The Great Troll War

I had a quick shower, dressed and made my way to the control deck, the nerve centre of Shandar’s ambitions. The steel-clad spire with serried ranks of triangular windows had been replaced by a large transparent dome which gave a better view than from my observation deck, and the lack of any reflections on the polished crystal gave a seamless ringside seat to view the cosmos. The sun was a quarter of the size I had been used to, but still too bright to look at with the naked eye. As we watched, it set behind the planet and the thin corona around Jupiter’s edge became a lively myriad of colours. The lights on the control deck dimmed and as our eyes became accustomed to the dark, the billions of stars in the Milky Way became clearly visible.

‘It’s quite something, isn’t it?’ said D’Argento, who had been trying very hard to make friends. She’d told me all about her time with Shandar since the age of sixteen, one of the dynastic family agents who had looked after the sorcerer for centuries. I had not been interested.

‘The sun seen through the plumes of the marzoleum plant back home used to wobble and shimmer quite beautifully,’ I said, ‘and the views I saw in the Cambrian Empire were something really quite special.’

‘Meaning?’

‘Meaning you don’t need to come four hundred million miles to find something of beauty.’

Shandar teleported in next to me. Too close, in fact, and I took a step back so he wasn’t in my personal space.

‘The stars are our destiny,’ he said, sounding terribly grand. He did this a lot now, and reminded me a little of Grifflon’s ornamental hermit – full of faux wisdom.

‘They’re your destiny,’ I said, ‘not mine.’

‘I spared six billion souls on your account, Jenny,’ he said. ‘I delayed my plans thirty-seven years to accommodate your feelings, so a little bit of gratitude might be in order. Brunch?’

I looked at the dinner table. It was the only place to eat in the tower, and he insisted that D’Argento and I always dined with him. It was Shandar who chose the topics of conversation, and for the most part dominated it. Things he had done, spells he had cast, the beasts he had created. He spoke of the Dragonpact from his viewpoint, as it seemed it was less about ‘freeing mankind from the loathsome worm’ but ridding himself of a dangerous adversary – and how it would have worked perfectly, if not for my tiresome meddling. He talked about his future plans, too, in more detail. They were quite ruthless, and as he talked I often felt my concentration lapse, then wander to happier times. Hide and seek in the orchard back at the orphanage, in a place free of the Sisterhood’s attention; my early times at Zambini Towers under Zambini’s wise counsel; the search for the Eye of Zoltar. Tiger, the Princess, Perkins. Boo, Mawgon, Wizard Moobin. All fine people.

‘I want you to both have a look at these ideas for my Emperor of Everything costume,’ said Shandar once we were seated, pointing to a pile of notebooks on a sideboard. ‘It’s either long robes in crimson or something more like leathery armour – both have their advantages.’

‘What if there’s no one there?’ I asked.

‘No one where?’ asked Shandar.

‘Out there,’ I said, pointing towards the heavens. ‘What if all the advanced intelligence in the galaxy was living on a pale blue dot orbiting a medium-sized sun on an outer spiral arm of a none-too-unusual galaxy? What if the best you get to rule over is something jelly-like that has only just dragged itself out of a shallow sea?’

‘It’s a good point,’ said Shandar, ‘and one which I have considered. If life has not yet emerged, then I will create my own, and populate worlds with creatures made in my image. I will truly then be a god. Not one that assumes or has assumed their power – but a real one. A Creator. A Controller. A Grand Architect. The One Who Is All Things To All Creatures.’

‘You can’t create things just so you can control them,’ I said. ‘That’s not being a god – that’s just being a massive bully led by a galactic-class ego – a child building sandcastles on the beach so he can knock them down.’

I saw Shandar clench and unclench his fists.

‘You test me daily, Miss Strange.’

‘You said you wanted to learn about your Better Angels: this is called humility.’

‘I disagree with your approach,’ he replied. ‘You are to bring my Better Natures forward as a conductor brings up the bassoons – only when required, and in moderation.’

There was silence for a few moments.

‘You must have some of this kedgeree,’ said D’Argento nervously, ‘it’s really very good.’