"The key to sorcery is subtlety."
Amalek and Quinn stood beneath the stars, far from the fire where Zebulun and Davion rested after dinner. Quinn looked at Amalek’s avatar, grinned, and said, "That’s never been my style."
Amalek smiled. "Melodrama can get one only so far. You see, sorcery works best if the target is not prepared for it. Let people know you intend to trick them, and it becomes far more difficult. It’s not uncommon for a dragon to proclaim their ability as a sorcerer, as a taunt, during a duel, but this is not the best use of it. The best sorcery is subtle. The best sorcery is when one’s victim not only does not expect it, but will never even recognize that they were fooled."
"How you manage that?" asked Quinn.
"Simple," said Amalek. "Fear, anger, and pride. These are the sorcerer’s best friends. The fearful and wrathful are irrational; it is far easier to fool those who aren’t thinking clearly. The more terrified or enraged they are, the easier it is to misdirect them. Calm is the best defense against sorcery."
"Fear," said Amalek, "can also be trivially transformed into wrath, if you so desire. All you have to do is give the fearful a scapegoat. Tell them their terror is the fault of this person or that group, and watch their terror turn to rage. Watch as they attack the identified enemy without mercy."
"What about pride?" asked Quinn.
"Pride is different," said Amalek. "It doesn’t necessarily make one more easy to fool, but it does insure that the proud person will stay fooled once you’ve fooled them. Many would rather believe a lie for their entire lives than admit — even to themselves — that they are wrong about anything. Their vanity won’t allow it." Amalek grinned. "Were they to learn that they are anything less than flawless, their whole world would come crashing down."
"So how do I do it?" asked Quinn. "I don’t have your dragon powers."
"I’ve taught men sorcery before," said Amalek, "when it was useful to me. I’ll show you numerous examples of it. Learn to see through it; in time, something will click in your mind. You’ll be able to do what we do."
"What about magery?" asked Quinn. "You ever teach men that?"
"I have not," said Amalek. "As I said, most men are not capable of it. Even if I had one that was, and I were inclined to teach him, it is against draconic law."
"Really? Why?"
Amalek smiled. "Because most dragons labor under the illusion that magery is ultimate power. The ability to throw lightning from your claws, or flames from your eyes, to lay waste to armies and cities. It’s all very dramatic. They fear teaching this to men would make them dangerous to us."
"But the truth," said Amalek, "is that sorcery is far more powerful than magery."
Quinn furrowed his brow. "Really?"
"Truly. A mage of a certain power level could, if he took time to summon the energy, raze a good-sized city to the ground. A sorcerer of the same power level could make everyone in that city worship him as a savior and liberator. Which of those sounds more powerful to you?"
Quinn scratched his chin and cocked his head, thinking.
Amalek said, "There are many forms of power: land, gold, armies, magery. But the power of those who control the land, the money, and the army pales in comparison to the power of those who control the narrative. One who can control the narrative can control all of those other things."
"Consider: everything you think you know — about life, yourself, or the world around you — is based on one of two things: direct, personal experience, or a story that someone else told you. That’s what we dragons do. We weave the narratives that men believe."
Quinn stared at Amalek. "So… performers are the most powerful people in the world?"
"If they’re any good, they are," said Amalek. "We often use actors, musicians, playwrights, and other artists to spread our message. And then there’s the ministers of government who speak for us; politics is nothing more than theater for the unattractive."
Quinn laughed. "Alright, so…show me something!"
Said Amalek, "Behold!"
The night sky disappeared, replaced with blue skies and bright sunlight. Shadows no longer hid the desert around them.
"Neat!" said Quinn. "This is much nicer than the last illusion a dragon cast on me."
"You see that cactus in the distance?" asked Amalek.
"Yeah."
"It’s not really there. At least, not that I know of. Dragons don’t see much better at night than men, so I have no idea what is over there. I decided to put a cactus there because it is believable. Believability is another important part of sorcery. Implausible things are easier to see through than reasonable."
The scene shifted. They no longer stood in a desert at all, but in the throne room of an imperial palace. Amalek sat coiled behind the throne, a handsome blonde man in splendid finery seated in front of him.
The blonde man spoke with Amalek’s voice. "This was my throne room, some hundred and fifty years ago. This handsome fellow was my pet 'emperor'. He was great as his job: tall, strong, commanding. He inspired love and fear." Amalek paused for a moment. "I wonder what became of him after I left."
The scene shifted again. Quinn found himself floating above the clouds, four miles up. The full moon shone bright upon the clouds below. The wind blew harsh and cold.
He saw Amalek flying upward, straining. Another dragon, with scales in bands of blue and green, flew at his heels, as if chasing him. Quinn found himself floating upward, pacing the dragons as they reached ever-greater heights.
When they reached five miles in height, Amalek’s pursuer stopped, went limp, and fell to Earth. Amalek flew over to Quinn.
"What was that?" asked Quinn. "Some battle you fought?"
"No," said Amalek. "It was a kind of race. It’s a game played by young, brash males of my kind. You see, even with our powerful lungs, a dragon can only fly so high. The air gets too thin and cold for us to take. Fly high enough, and one will pass out."
"The game involves two rivals flying as high as they can to see who passes out — or turns away in fear — first. This was my last contest between myself and Xiphos, the greatest rival of my youth. He passed out first, and I basked in the glory of my victory."
"He had always been just a little better than I at everything. Racing, hunting, magery training, you name it: he was the one person I could rarely beat. It infuriated me! I strove to improve, to overcome my nemesis. This time, I did."
"That must have been satisfying," said Quinn as he looked down into the clouds.
"It was," said Amalek, "until it wasn’t."
"What do you mean?"
"Most young males who play this game don’t play for keeps," said Amalek. "Most will dive when they feel their consciousness begin to slip away. Neither of us could do that. Our hatred was too strong. We flew up and up until one of us passed out. Even then, most who pass out manage to wake and right themselves before hitting the ground. My enemy did not. He died."
"Oh," said Quinn. "Did you get in trouble for that?"
"Trouble?" said Amalek. "Oh, no. Dragons don’t get punished for proving their power. My peers celebrated me. They were impressed."
Amalek looked up at the moon. "It was I who was troubled. When I learned of his death, a sudden realization hit me: he had helped to make me as powerful as I had become. My desire to best him had made me better. I realized, in that moment, what I had lost. I realized that a dragon is as defined by his enemies as his friends. From that day forth, I swore to treat even hated enemies with respect. Because one might miss them when they’re gone."
Quinn took a deep breath and shivered. "I just realized that you’ve been talking like your avatar, but he’s not here. You’re in dragon form."
"That’s because I’m not here," said Amalek, "and neither are you. Go on. Focus your will. Try to break through the illusion."
Quinn focused. He thought back to the lair of the sadist. He looked at Amalek. "This can’t be real."
"Not likely."
The scene shifted, and Quinn found himself back in the desert night. Amalek looked down upon him. Quinn looked up.
Good, whispered Amalek. Well done.
"Can we practice some more?" asked Quinn.
Indeed, said Amalek.
Amalek showed Quinn sorcery for hours.