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was a perfectly logical verdict. He was a perfectly logical ruler. And why did rulers have to explain themselves to their subjects anyway? Maybe it was just Dukes. He was pretty sure if he were a King he wouldn’t have had to explain himself to anyone.
    Just as he was thinking that, a Wizard appeared in the Great Hall. And this is not to say he made an entrance. One minute there was an empty space on the cold stone floor and the next, there he stood. Shaven pate, black robes, the large silver torque around his neck only slightly larger than the dark circles under his eyes, strange stains under his fingernails–yes, unmistakably a Wizard. One moment he wasn’t there, and the next, he was. The Wizard appeared.
    There was a gasp as those in the Great Hall jumped back from the man who had apparated into their midst. Nonplussed, the Chamberlain announced, “A man, appearing from nowhere!”
    The Wizard looked at the Chamberlain sharply and hissed, “My name is Alston Dimsbury.”
    “Dimsbury, a Wizard of Considerable Evil…” the Chamberlain said.
    The Wizard’s look darkened, and more imaginative people in the crowd believed that they saw flames forming in his eyes.
    “…whose reputation is much maligned!” the Chamberlain added diplomatically.
    “Yes, enough, that’s quite enough,” said the Duke. “Wizard, you will simply have to wait your turn.”
    “Oh,” said the Wizard. “Is this inconvenient for you? I
am
sorry. Pray, continue with your amusements. My time is of little consequence.” He punctuated his sentence with a wave of his hand that turned the cross-eyed goatherd into a rather lovely brown and white nanny goat. This time, even the Chamberlain gasped in fear.
    Fuad, the goatherd in the leather helmet, smiled at the newly-minted goat with an unwholesome gleam in his eye. As he rubbed his hand along the length of rope that held up his trousers, the nanny goat gave up a fearful bleat.
    Dimsbury said, “As I was saying, don’t let me interrupt.”
    No one spoke. The only sound was the clacking of the goat’s hooves as it wisely made for the exit as fast as its terribly confused legs would carry it.
    Exasperated that the crowd still wasn’t getting the point, Dimsbury said, “What does it take? Must I strike all of you down with a pillar of flame? Gah. Let me outline it for you. I am a
horrible
man. Dimsbury the Terrible. Master of the arcane arts and elder mysteries, summoner of demons, so on and so forth. Now, go. Flee.”
    And flee they did. When the oaken door had slammed behind them, Dimsbury and the Duke were the only people left in Robrecht’s meager throne room.
    “There,” said the Wizard, “That’s better.”
    “Hullo, Alston, enjoying yourself?” asked the Duke.
    “Quite, Weeveston. I do like to make an entrance.”
    “I apologize for my subjects,” said the Duke, “they are a bit… provincial.”
    “‘Thick’ is the word I would have used.”
    “Would you care for some wine?” asked the Duke, as he draped his leg over the side of his chair and slumped with the false exhaustion that can only come with never having worked a day in one’s life.
    “I want you to
get out
,” said the Wizard.
    “Uh? Pardon me?”
    “I said, get out. Abdicate. Leave this place and take everyone with you.”
    “I wish that I could,” said the Duke, “I never wanted to come to this damp, grey place to begin with.”
    “Ah, well there you go,” said the Wizard, “I love it when things are easy. Did you say there was wine?”
    “Wine? We’ve got it by the barrelful. And by the bottleful in the cabinet over there. Since you’ve run off all my servants, subjects, and goat herders, you will have to help yourself. All told, this tower and keep contains more wine than I could drink in three lifetimes. Although the prospect of staying here for three lifetimes,” the Duke chuckled as he made a slicing motion across his throat.
    “I don’t think you understand,” said Dimsbury, trying to