I watched as Charlie shifted fitfully in his sleep. The quilt over his legs wiggled as his feet twitched unconsciously. He reminded me of a puppy, pawing softly at the floor as he dreamt.

“So . . . he isn’t really a monster, after all,” I said, weakly. “Good. That’s good.”

Jackaby regarded me for several long moments. “Do you see those paintings by the door?” he asked.

I followed his gesture and nodded. On the left hung the knight slaying a dragon, and on the right was the ship being towed through stormy seas by a massive, golden fish. I had seen them on my first day exploring the house.

“Do you know the stories?” Jackaby asked.

“I recognize Saint George, but no—not really.”

“Saint George. The Golden Legend,” said Jackaby, walking under the image of the knight. “A city besieged by plagues brought on by a terrible dragon. Livestock and then human children were sacrificed to appease the beast. When the king’s own daughter was offered up, Saint George intervened, saving the girl’s life. He wounded the creature and bound it, bringing it back to the city to slay before the eyes of the townsfolk.”

Jackaby stepped over to the other painting. “What about this one?”

When I shook my head, he went on.

“This is the story of Manu and the Fish, from Hindu tradition. As the legend goes, a small fish came to Manu for protection. Manu took pity, and kept the thing safe in a jar until it could grow large enough to fend for itself. The fish grew larger and larger, and was enormous when Manu finally released it back into the river. Because of Manu’s kindness, the fish warned him that a great flood was coming, and told Manu to prepare. The fish returned in the midst of the flood to help tow Manu to a safe place to wait for the waters to recede.”

At this point, Jackaby returned to stand beside me. “Saint George’s legend tells of the dangers of mythical creatures, and the value of man asserting dominance over them. Manu’s tale, quite conversely, stresses the value of mercy, coexistence, and peaceful symbiosis.”

He paused, watching Charlie breathing slowly in and out for a few moments. “Were it not for the assistance of our young ‘monster,’ here, you almost certainly would not have survived Swift’s attack. Marlowe is a good man,” Jackaby added, thoughtfully, “but he only knows how to slay dragons. This world is full of dragon-slayers. What we need are a few more people who aren’t too proud to listen to a fish.”

I felt my chest tighten. I had failed to listen. “Jackaby,” I said, “I think Hatun knew what was going to happen.”

He raised an eyebrow at me.

“I think she knew I was going to be attacked. Although she made it sound as though I was going to die.”

“She said you were going to die?”