"Then start here. Promote some welfare in High Dudgeon-or Shadow Guard, if you care to call it that."

"It is true that I have already repaid much that was done to me," he mused. "Still-"

"Begin with mercy and your name may one day be venerated," she said. "Withhold it and you will surely be cursed."

"Perhaps..." he began, taking a step backward.

Her eyes covered his entire form as he did so.

"What is it that you clutch beneath your cloak? You must have brought it to show me."

"It is nothing," he said. "I have changed my mind and there are things I must do. I will return to you later."

But she moved forward quickly and tore at his cloak as he turned.

Then the screams began, and he dropped the head to seize her wrists. In her right Hand there was a dagger.

"Beast!" she cried, biting his cheek.

He raised his will, uttered a single word, and the dagger became a dark flower which he forced toward her face. She spat and cursed and kicked him, but after a few moments her movements weakened and her eyelids began to droop. When she grew sufficiently drowsy, he carried her to her bed and placed her upon it. She continued to resist him, but the strength had gone out of her efforts.

"It is said that power can destroy all that is good in a man," she gasped. "But you need have no fear. Even without power, you would be what you are: Jack of Evil."

"So be it," he said. "Yet all that I have described to you will come to pass, and you will be with me to witness it."

"No. I will have taken my life long before."

"I will bend your will, and you will love me."

"You will never touch me, body or will."

"You will sleep now," he said, "and when you awaken we will be coupled. You will struggle briefly and you will yield to me-first your body, then your will. You will lie passive for a time, then I will come to you again and yet again. After that, it will be you who will come to me. Now you will sleep while I sacrifice Smage upon his Lord's altar and cleanse this place of all things which displease me. Dream well. A new life awaits you."

And he departed, and these things were done as he had said.

AFTER SOLVING ALL boundary problems involving Drekkheim by conquering that kingdom, adding it to his own, and sending the Baron to the Dung Pits, Jack turned his attention to the Fortress Holding, home of the Colonel Who Never Died. It was not long before the place betrayed its name, and Jack entered there.

He sat in the library with the Colonel and they sipped a light wine and reminisced for a long while.

Finally, Jack touched on the delicate subject of Evene's union with the suitor who obtained the Hellflame.

The Colonel, whose sallow cheeks bore matching crescent scars and whose hair funneled up from the bridge of his nose like a red tornado, nodded above his goblet. He dropped his pale eyes.

"Well, that was-the understanding," he said softly.

"It was not my understanding," said Jack. "I took it as a task you had set me to, not an offer open to all comers."

"You must admit that you did fail. So when another suitor appeared with the bride-price, I'd set-"

"You could have waited for my return. I would have stolen it and brought it to you."

"Return takes a goodly while. I did not want my daughter to become an old maid."

Jack shook his head.

"I confess that I am quite pleased with the way things have turned out," the Colonel continued. "You are a powerful Lord now, and you have my daughter. I would imagine she is happy. I have the Hellflame, and this pleases me. We all have what we wanted-"

"No," said Jack. "I might suggest that you never desired me for a son-in-law and that you obtained an understanding with the late Lord of High Dudgeon as to how the situation might best be settled."

"I-"

Jack raised his hand.

"I say only that I might suggest this. Of course, I do not. I do not really know what did or did not pass between you-other than Evene and the Hellflame-nor do I care. I know only what occurred. Considering this, and considering also the fact that you are now a relative, I shall allow you to take your own life, rather than lose it at the hands of another."

The Colonel sighed and smiled, raising his eyes once more.

"Thank you," he said. "That is very good of you. I was concerned that you might not give me this."

They sipped their wine.

"I shall have to change my appellation," said the Colonel.

"Not yet," said Jack.

"True, but have you any suggestions?"

"No. I shall meditate upon the question during your absence, however."

"Thank you," said the Colonel. "You know, I've never done anything like this before ... Would you care to recommend any specific method?"

Jack was silent for a moment. "Poison is very good," he said. "But the effects vary so from individual to individual that it can sometimes prove painful. I'd say that your purposes would best be served by sitting in a warm bath and cutting your wrists under water. This hardly hurts at all. It is pretty much like going to sleep."

"I believe I'll do it that way then."

"In that case," said Jack, "let me give you a few pointers."

He reached forward, took the other's wrist and turned it, exposing the underside. He drew his dagger.

"Now then," he began, slipping back into a tutorial mode of speech he had all but forgotten, "do not make the same mistakes as most amateurs at this business." Using the blade as a pointer, he said, "Do not cut crosswise, so. Subsequent clotting might be sufficient to cause a reawakening, and the necessity to repeat the process. This could even occur several times. This would doubtless produce some trauma, as well as an aesthetic dissatisfaction. You must cut lengthwise along the blue line, here," he said, tracing. "Should the artery prove too slippery, you must lift it out with the point of your instrument and twist the blade quickly. Do not just pull upward. This is unpleasant. Remember that. The twist is the important part if you fail to get it with the lengthwise slash. Any questions?"

"I think not."

"Then repeat it back to me."

"Lend me your dagger."

"Here."

Jack listened, nodding, and made only minor corrections.

"Very good. I believe you've got it," he said, accepting the return of his blade and resheathing it.

"Would you care for another glass of wine?"

"Yes. You keep a fine cellar."

"Thank you."

High above the dark world, beneath the dark orb, mounted upon the lazy dragon to whom he had fed Benoni and Elite, Jack laughed into the winds and the fickle sylphs laughed with him, for he was their master now.

As time wore on, Jack continued to resolve boundary disputes to his satisfaction; and these grew fewer in number. He began, idly at first and then with growing enthusiasm, to employ the skills he had acquired dayside in the compilation of a massive volume called An Assessment of Darkside Culture. As his will now extended over much of the night, he began summoning to his court those citizens whose memories or special skills provided historical, technical or artistic information for his work. He was more than half-resolved to see it published dayside when completed. Now that he had established smuggling routes and acquired agents in major day-side cities, he knew that this could be accomplished.

He sat in High Dudgeon, now Shadow Guard, a great, sprawling place of high, torch-lit halls, underground labyrinths and many towers. There were things of great beauty there, and things of incalculable worth. Shadows danced in its corridors, and the facets of countless gems gleamed brighter than the sun of the one-half world. He sat in his library in Shadow Guard with its former Lord's skull an ashtray on his desk, and he labored with his project.