That night Simon spoke aloud again into the mocking emptiness.

“I guess I really do need sorcerous powers after all. I can’t let you eat my mind though. I’m not sure I love humanity that much, and what was left of me might even start acting like Adam.

“If by any chance you have any loyalty to your faction or alliance above yourself, or any desire to help humanity, ask your boss to send someone else.”

Of course there was no response in the quiet of his room. Perhaps it had given up on him. Or perhaps they had given up and found someone more suited, which ironically enough would make his first response correct.

Either way the die was cast, and he was surprised how little trouble he had falling asleep that night.

When it came, Simon immediately recognized the feeling of a dream that wasn’t quite a dream. He was seated outside on a park bench, looking up at the stars on a clear night. It was a tiny bit chilly since he wasn’t wearing a sweater, but not unbearably so. The stars seemed a bit brighter than they would have in real life.

A voice came from beside him. “I am Loki.”

It was dark outside, but there was a streetlight not too far away, so he could make out the face of the figure beside him. Sure enough, he wore a ridiculous horned helmet, just like in the comics.

These visions weren’t really that much like dreams. Simon found he could think almost as he did when he was awake, although his thoughts were going in a different direction. He said, “I like this backround better. I don’t think you’re as hungry as ‘Emerald’ was.”

Loki told him, “Make no mistake, I could fool you if I wanted to. I’m telling you now so there’s no misunderstanding later.”

Simon nodded. “OK, we’re off to a much better start. So tell me. If this Eightfold stuff is real, why would elders come to Earth and inspire fiction about the Eightfold, and game designs based on it. And here’s the biggie, how much is true and how much are you hiding? ‘You’ plural as a civilization, I’m not accusing you personally of anything.”

The godshape sighed. “Those are good questions, though if you dig through your memory of fictions you’ve read you’d find answers, or at least shadows of answers. Some of our traditions are ancient, and were established when at least some of us were perhaps more idealistic than we are today. New peoples are more likely to survive, even benefit from contact with ourselves and our knowledge if they have some time to get used to the ideas before they learn they are real.

“Alas, the actual reason is harsher and more ironic. I know you’ve heard of the River, the schizophrenic supercomputer with nodes throughout the Eightfold and beyond. Many commands and moral precepts were built into it, and they were not always consistent with each other or the builder’s practices. We have relearned much of our own technology since the collapse, but do not control the River.

Loki said, “Since neither of us want to do this the hard way and we don’t have time for the slow way, let’s see if you have enough natural talent to do it the other fast way. Fast is not the same as easy, there is always a price to be paid, but this does not involve me eating any bits of your consciousness.”

Simon knew there was something he needed to ask, but it took him a moment to formulate the question. “Do you have any ulterior motives I should know about?”

Loki shook his head in mock sadness. “So suspicious. Just because I drew the image of a trickster god from your brain, and every elder you’ve met so far has wanted something from you. Maybe you’re not as slow as I was led to believe. No, my faction and my alliance will benefit if humanity successfully joins the Eightfold over the next few hundred years, while our opponents cannot wait that long.”

Before Simon had a chance to reply Loki said, “Now go home and sleep.”

Simon asked him, “Aren’t I already asleep?”

Loki told him firmly, “If you want me to teach you, go home and sleep even within your dream.”

Simon had nothing to gain from arguing. “Sure thing.”

He didn’t remember coming to this park, but he wouldn’t have done so this late without bus fare. He checked his front pockets out of habit and found only his keys.

Wait. This was a dream so anything was possible. He willed the bus fare to materialize in his hand – and nothing happened. He wasn’t really surprised. Dreams didn’t follow ordinary logic, but dream logic wasn’t always what you wanted it to be.

Feeling silly he said, “Loki, can I borrow bus fare from you?”

Loki shook his head. “Alas, no. How could you repay me dream money after waking up?”

Simon almost replied sharply, but then stopped to think instead. If Loki wasn’t serious about teaching him anything, then Simon was definitely screwed. So first consider the other possibility. Maybe this was part of a lesson.

He’d already tried arbitrarily willing the money into existence and it hadn’t worked. So what did the dream logic leave him? He knew he wouldn’t have come out here this late at night without bus fare home. He also knew it wasn’t in his front pockets where he usually kept money. He was also pretty sure he would have felt any money in his rear pocket while sitting, since he usually had exact change for the bus. So this time was different. Since this was a dream, he didn’t try too hard to will it into existence, but just reached into the back pocket of his jeans and pulled out some folded bills.

Loki smiled at him. “Very good. Perhaps you have potential.”

Simon shrugged casually as if it were nothing. He jauntily waved farewell and walked to the bus stop.

When he got home, he spent a few minutes wondering how he could fall asleep when he was already sleeping, but then he did.

He was Lord Regal again, surrounded by enemies.

Then he said to Stinger, “It looks like you don’t really want to take responsibility for murdering me all by yourself.”

Then he reached, inside himself and outside, and put all the power he could into the vulgar sorcery. Instantly he felt drained. This was a low mana world, and he had never invested time learning exactly how magic worked here. Vulgar sorcery worked almost everywhere though.

Only he was also Simon, and he would never forget what sorcery felt like. He knew how to reach places inside himself he could not have imagined yesterday, and how to touch parts of the universe he could not have named. The knowledge might have been too big for his mind, might have driven him insane, except he was Lord Regal too.

And Lord Regal could somehow hope that there were plans outside himself, that rescue might come from somewhere.

Then he was Simon again, but from a timeline ever so slightly different than his own. He stood inside Adam’s fancy house, facing the same miserable future Adam. But this one said, “You left it too late to learn sorcery.”

Simon said, “Sit down, then don’t move any part of your body except your head.”

And he felt the power flowing from and through and over him, more clearly when he was being himself than when he was being Lord Regal. Adam sank onto the couch without a word. He seemed to be having trouble breathing. Had Simon prevented him from moving his chest and lungs? Sorcery always seemed to have ramifications.

Then the visions began to flow faster. Sequentially he became different versions of himself, of Lord Regal, of others who he seemed to have some mysterious bond with. Each time he learned something. He remembered first hand what it felt like to tap the power, to have it flow through him. He knew how many ways it could go wrong, and how much care should be put into even the simplest sorcery.

Then Simon woke up in bed. He wondered for an instant if he had woken into his earlier dream, but some sense told him he hadn’t. His bedroom was as dreary as ever, but somehow the light creeping around the edges of the cheap curtains felt hopeful.

He felt as if he still knew how to do sorcery, but he would have to test it.