‘Good afternoon. This is Yogi Baird, speaking to you live from the Dragonslayer’s office in Hereford, capital city of the Kingdom by the same name. In just a minute we’ll be talking to our very special guest, Dragonslayer Jennifer Strange. But before all that, a word from our sponsors. Has your get-up-and-go got up and went? Need a pick-me-up for a hard morning’s work?’

He produced a packet of breakfast cereal.

‘Then you need to try Yummy-Flakes for that extra vavoom!’

He put down the packet as the jingle played briefly, then he smiled into the camera and continued:

‘Listen, everyone’s been talking about Dragons these last few days. Dragon this, Dragon that, seems like a bit of a drag to me. That joke will slay me, but listen, folks . . .’

He didn’t seem so funny live. The audience back at the studio were doubtlessly holding their sides, but I was feeling uncomfortable. Like almost everyone in the Kingdoms I had watched the Yogi Baird show all my life, but was beginning to feel as though I was being used – and that Dragonslayers should perhaps show more dignity. I stayed for Mother Zenobia’s sake. I knew she would be watching – or listening, anyway.

‘. . . have you noticed just how many people have converged on the Dragonlands? Biggest show in town. Maltcassion will soon have his own TV station.’

The cameraman zoomed out to include me in the shot as the floor manager waved frantically at me to be ready.

‘. . . but all kidding aside, for the past few days the small Kingdom of Hereford has been alive with speculation over the death of the world’s last Dragon. With rumours of his demise imminent, this four-hundred-year-old Dragonland may very well soon be passed to any number of lucky claimants. I have with me the one person who could be battling with the Dragon some time in the next week. Ladies and gentlemen, Jennifer Strange.’

I looked across at Gordon, who gave me the thumbs-up through the glare of the lights. I was being beamed live into the homes of over thirty million people. Two days ago no one had heard of me, yet today you would be hard pressed to find someone who hadn’t. The power of the media.

‘Welcome to the show, Jennifer.’

‘Thank you.’

‘Miss Strange, have you met with Maltcassion today?’

‘Yesterday,’ I replied.

‘And was he as horribly grotesque as you had thought?’

‘No; on the contrary. I found him a highly intelligent creature.’

‘But ugly, of course? And potentially a maneater with nothing on his mind but death and destruction?’

‘Not in the least.’

Yogi Baird abandoned that line of questioning.

‘O . . . kay. Even pre-cogs as low as B-3 are receiving visions that he is shortly to be killed at your hands. What’s your reaction to that?’