Tobas tore off a chunk of bread and buttered it thoughtfully, then began his story. “I grew up in the village of Telven, near the eastern end of what you’d call the Pirate Towns, and I didn’t bother with an apprenticeship when I was twelve because I was my father’s only acknowledged child, and I expected to inherit his ship, Retribution. When a demonologist sank it and left me orphaned at the age of fifteen, I had to change my plans, but of course by then I was too old for any respectable apprenticeship.”

He took a bite of bread, then continued. “Fortunately for me, there was an old wizard named Roggit who lived in the marshes just outside of Telven. I used to think he was too senile to see that I was obviously too old, but now I’m fairly sure he took pity on me. Either way, he took me on despite my age. Unfortunately, he wasn’t much of a wizard, and he was even less of a teacher, and his health was terrible. I lived with him for a year and a half, or maybe it was closer to two years, and while he did get through all the essential initiations in that time, by the time he died peacefully in his sleep he had only taught me one useful spell-Thrindle’s Combustion.”

“Unfortunate,” Gresh said. “But presumably you inherited his business, as his apprentice at the time of his death-did his family contest that because of your age?”

“He didn’t have any family, any more than I did,” Tobas said. “But as for his business, such as it was, he had put an explosive seal on his book of spells, and I didn’t know any better than to open it. The whole house burned to the ground, book and all, and I was left with nothing.” He took another bite. “So I set out to seek my fortune-not that I had much choice, after losing two separate inheritances.”

He went on to describe making his way to Ethshar of the Spices, where he had discovered no one had any use for a wizard who hadn’t finished his apprenticeship and knew just one spell. In desperation he had signed up to slay a dragon in the Small Kingdoms, more or less accidentally, as much to stay out of the hands of slavers as because he thought it was a good idea. He told Gresh about his first visit to Dwomor, sparing no details, to Alorria’s dismay. She tried to defend her homeland, but Tobas refused to retract his negative comments. He explained about the terms on which the dragon-hunters had been hired and how they had been divided up into teams.

By the time he finished his account of wandering in the hills northeast of Dwomor Keep, finding Derithon’s fallen flying castle, salvaging the Transporting Tapestry, and stumbling through it to join Karanissa in her captivity, supper had been eaten, a bottle of wine had been drunk, the daylight had faded away, and the candles had been lit.

Tobas explained how he had begun working his way through Derithon’s massive collection of spells, trying as many of the easy ones as he could to gain enough practice that he might have a chance of surviving attempts to use higher-order wizardry to get Karanissa and himself out of the castle and back to the World. He described every detail he could remember of his failed attempt at Lugwiler’s Haunting Phantasm.

Gresh listened closely and had him review several portions before permitting him to continue the story.

The spriggans had stolen the mirror just as he carried it through the revitalized Transporting Tapestry, back out in the World, and he had not seen it since. He had married Karanissa, and then more or less accidentally slain the dragon after all. In order to collect the promised reward he had been required to marry Alorria, as well-which, he was quick to note, was no hardship. He had never planned on having two wives, but he certainly didn’t mind.

He glanced from one woman to the other at that point, but no one else commented.

There were parts of the story that did not seem to make sense, Gresh thought-the account of removing the Transporting Tapestry from the fallen flying castle, for example. How and why had Tobas removed it without going through it?

And for that matter, why had the castle fallen in the first place? Presumably Varrin’s Greater Propulsion had failed, but why? A wizard of Derithon’s obvious accomplishments wouldn’t have been careless with something so important as the enchantment holding up his home. Was there some inherent flaw in the spell?

And there was the way Tobas had simply let the spriggans run off with the mirror without pursuing them, and how it had been years before spriggans started turning up in any numbers.

There was something Tobas wasn’t telling him. Gresh suspected that it was related to the wizard’s plans for disposing of the mirror.

“We should go,” Karanissa said, as Gresh asked a few more leading questions, hoping for some further hint. “We have a long day ahead of us tomorrow, and you need to pack up things from your workshop.”

“A long day, but not a strenuous one,” Gresh pointed out. “You’ll just be sitting on a carpet all day.”

“That’s tiring enough for me,” Karanissa said.

“But you haven’t said a word yet about how you helped Lady Sarai defeat Empress Tabaea,” Gresh protested.

“That has nothing to do with the mirror or the spriggans,” Tobas said. “And it is getting late.” He rose.

Gresh glanced at Alorria, hoping that she would insist her husband brag about his part in defeating the mad magician-thief who had somehow temporarily overthrown the overlord of Ethshar of the Sands, but she was dozing off, and the baby in her arms was sound asleep. He sighed.

He would be traveling with these people for days, perhaps months. There would be time to worm the truth out of them.

“I suppose it is,” he conceded.

Karanissa rose and leaned over to touch Alorria’s shoulder. “Ali,” she said. “Time for bed.”

“Uh?” Alorria started; Alris stirred but did not wake. Then Alorria nodded. “Oh, yes. Bed. Yes.” She rose, as well.

“I’ll clean up,” Gresh said, but as he looked around he realized that while he and Tobas had been talking, Karanissa had already cleared away most of the dishes and other evidence of their supper.

“We’ll see you in the morning,” Karanissa said.

“Come on upstairs, Ali,” Tobas said. “We’ll get you and the baby tucked in.” The family headed for the stairs.

Gresh watched them go, while brushing the last crumbs from the table and taking the empty wineglasses to the scullery tub.

Something in the mountains of the Small Kingdoms had downed a flying castle, centuries ago. Something in that same area had apparently interfered with two Transporting Tapestries. Tobas had apparently thought the spriggans would not be a problem there, even though he had considered them a hazard in his otherworldly castle. Something associated with Tobas had defeated an incredibly powerful rogue magician, allegedly gutting the interior of the overlord’s palace in the process and leaving nothing of Tabaea but her left foot, when the Guild’s ordinary efforts had failed. And if Karanissa was to be believed, the Guild’s failed attempts had endangered the entire city. And a Transporting Tapestry had been permanently ruined somewhere in the process.

On top of all that, Tobas was reputed to be an expert on countercharms-though Karanissa denied that he deserved that reputation.

Gresh frowned.

He could think of one explanation for everything, though it might not be the right one. It fit with a few other rumors that he had heard about Tabaea’s demise, as well. All of this could be explained if Tobas had stumbled upon an all-powerful countercharm of some sort, presumably one created long ago, perhaps as a weapon in the Great War. Such a charm might have brought down the flying castle, rendered the tapestries and the mirror temporarily inert, eventually destroyed one tapestry permanently, and erased both Tabaea’s magic and whatever magic the Guild had used unsuccessfully against her.