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“Just what is your position here?”

“I’m an adviser to his Majesty.” Nicodaeus smiled blandly. “He thinks I’m a master of magic, of course, but among these feather-heads a little common sense is sufficient to earn one a reputation as a wise man.”

Magic, after all? He felt the untrimmed hair at the nape of his neck rising. But then, maybe it was just electronics—magic rationalized.

Strange—I go along for months at a time—even years—without so much as a mild concussion—and then bam—slam—bash! They start using my head for a practice dummy. That’s how I can tell that I’m having an adventure.

“Him and his pet dragon—”

“More folklore, I take it?”

“Well, I never actually seen this dragon.”

“Hmmm. Funny how nobody I’ve met has seen it, but they all believe in it.”

Judge a chap on what he does, and not what he is, eh? None of us can help our natural tendencies—and perhaps overcoming one’s instincts is in the end a nobler achievement than not having the impulse in the first place.

Out of the synthesis of opposites, a cancerous growth called Beauty came into being; obscene antisurvival concepts named Loyalty, Courage, Justice were born into the universe.

Wherever the elemental Purities encountered this monstrous hybrid, a battle of extermination was joined. Good could compromise with Evil, but neither could meet with the half-breed, Art.

I know it’s hard to grasp at first. I seem to recall I was a bit difficult to convince once. We are accustomed to thinking we know everything. There’s a powerful tendency to just disbelieve anything that doesn’t fit the preconception.

Yours is not to reason why, eh? I guess you’re lucky at that. It’s not dying that hurts—it’s living.

Foster shook his head. “The inherent inertia of the human mind,” he said. “How it fights to resist new ideas.”

“All right. Let’s begin with the world situation.”

“I’d prefer a more cheerful subject—like cancer.”

I’m arguing with myself and I can’t tell who’s winning.

“I say, old man, you’re developing something of a persecution complex, I’m afraid—”

“That’s easy, when you’re persecuted.”