He woke up to the rather unusual sight of a rolled-up piece of paper floating in the air, and batting his snout. He looked like he was about to breathe fire on the odd apparition, until it unrolled part of itself, revealing the words:
YOU WILL DIE UNLESS YOU READ THIS
He reached out to grab hold of it from mid-air, at which time it stopped hovering. Sitting up in his backyard hammock, he unrolled it further, and read.
You have the taste of bacon in your mouth. This is because I put grease on something lethal and used magic to push it down your throat while you slept. It is only my continuing use of magic which keeps it from killing you.
I am watching you. If you wish me to confirm what I have said so far, raise your left hand.
He raised his left hand; then twitched as he felt something bumping back and forth inside his gullet. He lowered his hand and went back to reading.
I have a companion who knows the secrets of shrinking things. I had her shrink a boulder bigger than you to the size of a pea. If she releases her magic, you will die. If I release my magic, your body will try to digest it, and you will die more slowly.
You are still alive because you may be of use to me. I wish to talk to you. I do not wish you to try to control my actions while we talk. If you make the attempt, I will stop upholding my magic, and you will die. If my hidden companion thinks you are trying to control me, she will stop upholding her magic, and you will die.
If you understand and agree to talk, raise your right hand. If you do not agree, raise both hands, and then write what you wish to say on this paper..
After finishing reading the scroll, re-reading it, and then examining it for hints of invisible ink or hidden messages, the dragon sat still for a time, thinking. Then he raised his right arm.
With my hooves half-eaten away, every single step I'd taken had hurt. So I was in something of a bad mood as I approached him. To his credit, at the sight of the cow he'd fed to his dad approaching, if not entirely none the worse for wear, at least alive and on her own hooves; red and white skin gone bald, and the even the white rather red; wearing a pair of pitch-black goggles; he merely raised an eyebrow.
"Interesting," he said, and I tried to avoid flinching at his speech - for all I knew, he could have told me to 'die' and I would have, even if he did believe the note's warnings. He continued, "This explains some things. Well - since you have me in your power, what do you want from me?"
"To be honest - I hadn't expected to get this far, so I'm improvising from this point. Hm... Would you please close your eyes and put your fingers in your ears, and count to ten?"
"... Very well." He did so, and when he got to three, I focused on the opal in my stomach which wasn't supporting the 'volare' spell holding up the rock in his gut, and on him, and whispered "Veritas", pushing all the power I had in that stone into that spell. I didn't know if it would work at all on him, given how little luck I'd been having using magic on dragons lately; but if it was able to do any good, I might as well use it. When that was done, I went back to splitting my attention between keeping the stone hovering with one opal, recharging its now-drained companion, and trying to be a clever conversationalist. He got to ten, opened his eyes, and took out his fingers. "What was that about?"
"I'll tell you when you're older. Maybe. Right now - you're a problem, and I need to solve you. I've got things to do, and it would be awkward with you ordering my crew about, or ordering head-hunters to come after us. So let's try the simple way, first. The only contact I've ever had with assassins is fending them off."
"Yes, I know."
"... How?"
"I told your ponies to not lie to me. I'm sure they hid a lot - like your species, and where you were - but it was easy to find out you were simply following in that killer's wake, and had nothing to do with him. And I've been trying to stop telling you any of this, or to mislead you, but I don't seem to be able to. I am going to guess that you placed your own enchantment on me, and you didn't want me to see how it was done. You don't have my trick, or you wouldn't have needed to put a magic stone inside me, you could have just ordered me around - so it seems like it's some sort of truth-forcing spell. And if you have that, and have been practicing with it - that explains how your crew knew so many ways to slip around giving me straight answers. I'm going to have to work on that aspect of my magic, if I survive this."
"... I think I've been underestimating you. What would I have to do to stop you from using your magic?"
"Well, there's a lot you could do, some of which I'd really rather not tell you about, and some of which I don't want you to do at all. Killing me would be the obvious way, and I'm trying to think of a way to keep you from doing that. The trouble is, if you took my magic from me, I'd be as good as dead. So I suppose the thing I want you to do is persuade me not to use my magic, instead of taking away my cloak and broach. Rager-damn-it, I almost managed not to mention that."
This purple dragon was coming up with his own clever plans all too quickly for my tastes. "Would taking away your cloak and broach stop you from magically commanding others?"
"The cloak, yes. The broach is a magical trap against anyone who tries."
"I happen to be in the business of collecting magical artifacts - and since you used yours on us without sufficient provocation, I feel no guilt in invoking the local custom of 'weregild', and demanding your magic items as compensation."
"Go ahead and kill me with the stone, then; the cloak is all that keeps me from getting eaten, or worse, by dragons who want my position."
"Can you think of some other arrangement?"
"Nothing comes to mind."
"Well, if there can be no arrangement, then we are at an impasse."
"I'm afraid so. I can't stop your magic stone, and you're only clever enough to force me to answer questions, not force me to do what you want."
"Now that I know it's your cloak, I can let the stone do its work, and take it from your corpse."
"Why haven't you done so already?"
"I don't think the spells on the stone can be maintained for enough hours to properly answer that. Let's just say that it's not my first choice - but it's not my last, either."
"In that case... I challenge you to a battle of wits."
"For the cloak?" He nodded. "It's not going to involve some goblets of wine and some poison, is it?"
"I was thinking more along the lines of an exchange of riddles."
"... I'm quite fond of those, but they can depend on extremely local turns of phrases and cultural knowledge, like that a certain flower is called a 'bluebell'. But I've got a thought. How about I ask you three questions - and if you can answer them, we do the obvious thing from there."
"What, no formal rules?"
"Would either of us trust the other to give a set of rules that we didn't already know the loopholes to?"
"... Ask, then."
"Question one. If everybody dies, is it a bad thing?"
"... There wouldn't be anyone left to say it was good or bad. But I don't want to die - so I'll say 'yes'."
"Okay, question two. If someone could make the difference between whether or not everybody dies, even at the risk of their own life, should they?"
"Really? That's your question?"
"Yep. Got an answer?"
"Well, of course. If they do one thing and everyone dies, that's bad. If they do another thing and everyone else lives, and they might die, that's not as bad."
"Alrighty. Taking those two answers into account, my third question: how can you tell when someone you're dealing with, is someone trying to keep everyone from dying?"
"... You're joking.
"I'm honestly curious what your answer is."
"Well, if by 'you' you mean 'me', I'd just tell them to tell me the truth, and ask them."
"I see. Well, I've asked my three questions - what's the obvious thing to do?"
"You said you'd kill me if I commanded you - or your mysterious friend would."
"That was to get us to start talking. I can tell my mysterious friend to keep up the spell if you limit your ordering me to answer one question truthfully."
"How much of this did you really have planned out in advance?"
"Depends on how specific a 'plan' you mean. I had a pretty good idea that if we weren't going to kill each other, we'd need some way to establish a basis of trust - I've got my truth-magic, and it seems like you've got your own version, so assuming you actually trust it, we can stop holding the threat of death over each other and start doing actually useful stuff."
We went through a brief rigamarole - I shouted out 'plan xanatos three', he told me to answer a question honestly, he asked me if I was trying to save the world, and I honestly answered in the affirmative.
"You could be insane," he growled.
"If you really think that, then we're back where we started, aren't we?"
"Do you really need my cloak?"
"It's a bit complicated, but to the best of my understanding, every single magical object that I acquire measurably decreases the probability that everyone in the world dies. Holding onto it may help increase the odds of your survival in the short run - but actually hurts your odds of living for very long. Any other magic doodads you have wouldn't hurt, either."
"I'm still pretty sure that you're pulling some more complicated scheme on me. So I want some insurance."
"Like what?"
"Hostages. You seem to be the milksop type - leave somebody important to you here, and I'll hold onto them until you come back."
"Interesting thought. Unfortunately, those I care about the most are on another continent - and just about everyone on the ship is trained crew, and leaving them behind would hurt the odds of success."
"What about Yarl Branbaugen?" We'd been speaking English (or Equestrian) without a translation spell, so it took me a moment to recognize Lord Firebough's name.
"He's a whiny brat, but I gave a promise to protect him which I'd prefer to keep, if I can. Do you think you can keep him safer from those who'd see him dead than he would be on an ever-moving ship?"
"I'm still alive, aren't I?"
"Apparently thanks to your cloak, which I'll be taking with me."
"Then I'll just have to come with it."
"And how would bringing you along improve my odds of success?"
"Because if you don't, you're not getting the cloak."
"Sure I am - I can just let my attention on holding up the stone in your gut lapse."
"You said you didn't want to kill me."
"I said it wasn't my top option. Me leaving with the cloak with you alive is my current goal - me leaving with the cloak with you dead is my second choice, but it's well above me leaving without the cloak or me leaving with the cloak in a way that hampers my mission."
"You say that as if I wouldn't be useful."
"Any form of use for you I can imagine depends on me trusting you not to do all sorts of things as soon as you felt it was in your best interest to do so."
"Another impasse?"
"Mm - I don't think so. I think we're at the point where you're trying to come up with some clever way to recover the best possible situation as I take the cloak."
"In that case - there's a few things I haven't been telling you about the cloak. One is that unless I tell you a secret, you'll never figure out how to use it."
"There's using it, and then there's using it. Knowing what it can do - I'm somewhat tempted to plumb whatever secrets I can out of it, and then dump it in the nearest volcano."
"And that would increase the odds you'll keep whole countries from dying?"
"Actually, yes. Giving people irresistible orders is one way the cloak could help. Letting me figure out how to make cloaks that let the wearers give people irresistible orders would help even more."
"... maybe I've just been pretending it's the cloak all along, and I actually get my magic from something else."
"Possible - but I'm pretty sure you didn't know I was casting my truth-spell on you, so you wouldn't have known to fake its effects until after you felt them - and just about the first thing you mentioned was the cloak and booby-trapped brooch. What's so bad about staying here, anyway?"
"Everyone keeps trying to kill the Yarl, the enormous blue dragon sleeping behind masses of traps."
"There didn't seem to be too many traps when you took me to feed to him."
"That's part of it. He got force-grown - he's too stupid to do anything but be a big target. Which lets me 'interpret his orders' without anyone worrying that I'm coming up with them myself. ... this truth spell is getting annoying."
"You think that's bad? Try getting digested."
"I thought you were just a cow."
"I am a cow."
"You know what I mean."
"I do - and we're straying from the point. So you're the public mouthpiece and secretly the power behind the throne. You really need the cloak to stay alive with that setup?"
"Everyone knows I have the power to make everyone do what I tell them. I built up a whole mythology around it, about how that's proof I was the one my dad chose to run things for him while he napped. If I can't do that anymore - that all falls apart, and I'm dead by dawn."
"Here's a thought - instead of coming with us, just leave on your own."
"And exactly where could I go that would let me stay alive any longer?"
"How about First Settlement? I'm told its Yarl is busy on a diplomatic trip, and so the place is ripe for being taken over by a rising young dragon hungry for a realm of his own."
"... What would Branbaugen say to that?"
"I said I'd protect him, not his territory. You might want to talk with him to make some arrangements, so everyone can pretend they're getting the better of the deal."
"I'd have to get past Stortrut."
"Yeah, she's still got some tricks - she seems to be able to sense any dragon in her territory. So - maybe just try going far out to sea to get around her."
"... That could work."
"So we have an understanding?"
"Barring unexpected developments or objections - I believe so."
"Then isn't it time to get that rock out of me?"
"Seems about so."
"By the way - it's clever and all, but wouldn't have actually done me any harm. My cloak and brooch aren't the only magic I've got; I have a clever way to trigger my own force-growth. I'd be as dumb as my dad, until I fixed it, but it would make plenty of room in my stomach for a really big rock."
"Hold still - this may feel a bit like throwing up."
"... That's not a rock."
"No, it's a hollowed-out robin's egg, full of - well, I won't go into the details, but it's the most toxic stuff I could come up with on such short order. I figured that whatever I told you was inside you, you might come up with a clever way to protect yourself against. So I lied."
"What about your friend out there?"
"What friend?"
"... I hate you."
"I can live with that. And aren't you glad you get to live to do that, too?"