To hear the dragons of his world described as benign, even in comparison to the ones of Trahearne's world, brings a wry smile to the Fool's lips. "I'm not sure I would consider our dragons benign," he ventures, his voice almost sing-song, then grows quiet as his companion of the evening speaks.

"They sound as though they possess a terrible presence," he says at length, his tone and expression sympathetic. Then, recalling his manners, he smiles again and gestures to himself. "I am called the Fool. What may I call you?"