‘Why do you trouble Igneous Cutwell, Holder of…

‘Why do you trouble Igneous Cutwell, Holder of the Eight Keys, Traveler in the Dungeon Dimensions, Supreme Mage of –’
‘Excuse me,’ said Mort, ‘are you really?’
‘Really what?’
‘Master of the thingy, Lord High Wossname of the Sacred Dungeons?’
Cutwell pushed back his hood with an annoyed flourish. Instead of the gray-bearded mystic Mort had expected he saw a round, rather plump face, pink and white like a pork pie, which it somewhat resembled in other respects. For example, like most pork pies, it didn’t have a beard and, like most pork pies, it looked basically good-humored.
‘In a figurative sense,’ he said.
‘What does that mean?’
‘Well, it means no,’ said Cutwell.
‘But you said –’
‘That was advertising,’ said the wizard. ‘It’s a kind of magic I’ve been working on.’