“I don’t think this is funny, Drake!” I yelled, spinning around helplessly. “I don’t think this is funny at all!”

“Aisling?”

“I’m not laughing!” I bellowed, my voice echoing down the columns.

“No, but you are yelling. Fires of Abaddon, you’re a heavy sleeper.”

I opened my eyes to find Jim peering down at me. “Huh? What? Jim?”

“In glorious Technicolor. You OK? You were yelling in your sleep. And not a good sort of ‘Drake was boinking your brains out’ yell, either.”

I pushed my hair out of my face and sat up. “I was dreaming. There was no boinking, not that that is any of your business. What…what the heck?”

A small green cloth was clutched in my hand. I spread it out on the bed, staring at it. It was a smaller version of the one I’d had wrapped around myself in the dream. “Where did this come from?”

“Tibet, from the looks of it. You may want to get up and get dressed.”

“Tibet?” I said, looking closer at the cloth.

“Yeah, it’s a prayer flag, isn’t it? What they call a wind horse?”

I traced the figure of the horse in the center of the cloth, noticing with a prickle of gooseflesh that drawn in each corner were four animal symbols—a dragon, lion, tiger, and bird. “What on earth?”

“Ash, I really think you need to get up and get dressed. Traci said we were going to be summoned at three, and it’s five after already.”

“Oh, god. This is going to be another one of those days where people start talking about stuff like I know what’s going on, only I really don’t, and I spend the whole time trying to catch up, isn’t it?” I asked, pointing a finger at Jim.

“Yup,” it answered cheerfully.

I thought of pinning the demon down with questions, but if experience had taught me anything, it was not to question when Jim said to get dressed. I gathered up a bundle of clothing and retired to the bathroom, emerging a few minutes later to find Jim, Traci, and my uncle standing together in my bedroom.

“If you tell me you know what’s going on while I’m in the dark, I may well scream,” I told Uncle Damian.

“How can you not know what’s going on?” he asked, frowning.

I gritted my teeth and fought back the scream, turning instead to the steward. “What’s happening?”

The little rat had the nerve to look smug. “It is time for the challenge for the position of Venediger,” it answered.

“Ah,” I said, enlightenment dawning. “And I am supposed to watch you duke it out with the contender? OK. You guys could have chosen a better time, but I suppose it’s petty to quibble about a little lack of sleep.”

Traci looked at Jim. Jim looked at Uncle Damian. Uncle Damian frowned even harder.

“What?” I asked, a horrible presentiment stealing over me with an icy chill. “Oh, dear god. You can’t possibly mean…no.”

“You are the one holding the title of Venediger,” Traci pointed out, making me close my eyes as I tried to block out the horror of the truth. “I am simply acting on your behalf. Therefore, it falls to you to conduct the actual challenge, not me.”

“This is what you were trying to tell me the other day, isn’t it?” I asked, swearing at myself.

“It is.”

I opened my eyes, glancing with longing at the bed. There was nothing more I wanted at that moment than to crawl back into it, pull the covers over my head, and block out the world. “Right. Lesson learned: don’t assume you know what a minion is thinking. What horrible event have you set up for me as the challenge? Dueling pistols? Swords? I really could do without being skewered again. The dragon doctor said the baby wasn’t hurt by the last sword someone jammed through me, but I’d like to not risk that again.”

Traci’s face took on a shocked appearance. “My lord, I would not arrange for you to participate in an event that put you in danger of physical harm.”

“Oh,” I said, mollified. “Well, thank you. I appreciate that. What form will the challenge take?”

An odd expression stole over the demon’s face, one of mingled embarrassment and discomfort. “It was not easy to get the mage Jovana to agree to a form of challenge that would not harm you, my lord.”

“Uh-huh. What did you settle on?”

Traci pointed to Jim. “It was Effrijim’s idea. I asked it what sorts of skills you had, thinking to use that as a basis for a challenge that you would be comfortable with.”

I turned my attention on Jim, starting to get worried.

Nerves shot? Love life got you down? Heinous challenge for superiority on the horizon? Have we got the product for you! Try new and improved Dark Power for the solution to all the pesky problems in your life!

“It wasn’t easy, let me tell you,” Jim said, meeting my gaze without flinching in the least. “I mean, you could hardly have a challenge based on eating a whole box of chocolate-covered Oreos without once ralphing, could you?”

I made a face at it.

“Or balancing a spoon on the end of your nose.”

“Hey now! That’s very difficult to do!” I protested.

“Yuh-huh. I did think of the one thing you’ve gotten really good at of late.”

“Castration with just one glance?” I asked sweetly.

“Boinking Drake. But I figured you wouldn’t want the mage having her shot at him, in case, you know, she was better at it than you.”

I narrowed my eyes at the demon. “You are perilously close to eunuchdom, dog. What did you tell Traci to use as the challenge?”

“Dragon’s Lair.”

I blinked a couple of times, hoping against hope it would clear the obvious problem in my hearing. “What?”

“Dragon’s Lair. You know, the arcade game? Your uncle says you were addicted to it when you were younger.”

“She played it night and day,” Uncle Damian said, nodding. “Couldn’t get her away from the damned arcade place for a good two years. Had to threaten to send her to one of those cult detox places before she stopped playing.”

“I was in college!” I told him. “Everyone played it!”

He raised an eyebrow.

“Yeah, so I figured if you were Miss Dragon’s Lair, then you were probably pretty good at it,” Jim finished. “So I told Traci to try that.”