​  Without another corner for space, Amstrad settles for the far wall, in between Jabber and Sam. There’s no mattress or hammock to spare. All Amstrad brought is his Indian food, a jacket, an alarm clock, and a change of clothes. He lays out the jacket and balls up some of the spare clothes for a pillow.
   In the night, while everyone else is sleeping and Sam is on watch outside, Amstrad cracks open the lukewarm curry. He eats it without hurry nor indulgence.
   “Charmorag.” he whispers.
   What?
   “I don’t want you to give me your full power here. It’s a secret."
   Why?
   “They’d think I’m some kinda freak- it’s too much. They’d ask questions.”
   And you can answer their questions, then slaughter them if they displease you.
   “No. Just don’t.”
   What use am I to you if I do nothing, boy?
   Amstrad eats and ignores the daemon.
   No use at all.