The Crown of Night

by Daedalus Aegle

Chapter 9: Impossible Things, Act Two.

In a somber chamber high above the city, Khalif Hassan al-Rashid, King of Saddle Arabia, watched as the commander of his armies marked a map of the desert. “Well?”

“We have sent divisions to scour the desert between the city and every nearby oasis, but there is still no sign of the prince,” the general said. “We have moving legions from the coast further inland to cover more ground, but in doing so we expose the coastal regions to bandit attacks... Great King, reports are coming in of more ghûl sightings across the country. If we meet them in the desert, on their terms, the outcome could be...”

The conclusion lingered in the air long after his words fell silent.

The Khalif glared at the map as if he could frighten it into giving up the desert's secrets. “Do it. Keep looking. Find my son. And bring him back.”

“Yes, my king.” The general bowed, and left. The next horse in line, an elderly mare clad all in fine white silk, came forward.

“High Priestess of the Temple, I have commanded the soothsayers to perform readings every morning. What do they have to say?”

“My king, we have studied the signs and made our readings by every means available to us, and they all warn of great peril and dire circumstance. This is not the time for any great enterprise. You should ward yourself, and wait for better tidings.”

The Khalif closed his eyes and maintained his regal poise while fury boiled up inside of him.

“To wait,” he said, enunciating each sound as if by speaking they would be carved in stone, “is a luxury we cannot afford. Never before in the history of my house have the temple's readings spoken such despair for so long! If all you can tell me is that I am doomed to fail, then I see no reason to listen to you any further. Get back to your temple and watch for more hopeful days!”

The priestess was quickly ushered out of the chamber while the Khalif remained, staring down at the map until the shadow of great wings fell on him.

He looked up into the face of his Grand Vizier. “What news do you bring?”

“My king, I have spread word of your command far and wide,” the Vizier said, her voice rich and full of amusements and cruelties. “The sages are coming from all over the world to win your favor.”

“Thank the waters,” the Khalif muttered. “I swear upon my House that if any of them can solve this riddle, they shall have anything they can ask of me.”

“You should not be so quick to swear so,” the Vizier whispered from behind his ear. “They will want you to give up the seat of your power if you will let them.”

“It will be worth any price they ask, if they can help me,” the Khalif said, without a waver or hint of uncertainty.

“We will see,” the Vizier replied, and was gone, leaving behind only a shadow and a gust that made even the Khalif shiver.

He rose from his seat and looked out the tall arched windows from high up in his palace, out upon his city and the desert beyond.

He felt the desert looking back at him.

“You are mighty,” he said. “But I will not be easily beaten.”

“Even if you take my son, I will not bow to the Queen of Golden Sands.”

– – –

Impossible Things
Act Two: The Game of Ways.

– – –

Time passed in darkness.

Star Swirl could not tell how long he spent buried beneath the desert, slipping in and out of consciousness, barely able to move in a tiny bubble of burning air with only a straw-thin passage to the surface to keep from suffocating.

In the end, his dreams of death and disgrace were interrupted by the pressure of something small and sharp poking at his shield. He heard a tiny scrape and crinkle, the sound of individual grains of sand shifting against each other. In the deathly silence, surrounded by magic and with a splitting headache that magnified every sound a thousandfold, Star Swirl became keenly aware that something was crawling down the thin passage towards him.

Careful not to weaken the bubble, he shifted just enough magic to light his tomb and looked up into eight black eyes of different sizes. Mandibles glistening with a film of venom twitched, and its long legs tensed, ready to leap and bite at the slightest hint of aggression.

Star Swirl held his breath and sat entirely still while the spider studied him. After a few tense moments it seemed to come to a decision, and withdrew into the passage.

Shortly afterward he sensed movement above, the sands shifting, the weight lessening above him, and finally hooves broke through, and sunlight blinding him as hooves took hold of him and pulled him loose from his grave.

The sand poured off him. He hacked and coughed violently, and spat dirty phlegm which dried out in a second on the sand. His throat burned and he was vaguely surprised not to see blood where his spit had landed.

Someone pressed a water bottle to his muzzle. He grabbed it in his magic and drank deeply, then coughed again.

“You are lucky to be alive, petit licorn,” Rehalet Tawyla said in his heavily-accented Equish. “But if you continue like this you will not remain alive for long.”

Star Swirl cautiously looked up, squinting, his eyes still accustomed to the dark. “What happened?”

“Do not speak. You are injured and thirsting—”

“What happened?” Star Swirl stared down the camel, and after a moment the Bedouin nodded.

“The ghûl attacked us, as the caravan fell apart. Many were wounded... A few perished.” His head hung low. “Once satisfied, it disappeared as swiftly as it had come. Le petit cheval de terre... Your kinsman was among the fallen. I am sorry.”

Star Swirl looked away in silence. Nearby, the survivors of the caravan had raised tents where they were tending to the injured. Further away an elderly camel directed three horses in retrieving and laying out the slain.

Star Swirl caught sight of Silver Tongue's motionless body laying on a rug, and felt sick. “What happened to him?”

“The ghûl buried him, as he attempted to bury you.”

Star Swirl nodded, his eyes fixed on the sand at his hooves. He knew nothing about Silver Tongue. Did he have a family? I never thought to ask. He must, surely... They must be told. The Princesses must be told. But how can I get word to them?

“I need to get to the capital city,” Star Swirl said. “And his body has to be returned to Everhold,” Star Swirl said.

“The caravan will go nowhere,” Rehalet Tawyla said. “There is much work to be done, and it will take time.”

Star Swirl looked down at himself. His coat was matted with sand and sweat, his legs shaking and uncertain. His robe, still only a few weeks old, was filthy and torn. His hat looked like it had been trampled, and several of the bells had been ripped off in the duel.

“You can thank alhzal for your life, petit licorn. She is the one who found you, and told us where to dig.” The camel pointed a two-toed foot at a figure moving among the injured that Star Swirl had not noticed. The figure was covered from head to tail in a cloak made of some fine shimmering fabric, very unlike anything worn in the caravan. Only her muzzle could be seen sticking out from her hood: white coat, with a black strip just visible on its side.

Star Swirl allowed himself to be led away from the scene to a tent. “Sit in the shade and drink water, petit licorn. My wife will check on you once she is able. I must arrange the rites of eternity for the fallen.”

– – –

Star Swirl kept to himself, silent and deep in thought, only watching as the crew of the caravan stolidly tended to the wounded, and arranged the fallen for burial. When the sun set, and the heat finally faded, every living soul gathered together and listened as Rehalet Tawyla performed the ceremonies.

First there was a speech, and then Rehalet Amina led the survivors in song. All of it was in Saddle Arabian, and Star Swirl waited in solemn silence, finding no meaning in the sounds, other than a tone of solemnity, and perhaps a reassurance that the travelers desperately needed. Star Swirl cast glances at the other survivors while he listened. They sat not only in sorrow but in fear, unsure if they would live to see another sunset.

“The oasis caravanserai are sacred places, guarded by powerful wards and fierce protectors,” a female voice said in his ear, quiet enough not to disturb the ceremony. He turned to see the cloaked figure from before sitting beside him. Only the side of her muzzle poked out from her low hood, and a few strands of her long, pale silver mane.

“To break with hospitality is the greatest sacrilege of their traditions,” she continued. “None of these Bedouin would have thought to challenge even their most hated enemies in this place. If this can happen here, then nothing is safe.”

Star Swirl nodded, watching her intently. She turned to face him, and he drew a sharp breath. Strands of a spider's web clung to the opening of her hood, reflecting yellow firelight on its threads. He could not see her eyes, but he felt her looking at him. He shivered, feeling as though he were being not just watched, but opened up, taken apart, and judged.

There was a question there.

“I am Womeluki,” she said, before Star Swirl had asked. “But these Bedouin know me as alhzal. Well met, Star Swirl of Everhold.”

Star Swirl felt his tongue around the unfamiliar syllables, and frowned. “I'm not sure I can repeat that.”

She chuckled, and Star Swirl thought he saw something small moving underneath her hood, though her head remained motionless. “It means 'weaver'.” She glanced to the assembled crowd. “We should not interrupt them. Let's step away.”

Star Swirl nodded. They left the camp and climbed to the top of the nearby dune. From there Star Swirl could see the ruined oasis, the burnt-out remains of the caravanserai, and the empty desert beneath the blazing sun.

Star Swirl cleared his throat. “The caravan master said that you saved my life. Thank you.”

She halted, as though surprised. “I was only doing my duty. I cannot leave a life in danger where I can help it.”

Star Swirl nodded. “Well then... what did you want from me?”

“I have questions about the attack,” she said. “You faced the ghûl head-on, did you not? What did you see?”

“Not much,” Star Swirl said, measuring his words slowly. “It was a horse, but... consumed by something poisonous, and corrupt. It was like it controlled the desert itself, and its eyes were like orbs of blood.”

“Can you tell me anything else? Did it say anything?”

He shook his head.

“Did you see where it went?” she asked. “Did it leave anything behind, any mark or sigil? Any clue where it was going, or where it came from? Anything at all?”

Star Swirl only shook his head.

She muttered a curse under her breath and kicked at the sand. “Then the trail has gone cold. Damnation.”

“I'm sorry,” Star Swirl said. “I tried to fight it, but it blinded me... and buried me. By the time they dug me out it was long gone.”

Star Swirl saw only a faint image of her face frowning beneath her hood, a piercing yellow eye looking at him through the center of a silk web. “You tried to fight it? It's a miracle you survived.”

Star Swirl grimaced at the memory of his defeat. “I was trying to help the caravan.”

“That was very brave of you,” she said, “and also very foolish, and very lucky. You should return to your homeland and leave the fighting to the warriors, young one.”

He frowned. “I'm a wizard! I've fought monsters before. That thing just...” He shook his head. “It was new to me. I couldn't prepare against it.”

“You charged headlong to an enemy you did not know, in a land you do not understand,” she said. “What did you think would happen?”

“I thought I could help! I thought I could do something!” Star Swirl yelled. “Ever since I set a hoof on this land I've only been a burden and I hate it!”

“Hmm...” she murmured to herself as she thought. “Your desire to do good is commendable, but you have much to learn, young one.”

Star Swirl saw a spider crawl from the corner of her hood across her neck and into her mane before disappearing from sight. She did not seem to notice.

“What do you care?” Star Swirl asked. “I answered your question, now answer mine. This is not your land. Who are you and why are you here?”

She stared at him for a moment, then turned away to look up at the sky. “I followed a dream,” she said. “The Great Spinner showed me a vision. A great darkness rising in the heart of the desert, and casting down destruction upon the Crossroads of the World... Something terrible is coming to Saddle Arabia. I have come here in search of the source of the upheaval... and perhaps, if destiny is willing, to prevent it, and protect my people.”

“Your people?” Star Swirl asked. “You're a long way from Zebrica. What does Saddle Arabia matter to you?”

“The desert wind blows, and the savannah burns,” she recited. “We have a long and troubled history together. When chaos strikes here, Zebrica always suffers for it. I came to this land guided by the signs of the Great Spinner. He led me deep into the desert, and it was there I came upon the trail of the ghûl. I followed it until I came upon your caravan.” She shook her head sadly. “I only wish I had come sooner. I have been following that creature's trail for days.”

“You call it a ghoul,” Star Swirl said, spitting the word bitterly. “But that was no undead carrion-eater. What exactly was that thing?”

“Ghûl,” the zebra said. “A servant of the power that once ruled this desert. An evil out of ancient myth, wielding dark and forbidden magics. That creature was a regular horse once, a citizen of Saddle Arabia. It was taken by the darkness, or else offered itself up to it freely, in exchange for power. Once the ghûl was thought to exist only in legend. Now they walk freely in the wilds and destroy everything they touch.”

She turned and looked out to the horizon. “I would have followed it further, but I am a healer before a warrior, and I could not leave while there were lives here to save. The trail is gone, now, and I cannot follow it any further.” She sighed and shook her head. “I can only think that somehow, for some reason, the Great Spinner must have wanted me to see this.”

While she spoke a pale, thin spider crawled out from under her hood and spun a web across the opening. She peered at Star Swirl through it, her eyes concealed so that Star Swirl was not sure if she focused her sight on him or on the web. “There, I've answered your question. You are right: I am far from my home. You are farther from yours. What do you want here, star-born one?”

Star Swirl spoke slowly. “There is something evil unfolding in this land. I am here to find out what it is, and set it right.” He looked around at the desert dunes surrounding them, anger and bitterness in his voice. “Ever since I set my hooves off the ship I've been struggling just to breathe. My colleague was just killed, and I couldn't save him. I have a mission from the Princess of the Night. I am not going to disappoint her. I am going to show them all what I can do.”

“The moon has sent a star to search the earth for answers.” The zebra grinned and chuckled, a dark and rich sound. “It has the sound of myth, does it not? But there is something about you, unicorn. Perhaps this is what the Great Spinner wished for me to see. You tried to fight the ghûl. You should be dead, and beyond my power to heal. My companions can see into the hearts of ponies as easily as horses, and camels, and many other things besides,” the zebra said slowly. “Yet they do not know you, star-born one. I look upon you and there is something within that I cannot see. You have potential, that much is clear, but what will you be...?”

“Who are you, who can command spiders?” he asked.

“A kindred spirit, perhaps,” she answered. “I ask you honestly: what are you going to do?”

They watched each other silently for a moment, each gauging the other, before Star Swirl spoke. “My mission is inside the royal palace,” he said. “There is something I didn't tell you about the attack. That ghoul was the Khalif's son, the prince of Saddle Arabia. Whatever is happening in this land has reached into the capital city itself. I need to get there.”

“Ill omens cover this land,” she said, nodding. “Word has reached my ears that the Khalif has promised great rewards to anyone who can interpret them correctly, and help him find a safe path through the dangers. From far and wide, great sages travel to the capital city to try to win his favor.”

Star Swirl looked up at the sky. “I can do that.”

“Even so, you cannot get there now. Your caravan is broken, and will go no further.”

“Then I'll go alone,” Star Swirl said.

“You do not know the way. Even if you did, the power that rules the desert will surely fall upon you when you are alone.”

“You walked through this desert alone,” Star Swirl said. “You must know the way. Lead me. I'll follow you.”

She studied him thoughtfully. “I am blessed by the Great Spinner. I walk without shelter and with no more supplies than I can carry. The heat and the thirst would kill you.”

Star Swirl smiled, as an idea came to mind. “Don't underestimate me.”

He stepped out from the shadows of the tent and felt the full weight of the heat pressing down on him. He closed his eyes and reached out with his mind to feel the Weave, the magic of the desert. It wasn't subtle or difficult to find: it was everywhere around him, in the air, in the sand, running through the gaping holes of the ruined building that had, until so recently, been warded against it.

Star Swirl looked at the broken wards more closely, and he smiled. The wards on the doors and windows of the caravanserai building were shattered, but enough of their form remained that Star Swirl could tell their purpose. He took one last drink from his water bottle, then he stripped out of his robes and his hat and spread them on the ground before him.

“I have tasted death in this desert magic,” he said as he began to weave threads of magic into the seams of his robe. “I know how it feels, and I can show it to my garb... and teach it to say yes, and no.”

As the wards took form, the burning magic of the desert pushed against them, but could not break through. He stood up and placed his pointy hat securely on his head, and fastened the robe's collar around his neck.

The effect was immediate: a soft comfortable breeze seemed to flow over him beneath his robe, holding the crushing heat at bay. The sweat on his brow chilled beneath the brim of his hat.

He looked up at the shimmering horizon beneath a blazing sky. Already he could feel his strength returning, and his mind filling with new ideas. “It's a beginning,” he said, with a satisfied smile. “I'm ready when you are.”

They set out, side by side, into the desert.

– – –

What is this?

For days they walked together through the heat haze of the Golden Sands, alone in a land where no innocent creature abandons the safety of numbers.

The sun rose and fell upon them again, but its rays no longer bit Star Swirl as they had done before. By day they walked, following a path Star Swirl could not see, the zebra guided by signs only she could detect.

“Do not look upon the midday lights,” Womeluki told him as they rested in the hottest hours. “The sarāb will cloud your eyes and steal inside your mind, and try to lead you astray.”

“I know,” Star Swirl said. “But it's not the day that worries me.”

By night they worked.

When the sun relented, the unicorn sat down to examine his robes, and experiment with the enchanted bindings and the wards he had woven into the fabric. The night spoke to him, a song of temptation and promises, an alluring dance of madness that concealed a whisper in the wind, the voice of the desert.

Two little equines who think they can cross this land?

Every night he found some new improvement, which made the made the forces of the land around him both clearer, and less powerful. Every day the blazing heat of the desert sun found him harder to reach, and his strength carried him further and left him stronger still.

I can see what you are doing with your little magics. It will not save you.

“We are being watched,” Star Swirl whispered to his companion, and she nodded.

“Oh yes. Always.”

You amuse me, little unicorn. You will make an entertaining toy.

While he worked, the zebra spent her nights speaking to herself, or to other creatures than the unicorn, and listening to answers which the unicorn could not hear. At each dusk, the zebra would halt, not knowing where to go, and at each dawn she would pick a course with full confidence.

Try as you might, you cannot hide from me.

“You said you were tracking the ghoul that attacked us,” Star Swirl said to his companion. “Are there any nearby? Can you tell?”

She nodded. “There is something in the distance, wandering... seeking whatever it is they seek. They do not seem to be closing in around us. Even so, I am leading us on a wide path to avoid them.”

“Perhaps,” Star Swirl muttered. “Or perhaps they are letting us be.”

You will all be mine in the end.

After three more days of travel they rose above a dune to see Fuors Althahabi, the Lady of Gold, the capital city of Saddle Arabia far ahead in the distance, golden and jeweled rooftops glittering like the waters of a fountain. It grew as they walked, and Star Swirl expected them to reach it soon.

Instead it just kept growing, until it seemed to cover a third of the horizon.

In the middle of the desert, where no pony of Braytannia would have believed that anything could grow, there rose a city that dwarfed Everhold and Cambridle, a testament to life in the heart of the desert. What Star Swirl had taken for the spires of the royal palace, the tallest points of the city, revealed themselves to be a multitude of towers scattered across the skyline, white and pristine, flags flying from each point in a wind that promised respite from the heat of day.

Beneath the skyline a massive stone wall held the dunes at bay, and the two of them made for the massive main gate. It stood open before them, and though manned by horses in golden barding, they were ushered in unquestioned, and welcomed to the city. Even from outside the walls Star Swirl had heard the sounds of a great market from within, and as they entered the noise surrounded and overwhelmed him.

Once again Star Swirl was reminded that he did not really like cities. The marketplace was like the busy hour of Everhold times a hundred, a great crashing throng of noise and bodies.

There were no settlements outside the great wall that kept the desert at bay, Star Swirl remembered. So, he reasoned, every creature that wished to work or trade in the city had to find room inside. In spite of its great size, with great wealth came great demand, and the city had quickly filled to bursting and then just kept filling and filling and filling.

Everything a pony could possibly wish for was for sale somewhere in the labyrinthine bazaar that seemed to stretch on across the city. Everywhere the bodies parted for a moment showed Star Swirl glimpses of tantalizing treasures hawked by grizzled merchants, wrinkled or bearded and adorned with silver and jewels that spoke of voyages to yet more distant lands.

Star Swirl all but had to force himself not to stare in dumb shock at the bizarre array of commodities as well as the creatures selling them. The majority were horses, with several camels and zebras, but there were so many others, all mingling and bartering and haggling and arguing without a care for size or shape. By one stand, a tiny earth pony mare held her own against a hippopotamus. It must have been twenty times the size of the pony, but in their heated discussion – haggling over a length of silver chain – that seemed not to matter.

The zebra cut a path straight to the center of the square, where a huge fountain poured fresh water through troughs and pipes that led across the market. She drank deeply and filled her water skin, and prodded Star Swirl to do the same.

“We need to get to the royal palace,” Star Swirl shouted to be heard above the crowd. “I have no business out here.”

The zebra nodded, and led Star Swirl through the market and down a long and broad street lined with palm trees. In the distance before them lay the royal palace. It dominated the city skyline, a massive domed tower citadel that seemed to be built entirely of gold and jewels, and polished stone in iridescent colors.

To Star Swirl's relief the crowds thinned out as they left the market and made their way up the street towards the heart of the city. The Saddle Arabians had constructed a hill within their walls, a high ground to escape the squalid depths of the city, and guarded gateways to bar the way. Star Swirl found he only had to show his diplomatic papers and he would be granted entry: Princess Luna's royal seal displayed prominently, in silver, brought them inside the gates of the royal palace itself.

A young clerk in the colorful suit of a civil servant soon arrived to lead them through the palace, and Star Swirl once again found himself disoriented by splendor as he was dragged swiftly through one luxurious chamber filled with dignitaries and nobles after another.

There were guards everywhere here, weapons displayed prominently: most were horses, but every creature Star Swirl had seen were represented in their ranks. By one gate, a hippogriff, sleek and elegant, stood side by side with a rhinoceros. The mountainous grey creature was clad in rich and elaborate dress, like the ceremonial wear of a monastic order of warriors, and its turban alone was larger than the unicorn's body, and hung with ornamental silver chains.

Before long they found themselves in a grand petition hall where a throng of citizens clamored to be heard, and when Star Swirl saw the figure at the center of attention his eyes widened. “What is that?”

The tall golden throne of Saddle Arabia was empty, the Khalif nowhere to be seen. Another figure stood beneath the dais in his absence, and it was to her that all the pleas were directed. It was a giant creature, not entirely unlike a griffon. It had a lion's body and the wings of a great eagle but its face was strange and somehow entrancing: the face of a she-ape, hairless and bare of skin, watchful and cunning, as joyous and cruel as a cat. It smiled through crimson lips, showing row upon row of long, needle-like fangs, and it caught the pleas of the petitioners and dispensed with them ruthlessly.

“The Sphinx,” the zebra whispered darkly in Star Swirl's ear. “She is the Grand Vizier, first councilor to the Khalif. Be wary of her. She is ageless and cunning, and all that would have the Khalif's ear must get past her.”

“The Sphinx is still alive?” Star Swirl muttered in awe. “I've read the legends. She must be thousands of years old.”

“My people have had dealings with her before,” the zebra whispered harshly. “She is a creature of her word, and her word is poison.”

They passed by the edge of the hall, and as they left Star Swirl thought he felt the creature's eyes burning at the back of his head.

They were led deep into the palace, high above the ground floor, through great gardens and halls hung with countless treasures and works of great art and craft, bearing testament to the vast riches of the House of Golden Sands. After much climbing, and more twists and turns through the labyrinthine passages of the palace than Star Swirl could count, they were shown into a dim and pleasantly chill antechamber.

“This is the Hall of Reception. You may rest here, and refresh yourselves until you are summoned,” the palace clerk said in Equish, then bowed and left them to take in the sight.

The Hall of Reception was a lavish resting place where a number of other visitors lounged beside tables filled with exotic fruits and fine wines, sitting on great pillows so soft that Star Swirl imagined this is how pegasi felt sitting on clouds. Incense burned in jars, filling the hall with a sweetness and a smoke that blurred the edges of vision.

“You must tread carefully here, unicorn,” Womeluki said. “One miss-step can spell disaster.”

“I know my mission.”

“You should know so much more! The Sphinx will-” But before she could say anymore a door opened at the far end of the chamber, and she fell silent. From beyond the door Star Swirl heard an authoritative voice speaking in Saddle Arabian, and the guard replied quietly. Another command from within, and the guard nodded and glanced in their direction, and said something.

“The Khalif will see me,” Womeluki said. “I will be back soon. Stay here.” And she was gone, leaving Star Swirl alone.

Star Swirl set his eyes on an enormous platter of fruits in the center of the room, and remembered his hunger from the long voyage. He lifted a grape with his magic and crushed it between his teeth, relishing the taste of it, plump and juicy, as he became aware of the others in the chamber. They were watching the newcomers intently, and he could all but see the wheels moving in their minds, pondering what the unicorn and the zebra's presence here meant for their own plans and chances. It did not take much for Star Swirl to realize that these were the sages from distant lands, like him, come to offer their wisdom in hopes of winning the favor of the Khalif.

He straightened his posture and glanced over the room, seeing them all. They were scattered across the Hall of Reception, clearly no more comfortable with each other than they were with Star Swirl. There was not a pony among them. Some were alone, and some were in the groups.

There were three creatures of a kind, deep in discussion, whispering amongst themselves. They looked like sheep, but taller, with long necks, and they were clad in saffron robes.

There was something not entirely unlike a diamond dog sitting by itself on a cushion, elaborate patterns painted up and down the length of its body. It hummed softly to itself, seemingly lost in its own world as it ran a paw over a slate, painting an image of a serpent in all the colors of the rainbow.

There was a griffon there, along with a bodyguard. The sage was a male, old and skinny and sharp, his coat of feathers thin. The guard was a female, young and muscular, tense as a coiled spring. They both cast wary looks the unicorn's way.

There was an elephant, vast and wrinkled with the experience of old age, studying a great scroll supported on its trunk, peering out from behind crystal spectacles. And in the final corner...

In the final corner Star Swirl saw a dragon, lying stretched out on a cushion. Its scaly wings stretched idly as it puffed on a hookah with something that was not a claw, but simply ended bluntly, like a hoof.

Star Swirl blinked and looked again. His eyes did not deceive him: it was a dragon in the shape of a horse, or possibly a great pegasus with shimmering red dragon scales in place of a coat, and when it faced him he saw reflected in its eyes the legends of a bygone age and distant lands.

All of them were older than he. Some of them were, like the Sphinx or even the Princesses themselves, set above the mortal races by birth. To them, Star Swirl realized, he must seem like a petty nothing.

It was not long before the door opened again and Womeluki was shown out, her hood pulled even lower upon her face. “What did you tell him?” Star Swirl asked.

“Nothing he wanted to hear,” she replied. “His path is dark, and the Great Spinner has no answer for him. Perhaps there is none. I do not know. But the Great Spinner cares not for the Khalif's favors.”

“Oh? Why not?”

“I have forsworn material concerns,” Womeluki said. “These horses have no interest in the world of spirits. Their power lies in commerce. They have nothing to offer me but coins. But their coins will not save them, or my people.”

“I have no idea what I'm doing here,” Star Swirl admitted, with a whisper. “But they have something I need besides coins. I have to win the Khalif's favor.”

“Then you must tell them something that none of these others could,” the zebra said. “Be careful, unicorn, and do not get dragged into politics. It is not your strength.”

The door to the inner chamber opened again, and the guard stepped out and said, in halting, clumsy Equish, “The Khalif will see the unicorn.”

“Trust in yourself, and be watchful,” Womeluki concluded, speaking so quietly that Star Swirl could barely hear her as he followed the guard.

Soon Star Swirl found himself in a somber and silent meeting chamber. Oil lamps burned, casting a dim glow that did not reach the high ceiling, and the walls were hung with draperies and portraits of old kings and champions glaring down humorlessly at anyone who looked at them.

Ahead, behind a massive desk ornately carved from wood that must have been imported from half the world away, stood the Khalif of Saddle Arabia, Hassan al-Rashid, the King of Golden Sands. Star Swirl saw his silhouette against the tall, vaulted windows, looking out at his city. He was calm, and stark, and regal in his kingly vestments: a rich scarlet dress, a pristine white turban adorned with a lone peacock's feather above a cool blue gemstone.

“Greetings, ambassador, and welcome to our home,” he said in flawless Equish, stepping forward into the dim light of the oil lamps. His face was severe but handsome, slender and sharp, brown-coated and with a slim black beard, and his eyes were a deep, dark brown. “We are always pleased to hear from our dear friend Princess Celestia.”

His words were cordial, but there was a heaviness behind them. Star Swirl bowed deeply, hesitantly. “Thank you for your hospitality, Khalif. But, to tell the truth, I'm not an ambassador, and I come with a message not from Celestia, but from Princess Luna.”

The Khalif raised an eyebrow at this. “Indeed? What does the Princess of the Night wish to say that her sister cannot?”

“I have two messages,” Star Swirl said. “Firstly, I must regretfully deliver a trade proposal. Regretfully because the pony who should have delivered it could not. We were attacked while traveling through the desert. My colleague the ambassador... was killed. I humbly request that his work receives your majesty's full consideration.”

Star Swirl brought out Silver Tongue's satchel, containing the drafted trade proposal, and held it out for the Khalif.

The Khalif looked at him dispassionately, weighing the unicorn with his eyes. “I am most saddened to learn of the death of Silver Tongue. He was an honorable pony, and a dutiful and obedient servant. We will give the matter all the honors his memory deserves. What is your second message?”

“I have traveled through the desert to come here,” Star Swirl said. “I have heard of your troubles, and I have seen the sorrow that spreads across your land. For the sake of Princess Luna Noctis, I want to offer my services and see if I can help you navigate these dire times.”

The Khalif watched him thoughtfully, his face not betraying his feelings. “You will have heard that my son has disappeared, succumbed to the sarāb,” the Khalif said. “My son was strong and righteous, and destined for greatness. Instead, the madness of the desert has reached here, into my home, and imperiled my own family.”

Star Swirl nodded. “Not only that, but I have more evil news to tell. I have seen your son.” Here the Khalif's eyes widened. “He was the one who attacked the caravan and killed the ambassador. He has become a ghoul.”

At those words the Khalif seemed to lose all his strength. Before Star Swirl's eyes, he seemed to gain thirty years in a moment, and his head fell low. “Then my worst fears have come to pass, and nothing you can say or do will make it better.”

“Give me the chance, please,” Star Swirl said. “I can see things others can't. Please, tell me about these omens.”

The Khalif sat in silence for a long while, his head hung low, locked in introspective contemplation. Then he spoke, and his smooth, strong voice rang through the chamber with notes of dignified resignation. “In a dream, I saw my first wife, dead these past ten years, the mother of my son. She was beautiful. She came to me and embraced me, but her touch was as the wind in the desert, sand whipping upon my coat, and when I opened my eyes I saw only dry bones.”

“When I woke that morning I called for my soothsayers to perform readings, and for the guards to scour the city and hear what news from the land. My scryers foretold only sadness, and my guards brought back tales of ill omens, of springs dried up and winds turning and sorrow in childbirth, and all manner of upheaval in nature.

“For many years, our power has continued to grow, and our reach stretches ever further across the dunes. We laid down peace. We opened roads. We founded settlements and let life blossom where nothing before us could live! But there is a power in this desert, young unicorn, that was here before the first horse and that has sworn to outlive us all. She holds my throne in contempt, and she has now declared open war upon us, angered that we have tamed 'her' land.

“I have asked every sage of my court to interpret these omens, and all of them have given me the same answer,” the Khalif continued, his voice bitter. “Fire. That is what they tell me. 'You will burn, and everything you own will be as ashes and dust'. That is all the signs say to them. Do you think you can find an answer where they could not, young unicorn?”

Star Swirl looked past the Khalif to the windows behind him, where the first stars were emerging in the night sky. “Give me a few minutes,” Star Swirl said, “And I will see what I can do.”

He approached the windows and studied the stars. “Your scryers and soothsayers,” he said. “What methods do they use?”

“The same as they have used for hundreds of years. They have means both fair and foul, for urgency or calm times as befits the age. They can read in stones and in bones, in the falling of water upon the tiles, in dreams and in seams and in rosaries. They can read in offering entrails and in the veins of your face.”

“I have something they don't. I will read the stars.”

The Khalif scoffed. “Certainly they can read the stars.”

Star Swirl shook his head. “Not like me.”

Star Swirl stepped up to the window and concentrated.

This was a different sky than his own. It spoke a different language, carried different messages: it did not know him, and he did not know it, but it spoke to him nonetheless. Somewhere in that singing madness he knew there had to be a clue.

He let his eyes roam across the great dome, slowly losing confidence. Everywhere he turned he saw a new stranger star, eager to entice him with wild promises he knew would not be kept, like the merchants down in the markets: full of vigor and beauty and mystery, all made only to empty his pockets.

The center exhausted, he searched farther away from the apex, until at the very bottom of the horizon, hanging low above the sands, there was a tiny pinprick of light and he thought: I know that star.

He stared at it, bent all his magic to reaching out to it, and gained a trickle of honest light through the wall of magic that was the Saddle Arabian night sky, and he heard its message.

“A shooting star comes for you,” Star Swirl said. “Born in darkness, it offers you aid as it strikes nearest to your heart.” He turned and saw the Khalif looking at him in shock, his face pale.

“There is no worse omen than a shooting star,” the Khalif said. “The only thing a shooting star offers is death and destruction. My lot must be miserable indeed if that is what I must look to for aid.”

“But it does,” Star Swirl said. “Khalif, I promise you, the stars are telling me you have a way to victory in this. But what you do with it is up to you.”

The Khalif nodded slowly, his sharp gaze locked on the unicorn, studying him for any sign of deception.

The Khalif sat down behind the great desk, clearly shaken by this message. “I will think on this,” he said. “You have told me something none of the others could. If that be good or ill, I must discover myself.”

Star Swirl thought he heard the possibility of rapprochement in the Khalif's voice, and cleared his throat. “There is one more thing, I might offer your majesty” Star Swirl said. “I have a suspicion of what might be allowing these evil forces to slip inside your walls. But in order to verify it, I must ask you for... a favor.”

“Speak your piece, unicorn.”

“I know that in this palace you possess a powerful magical artifact,” Star Swirl said. “I need to study it.”

“Out of the question,” a new voice said from the shadows.

The Sphinx stepped into the room out of nowhere, her massive lion's body silent and graceful. She stepped around the table, her eyes not leaving Star Swirl with a predatory smile. “So who is this little creature that asks?”

The Khalif sat up straight, watching the Sphinx warily.

Star Swirl bowed. “I am Star Swirl of Edinspur, sent by Princess Luna Noctis of Everhold. I am honored to meet you, miss?”

“I am the Sphinx,” she answered plainly. “There is only one of me, so no other name is necessary. You may, if you wish, address me as Grand Vizier.”

“Young Star Swirl has asked to be permitted to inspect the Sun Stone,” the Khalif said, his voice low and flat.

“I heard,” the Sphinx replied. “It is, of course, out of the question.”

“No foreigner has ever been so permitted,” the Khalif concurred, though Star Swirl thought he heard a hint of openness in his voice, a consideration. “I am curious, however, as to what he hopes to find?”

Star Swirl cleared his throat. “Your Majesty, a disruption of the artifact's magic could have far-reaching consequences, both subtle and overt. If it is possible that something has stolen in, that could be the root of all your nation's troubles. I am skilled at magic analysis. If I could study it, I could quickly detect if there is any corruption, and where it has come from.”

“All the nation's troubles...?” the Khalif asked. “You think this could be what caused my son to succumb to the sarāb?”

“...It could be possible,” Star Swirl said slowly. “I would have to study it to find out. If so, then we could cut the corruption at the source, and heal the damage it has done.”

“This absurd,” the Sphinx said bluntly. “The colt is making wild promises, nothing more. It is not possible that anything could have tainted it. Do not toy with the colt, my Khalif. You know his request is impossible.”

“I am the Khalif,” Hassan al-Rashid said in a deep and forceful tone, turning his eyes on the Vizier. “My word is law. If I decree that the colt can study the Sun Stone, then he can.”

“I served your father before you, and his father before him,” the Sphinx replied, her voice cold and hard. “When you are long gone, I will still live. I serve Saddle Arabia, and if you think I'll stand by while you sell your nation's future for one night of dreaming then you are sorely mistaken, my king.”

The Khalif's face turned to a frown, and his brow turned dark. Thoughts ran through Star Swirl's mind as he watched the two rulers meet in a clash of wills long in the making. There must be a way to persuade the Khalif.

Perhaps I can remove the Sphinx from the equation.

Star Swirl stepped forward and bowed low. “Your Majesty, I know that I am asking for much, and I am sorry that I must challenge your dearly held traditions,” he began. “But these are times of dire need. It is not only your son, your entire kingdom is at risk! Please give me a chance to prove my suspicions.”

“It is not the place of a petty junior diplomat to even discuss such matters,” the Sphinx said, waving a paw, long sharp claws extended, across her face. “My Khalif, I smell treachery at play. How does one so young know of these things?”

“I am not a junior diplomat,” Star Swirl said calmly, standing as tall as he could in the face of the Sphinx's predatory looming. “I am the Royal Astronomer of Everhold, and advisor to the Princess on arcane matters. Princess Luna herself entrusted me with this secret, and I keep it.”

“That explains much,” the Khalif said suddenly. “He tells the truth. I heard of the clamor you caused in Everhold a few weeks past. This is the pony who won the trust of the Princess of the Night, and stole the title from half a dozen wizened sages more than twice his count of years.”

“Impressive, I am certain,” the Sphinx sneered at Star Swirl. “And yet, it is no cause for us to bare our hearts and our souls to him. Your request has been heard, young unicorn. But it is impossible.”

“Is there no way?” Star Swirl asked, glancing to the Khalif. The horse's face was a mask, but Star Swirl thought he could see a glimmer of uncertainty in his eyes: a hope.

“There is none,” the Sphinx replied.

“I seem to recall,” Star Swirl said, turning from the Khalif to the Sphinx, speaking slowly and forming each word with care, “that traditionally the Sphinx accepts challenges from those who come to her.”

At that, the room fell silent. Star Swirl met the Sphinx's shocked glare. She stared at him as if he had gone mad, but the Khalif...

The Khalif was smiling. And there was a glimmer of possibility in his eyes.

Star Swirl decided to seize it.

“I challenge you to a game,” Star Swirl said to the Sphinx. “For the right to inspect the Sun Stone.”

“Traditionally,” the Sphinx replied, “those who challenge the Sphinx and lose are devoured.” She spread her mouth wide showing three rows of sharp, jagged fangs.

Star Swirl nodded slowly, feeling a drop of sweat running through his mane, struggling to let no fear show through his voice. “If I lose... I will accept any obligation you see fit. If I win, I may study the Sun Stone. Agreed?”

The Sphinx scowled indignantly, insulted at being so challenged. Star Swirl looked past her to the Khalif.

The King of Golden Sands smiled. “I will permit this.”

“Your arrogance and presumption is... refreshing. But you will come to regret it.” The Sphinx straightened her legs, rising up even higher than her normal great height. She clapped her lion's paws together. “So be it! We shall play a game.”

With a gust of her great wings the Sphinx rose up on her hind legs, and clapped her lion paws together, and there was a flash of blinding light and a burst of thunder.

When Star Swirl's eyes adjusted he found that he was back in the Hall of Reception. The Sphinx still stood before him, and the Khalif sat in the seat of judgment, while all around them the gathering of sages broke off their considerations to mark them.

Star Swirl turned until he caught sight of Womeluki: their eyes met, and he saw frantic warnings in her face.

“The Hall of Reception shall be our arena,” the Sphinx said. “Honored visitors! This one and I shall play a game this night! His Majesty the Khalif shall be our judge, and these honored sages will be our audience and our jury. Is this acceptable to you, young unicorn?” She grinned, and there was no missing the mocking tone of her words.

Star Swirl raised his head high and nodded. “What game should we play? I leave the choice to you, Vizier.”

The Khalif looked down upon them with a judge's eyes, weighing the scales. “Let the choice be fair. Not a game of labyrinthine rules, but a test of mind and awareness.”

“Your Majesty is wise and just,” the Sphinx glanced down at Star Swirl through slitted eyes and licked her lips. “You have studied much, and traveled wide from your home,” she said, knowing she had studied more, and traveled much wider than he. “I suggest a game of knowledge and power, of wits and magic: the Game of Ways.”

Star Swirl heard gasps and murmurs, saw raised eyebrows and nods of approval from the sages. The dragon pony rolled over on his cushion and watched intently, his eyes slitted and focused.

“What are the rules?” Star Swirl asked, attempting to sound brave.

“Speak to your companion,” the Sphinx said, glancing to the zebra. “She knows our ways well of old, and can teach you. Then, once you are ready, we will begin.”

With those words, the Sphinx withdrew to the foot of the King's seat, and laid down to wait with an expectant smile.

The zebra rushed to Star Swirl's side. “What did you do?” she demanded.

“I seem to have challenged the Sphinx to a game,” Star Swirl replied sheepishly.

The zebra exclaimed something in her native tongue. “She is going to destroy you, unicorn!”

“The Khalif seemed intrigued. I think I have a chance.”

“The Khalif is not your friend,” the zebra hissed. “I know you are not a politician, but think like them for a moment! Now you are a pawn in their game, a tool for the Khalif to use against the Vizier. But you are a small dart, and she is all over thick armor. You are made to be thrown away, and while your Princess may value you dearly, the Khalif does not.”

Star Swirl shuddered. “We don't have much time. What are the rules of this game?”

“The Game of Ways,” the Spinner intoned. “It is ancient, and the good news for you is that it is not hard to learn. But to master it is impossible in a hundred lifetimes. It is a game played around campfires and between distant tribes, in which two players draw upon their knowledge of different lands to strike and counter. She will show a creature with rare powers, and you must think of one to surpass it. She will set the theme, and you must keep up with her and place her in a losing position. Do you understand?”

Star Swirl nodded. “I think so.”

“Remember, you may not retrace your steps, and you may not play anything that is not real. Do not allow her to set the terms, for she will try to trap you in your words.” Womeluki stole a glance at the Sphinx and shook her head sadly. “The rest is up to you. Muster all your knowledge of the world, and may the spirits of your ancestors be with you, unicorn.”

Womeluki stepped back, leaving Star Swirl to face the Sphinx. The Vizier rose soundlessly and stepped forward, smiling, to play.

“The unicorn stands! Are you ready?”

Star Swirl nodded.

The Sphinx's smile shifted to a smirk. “For the benefit of our honored guest we will play in his native tongue of Equish. Or perhaps you would prefer Scoltish Neighlic?”

Star Swirl kept his face still. “Equish will be fine.”

“Then we will begin,” the Sphinx said. “It falls to me to set the theme. I choose: my kin.”

Around them, the room changed. The lights, already dim, darkened almost to extinction. The scent of incense turned to the dust of the desert, and the mild evening breeze from the windows high above the city turned to the winds of ageless tracks, a soft whisper in the distance.

A lone lamp cast a soft red glow upon the Sphinx's strange, hairless face, her red lips parting to show her red tongue.

And then she spoke.

“There is a place far away from here,” she said, and as she spoke a magical image of it appeared before them, so vivid that Star Swirl could not tell if it was in the magic of the Hall of Reception, or his own mind's eye, so vivid that he could have sworn he was there in the flesh. “A place where the mountains crack beneath the steps of giants.”

Star Swirl felt the ground tremble beneath him with each step of the unseen monster, his heartbeat racing. The Sphinx continued speaking. “Where towering figures blot out the sun as they walk, wielding great trees as clubs that they have pulled up by the roots with a single tug, or have snapped in two as easily as they would tear a blade of grass. A single giant eye stares balefully from its forehead, and those who catch its gaze will be crushed by its terrible blow.”

Star Swirl's mouth fell open as he saw the hateful creature roaring above him, crossing the great mountains and leaving great gashes in the forest through its passing, threatening violent death upon those who dared come close.

The Sphinx's grin widened as she watched his fear. “I am the Cyclops,” she said. “What will you be, to escape crushing death at my hands?”

The image froze, releasing Star Swirl from the grip of terror. He shuddered and gulped and coughed. “Is that how the game is played, then?”

“That is how the game is played,” the Sphinx replied, savoring his shock as if it were a fine wine.

Star Swirl closed his eyes and forced himself to calm. He took a deep breath, and thought back to his homeland.

“There are stories told, where I'm from,” Star Swirl began, “of spirits that make their homes in the crowns of flowers. Their wings are like butterflies, and their little horns can sense the trot of a foal from a hundred yards away. They are gentle creatures, if you show them kindness, but if you treat them with scorn and disdain then they will pester and torment you until you beg for mercy. Though they see beyond our world to realms beyond our imagining, they have the wills of children and easily get into trouble. But they are small and swift and adept at hiding. No creature with two eyes, can see them if they don't want to be seen, much less a creature with only one, and to club at them is like trying to catch the wind between your hooves.”

Star Swirl willed his magic to come alive, and reached out to feel the glamer that lay over the Hall of Reception. He found it malleable to his touch, and called forth the image of a swarm of the little creatures in every color of the rainbow, dancing in the wind, waving and weaving like flower petals in the breeze.

Star Swirl forced himself to meet the Sphinx's gaze unblinking. “The books call them faerie, but my nana called them the Breezies, and they can easily escape your Cyclops.”

Star Swirl heard the sages murmur their approval, and a sigh of relief from behind where Womeluki stood, and he allowed himself to smile as the Sphinx pursed her lips and stepped sideways around the central table towards him.

“In the nameless land at the edge of the map, where monsters dwell, there is a tribe of exiles,” the Sphinx began. “Long ago they were cast out from the lands of ponies, and forced to make their home in the barren wastes. They are part horse, and part... something else. Something shifting. Something that adapts, something that would not be stopped, but could survive in any environment the world could throw at it. There are few plants there for them to eat, few trees, and little grass, and flowers are a rare delicacy to them. Mostly they eat meat.” She snapped her jaws for emphasis. “They learned to survive in that land, and they learned to thrive, and they rose from the most wretched and low of the creatures that dwelled there to become the strongest, and now they are its kings. They have hooves, like you do, and course the fields as swiftly as any pony, and they have hands, like minotaurs, to carry spears and nets and any number of other things. They were hunted, and so they learned to become hunters without equal. I am the Centaur, and when I crush your flowers under my great hooves and cast a wide net upon you then even your elusive breezies will be my prey.”

Star Swirl could have sworn he felt the net bind him down, the spear thrust into his side and rip through his lungs, and he gasped for air. He stood silent for a while, drawing deep breaths, while the Sphinx watched him intently.

He cast his eyes about him, his thoughts racing. Womeluki stood frozen still, watching him intently with nervous eyes.

May the spirits of your ancestors be with you.

“The centaurs are masters of the wilderness and the open plain,” he began, and the Sphinx nodded. “But the wilderness and the open plain give way before the farmer and the artisan. All the beasts of the wild are held at bay by the guardians of hearth and home. A bowl of porridge and some butter given as thanks will keep the protectors happy, and the walls strong. Brownies, they're called, little but strong, and cast your spears and nets as you will, the walls will not budge.”

Star Swirl called up the image of a diminutive, chubby bearded gnome that clambered over the table and up the walls, but where it had passed it left behind a sense of stillness, of peace and comfort, as the worries of the world were shut out at the door.

The Sphinx only chuckled, and by her smile Star Swirl knew she had more vicious ideas in store. “There are perils that come from within your walls,” she replied. “There is a curse that your guardians are powerless to protect against. A touch of rage and hunger that drives all it touches into a frenzied and insatiable bloodlust. Fathers tear their loved ones apart, bereft of their senses. Hearth and home will be as nothing, and all the bonds that hold your towns and villages can be torn asunder. In the land of my birth it is called Lycippo. In Braytannia, the Eowulf. The Saddle Arabians call it al must'thib. I am the wolf-spirit that comes in the night and turns sleeping innocents into mindless killers.”

All was darkness in the Hall of Reception: darkness, and mindless fury, and the loss of reason, and the smiling red lips of the Sphinx. “What will your Brownies do, when the danger comes from within your own walls?”

Star Swirl shuddered as the fear crawled along his spine, an overwhelming and primordial terror. He felt like a child again, awake in the night, calling out for his mother and fearing, that when she came, she would have claws dripping red.

Wait, Star Swirl thought to himself. I never did that.

When I was awake in the night I sat on the rocks of Llamrei's Seat, looking at the stars and watching the nocturnal animals wander from a distance.

Luna's face appeared in his mind, asking questions of the stars, searching for the source of an unknown anxiety. Star Swirl bit down on his tongue and frowned, more angry at himself just then than the Sphinx. It would be a sorry thing indeed for Star Swirl to be afraid of the dark.

Star Swirl met his opponent's gaze and spoke calmly, saying, “The answer to unbound fury is reason. The terrors in the night are only our thoughts. Knowledge makes us masters of ourselves and our world.”

In his mind's eye, Star Swirl called up the image of knowledge, as he knew it: a vast monumental chamber filled with the attempts, often feeble, sometimes divine, of ponies to make sense of their world. The University Library at Cambridle. “There is a creature that once roamed the halls of my old school, that were knowledge given form,” he continued. “They have no mortal bodies, and no blood, and so the tainted claws of the wolf-pony cannot harm it. Instead they are made of paper or parchment and ink, imbued with the magic of the arts and empowered to hunt those who trespass against the rules of the library. Their true name cannot be spoken in this plane of existence, but we called them the Library Hounds.”

“That is almost too simple,” the Sphinx said. “Everything that is built succumbs to fire.”

In the magic image of the library, a spark fell upon an open book and soon it had grown to a great blaze, devouring the timber of the floors and the shelves and the books.

“Fire is the birthright of all the children of the sands. Some are its slaves, and some are its masters, but all are touched by it,” the Sphinx proclaimed impassively. “Whispered in legends are the beings of pure flame, who ride the jagged course of lightning across the heavens. I am the Efreet, and your spirits of knowledge stored on dry and dusty parchment are ashes and forgotten at my touch.”

“Not everything succumbs to fire,” Star Swirl replied. “There is a bird that makes its nests in volcanoes, that uses great fires to hatch its eggs. It laughs and dances in your fire, and your touch cannot harm it. When it dies, the Phoenix is reborn from its own ashes, and rises again renewed with youth, as its own daughter.”

“Foul!” The Sphinx interrupted, pointing an accusing claw. “I call a false play!”

Star Swirl glanced uncertainly around as the chamber erupted in murmurs from the gallery. Womeluki looked away, fearing the worst. “What's the matter?”

“I challenge your play, for you have broken the rules of the game,” the Sphinx said. “All that you play must be true, and your play was false. The Phoenix isn't real.”

“What?” Star Swirl scoffed. “Of course it is!”

The Khalif raised his hoof for silence. “We have a challenge!” His expression was unreadable as he turned to the visiting sages. “Let our esteemed visitors serve to judge this dispute. Star Swirl, speak.”

Star Swirl frowned, glancing around at the sages who were watching him with interest. “The legends of the Phoenix are beyond number. It's known everywhere in the world. It is as well known as anything else we have played, and I cannot see how anypony... any being... can doubt it.”

The Khalif nodded. “Vizier?”

The Sphinx turned and met the eyes of the sages. “I have traveled the world,” she began. “I have seen every land under the sun. I have climbed every mountain. I have drunk from every spring. I have seen many legends rise, and fall, with my own eyes. I have searched for it. I have searched farther and wider than any pony could hope to travel in his full count of years... But I have never seen the Phoenix.”

She drew a breath of incense, and paused momentarily. “I have learned every language spoken under the sun. I have questioned the sages of every land. I have spoken with wanderers and travelers, scholars, historians, I have asked all of them, searching for someone – anyone – who knows the whereabouts of the Phoenix. I have followed every hint, every distorted rumour, every claim by a cousin's friend's sister's lover's uncle that swore he saw the Phoenix soar across the heavens...! But never, in all the lands, have I seen it.”

She shook her head. “The Phoenix is nowhere. It is a fable, nothing more.”

The Khalif watched, and listened. “And what do our judges think?”

“The Phoenix is known in our lands,” the leader of the alpacas said. “But it has not been seen for thousands of years, and many do not believe it ever existed. We concur with the Grand Vizier. The play is false.”

The elephant hummed a deep tone to clear his throat. “I remember every word of every book that has been written about the daughters of the ember. Though never common, they were once sighted perhaps once a decade, dancing in the lightning. That was a very long time ago, and since then only a few have claimed to see them, and those are disreputable sources. Though I believe the Phoenix is real, there is no clear proof. I must rule for the Grand Vizier.

“It will come as no surprise that I too agree with the Vizier,” spake the griffon sage. “That is all.”

“That is three of six,” the Khalif said, and turned to Womeluki. “And what does the alhzal think?”

“This world is vast, and full of mystery,” Womeluki began. “I have seen things that none other here has seen, yes, not even you, o great Vizier.”

Star Swirl saw a flicker pass over the Sphinx's face in acknowledgment of the insult, filed away in memory to be repaid at some later time.

“I cannot say either way, if the Phoenix is real or not. I also cannot say it is impossible, and it would be a great shame if the game ended because a new player was denied over a single, uncertain, misunderstanding. I say let the move stand, or let the unicorn play again.”

All eyes turned to the next member of the gallery. Sitting on a pillow, empty eyes watching invisible things, the sage of the dreamtime seemed oblivious to anything happening around him, until he opened his mouth.

“I have seen the Phoenix,” he said simply. “The call of the firebird sings in the dadirri. The horned one speaks true.”

“That is only in dreams,” the Sphinx said, waving a paw dismissively. “The thylacine's mind is addled.”

“Dreams are real,” the doglike creature said, and was silent.

“These are our judges. His vote stands. That is three and two,” the Khalif said, his eyes turning to the final observer. “The Longma of Qilina. O venerable one, we beg you for your wisdom.”

Lounging on a great pillow, still puffing on his hookah exactly as Star Swirl first saw him, rested the dragon-horse.

The Longma of Qilina rested the pipe of the hookah upon his pillow and turned his eye upon the assembly. All was silent and the moments ticked by while they waited for him to speak.

“I rule for the colt,” he finally said, and he said no more.

The Sphinx frowned. “I wish to know your cause, venerable one.”

The Longma of Qilina nodded. “You may so wish,” he replied.

The Sphinx turned a sharp eye to the Khalif. “This is a grievous breach of the spirit of the game. There is no contest here. My verdicts are superior.”

The Khalif nodded. “If there is no contest here, then I say we carry it out to the end. The judges are tied. I declare that the unicorn be given a mercy. Star Swirl of Everhold, you may not play the Phoenix. My Vizier has played the Efreet. Choose wisely.”

The Sphinx's face turned sour at this ruling. She turned a slow and dire gaze on Star Swirl. “You have worn out my patience, little pony. This game has gone on long enough.”

Star Swirl affected a confidence he did not feel as his mind raced for another option.

“I met a creature not long ago,” he finally said, the words sounding weaker to him than he had hoped. “It had traveled across the great sea, disguised as one of the crew. It was of the waters and the fen-moors, and it slept in the wet deeps where nopony could see it. It lurks in lakes and waterways, waiting for ponies to pass by so it can steal into their thoughts and take away their dreams for its own. I followed it for weeks before I was able to lure it onto dry land, and trap it in a seal of magic woven tight.”

Star Swirl called up the memory of the creature's thoughts, of being tossed by storms and battered by waves, of slinking and lurking across Braytannia, traveling along marshes and swamps, looking out from thickets and reeds in the night in search of prey, racing from loch to lake to pond as Star Swirl chased after it. “It is called a Kelpie. It will douse your fires and drag you to a watery grave.”

“Watery grave?” The Sphinx chuckled. “You have brought water into the desert, expecting it to save you. You will find only death.” The air of the hall grew heavy and oppressive, and the air filled with churning sand that stung his eyes and blinded him. He felt the sand scraping inside his throat, his mouth dry as dust. “The winds of the desert beat upon you. No lakes, no fen-moors can survive here. Carrying the golden sands in their grip, it chokes your waters and leaves your kelpie writhing in agony as dry death shreds its skin. I am the Shlûq, the wind in the desert, and I bring death to all.”

Star Swirl shuddered, but pushed the sensations from his mind. He took a step back and . Around them, the observers murmured, unhappy with this move, and the Khalif frowned at his Vizier from his seat. I guess he doesn't care to be reminded of the desert.

“Interesting...” Star Swirl said under his breath as new ideas came into his mind.

I must not allow her to set the terms.

He steeled his nerves and began his next play.

“Long before ponies settled Scoltland, the entire land was covered in forest.” He threw his will into his magic and conjured a phantom rainfall to wash away the sand, and mighty trees that covered the land in shadows. “It was deep, and dark, and rich, and full of mystery. Beasts walked beneath that canopy who are unheard of in stories, for no pony ever saw them while they lived. They left their marks in the bark for us to find, life enduring across the ages. Pines and ferns beyond counting, millions and millions of them, sank their roots into dark, wet soil. They give shelter to all, and none are turned away. Those trees reach deep, and drink from waters that lie buried far below the ground.” He stared into her eyes, daring her to blink. “That forest truly has no name, for it is older than words. But your desert wind could not pierce that wood, your sands cannot choke that water.”

Her anger showed clearly in her eyes and in the curl of her mouth. “My father was a flooding river,” the Sphinx growled, stalking forward, and bringing the death of the flood with her. “He tore at the earth, he cut through stone and swept mighty palaces into the briny deep. He picks the soil from your roots and leaves them hanging like bones stripped clean of flesh. Your entire forest he rips away, with the patience of eternity, and when the last tree is dead the river will only be beginning!”

Great churning waters rose in the darkness, black and vicious: not the life-giving waters of the oasis, but the primordial deluge of ancestral memory, roaring forth to sweep away everything before it.

It burst forward, billowing, rising, falling down upon the image of a village to wipe it from the face of the earth.

Just before it made contact, the ground quaked so powerfully that even the mighty Sphinx had to catch her balance, and when she looked again the waters lay still behind a thick wall of stone.

Star Swirl drew deep, calm breaths as his horn glowed with magical exertion. “My kin are earth ponies,” he said. “They shape and bend the earth itself to serve them. They have tamed the rivers and the floods. They shape the passage of the waters as they please, and measure out the strength of the flood with dams. Your father is shackled and powerless before them!”

“My mother was a hurricane!” The Sphinx cried, stretching out her wings to their full span, almost stretching from one end of the hall to the other. Lightning struck and thunder roared as she bent all her power to call forth the very image of the greatest storm from when the sky was young. “The storms will come and destroy your dams, and every thing you build! No wall will remain standing!”

“My pegasi cousins can tame the heavens!” Star Swirl shouted, not backing down. A flurry of countless wings swept through the storm from every side, turning the winds inwards, beating them to submission and clearing away the clouds. “The hurricane obeys their every whim, and bends itself to carry their water!”

“I am the desert sky,” the Sphinx dolefully intoned, baring her sharp, jagged teeth, and as she did the storm was replaced by a searing, deathly dryness that caused the wings of the pegasi to wither into dust, and fall crashing to the earth. There were beams of light arcing through the air such as Star Swirl had seen on the voyage, cracked and broken and tormented. A whisper in the distance spoke of madness and power. “Untameable. Unstoppable. The pegasi cannot control it. The earth ponies cannot reach it. The unicorns cannot touch its magic.”

I can, Star Swirl thought. But nevermind that. You are growing overbold.

He glanced around the hall as he heard gasps and murmurs from the witnessing sages. The interest was gone from their eyes: their faces were strained and severe, almost fearful. The alpacas and the griffon visibly struggled to remain standing as the phantom desert choked their senses, whispering death in every breath.

Womeluki watching him with wide eyes, her silken hood now covered in webs of different patterns, trying to divine the outcome of the match before it came.

The elephant raced through a scroll, turning back and forth between it and the contest, while in its corner the Longma of Qilina only watched warily as the Grand Vizier called down Saddle Arabia's greatest enemy into the very heart of the kingdom.

Upon his seat of judgment the Khalif looked into the magic and saw his kingdom unraveling.

Star Swirl moved once again to wrest control of the magic away from the Vizier, and the palace shook beneath him as he did. Drops of sweat ran down his mane and tickled his muzzle, but finally a soft breeze came washing through the air.

He smiled as he felt a hazy pitter-patter of ethereal raindrops on his coat which left no water. Clouds covered the ceiling, blocking out the jagged, cracked light until the hall faded to darkness yet again. Then they broke and split apart, and suddenly the room was full of starlight.

A mild summer night, lit by an infinity of glowing pinpricks, washed over them. The heat of the desert gave way, and the blaze shrank until all that was left of it was a spot hanging in the center of the hall.

“There is a sky beyond the desert,” Star Swirl said, his voice calm and steady. “The world is vast, and the dome of heaven is vaster by far. The desert is only a small thing compared to it. I hold the night sky in my grip, and it speaks to me.”

The Sphinx grinned then, and Star Swirl grew uneasy. “What vanquishes the night sky?” she asked, with absolute confidence. “I rule the heavens in its entirety. I hold the desert, and every land across the world, in my sway. When I raise my head the night is banished. I am Celestia Apollonia Helia, and I am the Sun.”

She ran a claw across the polished tile floor, scraping a deep line into it. “What will you be then, little unicorn?”

Star Swirl opened his mouth, but said nothing. He looked into the Sphinx's eyes, saw her looking back with cruel satisfaction as he realized her game.

If I say anything, anything at all, I am committing treason.

I am telling a foreign power what it takes to defeat the ruler of my homeland.

I am conceding that there are greater powers that will lay waste to my own home.

And if I do not, I lose the game, and fail my mission.

Ice ran down his spine at the thought. The prospect of being killed and eaten by the Sphinx seemed trifling compared to the idea of returning to Princess Luna in failure.

I won't fail. I can't.

Time stood still as his thoughts raced to find some way out. The air froze in his lungs. The sages watched him intently, and it seemed to Star Swirl that the whole world held its breath.

“Well, little unicorn?” the Sphinx said, her grin wicked and triumphant. “What will it be?”

Behind him Womeluki made a gesture with her hoof, that might have been a sign of good fortune, or a ward to deter the evil eye.

Behind the Sphinx, the Khalif was tense upon his seat, clutching the armrests with his hooves, his face pale and gaunt and haunted.

Star Swirl drew a deep breath and locked his eyes against hers. “I am the Moon. I am Princess Luna.”

The Sphinx snarled. “That is not a superior move.”

“Princess Celestia is not going to destroy her sister,” Star Swirl said. “Few things are greater than Celestia by herself. But one of those things is Celestia with Princess Luna standing by her side. They rule both the day and the night together, and I say no power exceeds their reach.” He stepped forward defiantly. “Tell me, o Grand Vizier, what do you think will defeat Saddle Arabia's oldest ally? Is there a power in this land that will grow to cover all the earth, and bury all the lands of ponies, and tear the sun and the moon down from the heavens? Do you know of one? Will you name it here?” He pushed closer step by step, his face cold and hard as stone and for the first time he saw uncertainty creep into the eyes of the ancient beast. “Do you dare speak of the power that batters on your walls, and take on its mantle as your own, here, before the Khalif and all these witnesses? What will that do to you?”

He watched her face intently as the seconds ticked past without her answer. Her eyes were open and clear, but her expression shifted. One moment she seemed ready to speak, confident and prepared to proclaim her superiority, then she froze. Seconds ticked past in silence as thoughts raced through her head. Her face contorted in indignant fury at being so challenged, so insulted, only to freeze upon the realization that she had no answer, and Star Swirl saw his gambit had paid off.

She opened her mouth to speak, but no sound came.

Everyone held their breath as the moments trickled by.

At last the Khalif broke the silence. He held up a hoof, and said, “The contest is a draw.” His face was without expression, but Star Swirl saw shock – and fear – in his eyes.

When they heard his words both Star Swirl and the Sphinx turned to him in shock. “A draw?” Star Swirl blurted out. “How's that possible?”

“You did not play a winning move, ambassador,” the Khalif replied. “Princess Luna will not best her sister any more than Princess Celestia will destroy Luna. I decree that the game is ended without a winner. It is the will of the King of Golden Sands.”

The Sphinx looked on first in shock, and horror, and then anger, her face contorting into a snarl. Star Swirl realized he had given her something she had not seen in ages, perhaps ever.

“It seems that neither of us wins,” she hissed, baring teeth: rows upon rows of sharp, curved ivory sabers. “It means I cannot eat you, little pony. It means you do not get a boon. But in a way this only makes me more angry. I should rather lose with honor than this.”

She turned a hateful glare on the unicorn, and her voice was dark and heavy with venom. “I have been beaten once. In another age, in a faraway land, a young creature solved my riddle and bade me leave the city where I had nested. To best the Sphinx is no blessing, and he was soon caught by his misery. He came of gnarled and poisoned roots, and madness was in his blood. There is a part of that same blood in me, oh unicorn, and I know spite and rage and hate as your tribe cannot imagine. But you... you have not even beaten me, and so I cannot curse you. I have no bond on you through which to strike you, and that only makes me more angry.”

The Sphinx turned and lashed her lion's tail, as if wishing she were the manticore and her tail had venom. “You will be sent back to your homeland to suffer your Princess's displeasure. You may come to wish you had simply been devoured.”

The Sphinx left. The Khalif stepped down from his seat and began to speak.

“Exalted visitors, honored sages – I thank you all for witnessing and judging this game. If any of these shadows have offended, I pray you be forgiving: we have witnessed here a spark of pure moments, without scheme or planning.”

Star Swirl looked around the room again and saw the sages from every corner of the earth looking back at him: some with respect, some with grave uncertainty, some with fear. All were deep in thought, pondering how they would tell of what they had seen that day in the courts of their homelands.

The Khalif turned to Star Swirl. “Young master unicorn... I ask that you come with me.”

Star Swirl became aware that two tall guard horses were brandishing weapons behind him.

The Khalif left the Hall of Reception, and Star Swirl was led after him into a dim corridor.

They walked in silence, leaving Star Swirl uncertain of their goal. He cleared his throat. “Your highness, to tell the truth I feel that I should have won that contest.”

“What you feel is unimportant,” the Khalif said, and at the tone of his voice Star Swirl began to realize he had not been invited in for private congratulations.

Star Swirl blinked. “I... don't understand, your majesty. Have I offended you? That was not my intention.”

The Khalif halted in his tracks. He spoke a curt command in Saddle Arabian which had the guards look at him uncertainly. He turned and glared at them, and they bowed, and backed away, leaving the two of them alone in the dark, narrow corridor.

“What am I to do with you, ambassador...?” the Khalif asked. “You come into my home under false pretenses. You throw about our most closely guarded secrets like chaff to the wind. You insult my most trusted advisor. You toy with forces you cannot control or understand. For the sake of a game, you made my palace tremble unto its foundations.”

“...I do not understand,” Star Swirl admitted.

The Khalif stood unmoving, staring at nothing. “I saw a vision in the midst of that duel,” he said quietly. “You, and my Vizier, invited the heart of the desert into my palace. I saw her face, I heard the voice... and I knew then that this is how I will die.” For a moment the Khalif let his finely crafted mask slip and Star Swirl saw him unguarded: hunched forward, his face pale, his eyes gaunt and haunted. “You have brought a great evil with you into my home, Star Swirl. It is only due to the great esteem in which we hold your Princess, our old ally, and Silver Tongue, may he dwell forever with his ancestors, that you are not already thrown in the dungeons. I gravely misjudged you.”

“I ask you to reconsider,” Star Swirl said. “What about your son? Let me do my work, and I can help you!”

“Yes,” the Khalif admitted. “I thought you could help my son. I dared to hope that the omens were wrong, but I see now how hopeless my cause truly is. I am not blind, Star Swirl, and I can see that you will only destroy everything you touch. The Vizier was right about you. You are reckless. Rash. Arrogant. Boastful. Foolhardy. Yet you are also powerful. So powerful that when you fall, you will bring an entire nation down with you. It will not be mine.”

He drew a deep breath and rose up to his full height before recalling the guards with another curt command.

“Star Swirl of Edinspur, you are not welcome in my home any longer. The guards will escort you out of the palace. Go back to your princess, or be sent there in chains.”

Star Swirl winced at the words. He imagined going back to Everhold, standing before Luna and telling her that he had failed, and his insides turned to knots and stones.

I can't go back.

“Your highness, I have a mission,” Star Swirl said, his voice low and intense. “I do not desire your enmity, but while I have life left in me I cannot leave it undone. Tell me what it will take to win me entry and I'll do it.”

The Khalif snorted. “You can have your wish,” he said, “when the Queen of Golden Sands is dead, and the desert wind falls silent. When all the desert knows peace and nothing threatens Our throne, you may see it. Until then, you are forbidden from setting one hoof inside my city. Take him away.”

And so he was shown through the dim backdoors passages of the palace and minutes later he was outside, and the great gates slammed shut behind him.

Star Swirl stared up at the towering dome of the palace and cursed under his breath. “Well, that was a complete failure...”

“Was it?” Star Swirl turned and saw Womeluki already outside, waiting for him.

He sighed. “I should say so. The Khalif has banished me from the city. I didn't reach my goal and I was almost eaten by a monster. Now I must return home and tell my lady that I failed her, and I wonder if death would be more merciful.”

Womeluki shook her head. “The way to our destiny is rarely a straight path, and oftentimes what you thought you were searching for is not what you were meant to find. I thought the Great Spinner meant me to hunt and defeat the ghûl. Now I think he has something else in mind. He has taken an interest in you.”

Star Swirl did not answer, locked in his own morose thoughts. She put a hoof on his shoulder and another under his chin. She raised his head to look into her eyes, through three layers of silken webs formed by little spiders that crawled up and down her face without her so much as shifting.

“I was not sure about you,” she said. “There is a darkness in you, Star Swirl. Even now I cannot see what lies inside your heart. Yet some things I can see without magic. You are brave, resourceful, and tenacious, and I can see that you do what you believe to be right. You stood up against the Sphinx, and fought her to a standstill. There are few who can make that claim. You are still on the path destiny has chosen for you, and if you follow it, you will find your purpose.”

“The Khalif does not share your high opinion of me,” Star Swirl admitted.

“Perhaps you need someone to offer you a chance,” she said. She smiled and raised a hoof in greeting. “If you have achieved nothing else here, Star Swirl of Everhold, you have made a friend.”

Star Swirl smiled back and knocked his hoof to hers. “I can live with that.”

“Do you know what you will do next?” Womeluki asked.

Star Swirl looked out across the night-time horizon, out towards the desert. He remembered the caravan, and Silver Tongue, and the ghoul, and the Khalif's last words ran through his mind.

“Yes,” he said. “I am going back to the desert. And I am going to finish my mission.”

Comments

[Halfpaw]

Finally a new chapter! And a great one at that!

[SIGAWESOME]

Just out of curiosity Daedelean, are you familiar with Robert Howard's original Conan stories? This Saddle Arabia arc reminds me a lot of those...

“I seem to have challenged the Sphinx to a game,” Star Swirl replied sheepishly.

The zebra exclaimed something in her native tongue. “She is going to destroy you, unicorn!”

"Fool! You fell victim to one of the classic blunders. The most famous is 'Never get involved in a land war in Saddle Arabia', but only slightly less well known is this: 'Never go in against a Sphinx when death is on the line' !"

6089277

And a great one at that!

I double-plus agree there.

[Daedalus Aegle]

So, this took me two and a half months to write, apparently

6089733

Just out of curiosity Daedelean, are you familiar with Robert Howard's original Conan stories? This Saddle Arabia arc reminds me a lot of those...

I've never gotten around to reading those, I'm afraid. I keep meaning to though. But I take it that's a flattering comparison? :) I have friends who recommend them highly, at least.

"Fool! You fell victim to one of the classic blunders. The most famous is 'Never get involved in a land war in Saddle Arabia', but only slightly less well known is this: 'Never go in against a Sphinx when death is on the line' !"

The Sphinx: ancient cunning beast. Playfully cruel. Immortal. Man-eater. Politician.

6089277
Glad you like

[Noctus Umbra]

You say to tame the desert is impossible, by throwing down the gauntlet you've only insured my ability to over come.

[SIGAWESOME]

6091433

I've never gotten around to reading those, I'm afraid. I keep meaning to though.

They are available on the Gutenberg site

[FanOfMostEverything]

Ah, the things we do for the sake of love, especially the love a parent has for his child.

A spider-themed zebra? Well, I'm sure she'll prove completely straightforward and without guile.

Good advice about staying out of politics. Definitely not Star Swirl's strength. A shame he doesn't take advice well...

The thing about omens of death and destruction is that they aren't necessarily referring to you.

The Game of Ways was epically done. I especially loved the thylacine.

If someone is so powerful that when he falls, he'll bring down an entire nation with him, you shouldn't push him. Besides, it was the Sphinx who dared to call the desert into the court, and Star Swirl's life was on the line. Be mad at the vizier.
Still, one dead genius loci, coming up. This should be very interesting.

[Daedalus Aegle]

6092904
Oh nice, I didn't realize they were public domain. I will put them on my kindle then.

6093928
This chapter just grew, and grew, and grew in the telling, and if I do say so myself I think it's pretty damned epic. It was not meant to be the longest chapter I'd ever written on this site, but that's what it turned into. I find this is often a consequence of working with Star Swirl. Even now there were other things I would have wanted to include, but couldn't fit in.
And yet this isn't even the climactic chapter of this storyline. I still find it hard to wrap my head around that fact.

[Night_Song]

6095243
Fair enough! Just thought I'd point it out, since I know not everyone has the books, y'know?

[statoose]

Wow, what a chapter! The length alone could make it a story unto itself, to say nothing of the great world-building. I enjoyed the blooming friendship between Star Swirl and The Weaver – hope we see more of her – and the match between Swirly and The Sphinx was all-around excellently written. I like how Star Swirl's plays were always good counters to The Sphinx's evil ones. Highly enjoyable, and now that I'm (finally) caught up here, I look forward to reading more!

[Daedalus Aegle]

6157320
And more will come the next chapter is currently 6k words long, and likely to grow to twice that before it's finished. Or possibly four times that. It's very hard to tell.

Star Swirl is true to himself and continually pushes things to be ever more epic. I loved the game, and it could have been even longer if I'd wanted it to (there are so many great mythical creatures to use!), but like the Khalif I eventually began to feel that things were getting dangerously out of hand

I like how Star Swirl's plays were always good counters to The Sphinx's evil ones.

Almost always the Kelpie was a move of desperation. But yeah, I got inspiration from the riddle game in The Hobbit. It took me longer than I care to admit to notice that the riddles had built-in characterization, that Bilbo's riddles were all about the comforts of home, food and warmth and comfort, while Gollum's were all about cold and hunger and loneliness.

As for the Sphinx, she is a primordial force of a distinctly anti-social bent, but there's no denying she gets results

[ThatPoemGuy]

The Khalif snorted. “You can have your wish,” he said, “when the Queen of Golden Sands is dead, and the desert wind falls silent. When all the desert knows peace and nothing threatens Our throne, you may see it. Until then, you are forbidden from setting one hoof inside my city."

Challenge Accepted.

[SIGAWESOME]

WRT Game of Ways:, it occurs to me that Starswirl has some "nuclear options" for this game once he is more confident and knowledgeable and able to comfortable think on his hooves:

1. Go the cheeky bastard route and work his opponents' own species into his round. They will have to tell him how to defeat themselves of forfeit the game.
(That would have certainly flummoxed the Sphinx...)

2. One shot K.O. the game by bringing up the "Demon of Entropy"