“I won’t tell you my name. Names carry power. More than you would want if you were wiser.”

She merely thumbed the hammer back. This amused the old man. “Killing me won’t teach you my name. Kill me, search my body. You won’t find my name. Not my real name. Not the one that matters.”

“The villagers call you The Dragon.” She tried to keep the frustration out of her voice. She wasn’t successful.

“You know that name means nothing. It has no power. But I will tell you a secret.”

She leaned closer. Her shadow touched his, but jumped back. Probably just the candle flickering.

Probably.

“The more people who know a name, the less power it has. The most powerful names are only known by one.” The little man leaned back. “Now, please, use your weapon. I’m old and finished with this phase.” His smile was a mass of wrinkles. “I guarantee that no harm will come to you. Actually, I would view it as a kindness – a debt to be repaid. You know that I always pay my debts.”

She laughed in disbelief. “You’ll repay me after I’ve shot you? I’m a better shot than you think.”

But she put one hollowpoint between his eyes anyway. Things got a little confusing then – all she could remember later was a flash of blinding light, then freezeframes: smoke, fire, darkness.

She awoke on the mountain outside the village, with a dragon standing over her. “Saving you from the fire repaid my debt, I believe.” He laughed, blowing smoke over her head. “And no, I will not tell you my new name, either.” He flew off.

She realized that he’d never asked her name. Did he already know it? Or was it so lacking in power as to be uninteresting?