Dor unfolded a length of paper from a shell, took a splinter of inkwood, and somewhat laboriously wrote: KING ROOGNA: PLEASE AUTHENTICATE PERMISSION FOR MONSTERS TO SLAY MUNDANES FOR TWO DAYS WITHOUT PENALTY. NECESSARY TO LIFT MUNDANE SIEGE OF CASTLE OF ZOMBIE MASTER, WHO WILL COME TO YOU THEREAFTER. ALL XANTH CITIZENS IN VICINITY TO WEAR GREEN SASHES TO DISTINGUISH THEM FROM MUNDANES. SIGNED, MAGICIAN DOR.
He folded the note and gave it to the woolly hen. "Take this to the King, and return immediately with his answer."
The bird took the note in her beak and took off. She was gone in a puff of wool dust, so quickly that he never saw her move.
"I must admit this prospect pleases me," the dragon king remarked, idly stirring up a mound of diamonds with one glistening claw. "If it should fall through, I might recall how you disturbed my sleep. Don't count on your spider friend to draw you out; my flame would burn up his line instantly."
The nature of the threat was absolutely clear to Dor. He felt like screaming and kicking his feet, certain that would relieve some tension; it always seemed to work for Millie. But he wore the guise of a man; he had to act like a man. "I was aware of the hazard when I committed myself to your lair."
"You do not attempt to beg, or to threaten me with vague retribution," the dragon said. "I like that. The fact is, it is impolitic to toast Magicians, and I especially do not want to aggravate the Zombie Master. That roc of his has been scouring the area for bodies. I would not care to tangle with that big bird for esthetic reasons. So I do not intend to toast you-unless you attempt to do me mischief."
"I thought that might be your attitude. Sir."
The woolly hen returned in another cloud of dust, bearing another note. Dor took it and read it aloud: PERMISSION AUTHENTICATED. GO TO IT. SIGNED, THE KING.
He showed it to the dragon.
"That would seem to be it," the dragon said, puffing out a satisfied torus of smoke. "Hen, go out to my subjects and summon them for a rampage. Tell them to get their tails swinging or I'll burn them off. I will instruct them in one hour." He angled his snout toward Dor. "It has been a pleasure doing business with you, sir."
But Dor was wary. He remembered Magician Murphy's curse on Castle Roogna: anything that could go wrong, would. This message had related to that project Why hadn't the curse operated? This had been too easy.
"You had better depart before my cohorts arrive," the dragon said. "Until I instruct them, they will consider you and the spider fair game."
"Uh, I-" Then Dor had an idea. "Let me just check something, sir. A mere formality, but " He addressed the paper he held. "Did you come from the King?"
"I did," the paper replied.
"And the message you bear really is his message?"
"It is."
"Your magic seems to endorse the message," the dragon said. "I am satisfied. Why question it?"
"I'm just cautious. I fear something could have gone wrong."
The dragon considered. "Obviously you are not experienced with conspiracies and bureaucratic entanglements of the sort we encounter in the wilderness. Ask it which King."
"Which King?" Dor repeated blankly.
"The Goblin King," the paper answered.
Dor exchanged a dismayed glance with the dragon. "The Goblin King! Not King Roogna?"
"Not," the paper agreed.
"That idiotic bird!" the dragon exploded, almost singeing Dor with his fiery breath. "You sent it to the King, without specifying which King, and the Goblin King must have been closer. I should have realized the response came too fast!"
"And naturally the Goblin King sought to mess us up," Dor concluded. "Murphy's curse did operate. A misunderstanding was possible, so-"
"Does this mean we have no deal?" the dragon inquired ominously through a ring of smoke.
"It means our deal has not been authenticated by King Roogna," Dor said. "I'm sure the King would agree to it, but if we can't get a message through-"
"Why would the Goblin King authenticate it? I have had some experience with goblins, and they are not nice creatures. They don't even taste good. Surely the goblins should be more pleased to foul up our deal than to facilitate it. The goblins have no love for men, and not much for dragons."
"That is strange," Dor agreed. "He should have sent a note saying 'deal denied,' so we couldn't cooperate. Or else just held it without answering, so we would be stuck wailing."
"Instead he gave exactly the response we wanted from the Human King, so we would not delay," the dragon said. He puffed some more smoke, thoughtfully. "What mischief would occur if beasts started slaying men in great numbers, without approval?"
Dor considered that. "A great deal of mischief," he decided. "It would become a matter of principle. The King can't allow unauthorized slaying; he is opposed to anarchy. Such an act could possibly lead to war between the monsters and all the King's men."
"Which could result in internecine slaughter, leaving the goblins dominant on land," the dragon concluded. "They already have considerable force. Those netherworld goblins are tough little brutes! I think your kind would have real trouble, were it not for the distraction the harpies pose to the goblins. The one thing those creatures do well is breed. There are now a great many of them."
"Well, one man can slay five goblins," Dor said. "And one dragon can slay fifty. But there are more than that number per man or dragon."
"Urn," Dor agreed pensively.
"Do you know, I would have been fooled by that note, if you had not questioned the paper," the dragon remarked. "I do not like being fooled." This time it was not smoke but a ring of fire that he puffed. The thing wafted up the tunnel entrance, rotating, glimmering like a malignant eye.
"Neither do I," Dor agreed, wishing he could puff fire.
"Would your King have any objection if a few goblins got incidentally chomped during the rampage?"
"I think not. But we'd better get another message to King Roogna."
"While we allow the goblins to think they have fooled us into an act of interspecies war."
Dor smiled grimly. "Have you another messenger-a more reliable one?"
"I have other messengers-but let us use your talent this time. We shall send a diamond from my nest to your King, along with the paper; he must return the diamond with his spoken reply. No lesser man would give up such a jewel, and no other but you could make it speak."
"Terrific!" Dor exclaimed. "It is hard to imagine any goblin faking that message! You are a genius!"
"You praise me with faint damns," the dragon growled,
It was almost dawn by the time Dor rejoined Jumper. Quickly they returned to the castle with their news.
Millie and the Zombie Master greeted them with joyed relief. "You must be the first to have our news," the Magician said. "Millie the maid has done me the honor of agreeing to become my wife."
"So the commitment has been made," Jumper chittered.
"Congratulations," Dor said, with highly mixed emotions. He was glad for the Zombie Master, who was a worthy Magician and a decent man. But what of himself?
Millie made green sashes for them all, including the spider, who settled for an envelope covering his abdomen. Then she fed them a breakfast of hominy from another plant she had discovered in the courtyard. The Zombie Master had worked all night making new zombies from the corpses the roc had found, so that the castle defenses were back to full strength.