The old man laughed.

"I’m afraid it’s not that simple."

"Why not?"

"Because, for it to be proper, you both have to be here. After all if you were to go home and simply tell your friend...., I mean to say, tell Wallic that I have said you are the winner and he is the loser he probably wouldn’t believe you and even if he did he might even find some way to wriggle out of it. After all, you know what a liar and cheat he is." Trivian nodded, he had to admit this strange old man did seem to have a very good grip on the facts.

"But, if I brought him here, then you could do it?"

"Yes, I could, if it wasn’t for one other minor problem."

"What’s that?" Trivian was determined that this plan should be put into action straight away and wanted to make sure there were no hurdles. "Well," the old man pondered for a moment, "What would happen if I met this Wallic and ended up liking him? If I ended up being his friend then I might end up making the wrong choice."

"You won’t, he’s a shit."

’’That might be true, but the point is, it might be in your best interests to make sure I don’t get confused and make a silly mistake."

"How?"

"Well like I said, if we were friends then I’d be more likely to remember to say that you are the winner."

"But we are friends aren’t we?"

"Well, you seem like a pleasant enough boy and normally I’d definitely say yes, but like I said I’m very old and I’m finding the situation quite confusing."

"Why?"

"Well, it’s the whole thing about me being your prisoner. How can we be friends when you’re holding me at knife point? You even just threatened to cut me. Maybe I’m wrong but I don’t think that’s the way friends behave, is it?" Trivian snatched the knife out of sight.

"You’re not my prisoner!"

"Oh I see, well that’s clear then. So I’m not your prisoner, good, but the question still remains, am I your friend?"

"Sure, of course you are."

"Really? That’s nice you think so, but how can you be so sure? I mean, don’t friends have special ways of showing their friendship somehow?"

"What, like holding hands?" The thought made Trivian giggle a little, "That’s girls’ stuff!’’ and he laughed out loud. The old man appeared to be less impressed.

"Holding hands is not a sign of friendship. It is a sign of ownership. If you are going to be silly then perhaps we should forget the whole thing. I am not interested in being friends with a silly person." And he looked away haughtily into a distant corner of the room. The grin disappeared from Trivian’s face instantly.

"Sorry! I didn’t mean to....," he actually wasn’t entirely sure what it was that he had done, but he could see that he had upset the old man, "We can be friends, I’m not silly , I can show you , please!" The old man looked sideways at him whilst he considered the plea for a moment before turning his head back to look straight at the boy.

"OK, we can be friends as long as you can show me that you aren’t silly and you do something that proper friends do."

"Sure, Ok, what can I do? Anything you like!"

"Well, friends, they do all sorts of things together but most importantly, don’t they share things?" Trivian thought about this for a moment.

"Yeh, I suppose, sure." and then after another think. "What can we share? I left all my marbles behind and I don’t really have anything else to give you!"

"Are you sure?" he looked at Trivian pointedly. "Nothing at all?"

"Honestly, I don’t have anything to give you." And he made a show of turning out his pockets. The old Man sat back in his chair and drummed his fingers impatiently on the arm of the throne.

"I see, so I’m obviously not a very close friend then. Not close enough friend to share anything nice with." He looked away again with an expression of sad disappointment all too plain on his face. Trivian shuffled round to try and get back into his field of vision.

’’Honestly, please, I don’t have anything to share!"

"And what about the knife?" He flicked his fingers in the general direction of the knife still in Trivian’s right hand. Trivian looked down at the knife. He had been holding it for so long that the grip no longer felt cold and it rested in his hand so comfortably that he had quite forgotten he was still holding it. Not knowing what else to say he looked up at the man and replied.

“It’s MY knife!” The flicker of emotion that crossed the man’s face was so fleeting that it was impossible to judge precisely. Irritation? Humour? Satisfaction? Triumph? Perhaps some combination of them all? His eyes bored into the boy keenly as he lent forward and in an oddly intense tone said.

“Yes, it IS yours, yours to keep forever.” Then he rested back in his chair again and added, “I am not going to take your knife FROM you. I just want to take a closer LOOK at it. Friends ALWAYS let their friends look at their things.” Trivian was in inner turmoil. He knew that he needed to prove his friendship to the old man by giving him the knife to look at but the thought of letting go of it made his skin crawl. Maybe it would be o.k. if he only let him take it for a short time. Yes, if he got it back quickly then it would all be O.K. Still, it took all his self-control to walk over to the man in the chair and offer him the knife in his open hand. The man pinched the blade between his thumb and forefinger and picked it up gently. Trivian gave a tiny whimper as he felt the handle briefly drag across his skin but as soon as it was clear he snatched back his hand and wiped his palm on his hip. Now that he had let go of the knife a sensation of mild relief came over him and he was quite happy to let the old man handle it for the moment. The knife remained dangling by its blade from the man’s fingers whilst he watched Trivian for a brief moment then with the tip of one index finger carefully pressed on the tip of the blade and the other index finger placed equally carefully against the butt end he held it horizontally and rotated it slowly about its axis whilst studying the ornate markings. Once a full rotation had been completed he looked back at the boy. “Do you have any idea what kind of knife this is?” Trivian shrugged

“A hunting knife?” he guessed

“Obviously, you know best what YOUR knife is for but I can say that the one out in the corridor, that is incredibly similar to this one, is well, I suppose when you come to think of it a kind of hunting knife too, yes!” This thought brought a smile to his dry lips for a moment before he continued. “To be quite correct this is the blade of an executioner. Not any kind of executioner mind you, a very special kind, a Dog Assassin.” He could see the look of puzzlement on Trivian’s face. “The Dog Assassins do not go around killing dogs, if that is what you are thinking. They are called this because they are as loyal, dutiful and persistent as dogs. When they commit to killing someone they do not give up until they have completed the task. In fact they cannot, when they pick up a knife like this they are not allowed to put it down again until they have completed their contract. As you can imagine it can be quite awkward carry a knife like this around all the time so they are very determined and single minded about their business.” Trivian was spellbound by this explanation. “Yes indeed this knife has tasted much blood.” He glanced at Trivian and then added with a wan smile “Or at least the one out there by the door has.” He again gripped the blade between thumb and finger and held it out handle first towards the youngster. Trivian saw this as an invitation to take it back and reached forward but just before he could take hold of it the old man, with a flick of the wrist, sent the blade spinning high up into the air. Trivian couldn’t take his eyes from it as it glittered and twisted up to the top of its flight before tumbling back down again. He was sure it would strike the floor next to the chair but at the last instant the man plucked it out of the air. Again he was holding it between finger and thumb. He measured the weight of it and commented. “For a weapon that is primarily meant for stabbing and slashing it has a surprisingly good balance!” He looked at Trivian with a playful sparkle in his eye. “Would you like me to do that again? I’m sure I can get it even higher this time!” Trivian was itching to get the knife back but he had never seen anyone throw and catch a knife like that before and wanted to see it again.

“O.K.” He nodded his approval. This time the man swung his whole arm and the knife flew even higher into the air. Trivian watched amazed as it flew up so high into the air that he almost lost sight of it against the shadowy ceiling then it was plummeting down again like a falling star sparkling and glittering as it twisted and spun. Again, the man caught it by the blade. Trivian’s face was full of wonder.

“Would you like to learn how to do that?” Trivian nodded eagerly. He desperately wanted the knife back now but the chance to learn to throw like that was irresistible. “Now pay good attention.” Lectured the man “The trick is to get the balance right.” He gave the knife a few short flips to demonstrate. “Once you have a feel for the weight then it’s really quite easy to throw it like this.” And he propelled the knife up into the air again. It didn’t rise nearly as high as the previous time and reached the top of its flight quickly. However, barely had it started falling than with a clattering noise its descent was unexpectedly interrupted. “Oh dear!” Said the man “That’s rather unfortunate, isn’t it?” It took a moment for Trivian to realise what had happened. A little way above the fireplace a statue of a man stood with his hands stretched out in front of him. The knife had landed in the upturned palm of this carving. Trivian was outraged.

“What have you done? That’s my Knife! You said you only wanted to look at it! You said you would give it back! You stupid idiot!” The man remained calm throughout the tirade. Eventually, exhausted Trivian stopped shouting and with clenched fists stood glowering at the man. “Get it back down!” He demanded. The man glanced up at the knife suspended in its stony cradle.

“It really is a long way up. I’m not quite sure how to get it back down again!”

“You got it stuck up there so you have to get it back down again!”

“Well, yes accepted, but it is going to take me some time to think of a way to get it back down. In the meantime I’m terribly sorry about my mistake and I shall most definitely remember to say that Wallic is the loser when you bring him.” Wallic! Trivian had completely forgotten about him. “Tell you what,” The man continued “You go home now and bring Wallic back in the morning. I’ll have a good long think about how to get it back down this evening so we can get everything sorted at once tomorrow.”

“O.K..” Trivian was still angry but realised there was nothing more that could be done until the next day. He stalked past the man towards the corridor.

“Bye, it has been pleasant meeting you and do hurry back tomorrow!” The man called after Trivian.

“Bye” He growled in response.

“Oh and by the way. When you get outside you’ll probably find that Wallic has already gone and you’ll have to swim for it. There is going to be a strong tide running this evening so don’t head straight for the beach or you’re going to get swept you out to sea. Swim north towards for the headland that way you’ll get ashore much more quickly and safely.” Though he heard this Trivian made no response. Out in the corridor he vented his anger on the furniture behind the door, dragging the table clear so that he could slip out far more easily than he had entered. Once he was sure that the boy had gone the old man settled back into his chair and closed his eyes to rest. “And so it begins.” He quietly murmured to himself before falling asleep.

Outside Trivian was shocked to find that the light was already beginning to fade. Above him the disk of sky had already lost its lustre. It would be dark soon. He raced down the various stairs and onto the bottom balcony only slowing in the darkness of the last long flight down to the exit. When he finally got there the sun was already beginning to dip towards the horizon. The shoreline was deserted. Wallic had quite clearly abandoned him and, judging by the emptiness of the bay, quite some time ago. He let out a scream of rage but realised there really was nothing for it but to try and swim back. He slipped off his sandals and jammed them into the back of his belt where they would cause the least drag the motion reminded him of the last thing he had put there. He growled to himself as he remembered the knife. Today had really been one long string of calamity followed by disaster. Then, bracing himself for the shock, he stepped down into the cool water. He was just about to head for the closest point on the beach when he recalled the parting advice of the old man. It occurred to him that there was going to be a full moon tonight that really did indicate a strong tide. He shifted his stance slightly turning away from the beach and, diving into the water, struck out in the direction of the headland.

Next Chapter: Prologue