might?”

“Until there’s a fifth First Lord. It looks like Charles is our best bet.”

“Bloody! All right, go and suggest him. I’m not about to volunteer for it, but I suppose somebody must, and it may as well be Charles. Better him than Victor, anyway.”

“Who’s Victor?” asked Jinx.

Sean replied, “Lucky you, not to know him! Lord Victor has to be the most grasping, power-mad noble in the Second Rank. He’s a rotten little sneak, and he’s not welcome here, and if you’ve any sense, you’ll do as Robert and I do and throw rocks at him if he comes anywhere near you. He tried to serve Robert once and edge me out, but old Robert saw through him right away and tossed him out on his ear.”

“No, honestly, Sean?” said Lord Peter. “I’d always thought it was you that tossed him out. It was Robert? Good for Robert!”

“Oh aye. Robert’s grand, the tops. I can’t tell you how ghastly it is to see him slipping away like this, and all because of that bastard James telling him somebody’s trying to kill the King…”

“Jinx thinks it’s probably because he keeps drinking things that make him sick in the head.”

Sean glared at Jinx: he’d been steadily drinking the entire time they’d been talking, and he suddenly turned pugnacious. “Aren’t we grand! Jinx, you’ve no business telling him what to drink. He’s got a perfect right to drink whatever he likes, and he’s under a lot of strain. You try fearing for your life sometime, and see how that makes you feel!”

“Easy, Sean.” said Peter. “This is a friend of mine, you know. I admit he can be fearfully blunt at times, but surely that’s better than being a toady?”

“I suppose. Sorry, Jinx, I didn’t mean to snap at you like that. But don’t knock the Hammer, mate, it’s about all we’ve got left at this point. Ever since Robert decided he was the King, all the bloody toadies laugh at us, and King Thomas won’t come visit anymore. Ah, Peter, you’re the only one left who gives a damn about us. All the rest are just bleeding vultures waiting for Robert to die! It’s too bloody horrible…”

Sean began to weep, yet still he faced them proudly.

“Jinx, I’m sorry for snapping at you, really. I’d hate myself if I thought I’d cost Robert even one person’s honest loyalty, and you’re a brave lad. Tell me you’ll be on our side, Jinx, even if I was a stupid wretch and got offended at your honest opinion! Please, Jinx, not for me, for Robert. He’s really a grand chap, and we’ve so few friends left us these days…”

“Sean, you’ve got me.” said Lord Peter. “I haven’t dropped you, have I?”

“Oh aye. I’m asking Jinx, not you. He’s a better man than any of those bloody toadies.”

Jinx was touched by Sean’s earnestness. “I will be your friend. I think you’re a decent person, even if you are drunk, and I thought Robert was very nice when he was awake. Also, you don’t talk gibberish, and I like that.”

Sean blinked, and Lord Peter commented, “There you are, Sean. You said yourself he was honest.”

“Oh, hell, Peter,” said Sean, “he’s right. I am drunk, absolutely pissed. I shouldn’t be sitting here bothering you lot, I should just go to bed…”

“Jinx isn’t bothered. Jinx is just glad he won’t have your head tomorrow morning.” said Jinx.

“Fair enough.” said Sean. “Could Jinx give me a hand getting Robert into bed? I can’t just leave him lying there.”

Jinx did so, thinking that if it was up to him, he would leave Robert lying there and maybe it would teach him not to drink things that made him faint when he stood up too suddenly. However, Jinx kept these thoughts to himself.

When they’d gotten Robert to bed, Sean bid Jinx and Peter goodnight and headed for his own bedroom, walking cautiously so he wouldn’t have to put out a hand and steady himself.

“Shall we call it a night, Jinx?”

“Yes. Or is there somebody else to visit?”

“No, not really. Ivan may be up but I’m not sure I’d want to know what he does while decent people are asleep. Let’s head home. I’ll show you to your door, and then I’m going home myself.”

“Is Ivan the Nameless-King?”

“I rather doubt it, Jinx. Ivan’s too obvious. He’s always scheming away to get what he wants, but he’s terribly obvious about it. I suppose it’s possible: anything is possible, that’s the hell of it. We really haven’t got a clue. I dare say we can rule Nicholas out, as he’s dead. Short of that, we’ve nothing to go on.”

“Are you the Nameless-King, Peter?”

Lord Peter chuckled. “If I said I wasn’t, could you believe me? That’s the real hell of it, Jinx. What could I possibly do to prove I’m not? I’m in the line of succession myself, and everybody knows it. I could say that I love King Thomas dearly, for I do. I could say that I’d have to bump off Robert as well when I’m one of his few remaining friends, which is also true. I could state quite bluntly that I’m not the Nameless One, which I’m not. I can say any of these things, but it’s words, all words, and any man can lie whenever he pleases…”

“You’re not the Nameless-King, then?”

“Jinx, Jinx! No. I’m not. Do you believe me?”

“Yes.”

Lord Peter sighed.

“Did I say something wrong?”

“Jinx, I’m touched by your faith in words. I do hope it doesn’t cost King Thomas his life…”

When they got to Jinx’s place, Peter excused himself politely and left in great haste, as if he felt he was unwelcome. This puzzled Jinx, until he remembered what Peter’d said about him and Elanor being ‘amorously entwined’: the man surely wanted to let him be alone with Elanor. Actually, that seemed like a good idea to Jinx. All the humans and their gibberish had exhausted him. If being human meant having to deal with all that, Jinx wasn’t so sure he wanted any of it. Perhaps it was just being a ‘politician’ that was so exhausting.

Elanor was sleeping. She stirred as he touched her flank, and looked at him.

“There you are. I got bored waiting for you, so I went to sleep.”

“No problem.” said Jinx. “Since you’re awake now, do you want to…” and then it struck him.

“You spoke, Elanor!”

“Vernon taught me how to. He also taught me how to walk on two legs. I don’t intend to, but in case you ever beg me to again I want to be able to do it without looking awkward. It looks silly enough without the falling over. But I learned to talk just for you. Do you like it?”

“Of course, Elanor! Now everybody will think you’re a person!”

“Oh, Jinx, honestly! Why are you always worrying about what everybody thinks?”

“Elanor, I just want them to not treat you like an animal. When they do, it reflects badly on me, and I can’t have that.”

“Jinx, when will you learn that I don’t care about that? I don’t care. I don’t understand why you do. All that matters to me is what you think. I just want you to like me.”

“Are you going to try not to be like an animal?”

“Well, some parts of being an animal I like very much…” purred Elanor suggestively.

When they arrived at Jinx’s place, Sean spotted Elanor, still in her frozen pose, lying on her side with paws and claws outstretched. “Is that the consort people have been gossiping about, Jinx? What’s she making like a statue for?”

“I froze her. She attacked a Kings-page.”

“Huh.” said Sean. “Are you going to unfreeze her?”

“I’d rather not.” said Jinx, thinking she might attack Sean next. He would have to explain to her that attacking people wasn’t a suitable thing to do. Now wasn’t the time to do that, though.

“Why not?”

“She’s embarrassing. I don’t feel like dealing with her right now.” Jinx wondered if she could hear him. She probably could, and since she could speak now she probably understood as well. Jinx hoped she was paying attention and learning not to attack people. She really was good to have around, except for that, and the sooner she learned to behave the better.

“Suit yourself.” said Sean. “This must be the dining room, eh?”

They went into the room, and Jinx started going through the foods, trying to find foods that weren’t ‘yuck’. Sean found the process amusing: his mouth twisted up at one corner in spite of his grief and headache every time Jinx banished a unsuitable food with a determined ‘yuck’.

“Did you do that cantrip, Jinx?”

“No. King-Thomas set it up that way, so I wouldn’t have to say magic words.”

“Fair enough. What’s that then? Looks like porridge.”

Jinx tasted it. It looked only slightly like porridge, glistened, and tasted bland and disgustingly gelatinous. “Yuck!”

Eventually, Jinx found egg things in the shape of oval lumps that were wonderfully light and puffy, sausage things that didn’t have any skins and were a flattened, round shape, and toast that seemed to have been soaked in something, then fried. He’d have skipped that last one because of its looks, but it smelled wonderful. There were also the bread-moon things that were mostly air, and Sean ate some of those first before he felt ready to tackle more solid food.

Jinx, working on the drink section, remarked “King-Thomas got rid of that hammer stuff, but if you want I could try to find it again…”

Sean choked on the piece of toast he was eating, swallowed, and said “Don’t even mention that cursed stuff to me, Jinx! If it wasn’t for that drink, I’d have woken up when… when…” and broke off, unable to continue.

“No offense,” said Jinx, distressed at having caused him such pain. When Sean had settled down a bit, Jinx asked “Would you like me to find something else?”

“Anything but that, lad. I’ll never touch that hellish stuff again. Why don’t you find me some lager of some sort, not too stout? Or bitter, if you could.”

Jinx shrugged and continued looking. He’d stick to the apple cider, himself: however, he quickly found not only a fine nutty bitter, but also a decent red wine.

“Found it for you, Sean. There’s also wine. I’m going to leave them there for company.”

“Cheers, Jinx. I’ll leave the wine to the toadies.”

When they were finished with their breakfast, and had gone back into the living room, Jinx had an idea. “Sean, have you met Vernon? He’s a dragon, who lives behind that door.”

“No, honestly? I’ve heard about him. Friend of Peter’s, right? He used to wander around Rainmoor in the Nexuses, then King Thomas gave him a plane of his own, or so he said. He’s here?”

Jinx answered by opening the door to the dragon’s cave, and there he was.

“Why, Jinx, you’ve brought a new friend to visit. Your name, sir?”

“Ah, Sean, Your Dragonship.” replied Sean, following Jinx into the cave.

“Pleased to meet you, Sean.” said the dragon. “I’ve heard so much about you. I beg to differ with your other name: you are certainly not my dragon ship. You may float, but I assure you that being a ship requires much, much more than just that! And even if you do float, I suspect that if I tried to board you you’d soon sink.”

Sean boggled at this, never having encountered Vernon before. “I say, Jinx,” he whispered, “before I tell him he’s talking rubbish, does he eat people?”

“No, he eats wheels of hansom-cabs.” said Jinx randomly. “Or was that limed twigs?”

“Very good!” said the dragon to Jinx, who was trying to remember just what the dragon had said he ate. “But you forget the grassy knolls! One must have a certain amount of grassy knolls in one’s diet, for that so-necessary dietary fiber. The dirt is optional, but I would point out that it contains vital nutrients such as iron, copper, tin and chickens.”

“Chickens?” said Sean, too startled to be cautious. “What do you mean, chickens? How do you get chickens mixed in with your dirt?”

“With tremendous patience, and a shovel. I can’t tell you how tiresome it is! But you must have the chickens, you know.”

“Why?”

“They eat the worms, so you don’t have to.”

“Oh, God!” wailed Sean. “I’ve just had breakfast, you know! Can we stop talking about this, please?”

“What would you like to talk about?” said Vernon, clearly ready to invent more nonsense.

“Anything that isn’t about chickens and worms!”

“Well, there are many things that aren’t about chickens and worms. Do you mean things that aren’t about chickens, or things that aren’t about worms?”

Sean was beginning to get an idea of what he was dealing with. “I’d have to say things that aren’t about worms, mate. Chickens don’t bother me so much.”

“In that case, would you like to talk about things that are about chickens, or things that aren’t about chickens? I would suggest that we talk about things that aren’t about chickens.”

“Why?”

“Things tend to be not about chickens.”

Sean considered that, and actually did smile. “Aye, that’s true.”

“I just told some people I was going to kill them,” interrupted Jinx, “and they believed it. Why is that?”

The dragon considered this. “That’s certainly not about chickens, Jinx, so I shall answer: Why wouldn’t they believe it? May I ask why you said that?”

“They were making Sean unhappy. But didn’t they realize I wasn’t serious? I don’t want to be imprisoned.”

“Oh!” said Sean. “What he isn’t telling you, Vernon, is that he was just made Lord of the First Rank. That ought to explain some things, eh?”

“You don’t say!” commented the dragon. “Jinx, may I ask exactly what is is you said to these people?”

Jinx considered. “It wasn’t people, exactly, just Lord-James. I told him to leave, and then told him if he didn’t leave I’d kill him myself. He was being awful.”

“In that case,” said the dragon, “he believed you because you could have done just that…”

“Without getting imprisoned.” finished Sean.

Jinx looked back and forth between them. “That doesn’t make sense. I thought that in this place, when you kill people, you get imprisoned. Or killed, or something.”

“Ah, but you outranked Lord James, Jinx.” explained the dragon. “More importantly, you commanded him to leave. It’s true that even a First Lord can’t just go about killing people. However, since you commanded him, if he had refused you could have killed him without fear of punishment.”

“Just like that? What if I told him to grow a tail? Would I get to kill him if he didn’t?”

“Oh, no, no, it’s far more complicated than that! In refusing, he’d have to be acting dishonorably in some way. He’d have to be acting in a manner unfitting for a Lord of Rainmoor, and there would have to be witnesses. Was that the situation?”

“Oh aye.” said Sean, bitterly.

“You seem upset, Sean.” said the dragon. “Is there something going on that I don’t know about?”

“Robert’s dead. The King laid him in Rainmoor not an hour ago.”

“Really?” said Vernon curiously. “That’s too bad. I’d been expecting it, though, so I can’t say I’m terribly surprised…”

“You must not have liked him,” said Sean bitterly. “You’re not a bit sorry.”

The dragon looked at Sean for a long moment.

“I’m ten thousand years old, Sean. Can you expect me to mourn every human that dies? Every human I know is going to die. The grandchildren of the humans I know will age and die before I’m another thousand years old. There will be other humans to know. And I did indeed like Robert, Sean, but now he’s gone and there’s no point in my… Did you say they laid him in Rainmoor?”

“Aye.”

“Oh, well in that case he’s not exactly gone. I am pleased, it’s been a long time since there was a new human in Rainmoor to talk to…”

“What?” said Sean, startled. “To talk to? Are you saying what I think you’re saying?”

“Quite. Mind you, you can’t talk to him yourself. I can communicate after a fashion with the magic of Rainmoor when a new human has become part of it. Eventually the human mind dissolves into the larger consciousness, but for a while I can make the link. I don’t get the chance often, you know! I’m terribly pleased you mentioned it.”

“Talk to him, please!” begged Sean, and Jinx added, “I know just what to ask.”

The dragon’s eyes unfocused, and he stared dreamily off into the distance.

“Ah, there he is. All right… Sean, he wants me to tell you that you’re a bloody fool and he loves you for it. Oh, and not to get yourself killed on his behalf.”

“Who killed him?” asked Sean urgently. “Ask him if he knows!”

“He’s not sure, as himself. He says that suddenly his favorite mug was beating him about the head, and that was it, really. He says Rainmoor knows, but he’s not supposed to tell because everything is going as planned. I asked him what that meant, but he’s not sure.”

“Who is Nameless?” asked Jinx.

“He says, Nameless is the one who beat him about the head with a mug you bloody fool. He’s surprised you hadn’t figured that out yet. He says, if it’s any consolation Nameless isn’t going to get either of you, so don’t worry… I’m losing contact. Good thing you didn’t wait to tell me, he’s drifting off already.”

“Why did the room stop wobbling when King-Thomas made me a Lord?” asked Jinx.

“He says, nosy, aren’t you. He’s gone now.”

Sean bowed his head. Jinx asked, “Why wouldn’t he answer my question?”

“Oh, he did, I just hadn’t told you yet. He said that he was the one who did it, and he did it because he likes you, but also you’re going to kill Nameless and the rest of the magic liked that. I must say, Jinx, I’ve never seen anyone take on importance so fast.”

Sean’s head snapped up. “Jinx is going to kill Nameless?”

“Either that, or Jinx is going to kill the King. Possibly both. It’s dreadfully confusing, even to me, and I’m a dragon. I may have been mistaken, you know.”

“Why would I want to kill King-Thomas?” said Jinx, dismayed. “He’s a nice man! Elanor likes him, anyway…”

“I’m not sure, Jinx. I think it’s more likely that you’ll kill Nameless. That was fairly clear. Can you think of a reason why you’d kill King Thomas?”

Jinx thought of King-Thomas’s interest in Elanor, and looked at Sean. “Yes, but Jinx doesn’t want to say with Sean listening.”

Vernon looked at Sean. “Lord Sean, could Jinx and I speak privately?”

“Oh aye. I’ll be on my way…” said Sean, rather overwhelmed by the events of the morning.

“I ask,” added the dragon, “that you not reveal what you have learned here, Lord Sean. If Nameless were to learn that Jinx is fated to kill him…”

“You mean it’s not certain?”

“Nothing is certain, Lord Sean.” stated the dragon. “It was a pleasure meeting you, sir: I hope I have eased your mind about Lord Robert.”

“Oh aye. It was lovely to hear from him one last time. I thought he’d have blamed me, you know. Should have known better. A pleasure meeting you, Your Dragonship.”

“Certainly.” said the dragon, not bothering to make whimsical remarks. Sean left, and as soon as the door shut behind him Vernon was questioning Jinx.

“Was Sean serving Robert right up to the end?”

“Yes, he was.” said Jinx, startled. “Peter took me to visit him just last night, and Sean was there.”

“When you left them, was Robert still alive?”

“Yes, just extremely drunk. He tried to stand up, and fainted, and didn’t wake up, even when me and Sean carried him into his room.”

“But Sean was awake?”

“I want to know what you’re thinking, Vernon.”

“Jinx, I am forced to consider that Sean may be the Nameless Pretender. He had the opportunity to kill Robert, and all his grieving may be a sham. Did you notice how quickly he looked up when I said that you were going to kill Nameless?”

“No, Vernon! Not Sean! That’s horrible!”

“It’s possible, Jinx. And you are now in danger from him as well. He must be insanely jealous of you. I thought his tone seemed a little odd, when he said you’d been made First Rank. You must understand that if my line of reasoning is correct, he secretly hates you, and now has reason to fear you…”

“Vernon, stop! That’s not possible!”

“No, listen, Jinx! I don’t want to lose you so soon, you’re the most interesting person I’ve met in centuries, so listen! Lord Sean is Second Rank, and the Nameless One wants to be King. In order to succeed to the throne, Nameless would have to be First Rank, or kill all the Second Rank nobles and everybody else. Now, if Sean is the Nameless One, he would hate you because you got jumped over his head to First Rank, in a situation where he might have scored a vitally important victory by being promoted himself. He will seek to befriend you, and lull you into a sense of false security…”

“But, Vernon, King-Thomas offered it to him first!”

The dragon stopped, thunderstruck. “What’s that?”

“King-Thomas tried to make him a First-Rank, but Sean didn’t want to.”

Vernon slumped. “Oh. It wouldn’t be him, then.”

“I thought it was ridiculous even to pretend it was him.”

“But then,” said the dragon, perking up with a new idea, “what about Peter? You yourself said that Peter was with you when you went to see Robert last night. Oh, it’s not a happy thought, but we both know that Lord Peter is clever enough to…”

“He’s not Lord-Peter anymore, Vernon. He quit.”

Vernon glared at Jinx. “I see. That rules him out, then. Are there any other revelations you’re not telling me about, Jinx? Every time I come up with a decent theory, you instantly destroy it. I suspect you’re doing it on purpose.”

“The only other person who visited Robert that night was me. Do you think that I’m the Nameless One?”

“You’re the only one who definitely isn’t! I looked in your mind, when I was modifying that cantrip for talking to Elanor. You remember. You nearly shredded my brain for it.”

“Oh, okay. I was just checking. You looked in Peter’s mind too. Did you not look very hard?”

“Come to think of it, that’s true.” said the dragon. “I’d forgotten that part. You can’t blame me for that, though, since I wasn’t looking in Peter’s mind so much as simply putting in a cantrip. Now that I think of it, I saw enough of his mind doing that to be sure he’s not Nameless.”

“Next you’ll be thinking it’s Elanor, or King-Thomas.”

“Don’t be sarcastic, Jinx! I’m only drawing perfectly valid, logical conclusions that happen to be totally incorrect. Would you deprive me of the chance to amuse myself this way?”

“No.” said Jinx. “What did you do to Elanor? She’s been behaving badly. I had to freeze her before she killed a Kings-page.”

“Well, I’m sure you noticed that she can talk now. I also gave her the facial expressions and other expressive outlets that humans have: all that is tied up intricately with human speech. I haven’t altered or added to her mind, but in order to give her speech I had to give her mind a far greater capacity to expand and grow. I’m terribly interested to see what happens. Elanor will become far more complex mentally, but as a natural outgrowth of her personality. It may already be happening, and I daresay you’ll have a significant effect on her development. By the way, when I did that I snapped the thread on the cantrip you had for mind-to-mind contact: it’s gone now. I remembered that you didn’t like having spells in your head, so I took the liberty of removing it. You may remember, some time after you left with Peter, feeling quite blank and disconnected?”

Jinx remembered standing in the Nexus, watching the huge cubes roar off into the distance with the ground shaking under his feet, and the strange feeling of unreality about it. He nodded.

“That was when I snapped the thread. I numbed you slightly so nothing would go wrong. I hope this didn’t bother you, Jinx. I didn’t think to warn you until after you’d left.”

“Actually, the timing was good.” said Jinx.

“Oh? Well, that was fortunate. Anyway, I did nothing else to Elanor, apart from teaching her to walk, and that was her idea. As I said, she may already be showing more complexity, but such complexity could only be an outgrowth of her existing personality. If she’s been misbehaving, I assure you it’s not my fault. I certainly didn’t give her any unpleasant tendencies, and I find it hard to believe she attacked a page as you said, for she’s wonderfully sweet-natured, if rather untamed. You may be mistaking her natural excitability for misbehaving. Did she attack this page, or simply jump on him playfully?”

“No, she told him she wanted to see what his throat tasted like. I don’t dare let her loose.”

“I suppose you could call that misbehaving, yes. Jinx, I don’t know what to tell you: when I gave her the ability to talk, it took the same space as the cantrip for mind-linking, so I haven’t been able to speak with her and have no idea why she did that. My guess is that she thought this page was attacking you in some way, and was trying to defend you. I can see that it disconcerted you, but try to remember that Elanor doesn’t know the ways of humans. Don’t treat her like a vicious beast. You’ll hurt her feelings terribly if you do. She’d never attack you, and she does talk now, so I suggest you talk with her. You might ask her to apologize, to get across the idea that she did something wrong: I really couldn’t tell you whether she’ll be able to learn not to attack people, particularly if she thinks they’re threatening you. She’s totally wrapped up in you, and she’s got the instincts of a jungle cat. That’s a very touchy combination…”

“I’ll try.”

“Oh, by the way, what was that reason you mentioned? A reason you might want to kill King Thomas?”

“He wants Elanor, too.”

“Hm! Can’t say as I’m surprised, Jinx: Tom’s a lonely man, and she was always his favorite astral guard. I promise you, however, that you don’t have to kill him for it. You’re forgetting Elanor’s feelings, you know. She’s hopelessly in love with you, not Tom.”

“Jinx didn’t ask you to talk nonsense again.”

“What?” said the dragon. “I’m not, Jinx. What makes you think I’m talking nonsense?”

Jinx sighed, and decided to be honest with the dragon, though it humiliated him. “I was only fooling when I said Elanor was a person. I know she really is an animal, but I didn’t want to admit I was sleeping with one. I guess that will have to stop. And animals can’t be in love with anybody. ‘In heat’ might be a better way of putting it.”

“Oh, really? What does love mean to you, Jinx? What I meant was the usual human sort.”

Jinx was feeling more and more defensive as the dragon argued with him. “Jinx has made love before, but he usually ended up getting chased out of town. Jinx gave all that up years ago, because it was too much trouble. I don’t think humans mean the same thing when they talk about it. Are you saying that Elanor is like a human, and I’m not? How can Elanor be more like humans than I am?”

“Perhaps she hasn’t been hurt as much,” said the dragon acidly, “but I suspect that will change.”

“Jinx would like you to explain that, please.”

“When I think I can explain it to you, I’ll let you know. Go. I don’t wish to talk any more.”

Jinx left, frustrated. He wasn’t sure why Vernon had kicked him out. Once more, he felt the old worthlessness creeping up on him, and he hated it. Everybody turned on him sooner or later. Even Elanor was making trouble for him. Now he understood why humans invented apologizing: he wanted her to say she was sorry, wanted to make her promise not to do it again. It would make him feel a little bit better, like he mattered to somebody, even if that somebody was only an animal like him.

He went and stood over her. “Elanor, thaw. Jinx isn’t going to speak to you until you say you’re sorry for what you did.”

She lost the stiff pose, and went limp, without trying to stretch or move. Her eyes stared straight ahead, as if not seeing him at all. She remained silent.

Jinx couldn’t believe it. He’d been so sure she was going to jump all over him, begging his forgiveness, and now this! She wasn’t even looking at him! He turned and stalked off, furious. Everybody, everybody turned against him, even Elanor. For some reason, that was the worst of all: he’d had some kind of idea that she cared about him, and now she wasn’t even willing to apologize. Wonderful.

Jinx wandered into the dining room, but everything looked like ‘yuck’. He wandered into the library, but there wasn’t anything he wanted to know about: what he wanted was to not know anything anymore, since everything he knew hurt. He stared at all the books, all of them written by humans. They would tell their stories to him, but only because another human had told them to with magic: without that, they were nothing but an infinity of worlds in which he was not welcome, to which he did not belong.

He went over to the blank wall, where he’d come in. At first he’d thought he was trapped by a wall of rock between this place and the outside world, but now he knew the outside world wasn’t behind it at all. Even if he could dig through solid rock, he would only end up in some other cave, no nearer his destination, and this seemed horribly unfair.

Jinx found himself thinking about what Elanor had done, what he wanted her to apologize for. She’d terrified a Kings-page, reared up and snarled right in his face, because she wanted him to go away and let Jinx sleep. Was that what Vernon had meant when he said she was ‘in love’? The humans Jinx had seen who were in love tended not to do things like that. They tended to get very sensitive, weep a lot, and go slightly insane, jumping to wild conclusions that anybody sensible could see were foolish. Jinx had wept when Sir-Irwin died, but ever since then he’d tried very hard to be sensible…

What was the sensible thing for him to do, now?

Jinx had to admit he felt horrible. Elanor was so mad she wasn’t speaking to him, and he couldn’t deal with it at all. He couldn’t blame her: she’d only been trying to help him, and he’d frozen her, dumped her on some cushions, and left her there the whole morning, just about. He’d even come home with a friend and continued to ignore her. It wasn’t surprising that she was mad at him. So what was he supposed to do?

Jinx couldn’t see any way around it: he was going to apologize. He hoped that would be enough, and that Elanor wouldn’t be so mad at him after he did. He felt like he was falling apart, like all his energy was draining away, and he knew that he needed Elanor to like him again.

Jinx left the library, and crouched next to Elanor, who was still silent. “El…” he said, leaning over her, and then he saw the tears running down her face, and the terrible, hurting look in her eyes. She did not look at him: she looked at nothing like a broken toy.

“I’m sorry that I did something wrong.” she said in a small voice, and sniffled. “And you don’t have to talk to me if you’d rather not.”

Jinx’s mind reeled. “Elanor?” he said, shakily.

“It’s okay if you hate me. I know I’m not a person really. I can go back to wandering the lonely place for King-Thomas, and you don’t ever have to see me again. I suppose I deserve that for thinking I could love a real person like you. I should have known better. You tried to tell me, but I wouldn’t listen.”

“I thought you were mad at me…”

“No, I’m grateful you showed me how you really felt about me before I bothered you worse,” said Elanor, and she sniffled again. “Please freeze me again now. I want to go back to the lonely place, and stay there.”

“No.” said Jinx, horrified at what he’d done to her with his unthinking cruelty. What could he possibly say to her at this point, to change everything he’d already said? He had driven her away in spite of herself, and he didn’t dare try to explain that he’d been trying to force her to be human because he needed her with him. Now, he knew why he felt that way, and it was too late. “No,” he said shakily, “I can’t let you stay in the lonely place.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. I forgot that you liked making love to me. That’s okay. You can do that, and then when you’re finished I can go somewhere you can’t see me. That should work.” said Elanor, and her voice was becoming flat and emotionless, as if she was going away even as she spoke. She seemed to be bracing herself, forcing herself to detach, so she could survive the horrible existence she was imagining.

Jinx felt like he was being torn apart. Tears were coming to his eyes even as hers became drier and calmer. He felt weak and broken and desperate. “Elanor, look at me.”

She met his eyes as if she was following orders, and suddenly her distant gaze showed a terrible strain and fear. Jinx faced her rigid stare, his eyes swimming, and spoke, feeling like he was cheating in the worst possible way… “Please stay with me, Elanor, I love you.”

She tried not to believe him, tried desperately. He could see it reflected in her eyes, as they filled with a mixture of hope and horrible pain, pain she couldn’t escape. She didn’t want to believe him. She wanted to go back to the lonely place and learn not to care. Then her eyes filled again with tears, and she let out a little whimper and buried her face in his shoulder, clinging to him, sobbing like she’d never stop.

“I love you, kitten,” he said, petting her trembling body tenderly.

“I don’t want to love you! You hurt!” sobbed Elanor.

“I’m sorry,” said Jinx, and felt like he’d been stabbed. He hugged her to him tightly, as if doing that might somehow make up for the way he’d treated her. Elanor trembled, and sobbed, and Jinx continued to hold her, overwhelmed by the force of his emotion. He stroked her soft fur, feeling the muscle beneath it, in sheer wonder at this incredible creature, so fierce, so fragile. He had assumed he owned her, and that was disturbingly true, but he had never realized how much she owned him. Now he knew, and it left him feeling exhausted and horribly defenseless. Before long she subsided into sniffles, and eventually she lifted her head, and looked at him.

“I love you, too.” she said, and her eyes were so vulnerable and helpless it frightened him.

The King’s Pages were chattering excitedly, looking furtively over their shoulders as they exchanged delightfully naughty gossip.

“No, honestly, Bill, she did! She said that Sir Jinx had been shagging her all night long and didn’t get any sleep…”

“Go on! You’re making it up, people can’t go all night. My brother said not.”

“But they’re not people! You saw him! He’s a bleeding beast, he is. Maybe he can, even if people can’t. Cor, Bill, I nearly wet my pants. She almost killed me, right there! She grabbed my shoulders and sunk her claws in!”

“I bet you did wet your pants, and you don’t want to admit it.”

“I did not!”

“And how could she have sunk her bleeding claws into your shoulder, if she’s a great big black cat? Cats can’t balance on their hind legs.”

“Well, you saw Sir Jinx do it! He must have taught her, just like he taught her to speak.”

“You’re a bloody great liar, Michael, you’re telling stories again.”

“It’s true! I swear it’s true!”

“That you wet yourself? I believe it.”

“No, about Sir Jinx’s consort! Didn’t you hear, when we got our orders? The King told me to fetch Sir Jinx, but not his consort. Remember?”

“Oh aye… You’re not having me on?”

“Honest, it’s all true!”

Bill was silent for a moment.

“Cor. I’ll bet that’s not all he’s been teaching her!”

“Now it’s your turn. Tell me more about Lord Gerald getting killed!”

“What’s to tell? He was toast, that’s all.”

“But what did he look like?”

Michael shivered, like he was being told a ghost story, as Bill relented and began colorfully describing the scene to him…

Lord Hugo and Lord James were discussing the scandalous events of the morning.

“Oh, now, James, be serious! You can’t expect the King to execute this Jinx.”

“I can’t? He threatened to kill me, Hugo! It’s not safe to have a beast like that roaming around. And what business was it of his, anyway?”

“Well, he obviously likes Sean, and that made it his business. He did not attack you: in fact, he restrained Sean from attacking you, quite a civilized act for such a creature. As far as threatening you, which is all he did, you must admit he was within his rights.”

“Oh? He has a right to threaten me, simply for standing there making sure Sean wasn’t going to get loose and strangle me? I beg to differ.”

“No, James. You were enjoying yourself, I saw you. You were gloating over Sean’s helplessness. You were positively undignified about it, and you can’t seriously think Sean was going to break free. That brute is strong, impressively strong.”

“And because he’s strong, that gives him the right to threaten me?”

“James, do try and be sensible. You saw the reaction of the room when he was made a First Lord. Certainly it’s unfair, even insulting, but Rainmoor accepted him, and you don’t seem willing to admit that to yourself. Believe what you please, but this Jinx is a First Lord now, and outranks you. I might add that his conduct, though alarming, was appropriate to his rank and to the situation…”

“Are you implying that my behavior was unfitting? That’s the other side of it. You’re trying to make me admit that this beast could honorably have killed me, then and there! Hugo, I demand an apology!”

“No. You’re wrong, James, and it’s your skin, not mine. If you won’t concede that Jinx is legitimately a ranking noble, I would rather not be around you, sir, because you’re likely to learn the hard way…”

“My dear Hugo,” said James haughtily, “animals are not nobles. Good day. And goodbye.”

Hugo grimaced. “My dear James, one is, now. If you won’t learn to tolerate him, you have only yourself to blame. Good day.”

James strode off, furious. “Lord James!” called Lord Hugo, from behind him, and James turned to see a crooked smile on Hugo’s face. “And, good luck…”

Jinx and Elanor were somewhere in Rainmoor, and Jinx was extremely worried.

“Can’t we just find somebody and ask directions?”

“I know where we are!” snapped Elanor. “It’s not my fault that my first try didn’t work. I’m used to just going through walls, because I know this area from flying around in the lonely place. I forgot we’d have to go through a wall, that’s all. We’ll just go around.”

“But what if we end up going through one of those Gates, and end up miles away?”

“We won’t! I already passed one of those things. They don’t look any different now, but in the lonely place they sort of sparkle. Don’t you trust me?”

“Of course I do!” lied Jinx.

“Well, if you really trusted me, you wouldn’t be so worried!”

“I do trust you, Elanor, sort of.”

“Sort of! I ought to just leave you here, if you think you’ll have better luck finding your way around. Sort of!”

“Well, what do you expect me to say? We’re lost, and I hate being lost in this place! It’s too confusing, and I haven’t seen anybody for the last half-hour!”

“We are not lost! Jinx, we have to go this way because you refuse to go into the big place! I know it takes longer, but it’s your fault!”

“Okay, then!” snapped Jinx, hanging onto his temper with both hands. “We’ll go through the Nexus. That’s what the humans call it, you know.”

“Too late now, tiger, we’re closer to Peter’s place. And I think ‘big place’ is a much better name than ‘nexus’. What good is a name if it doesn’t tell you what the thing is?”

“We’re close to Peter’s place?”

“Really close. All we have to do is go down this tunnel some more, and then go straight up, and over a little, and we’ll be almost there.”

“How are we supposed to go straight up?”

“Oops.” said Elanor, stopping beneath a hole in the ceiling. Suddenly, she looked much less brave and confident. In fact, she looked like she was about to cry, and Jinx noticed that and was gentle.

“Okay, what’d you forget this time?”

“I forgot we can’t fly.” said Elanor in a small voice, and turned her face away.

“Elanor! Kitten!” said Jinx, crouching down beside her and hugging her. “Don’t cry! We’re close to Peter’s place?”

“Really close.” said Elanor, comforted that Jinx wasn’t getting angry.

Jinx studied the hole. “Which way does it go? Does it go straight up?”

“No, it goes over, like I said. It’s pretty flat.”

“Let’s jump for it.”

“I don’t think I can jump that high, Jinx.”

“I think I can, and I can help you.”

Jinx studied the hole. It wasn’t exactly in the ceiling, but it wasn’t in a wall either. It seemed to be pretty flat once you got into it. Jinx positioned himself under it, leaped for it, and managed to catch hold of the lower lip of the opening. He hung on stubbornly, pulling himself up, and managed to get a good look into it. It was quite level, and if they could get into it, they’d be all right. He dropped to the floor of the cave again.

“Can you do that, Elanor?”

“I can try.”

Elanor positioned herself where Jinx had been, shuffling her paws agitatedly as she got ready to jump. Jinx moved to a place where he could catch her if she fell. She sprang, thumped against the wall with her head and shoulders over the lip of the hole, and scrabbled wildly to hang on, but her claws couldn’t get a grip on the stone and, without hands, she couldn’t hang on to the edge as Jinx had. She fell, head over heels, and when Jinx caught her he got a nasty gouge on the shoulder as he broke her fall, for her claws were still out.

“Oh, Jinx, I’m sorry! I couldn’t help it, I was falling and trying to grab onto something! Does it hurt? I’m really sorry!”

“It’s okay, Elanor. It’s only a scratch.” he said, tactfully omitting that it was a scratch from a full-grown black panther’s claws and hurt like hell. “I was afraid you were going to break your neck! That was a great jump, though.”

“Should I try again?”

“I’m not sure I’d survive it!” said Jinx, wincing. “How about having me give you a boost?”

“How?”

“Come over here, and face the hole, with your back to me.”

Jinx leaned over her, and put his arms around her, trying to figure out how to lift her.

“If you think that will make me jump higher, you don’t know me very well.” purred Elanor.

“I wasn’t doing anything! I’m trying to figure out how to stand up with your paws in my hands, so I can sort of throw you up as you jump. At least you’ll be higher off the ground that way.”

“Well, why didn’t you say so? That’s easy. What you should do is stand up with your hands together, and I’ll stand up and climb on.”

Jinx did this, and Elanor stood quite nicely and stepped up onto his linked hands, turning around.

“If you can stand up that well, Elanor, why do you still walk on all fours?” said Jinx, his face pressed against her lower back.

“Because I want to, of course. Do I jump now?” she asked, and her paws wriggled in his hands.

“No, you… Ow! Careful with your claws, Elanor!”

“Sorry!” she said, and relaxed again. “How am I supposed to do this?”

“I’m going to count one, two, three. On three, you jump and I push.” Jinx tried to shift his hands around so Elanor’s claws weren’t digging into his fingers as much.

“That tickles! Do I have to count? I don’t know how. Well, I sort of do, but it gets too complicated.”

“Oh… It doesn’t matter. I’m going to say one, two, three, like that, and when I say three, jump. Okay? Right. One, two, three!”

Despite his best efforts, his hands suffered, for Elanor’s claws came out again as she got ready to jump. Fortunately, they didn’t injure him too badly. Elanor sailed up, and, whether through magic or just good luck, her aim was perfect. She soared into the hole, and there was a faint clunk and a loud squall.

Hearing that, Jinx leapt himself, grabbed the lip of the hole, and pulled himself up, to see Elanor shaking her head and glowering. “I banged my head on the ceiling. I must have jumped too much.”

“Are you dizzy?” asked Jinx, worried and trying to get himself over the edge without using his hands.

“No, I… What’s the matter with you?”

Jinx gave up and clambered over the edge using his hands, and leaving little smears of blood on the rock. “You had your claws out.”

“Oh, Jinx, I’m sorry! This is terrible, I’m shredding the cat I love into little bits! No more jumping, ever, I promise!”

“Are we almost there, anyway? Hey, Elanor, you got cut too!” said Jinx, noticing a mark on the ceiling.

“I did?” asked Elanor. She licked a paw, passed it over one ear, and winced. “You’re right. I didn’t bounce off the ceiling, I sort of scraped it.”

“Let’s get going. Maybe Peter can fix us up.”

“Or his mate, that’s what a mate is for.”

“Oh?” said Jinx. “You seem to be good at causing wounds, not healing them!”

“I said I was sorry, Jinx! I could say the same thing about you, you just do it with words. Never mind, I love you anyway, let’s go. This way.”

The rest of the way was easy, and they ended up in front of a roundish wooden door much like countless other rounded wooden doors in Rainmoor.

“This is the right place?” asked Jinx.

“Yes.”

Jinx knocked and winced, remembering his hand was injured. The door opened, and a woman with long brown hair was standing there. “Oh!” she said, startled but obviously pleased, and called back over her shoulder “Peter, you said I should expect guests in black tie and tails!”

Peter came into view. “Well, I lied about the black tie, Julia, but they do have tails.”

“They certainly do! You must be Lord Jinx, and Peter says I should just call you Jinx. I’m Julia.”

She tried to shake his hand, but Jinx yanked it away. Julia quickly glanced into his eyes, looked again at his hand, and exclaimed “Oh, you’re hurt! And your shoulder’s hurt as well. Peter! Jinx is hurt!”

“He’s what?” said Peter, taking his arm and leading him into the room. “Did somebody attack you, Jinx? What happened?”

“And you must be Elanor.” said Julia, dropping to her knees to be on Elanor’s level and speaking in the sweet, gentle tone one would use to a pet which understood nothing. “I’m Julia, Elanor. Should I shake your, uh, paw?”

“No, but you can pet my head.” said Elanor, startling Julia.

“Why, you talk! Certainly I shall, Elanor. You’re lovely.”

Elanor winced as Julia petted her, and remarked “Oops. I forgot that was a bad idea.” Julia stared at her hand, shocked to see a little smear of blood on it, which had been invisible against Elanor’s black fur.

“Elanor, what has happened to you?”

“I bumped my head on the ceiling, jumping through a hole.”

“I beg your pardon?”

At that point, Jinx undertook to explain the whole business of jumping through the hole in the ceiling. He was so careful to not blame Elanor for anything that she ended up explaining how Jinx’s hands and shoulder got hurt. Peter and Julia listened, fascinated. Peter was interested in the way they’d gotten up to the hole, but Julia seemed more struck by the way Jinx and Elanor went back and forth with their explanations, each forgiving the other their blunders, not interrupting each other so much as batting the conversation back and forth between them.

“I’m glad you made it.” said Peter when they’d finished. “It’s a pity you had such a hard trip.”

“I wish we’d made it,” remarked Elanor, “instead of having such a hard trip. When Jinx put his arms around me, I thought he wanted to, and I told him…”

“Elanor!” said Jinx. “Don’t be rude!”

“Oh, Jinx, you’re just like Peter.” said Julia. “Go ahead, dear. What did you tell him? I’m dying to know…”

“Why, I told him it wasn’t going to make me jump any higher.”

“Really? Some girls would jump twice as high if that happened.” suggested Julia. Peter and Jinx were looking at each other as if each thought the other would be able to stop this line of conversation.

“Oh, nothing happened.” said Elanor. “But if anything did, I wouldn’t jump at all! I’d just stay right there! Wouldn’t you?”

“Why, certainly. We’re embarrassing the men, dear, better change the subject. We must do something about your injuries, before we can even think of doing anything else!”

“Why?” asked Elanor.

“Well, what were you expecting, that we’d just sit there while you bled? Honestly!”

“Don’t worry, we’re all right.” said Jinx. “It’s only cuts and scrapes.”

“Oh, nonsense! Peter shall heal you. Won’t you, Peter? Right away!”

“Ah, Julia… This morning I could have. Now, I cannot. Remember?”

“Oh, damn, that’s right! You’re not a First Lord anymore! Who’d have believed I’d actually be regretting that? But wait, you’re a First Lord now, Jinx! You do it. Or would you really prefer to sit there and bleed into the soup?”

“We’re not actually bleeding, Julia,” said Jinx defensively, “or not much, and I don’t know how to heal anybody.”

“Well, you’re going to try. I refuse to serve you dinner, if you don’t at least try to heal your darling Elanor. When you’ve finished that, she can heal you. I daresay, judging from the way she talks, that she qualifies for it.”

“What?”

“Julia, you needn’t be so stubborn!” said Peter. “Jinx, she’s talking about the way Rainmoor magic operates for nobles. You wouldn’t know this,” he said, with a reproving glance at Julia, “but you now have a capacity for healing of minor injuries to others. It’s limited to cuts and bruises and such, and you can’t heal yourself. That’s where Elanor comes in. The magic extends to the First Lord’s consort, if she’s pure of heart, of course.”

Jinx looked nervously at Elanor. “What does pure of heart mean? I’m not sure Elanor is pure of anything.”

Julia grinned wickedly. “It worked for me, Jinx, and Elanor seems much less jaded and debased than I am. Don’t worry about it.”

“Now, now, Julia,” said Peter, “everybody knows you’re pure of heart. Why, when you stand a certain way, one can almost see the halo.”

“Yes, dear. I put up a good front, don’t I?”

“But how am I supposed to do this, anyway?” protested Jinx. “Do I have to work magic? I don’t want to do any magic!”

“Take it easy, Jinx!” said Peter. “It’s quite simple, you won’t have to learn any incantations or inscribe any scrolls. It’s by far the simplest Rainmoor magic, it practically works itself. All you need do is touch the wound, preferably not a major one, and wish it or will it to be better. Just try it.”

Jinx hesitantly touched Elanor’s head, making her wince, and wished it to be better. Then he jerked his hand back, for he felt the flow of some sort of power going through his arm and into her.

“What happened? What’s the matter?” said Peter.

“There’s magic happening! This is not good!”

“Oh, Jinx!” exclaimed Julia. “Of course it’s good, otherwise nothing would happen at all! Peter, is he always this skittish about magic?”

“Afraid so, Julia. Elanor, did anything happen?”

“Yes, my head doesn’t hurt as much as it did. I didn’t know Jinx could do that.”

“Neither did he.” said Peter, looking at Jinx levelly.

Jinx had no choice, since everybody was expecting him to heal Elanor, and since he really did want to, anyway. He put his hand back on her head, noting that she didn’t wince so much this time, and again willed her to be better with great earnestness. He shivered as magic rushed through him, but did not draw back, and very quickly the magic dwindled and stopped. He tried to inspect Elanor’s wound, but couldn’t find it anymore.

“Now for Jinx.” said Julia. “Elanor, do you know what Jinx just did for you?”

“He made my head not hurt. I don’t know how, though.”

“It’s your turn. You need to touch Jinx’s wounds, and wish them to heal.”

“Oh, you mean try and make them better? Take care of him?”

“Exactly,” replied Julia, and then broke off, hiding a smile with her hand, for Elanor had reared up onto Jinx and was diligently licking the wound on his shoulder. She sneezed, presumably because the flow of magic was tickling her nose, but persisted despite Jinx’s protests, and when he tried to push her away, turned her attentions to his hands.

“Stop it! Elanor, quit, right now!” snapped Jinx, mortified. Finally, Elanor left off.

Julia was trying so hard to to keep from laughing that she didn’t dare speak, so it was Peter who asked, “Did it work?”

Jinx was busy wiping his hands on his fur and glaring at Elanor. “Well, the cuts are gone, if that’s what you mean. Don’t you ever do that again, Elanor!”

“But Jinx,” pleaded Elanor, “I just wanted to make your hurts better! Why are you mad at me?”

Jinx paused, realizing how ungrateful he was being. “You did make my hurts better, Elanor, and thank you. I wish you could have done it in a more dignified way, that’s all.”

“What’s so undignified about licking your wounds? I wouldn’t have done it if I didn’t love you.”

“It’s not something people do.”

“Jinx, do try not to be narrow-minded.” said Julia. “It worked, and you have no business complaining about how it was done.”

“What’s for dinner?” asked Jinx, hoping to change the subject.

“Well, Peter suggested I make fish-stew, and now I know why. It’s been ready for over an hour, because you were delayed, but that’s okay, it gets better with simmering. This way to the dining room, and you’ll have to duck your head, Jinx.” warned Julia. She paused, and then couldn’t resist adding “Unless you want Elanor to kiss it and make it better?”

The entrance-room to Peter’s place was a good-sized cave, but it led to a profusion of smaller caves winding every which way, and Jinx could see why Elanor had called it ‘bubbly’. It was like a bunch of small caves had all decided to be in the same place, making not so much a catacombs as a cluster of space. Jinx usually had room to stand up, but he frequently did have to duck his head, because the arches that linked the several larger caves Peter and Julia lived in were more like natural rock formations than doors.

“Oooh, Julia, it’s beautiful!” exclaimed Elanor. “I’ve never seen this place for real before!”

“For real?” said Julia. “What do you mean?”

“Well, when I watched you before, it was from the lonely place, so everything was gray and you could see through it, sort of.”

Julia tried figuring this out for a few seconds before Peter came to her rescue.

“Elanor was one of the King’s astral guards, dear. She’s talking about the astral plane, and she’s been all over Rainmoor in astral form.”

“Oh? Did you say you’ve watched me, Elanor?”

“Yes. I liked watching you, especially late at night, because you make such exciting noises when your mate makes love to you.”

Julia flushed, and Peter remarked, “Why, Julia! At last I have my revenge, somebody’s embarrassed you for a change. I thought I’d never live to see it happen…”

“Humph!” said Julia. “I make good noises, do I? Better than any of the other consorts?”

“Except me.” replied Elanor proudly. “You can’t help that, though, you’re not a cat.”

“Oh, yes, she is!” said Peter. “Haven’t you noticed?”

“No, she’s not!” said Elanor. “She’s a human!”

“Well, if watching her in coital bliss hasn’t convinced you, we’ll talk about the other nobles over dinner. You’ll soon change your mind.”

“If you don’t behave, Peter,” said Julia, “I shall claw your nuts off, and then you’ll be sorry you were right. Come help me with dinner.”

They left Jinx and Elanor in the dining room, a medium sized cave with a table seemingly sunk into the wall and a sort of bench running round it.

“Can you sit on that, Elanor? Oh, I forgot completely! Can you eat? There was some sort of spell that King-Thomas put on you that meant you didn’t have to eat.”

“Certainly I can eat! I just don’t bother, usually, because people foods are mostly unpleasant. This fish stuff smells wonderful, though.” She hopped onto the bench, and sat back on her haunches.

Jinx, trying to drop a subtle hint, said “I’m going to put my legs under the table and put this napkin in my lap, like people do.”

“I’m not.” said Elanor. “What am I supposed to do with these metal things?”

“Damn, you don’t have hands, so you can’t hold a spoon! What are you going to do?”

“I’ll manage.”

“I was afraid you were going to say that…” said Jinx, as Peter and Julia returned with bowls of fish stew and bread.

As Jinx had feared, Elanor didn’t bother with a spoon: she just lapped the stuff out of the bowl like the big cat she was. Jinx found himself eating with great fastidiousness, eating even the bread with a fork, in reaction to Elanor’s behavior. Fortunately, she was lapping the soup up with great neatness and delicacy, which was sort of a relief: Jinx had been afraid she was going to slop it all over the table. When she wanted some bread, she pulled it toward her with one paw and tore off a piece with her teeth. He had to admit she was being civilized and fastidious too, in her way.

Peter and Julia pretended not to notice anything out of the ordinary was going on. When they’d noted the disparity in eating styles, they’d exchanged glances, and then Peter continued eating like Jinx was, even to the extent of eating bread with a fork, while Julia tried to mimic Elanor. She proved unable to lap soup like a cat, so she cheerfully began drinking the soup out of the bowl like it was a very large cup, and took to grabbing the bread and ripping off a piece with her teeth, seemingly with great delight.

“You must invite Elanor and Jinx over more often, Peter,” she said, “this is a refreshing change from the usual stuffy nobles.”

Peter glanced at Jinx. “I don’t know about that, dear. I think Jinx would prefer more decorum.”

“Nonsense! And be impolite to Elanor?” said Julia, biting at the bread some more.

“Fair enough. You’ll always be better at manners than I am, Julia. I defer to your judgment.”

Peter turned to Jinx. “How’s being a First Rank Lord suiting you?”

“I’m not sure yet. How many other magic things am I supposed to know?”

“Does that bother you? Nobody’s forcing you to use them, you know.”

“I’d like to know anyway, in case any of the things are important.”

“Well, that’s rather a tricky question, because of the gray areas involved. There are many things that would require training you don’t have, such as controlling the light of Rainmoor, which is a delicate and complex operation that a lot of nobles never master. Ivan can do it, and Nicholas could, and King Thomas can, but I can’t think of anyone else who can. Fortunately, the light of Rainmoor controls itself perfectly well and doesn’t need anybody’s help. As far as useful things go, if you try, you’ll find you can identify hidden Gates, and with a little basic mage training you can get a general idea of where you are in Rainmoor. Developing a sense of location for yourself isn’t difficult in Rainmoor, because you’d be orienting yourself against the same pattern of forces you’re tapping into. You may pick up a crude version of this skill even without study. Since you’re a First Lord now, it becomes possible…”

“What’s a hidden Gate?”

“They’re also called King’s Gates. I imagine King Thomas used one to get to your plane. If you look at one, you will know its true nature and with training you’ll be able to tell where it leads to. Only the King can travel through such Gates, but you can at least spot them now.”

“I went through a hole in a mountain,” said Jinx, “and it closed up behind me and trapped me here.”

“Did you go through it by yourself?”

“No, following King-Thomas.”

“As I thought, a King’s Gate. Did you say trapped, Jinx?”

“Yes. I want to go home.”

Elanor looked up from her soup, startled. “Don’t go, Jinx! Stay here with me! Please?”

“You should come, too, Elanor! You’ll like home, it’s got meadows and trees and things, not like this weird underground place.”

“But, Jinx, this place is home for me. I never got to see it for real before, just from the lonely place. I want to see more of it now. Can’t you stay?”

“I can’t leave! The hole closed up, and I can’t open it! And King-Thomas won’t open it for me! That’s why I said I was trapped here.”

“Jinx,” asked Julia, “if you could leave, right now, would you?”

Jinx thought about it. He’d always felt that, given a chance, he’d flee Rainmoor instantly, but…

“No. Not right now, anyway. I do want to help King-Thomas, and kill Nameless-King for killing Robert. Also, Elanor wants to stay here. Elanor, if I went, would you come too?”

There was a slight pause, and then Elanor said “Yes.”

“Why do you hesitate, dear?” asked Julia.

“It’s scary. I’ve never been to this place Jinx wants to go to. It sounds very different from what I’m used to.”

“You’ll get to like it, Elanor.” said Jinx helplessly.

“Jinx,” said Peter, “perhaps you’d better resign yourself to being here for now. You’ve got friends here, and you’re learning how Rainmoor works. Elanor likes it here, and you may find yourself starting to like it, too. I mean, look at this house of mine, for instance!”

“Show-off.” stated Julia.

“No, honestly, look at it! If you wanted to make a place like this on any normal world, you’d have to hire hundreds of stonemasons, and they’d be chipping away at rock for years. In Rainmoor, all I had to do was tinker with the forces that create these bubbles of air in the stone, and I could create the house of my dreams! It’s not to everyone’s taste, mind you, but I love it. It’s a work of art, only it’s a work of art that you live in!”

“Show-off. I helped design it, remember.”

“Quite so. Before Julia put her foot down, I was going to make all the passages from room to room even more interestingly shaped. She convinced me to make it easier to walk around in. But you see? I could do all these things! Don’t you find a place that allows such freedom a little bit wonderful?”

“I still want to go home, but it’s not all that important.”

“Well, I hope you’re not totally miserable and homesick here, Jinx.”

“Elanor’s here.” said Jinx.

“Now, Jinx,” said Julia, “there are other good people in Rainmoor, you know. Peter, who’s he met?”

Peter counted on his fingers. “The King, myself, you, Robert, Sean, Gerald, Charles, and possibly some of the other nobles in passing. Not bad, for two days. Or was it three?”

“I’m not sure,” said Jinx, “because so much has happened. And most of those people are either dead, being hunted, or unpleasant.”

“Oh? Who was unpleasant?”

“Charles.”

“Him, unpleasant? Boring, certainly, cowardly, even useless, but unpleasant? I’d thought you were going to say Hugo, since he insulted you publicly.”

“Hugo was unpleasant, yes. James was unpleasant to Sean and really mean. Charles was unpleasant when King-Thomas tried to give a First-Rank to Sean.”

“Oh? How’s that?”

“He glared at Sean.”

“Hmph.” said Peter. “Jinx, you must remember that Charles came to the ceremony thinking he was going to be promoted. That’s the way it was announced. The summons plainly said that he was to be promoted. I’m not a bit surprised that he was rather put out when King Thomas offered it to Sean first.”

Jinx said nothing. ‘Rather put out’ didn’t quite say it for him. ‘Wanting to rip Sean’s throat out with his teeth’ seemed more appropriate, but it probably wasn’t polite to say so.

“Since you are staying here for now, Jinx,” continued Peter, “do you have any plan of action? What do you intend to do? Everybody knows you’re here to kill Nameless, even if King Thomas won’t say so outright. However, Nameless probably knows that as well, and he’s shown great talent in killing people off. I’m worried about you, Jinx: he’s bound to try for you, simply in self-defense.”

“No!” cried Elanor, aghast. “That settles it, I’m not letting him out of my sight from now on! This nameless thing’s going to have to get through me first!”

“Elanor, calm down!” replied Jinx. “You can’t go everywhere I go, you’re not allowed!”

“Oh, yes she is!” said Julia. “She’s your consort. She healed you, which proves it. Just because most consorts don’t bother to attend dull ceremonies doesn’t mean Elanor can’t. She may not be allowed to speak but she certainly can be present.”

“There, you see? I am so going everywhere you go, and there’s nothing you can do about it.”

“I could order you to… You know. Send you to the lonely place. Only to keep you from getting killed, though.”

“Don’t you dare! Jinx, don’t even say things like that!”

“Order her?” asked Julia. “Order her to what?”

Peter explained. “Jinx evidently has the ability to send Elanor into the Astral plane. I’m not sure why the thought’s upsetting her, since she’s done it for years. Say, wait a minute! Elanor, you could help Jinx out by checking in the Astral plane for dangers! That’s just what you did for King Thomas, all these years, isn’t it? I imagine you’ve become expert at the task.”

Elanor didn’t respond, she just looked at Jinx with that vulnerable look that frightened him so. Finally, she spoke. “Only if I can come back, on my own.”

“You mean, controlling the transitions yourself, rather than with keywords?” said Peter.

“If that means getting to come back when I want to, yes.”

“Hmmm… You should talk to Vernon about that. It sounds like the sort of thing he’d be able to deal with. The trouble is, as an astral spirit you haven’t got any contact with the plane you’re looking at…”

“That’s not quite true.” said Julia. “Remember the Pickpocket Ghost?”

“Oh yes, that’s right. You do have some ability to affect the plane you’re looking at, so Vernon should be able to set something up.”

“Pickpocket ghost?” said Jinx.

“It dug keys out of people’s pockets,” explained Julia, “and then dropped them, because it couldn’t hold onto them for long. All ghosts are Astral Plane based. Nobody knows why this one kept trying to steal keys. It stopped a few years ago. Elanor, did you eat it up?”

“No, but I did help to chase the things away.”

“What things?” asked Jinx.

“Scary things. They were always coming from somewhere far away, and frightening us animals, and a few years ago we all got together and we chased them all back to wherever they came from. They keep trying to come back, but we won’t let them. We’re just careful to not explore too far away, or they might get us.”

“That’s horrible!” said Jinx. “Why doesn’t King-Thomas send people into that place? Why does he pick on animals?”

“Ah, Jinx…” replied Peter, “humans can’t go into the Astral plane.”

“Why, do they turn into ghosts?”

“No, they go insane. The astral guards aren’t animals by accident, Jinx. Only animals can go into the Astral plane in safety, or relative safety, anyway. There’s been a lot of research on that, understandably, because any decent mage hates to admit there’s any plane he can’t go to. Apparently when a living human mind enters the Astral plane, it’s torn apart, beginning with higher-level thought. The longest any human’s ever lasted in the Astral Plane is ten seconds, and that was a half-wit who couldn’t tell us what he’d seen there. Any longer than that, and the mind is destroyed, and the more powerful the mind the more savagely it’s torn apart. Immediate mania, or lunacy, within seconds…”

Jinx was lost already. “Beginning with what?”

“Drop it, Peter.” said Julia. “It’s hardly a polite subject for dinner conversation.”

“Sorry. But, Jinx, you should know that Elanor’s work in the Astral plane isn’t the sort of thing King Thomas could farm out to human mages.”

“I’m going with her, the next time she goes.”

“Oh, no, Jinx!” cried Julia. “You mustn’t!”

“He can’t, Julia.” said Peter. “He hasn’t got the hexes to do it, so don’t worry. Jinx, I know you’re not serious, and even if you were, I’m not going to give you the opportunity. Neither will King Thomas. He’s depending on you, and he’s certainly not going to risk your going insane. Nobody’s going to let you take that chance, Jinx, so forget about it.”

Jinx just stared sullenly into his fish stew. He’d have to ask Vernon.

Jinx woke up the next morning in a comfortable mood, the terrors of the previous night seeming less real by daylight. There wasn’t any daylight, just the ever-present Rainmoor light, but Jinx decided that it would do for daylight, and he went into the dining room to find some breakfast. It was unfortunate that he’d made much of the breakfast food he’d found for Sean go away, but he managed to find some of it again.

Elanor came to join him, yawning. “What are you going to do today, Jinx?”

“I don’t know. Maybe just stay here for a change. I still want to help King-Thomas and all that, but I want to take a day off. Do you want to have breakfast with me, Elanor?”

“Maybe. What are you having? Is it good?”

“Well, there isn’t anything alive that you could sink your teeth into and rip to shreds,” teased Jinx, “but I suppose I could look for raw meat. Does that help any?”

Elanor shuddered, reminded of her dream the night before. “No raw anything, please. What is there? I’m curious.”

Elanor’s tastes proved cautious: she hated the various egg things and many of the bread things, but she liked bacon and enjoyed the sweet syrup from the fried-bread stuff Jinx had found for Sean. By the time he’d finished eating, she’d grown tired of experimenting with people food and was finished herself. As they left the kitchen, there was a knocking at the door, and Jinx turned, then realized with surprise that it wasn’t the door to the outside, but the door to Vernon’s cave.

When Jinx opened it, King Thomas was standing there, looking unhappy. Vernon was behind him, saying “Be reasonable, Tom. Somebody’s playing tricks on you, that’s obvious. It doesn’t mean you have to question Jinx…”

“Silence!” snapped the King, while Jinx was still trying to figure out how he got there.

“What do you want?” asked Jinx.

“You must come with me, Lord Jinx. I have gravely serious questions to ask.”

“What, in Vernon’s cave?”

King Thomas did not reply, but strode off across the rock floor without looking back. Jinx followed, and Elanor came right after him, almost treading on his paws in her haste. As the King neared the opposite wall, a passageway opened before him, evidently one of those King’s Paths Peter had mentioned.

At the other end of the passageway was a strange place, much like a plane of some sort. Jinx was baffled by it, for it seemed familiar somehow, yet he’d never been to a place where the ground was white. There were mountains of a sort, also white, but they were lumpy and preposterous, and seemed to defy gravity. Had King-Thomas invented this place? The inexplicable familiarity nagged at him.

Jinx heard a moan from behind him, and looked back to see Elanor, who was being pushed out of the passageway as it closed up, and was struggling and trying to dig her claws in, looking down fixedly. Jinx looked down at the white ground himself, to see what was upsetting her, and at that moment the white under his feet drifted away, exposing more clouds miles below him. He froze, then reached down and touched Elanor gently. She was trembling, and looked up at him with wide, frightened eyes. “It’s not real, Elanor.” he said, trying to convince himself as well. “Pretend it’s like the lonely place, and you’re flying.”

Elanor was not reassured, but she followed him anyway as he went up to King Thomas, who’d seated himself in a throne that was just like the floor, constructed of clouds and air.

“Lord Jinx,” he said, “I have distressing news. First, I would ask what you know of Lord James’s death.”

“He’s dead?”

“Did you know of this? Answer!”

“Jinx hadn’t heard of it until just now. How did he die?”

“Ah. Well, he was clawed to death, as if by a giant cat, since you didn’t know.”

Jinx glanced at Elanor, nervously. She was preoccupied with staring down and thinking she was about to plummet to her death, and wasn’t paying attention to the conversation. “Why are you asking me, King-Thomas?”

“Well, since you’d threatened him, and because of the nature of his injuries, it seemed most likely that you’d killed him. He had made a complaint against you, which I’d ignored.”

“I don’t even have claws, King-Thomas, and my teeth aren’t the same as a real tiger’s.”

“You don’t? I’d always assumed you had. Huh! That casts a new light on Ivan’s claims, as well. Ivan claims that you visited him last night and attacked him, biting at his throat and causing him serious harm and great mental distress. Is that not so?”

“Um… I did visit him, but he got attacked by something else. When that happened, I ran away.”

“True, but inconclusive. Could you explain that, please?”

Jinx stood there, baffled. In order to explain what he was running away from, he’d have to explain about Elanor attacking Ivan. He wasn’t about to do that, since for all he knew it was Elanor who killed James: she’d certainly been in the right place at the right time, and he hadn’t asked her if she happened to kill anybody on the way to Ivan’s. The reason he was at Ivan’s in the first place was because he’d been unable to sleep after his disturbing experience in the Astral Plane, and to explain what was disturbing about the Astral Plane he’d have to understand what had happened to him there. It was just too complicated.

“No.” said Jinx, simply. The King stared at him, astonished.

“You speak the truth. Can you explain why you can’t explain?”

“No.” said Jinx, not even trying to figure out what that would involve.

“Hmmm… How frustrating. Well, even if you can’t tell me what you were doing last night, perhaps you can confirm your innocence. Once more, did you kill James?”

“No.”

“Did you attack Ivan?”

“No, he attacked me.”

“He what? Why did he do that?”

“He said I’m supposed to kill the next King, which is him, and he didn’t want that to happen.”

King Thomas was silent, and Jinx wondered what he’d said that was so upsetting.

“I see. Did he give any reason for believing this?” said the King, finally.

“He talked to Robert before Robert went away.”

“Is Ivan the Nameless Pretender?” demanded the King.

“I don’t know. He acts like it, but he said he wasn’t.”

King Thomas brooded for a while, as Jinx fidgeted. “By the way,” he said, “did Elanor kill James? It doesn’t matter at this point, but she does have claws and teeth.”

Jinx was about to speak, but Elanor interrupted him. “I didn’t kill anybody! I don’t know who this James is, and I did bite that Ivan person, but only because he was attacking my mate!”

The King was thunderstruck. “Elanor, what is this? Who taught you to speak?”

“Vernon did. Didn’t he tell you?”

“He did not. What you say is true, Elanor, and it explains what happened to Ivan, but how was he trying to kill Jinx?”

“I don’t know how, but he was. Can we go now? This place is scary.”

The King sighed heavily. “Yes.” he said. “Jinx cannot tell me more, I don’t expect you to, and I should like to be alone now.” He got up and began to walk out a King’s Gate, which opened before him, and then stopped, having apparently used the wrong one. He went back, and began to walk out the Gate to Vernon’s cave. It was strange to watch, since the Gates only appeared when the King tried to walk through them, winking into existence in mid-air, stone-walled tunnels in the clouds with insides but no outsides.

King-Thomas trudged slowly, staring at his feet. He seemed to have lost all trace of the agitation he’d had minutes before, and was peaceful, but terribly sad. As they approached the other end of the tunnel, he stumbled and put his hand against the wall to keep from falling over, as if too troubled to walk surely.

“What’s wrong?” asked Elanor, noticing his distress.

“Ah, Elanor. It’s nothing you can help, my dear. I had feared that Jinx would bring bad tidings, but the omens he brought are far worse. Let me pet your pretty head once more, my dear, for I may not get another chance.”

At that, Elanor reared up on her hind legs, putting her paws gently on his shoulders and looking him in the eye. “Don’t say that! Are you going to die?”

“So I hear.”

“No! You mustn’t! I’m not going to let anybody get you! ”

King Thomas hugged her, deeply moved. “There’s nothing you can do, Elanor.”

“There is so! I’m going to go and kill that Ivan person, right now!”

They’d gone far enough that the passage opened into Vernon’s cave, and the dragon, hearing this exchange, inquired “What is all this, Tom? Bad omens?”

King Thomas released Elanor, who dropped to all fours as usual, and as they entered the cave, he informed the dragon, “Neither Jinx nor Elanor killed James. Elanor attacked Ivan, but she was unbearably provoked and cannot be blamed for that. And it seems that you misread the information from Robert, Vernon. Jinx is not fated to kill me. Jinx is fated to kill Ivan, after Ivan kills me.”

“You don’t say! Why, that makes perfect sense! Why didn’t I think of that? I remember that there was something about that message that had me wondering, and you’ve cleared it up wonderfully!”

King Thomas groaned, and strode back into the passageway, which promptly closed up behind him.

“You hurt his feelings, Vernon!” accused Elanor.

“Did I? I suppose I did, at that. You can’t blame me for being pleased, though: I’ve been trying to work out what that omen meant ever since I got it, and now it all becomes perfectly clear. Jinx kills Ivan after Ivan kills Tom, and Ivan is Nameless, and it all makes sense.”

“Ivan said he wasn’t Nameless, and King-Thomas doesn’t want to be killed.” said Jinx.

“Of course he doesn’t want to be killed, but he’s had a full, satisfying life,” said Vernon, with the callousness of one who has centuries yet to live. “He wouldn’t last another forty years, maybe not even thirty, even if nobody was going to kill him. I don’t expect him to appreciate it, but at least he’ll be spared the slow, lingering death some of the Kings of Rainmoor have had. He’s not so bad off.”

“But don’t you want to help him? I thought you liked him!” said Jinx.

“How? When Rainmoor decides to do something, and the magic of Rainmoor starts to guide events, there’s no stopping it. Rainmoor does not make mistakes, Jinx. Tom knows that perfectly well, and he can accept it. Nobody’s asking him to be happy about it. Look at it this way, Jinx, at least you’ll get to kill Ivan and avenge Tom’s death. Then Charles will be King, and you can go home.”

“Can’t I kill Ivan before he kills King-Thomas? Besides, how do you know that Ivan is Nameless? He said he wasn’t.”

“Be reasonable, Jinx. Who else would it be? He’s tried to accuse you of attacking him, last night, and I know that you were in no condition to do any such thing. You probably were out like a light the moment your head hit the pillow. You see, Ivan had no way of knowing that you’d just that night dared the Astral Plane, and that you were left too exhausted and drained to go anywhere…”

“No, I couldn’t sleep, so I went out and wandered around. I met Ivan and James, but James left, so I went with Ivan to his place, and he tried to kill me.”

“What?” exclaimed the dragon. “You did what? Run that by me again.”

Jinx started over, and ended up telling the entire story to the fascinated dragon, down to the smallest details. As soon as he’d finished, Vernon began questioning him closely.

“Now, what was it Ivan said to James, when James walked past you and left?”

“Something about how maybe he could fix both of their problems.”

“Roughly translated, that means both of them want you dead. I suppose I shouldn’t count James, as he’s dead himself. I have to wonder if there are others also conspiring against you.”

“They better not.” said Elanor darkly. “Just because I didn’t kill this James..”

“Please, Elanor!” replied Vernon. “Try and control your predatory instincts! You don’t seem to understand how delicate your situation is. I’m not so concerned that anyone’s going to sneak in and murder you in the night, I’m thinking about the effect of public opinion! Do you think Tom’s in a position to stand up for you at this point? Do you think he’ll throw away what loyalty he commands on your behalf, if the nobles of Rainmoor insist that you be put to death?”

“No!” said Jinx. “I didn’t do anything, and neither did Elanor, and King-Thomas knows it! He said we were telling the truth!”

Vernon gazed levelly at him. “And what if he is lying? He’d have reason to, if you were doing these killings on his behalf. What did he hire you for, anyway?”

“You think I killed James.” said Jinx, unbelievingly.

“I didn’t say that. I said, what if Tom is lying? Am I to believe that, since the King can’t be lied to directly when granting an audience, therefore he cannot tell a lie himself? And how should I know whether you killed James or not? Frankly, it’s no great loss to the human species even if you did. I can tell you, however, that the other nobles will definitely think you killed James, that you attacked Ivan, that you’re not safe to have around. The same goes for Elanor, of course.”

“Why would they think that? They don’t even know me!” protested Elanor. Jinx said nothing, for he felt the truth of it. He, not Elanor, had been run out of towns, hunted, driven away, and it really didn’t matter that these people didn’t know him. That had never stopped them before.

Vernon had been watching Jinx closely. “Jinx, perhaps you could explain to her? I suspect that you understand what I’m saying.”

Jinx looked at the dragon, then at Elanor, and when he saw her puzzled, hurt expression, he said, simply, “No.”

“You can’t? I’m surprised at you, Jinx. I know you’ve seen this sort of thing before, surely you can recognize it, explain to Elanor that there’s nothing you can do?”

“No. I never liked living that way, but I refuse to make Elanor live that way.”

“Live what way?” asked Elanor.

“Guilty.” said Jinx. “Elanor, we’re going to go out and talk to people, and try to find out who did kill James. I don’t know what we should say if they ask us about Ivan, but I’ll think of something.”

“Ah, Jinx?” said Vernon.

“Don’t you try to talk me out of it!”

“No, I was only going to suggest that you tell the truth about Ivan. What you told me was convincing, because it’s just the sort of thing Ivan would do and everybody knows it.”

“You believe that part, do you?” said Jinx, exasperated.

“It seems probable.” replied the dragon. “Nothing is certain, but some things are more likely than others. That Ivan should try to lure you to his rooms and do away with you is exceedingly likely.”

“Jinx accepts your apology, if that was one.” said Jinx, and left, with Elanor tagging along behind him, to the sound of dragonish chuckling.

King Thomas sat on his throne of clouds, bemused. Lord Charles, upon hearing the latest events, had asked for an audience, and was passionately laying out his plan for doing away with Lord Ivan.

“I shall need your help, my liege, in luring him out. What you must do…”

“Charles, are you suggesting that you can foil his plot? There is reason to believe all this, these events, are guided by Rainmoor itself. Do you seriously believe that you change the course of events, and save my life?”

“My liege, if I can have your help, Lord Ivan will not be able to murder you.”

“But you say you will bring me his head! Isn’t that rather brutal? I’m surprised at you, Charles, I would not have believed you capable of such an act. I admit it sounds like a thorough way of stopping him, but must you do it that way?”

“I must. No other way is fitting.”

“I’m flattered by your loyalty, Charles, but can’t you tell me more? You want me to send word to Ivan, to tell all the nobles that you, yourself have been exposed as the Nameless Pretender, and to gather in the Great Hall for your execution! What on earth do you have in mind?”

“My liege, Lord Ivan may have, to some extent, the ability to read thoughts. That would explain much, because if he knows that people think him the Nameless Pretender his actions make sense. He is in seclusion in his rooms, and nobody could kill him there. You must tell all that I am the guilty one, so he will feel safe and come out.”

“That’s going to be hard on Peter, you know. He suggested you.”

“Peter’s feelings will just have to suffer. These are desperate times, and I am suggesting desperate measures.”

“And what then?”

“I shall hide behind the door, and when he enters the Great Hall I will attack and lop off his head. That is the only way I can think of to kill this dangerous man, my liege.”

“There is one thing you’re overlooking, Charles, with these desperate measures. Everybody has always suspected Ivan, from the beginning, but what if Ivan is not the man? I imagine you’re so caught up in your plans that you never thought of that, but think of it now. What then?”

“My liege, I am willing to take that risk.”

“Well, I’m not!” snapped King Thomas. “Sir, I will not be a party to the murder of an innocent man! You will have to come up with more proof than that!”

“Please, my liege, you must trust me! I cannot tell you all of my plans…”

“Which is precisely what disturbs me, sir! What if you are wrong?”

“…for the reason that, if I were to tell you all, they would fail! Should Lord Ivan read your mind, and should he find in it this plan, all my efforts would be in vain!”

“And why, may I ask, does he not read your mind?”

“He considers me beneath notice. My liege, I have played the part of a useless flunky for years, knowing this situation would arise. I knew I would have only one chance, if that, and I shall not waste it.”

“Yes, I’d wondered what happened to you. You were among the most valiant knights, and then you started serving Gerald and went to pot. Were you watching Ivan even in those days?”

“My liege, I have been watching Ivan for years, knowing what he is capable of.”

“Tell me one thing, Charles. I accept that you cannot tell me more of your plans. Everything you have said is truth. That’s all very well, but how am I to know Ivan is the man? Is he the demon people have called Nameless, so when you chop off his head he’ll disappear in a cloud of smoke? You must tell me enough that I shall be satisfied. What can you tell me, sir? Speak!”

“I can tell you only this, so mark me well, my liege. When I have killed Ivan, you will know. I cannot say how, or why, as yet, but you will know beyond the shadow of a doubt. Do I speak the truth?”

King Thomas regarded him soberly. “You do, sir. That is not what I would have wished, but I must admit that your words are evidence of certain knowledge. Very well, I will do as you have asked. When do you wish the announcements to be made?”

“Tonight, my liege. Give me an hour’s advance warning, that I may hide behind the door. I shall not fail.”

“Charles,” said King Thomas querulously, “you’ve no business being certain about that. You really believe that you can’t fail, it came across as true. That disturbs me, sir, because you can’t know what might happen. What if Ivan refuses to come?”

“Then I’ll stay behind the door, and we’ll try something else.”

“Oh, all right. I have to admit your certainty is reassuring. I’ll give you the advance warning, and we’ll give it a try. Would it be all right to let Peter know the truth?”

“No, my liege! You must convince all that I am the Nameless Pretender! Ivan is fiendishly clever, and if Peter is not upset Ivan will know it’s a trap! My plan depends on your doing your part, my liege, and you must not fail either! Everything depends on it!”

“But, Charles, I’ll know you’re not the Nameless Pretender! Won’t that affect it?”

“You had better try to believe I am, my liege.”