"You two are the strangest enemies I ever saw! I can't follow the convolutions of your game."
"We merely abide by the rules. Without rules, there is no game." Murphy handed him a glass of cider. "Tell me the whole story, Dor, and we shall ascertain how your presence affects our situation. You will be welcome then to explain it to the King."
Dor seemed to have no choice. He wished Jumper were here to advise him, or Grundy the golem; he just didn't have confidence in his own judgment. Yet he always felt most at home with the truth. So he told the Enemy Magician as much of the story as he could organize: his quest to help restore a zombie, the inclusion of Jumper in the spell, the adventure within the tapestry.
"No problem about locating the Zombie Master," Murphy said. "The problem is, he won't help you."
"But only he knows the secret of restoring zombies! That's the whole purpose in my-"
"He may know," Murphy said. "But he won't tell. He does nothing for anyone. That is why he lives alone."
"I still have to ask him," Dor said stubbornly. "Meanwhile, what about you? Now that you know King Roogna did-I mean will-complete the Castle-"
"That is indeed a ponderous matter. Yet there are several considerations. One is that what you say may not be true."
Dor was stung. His body's hand, responsive in its fashion to his mood, reached over his shoulder for the sword.
Murphy held up a hand, unalarmed. "You sound so uncertain, yet your body reacts so aggressively! This corroborates your story, of course. Do not force me to use my magic against you. You would suffer mishap before ever you brought your weapon to bear. I did not call you a liar. I merely conjecture that you could be misinformed. History is notorious for misinformation. That castle you knew could have been built a century later and given the name of Roogna, to lend verisimilitude to the new order. How would you know?"
"Very what?" Dor asked, confused.
"Verisimilitude. Realism. To make it seem likely and true."
Dor was startled. A Castle built much later, called Roogna. He had never thought of that.
"But there are other approaches," Murphy continued. "Assume your version of history is accurate-as indeed it may be. Now you have returned. What can you do-except change your history? In which case your presence can at best be neutral, and at worst reverse the outcome of the present competition between Roogna and Murphy. So your excursion may be an auspicious omen for me. I hardly mean to interfere with you! I think it may be my talent that brought you here, to foul up Roogna."
Dor was startled again. Himself, an agent of the enemy? Yet it was suddenly all too plausible!
"But I rather suspect," Murphy continued, "that you will in fact prove unable to change history m any significant respect. I visualize it as a protean thing. Yielding to specific imperatives yet always reasserting itself when the pressure abates. I doubt anything you can do will have impact after you depart. It will be an interesting phenomenon to watch, however."
Dor was silent. This Magician had neutralized him thoroughly, expertly, without doing a thing except talk. The worst of it was, he was very much afraid that Murphy was correct. The more Dor might try to interfere, here in the tapestry world, the more likely he was to hurt King Roogna's chances. So Dor would have to remain as neutral as possible, lest even his help prove disastrous.
They finished their cider and returned to King Roogna. "This man is indeed a Magician," Murphy announced. "But I deem him no threat to my designs, though he aligns himself with you. He will explain as he chooses."
The King glanced at Dor inquiringly. "It is true," Dor said. "He has shown me that any help I may try to render you can have the opposite effect. We don't know that for sure, but it is a risk. So I must remain neutral, to my regret." Dor had surprised himself by making a very adult-sounding statement. Maybe it was Murphy's influence.
"Very well," the King said. "Murphy is many things, but his integrity is unimpeachable. Since you may not help me, may I help you?"
"Only by telling me where to find the Zombie Master."
"Oh, you can't get anything from him," the King assured Dor. "He helps no one."
"So Magician Murphy informed me. Yet it is vital that I see him, and after that I shall depart this land."
"Then wait a few days, until I complete the present phase of the Castle. Then I can spare you a guide and guard. I owe you this in deference to your Magician status. The Zombie Master lives east of here, in the heart of the wilderness; it is difficult to pass."
Dor chafed inwardly at the delay, but felt it best to accede. He and his friends had had too many narrow escapes already. A guide and guard would help.
They rejoined Millie and Jumper. "The King has given me a job!" Millie exclaimed immediately, bouncing and clapping her hands and swinging her hair in such a full circle that it lapped around her face, momentarily concealing it. "As soon as the Castle is complete."
"If we have time to wait," Jumper chittered, "I should like to recompense the King's hospitality by offering my service for the duration of our stay here."
"Uh-" Dor started to protest, realizing that what applied to himself should also apply to the spider.
"That is most courteous of you," the King said heartily. "I understand from the young lady that you are adept at hoisting and lowering objects. We have dire need of such ability at the moment. Rest tonight; tomorrow you will join my sturdy centaur crew."
Murphy glanced meaningfully at Dor. The Enemy Magician was satisfied to make this trial of the validity of his conjecture. And Dor had to be satisfied too. Maybe Murphy was wrong, after all. They could not afford to assume he was right, if he were not. So Dor was silent, not wanting to alarm the King or Jumper unnecessarily. Silent, but not at ease.
The King served them royally enough with pies from a pie tree he had adapted for this purpose: pizza, shepherd's, mince, cheese, and pecan pies, washed down with excellent fruit punch from a punchfruit tree.
"In my land," Dor remarked, "the King is a transformer. He changes living things into other living things. He can change a man into a tree, or a dragon into a toad. How does this differ from your own talent, Your Majesty?"
"A transformer," King Roogna murmured. "That's a potent talent! I can not change a man into a tree! I only adapt forms of magic to other purposes-a sleep spell to a truth spell, a chocolate cherry to a cherry bomb. So I would say your King is a more powerful Magician than I am."
Dor was abashed. "I'm sorry, Your Majesty. I didn't mean to imply-"
"You didn't, Dor. I am not competing with your King for status. Nor am I competing with you. We Magicians have a certain camaraderie, as I mentioned; we respect each other's talents. I'd like to meet your King sometime. After I have completed the Castle."
"Which may be never," Murphy said.
"Now with him I am competing," the King said good-naturedly, and bit into another piece of pie. Dor said nothing, still having trouble accepting this friendly-rivalry facade.