//------------------------------//
// Epilogue Three: The Damsel and the Dragon. 
// Story: No One For the Gallows But Me 
// by Coyote de La Mancha 
//------------------------------//

The door’s letters were faded almost to the point of uselessness. The blue girl knocked, uncertainly at first, then with greater determination. Finally, impatient and imperious, she rapped sharply on the old ash door.
From within, a man’s voice, ancient and strong. “Come in.”
She opened the door carefully, blinking, the musty blend of smells reminding her all too well of her father’s old study. There, in the dim lighting, stood the one she sought, casually leafing through an old leather-bound tome, its scaly cover strangely pale and mottled.  
Cursing herself for her hesitancy, she entered, one hand adjusting her hat.
Her host placed the book on a table already covered with its fellows, then turned to her with a benevolent smile.  
“Well, now, good evening my dear,” he purred. “Whatever might I do for you?”
She could hear something slither among the stacks.
“Trixie is here to learn magic,” she said, pleased with how level her voice was. “She is already great and powerful, of course. With the accidental help of her friends she has unlocked magic of her own. She can already teleport small distances, and even obfuscate herself at will. But even with that, Trixie knows that she could become more great and powerful, with the proper training. It has taken time, but eventually she learned of you, and where you could be found.”  
The old man cocked an eyebrow. “Indeed. One shouldn’t believe all one hears. It leads one to be taken in by any number of charlatans.”
“Trixie is well aware of this,” she said, holding her hands behind her back to keep them from fidgeting. “But there are too many trails leading to your door. A lost phone returned to a PR manager, for example, in exchange for her arranging to hold her greatest triumph at a certain place and time.”  
Her eyes narrowed. “Trixie does not know much about astrology, but she understands what ‘conjunction’ means, and that casting powerful magic during one might make a difference.”
He nodded as if humoring a child. “Indeed.”
“Then there was the old hand mirror,” she went on, “sold to an aspiring actor in exchange for whatever she had in her pockets at the time. An antique worth hundreds, sold for eleven dollars and an autographed Jello Biafra ticket stub.”
Dissonance made a dismissive shrug. “Well. Antiquing isn’t what it used to be.”
But the girl stepped closer. “Trixie has found others, though their connections are less certain. A trio of gems, for example, strangely like those which certain sisters had possessed before. They refused to say what they traded for them, but when the wise and observant Trixie brought up your name, they ended the conversation.  
“Yet, their new gems are green, not red. And Trixie knows the legend of a green jewel of desire that sometimes journeys from world to world… one that might be cut into two hemispheres and a disc, for magical creatures to use.
“And then, on the topic of world travel, there was another stone, found in a garden,” she went on. “A stone that could steal memory. That garden being near a certain plinth at a school. A school that once remembered your name with a golden plaque… a plaque which was removed the year its new principal took over, years ago. And the plinth, a doorway to the world where that stone was found... and once, the base for a statue that was placed there when you first became principal.”
She took out a list of names, each one crossed out in turn, and placed it on the desk between them.
“There are others,” she said.. “Too many for coincidence. And they have led Trixie here.”
Her host sat behind his oaken desk, steepling his fingers carefully. He picked up the list, giving it a cursory glance before tossing it to the side.
“Wise and observant indeed,” he said with a smile. “But then, why are you in my little shop, my dear? Have you lost something, perhaps? An opportunity? A memory? The admiration of your peers?”
His eyes narrowed. “The respect of a loved one? Or, perhaps, even the loved one himself?”
His smile turned predatory as he fanned his fingers, hissing, “Do you want my help in regaining them?”
But his guest stepped forward again, this time up to the desk itself. 
“Trixie has already said what she wants!” she insisted, her hands balling into fists by her sides. “Trixie has no desires for paltry tokens of power, nor to be indebted or used by the one who grants them! The Great and Powerful Trixie seeks magical power itself!”
The smile grew cold. “Be careful, girl.”
She drew in a calming breath. “Trixie did not intend offense.”
But Dissonance made a dismissive gesture.  
“That doesn’t matter,” he said, his smile slighter and warmer. “But I caution you, just the same. The sun, you see, was once a warrior, as well as a queen, scholar, and poet. The moon was once a huntress, a guardian and guide. Now the sun is merely fire, the moon merely stone and dust. Once, humans lacked the power of flight. Now, they fly… but the clouds smell of gasoline, and the birds have lost their wonder. Everything has its price.”  
He looked down, and for a moment his smile faded. “Not all wisdom brings joy,” he said softly.
“If Trixie sought mere happiness…” her voice trailed off, then she shook herself.  
“Well, it doesn’t matter,” she said. “Trixie is aware that magic is real. She has magic of her own. She has also seen others who possess more powerful magic, and she knows you do, as well. The Worthy and Supplicant Trixie therefore asks to become your student, and to learn all you can teach her.”
The old man studied her with new interest. “About magic?”
“About everything.”
“And why is that?”
“Because magic is everything.”
“Little fool!” Suddenly he was standing, eyes wide, the room’s lights dimming momentarily in their sconces. “Have you no idea of what you seek?”  
Nearby, lightning struck, making the very floor shake. Unseen things scuttled away in terror, books fell from their shelves.  
“The true magician becomes what they do!” Dissonance roared, his eyes blazing crimson.  
Outside and above, the storm lashed in its fury, shaking more objects from their resting places to the floor. Meanwhile, it was as if the shadows of the room had reached out to him, enveloped him, formed a cloak about him that swirled and flickered in the uncertain lighting. He gestured fiercely as he spoke, like a mad maestro conducting a pandemonium of unseen torments. His voice blasted her, whipping her hair away from her face.
“A MOMENT'S WEAKNESS, AN INSTANT'S MISSTEP, AND YOU COULD BE BLASTED TO CINDERS, YOUR VERY SOUL BURNT TO ASHES!”  
Trixie slammed her fists down on his desk, her own eyes filled with fury as she leaned over the desk at him, her own voice a whiplash in the growing dark, their faces mere inches apart.
“THEN BURN ME!”
Dissonance Chord stood still. He blinked slowly, a reptilian gesture. He gazed upon his young guest, no longer with hunger or rage, but with an alien affection. As though she were a rare treasure, washed ashore on some faraway world. One he had waited aeons to discover.
The lights renewed their steady, dim glow.
The shadows retreated, growing silent and still.
The thunder ceased, the storm’s angry rain subsiding into a gentle mist.
“Well then,” the ancient said, his gaze slowly shifting into something completely unreadable. “Let’s talk about that.”
Creaking on its neglected hinges, the ash door gently closed, locking itself behind her.