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The Duchy of Brecon was a place I had never visited. Stories of the iniquity of the Duke of Brecon were common in the Kingdom and I was taking no chances as regards the Duke’s possible treachery. As soon as I thought I had walked far enough I descended the hill and came face to face with Brecon’s troops, who were very surprised to see me but soon guessed who I was; most people watched the same news channels, and the Yogi Baird show was syndicated everywhere.

‘I wish to meet with the Duke of Brecon,’ I said to an officer who came running up.

‘I shall take you to him, gracious Dragonslayer,’ said the officer, bowing low.

‘No,’ I replied, staying safely behind the buzzing marker stones, ‘I would be grateful if the Duke would come to see me.’

The officer told me that the Duke didn’t make house calls, but when he saw I was adamant, ran off. I sat down on the grass and waited while the soldiers asked me what it was like to live in the Kingdom of Hereford, where they had heard the roads were paved with gold, cars were given away free with breakfast cereals and a man could make a million pounds in a year selling string. I tried to put them right and it wasn’t long before they all drew apart as a tall man dressed in a heavy greatcoat walked up the hill towards us. He had with him three aides-de-camp, all dressed in the costume of the Breconian Royal Guard. All of the foot soldiers were cleared back so we could talk in private, and for a moment we both stood there, facing each other across the humming boundary. One of the aides-de-camp took it upon himself to make a formal announcement.

‘May I present his Worshipfulness, his Worthiness, his Beauteous—’

‘That’s enough!’ The Duke of Brecon smiled in a kindly fashion. ‘Miss Strange, I am at your service; my name is Brecon. Please join me.’

He clicked his fingers and two chairs and a table were carried up and placed upon the grass. The table was set with a candelabra and a bowl of fruit.

‘Please!’ he said, indicating the chair.

I was suspicious and stayed behind the boundary marker where he could not reach me. He nodded his head and strode over to where I was standing, tossed some dust into the barrier to see where it was and held out his hand just inches from the force-field.

‘Then allow me to shake the hand of the last Dragonslayer?’

I put out my hand almost instinctively, through the force-field, and grasped his. It was a mistake. He held my hand tightly and pulled me through to his side of the boundary, and I cursed myself for falling for such a stupid trick. I had expected to be set upon but instead the Duke released me.

‘You are free to return, Miss Strange. I only did that to show that you could trust me.’

Not one of his people moved as Brecon sat at the table.

‘Come,’ he said, ‘sit with me, and we will talk like civilised human beings.’

From television reports and the papers I had always supposed him an ogre of a man, but he seemed quite the opposite. To be truthful, those news stations were Hereford- and state-controlled so I reasoned there was a natural bias involved. I sat down opposite him.

‘I take many risks in coming to see you, my Lord,’ I began. ‘I want to avoid war at all costs.’

The Duke tapped his fingers on the table.

‘Your King thinks ill of me for wanting to expand my territory into the Dragonlands when Maltcassion passes on. He does not appreciate that my Kingdom is one tenth the size of his and considerably poorer. But Snodd’s designs are not wholly centred on the Dragonlands. He has been looking for a good reason to invade my country for years; if a battle starts on the Dragonlands it will end in only one way for me: the invasion of our territory and an end to the Duchy of Brecon. Wales is suffering disunity at present, and would be a walkover for King Snodd. I would expect this to be the first step in a potential invasion. Snowdonia might put up a fight, but Hereford has many friends in the east who might willingly form an alliance – the tourism dollars of the mountainous nation alone are potentially worth billions.’

‘The King would never do that!’

‘Alas, I think he might. You are too young to remember the previous king’s annexation of the Monmouth Principality on the grounds of historical ownership, but I am not. Snodd is looking to increase and consolidate his lands, and I will not let him do it.’

‘I think you’re wrong.’

‘He has thirty-two landships,’ remarked Brecon, ‘when it would take only one to crush my small duchy. Think about it, Miss Strange.’

Brecon’s words had the ring of truth about them. It had always been thought that the King of Hereford simply liked having parades, but perhaps there was a more insidious reason for his love of military hardware.

‘How will you react?’ I asked. ‘When the force-field comes down?’

Brecon stared at me for a moment.

‘Come Maltcassion’s demise we do not aim to move into the Dragonlands at all.’

‘Then what are the soldiers for?’

‘Defence,’ replied the Duke, ‘pure and simple.’

‘Why are you telling me all this?’ I asked, not understanding why Brecon should be giving me delicate state secrets.

‘I tell you because I know I can trust you. The Dragonslayer is historically a neutral party, belonging to no kingdom, making no decision for one dominion in favour of another. King Snodd appears a fool but is well advised – I suspect he has offered you inducements to help stake claims within the Dragonlands.’

I thought of the promises that King Snodd had made to me, the land, money, freedom and title in exchange for staking his claim.

‘So you will make me a better offer?’ I asked, thinking naively that Snodd and Brecon were different fleas on the same Quarkbeast.

‘No,’ asserted the Duke, ‘I offer you nothing and will pay you nothing. Not one Breconian groat. I simply ask you to abide by the rules of your calling.’

I noticed that several excavators were starting to build large defensive ditches for the expected invasion on Sunday afternoon. It would be a waste of time. Landships would pass over them as if they were not there. Brecon had nothing compared to the military might of King Snodd.

‘It will be bows and arrows against the lightning,’ I told him.

‘I know,’ replied Brecon sadly, ‘my artillery will barely dent the landships. But we will fight to maintain our freedom. I will be here, next to my men, defending my beloved country to the last shot in my revolver, and the final breath in my body.’

‘I wish you luck, Sire.’

He thanked me but said nothing. He had a lot of work to do. I returned to the Dragonlands deep in thought. Right now, I couldn’t see anything but bad news in every direction. And it suddenly struck me that everyone kept forgetting about Maltcassion himself, even though he was at the heart of everything that was happening. And the fact remained that the pre-cogs had spoken of a Dragon death at the hand of a Dragonslayer. Destiny had me killing Maltcassion at noon on Sunday. But the fact of the matter was, if Maltcassion didn’t transgress the Dragonpact, I didn’t have to.

I slipped back to Zambini Towers to tell Tiger what had happened. More sorcerers and magicians had arrived, and a party seemed to be going on. All the retired magicians of the lands were making their way to the small kingdom, following an instinct to lend whatever power they had to the Big Magic.