“I hear you,” Humbuggle said.
“If I try to claim the stone, I probably turn to dust,” Seth said.
“You’ve seen it happen to others,” Humbuggle remarked.
Seth studied the dark blade. “And if I . . .”
“Kill me?” Humbuggle finished.
“Yeah, that. Maybe I get my memories back and the Wizenstone. I wouldn’t have to take the Wizenstone to keep it. It would be mine to watch over. How would that even work? You can protect it because you know how to use it. I don’t have a clue.”
“There are no easy answers,” Humbuggle said.
Seth stood up. “What I want most is my memories, but I can’t take them and leave the problem of the Wizenstone unsolved. A bunch of people got me here, and I can’t let them down. And I can’t just kill you. Maybe in a fight, or to protect somebody, but not like this. So I’m going to have to go with the Wizenstone.”
“Good luck,” Humbuggle said.
Seth walked over to the pedestal. He remembered how the black stone that held the Unforgiving Blade had served as a window into true darkness—by contrast the jewel before him gleamed like a window into realms of light. The longer he stared, the more deeply absorbed he became.
Seth blinked his eyes and shook his head to clear it. This beautiful jewel of light had been corrupted and used for evil. He raised the Unforgiving Blade high and brought it down on the Wizenstone. The long knife cleaved through the stone and cut halfway down the white pedestal. A blazing flash of pain raced up Seth’s arm to his shoulder, and he lost hold of the knife as the separate halves of the Wizenstone fell from the pedestal to the red platform, inner light extinguished. Seth’s sword arm hung limply at his side, completely numb. With his left hand, he withdrew the Unforgiving Blade from the cloven pedestal.
“You destroyed the Wizenstone,” Humbuggle said slowly.
Seth inspected both sides of the Unforgiving Blade. “The knife survived it.”
“I admit I had hoped for this,” Humbuggle said, as if in shock. “But I hardly believe it.”
Looking closely at the demon dwarf, Seth noticed he looked more haggard than before, with deeper creases in his skin and more gray in his forked beard. “You wanted me to destroy the Wizenstone?”
“I had to keep the hope secret,” Humbuggle said. “Quiet embers in my heart, simmering beneath conscious thought.”
“Secret from who?” Seth asked.
“From the Wizenstone, my boy.” Humbuggle rubbed his hands together. “My bargain with the stone was struck long ago, after Graulas failed to master it. Graulas was much more powerful than I and significantly stronger. I knew if his might failed, mine could never be sufficient. So instead I made an arrangement. I became the servant of the stone.”
“You could hear it?” Seth asked. “Talk to it?”
“Anyone could,” Humbuggle said, “if they knew how to speak, and how to listen.”
“The Wizenstone controlled you?” Seth asked.
“Not entirely,” Humbuggle said. “But in most ways that really matter. It was pure pleasure at first. Being the servant of the stone came with enormous privileges. As part of the agreement, I ran contests in which others could try to win the stone. Graulas may have been more powerful, but I have yet to meet anyone more clever than I am. I devised Games that nobody could win. And if somebody did win, the only real option would be to take my place as the servant of the stone, because none are strong enough to wield it for long.”
“If I had killed you, I would have had to replace you,” Seth said.
“Or to step aside and let somebody else replace me,” Humbuggle said. “Perhaps Celebrant. One with enough power could handle the Wizenstone for a time, but it would eventually destroy them. The vast majority would dissolve to ashes on contact. Only by letting the stone wield me have I survived.”
“And now I have freed you,” Seth said.
“Exactly,” Humbuggle said. “I set up the final Game with the Unforgiving Blade so there would be a hidden option of destroying the stone—a secret choice that I had to hide from myself and therefore from the stone controlling me. That part was not so hard. I learned self-deceit long ago. Most of us do. What I needed was somebody who might see and actually exercise the option. A champion who could win the Games, but who would do so without having ownership of the Wizenstone as their primary motive.”
“You set me up for this,” Seth said.
“I’m always laying plans,” Humbuggle said. “I could not know what you would do. I only felt sure it would be interesting.”
“You couldn’t destroy the stone yourself?” Seth said.
“No,” Humbuggle said. “That would have violated my arrangement with the stone. You did what I needed.”
“How many times have I met you before?” Seth asked.
“Some of them you don’t remember,” Humbuggle said. “At Stormguard Castle I appeared to you as myself, and also as a lad named Augie, and as an old man named Pietro, modeled after one of the Sleeping Giants here at Titan Valley.”
“You appeared as a giant?” Seth asked.
“A scaled-down version,” Humbuggle said. “Human sized. I have also appeared to you in three forms here at Titan Valley. Can you guess who?”
Seth thought about it. “The hag?”
“Yes, Esmira,” Humbuggle said. “I wanted to point you toward the Diviner. Who else?”
“Not Virgil,” Seth said.
“The satyr is authentic,” Humbuggle said. “But I sent you to him.”
“Wait, you were Dante?” Seth asked.
“I’d show you,” Humbuggle said. “But without the Wizenstone, I can’t transform like that anymore. I hoped you would collect the memories of the Dragon Slayer.”
“You manipulated me,” Seth said.
Humbuggle shrugged. “I provided introductions. I was also the gladiator Per, who guided you toward Merek back when he was Fenrick.”
“Would you have really let me kill you just now?” Seth asked.
Humbuggle nodded. “I wanted this to end hundreds of years ago. I accepted death as a viable
