“It won’t rise without anyone on it,” Tobas explained, as he caught Karanissa and lowered her the last foot or two. “It hovers just fine, but it won’t go anywhere unless someone’s on it.”

Gresh nodded.

“Come on, let’s eat,” Alorria said, heading into the inn. The others followed.

There were no empty tables, but half the inn’s staff recognized Gresh, and so a space was cleared for his party by asking a couple and two unaccompanied diners to move, rearranging the available seating. Alorria’s obvious annoyance at how the servers deferred to Gresh was mollified when one barmaid went into ecstasies of cooing over Alris, and they ate a fine meal with minimal displays of ill temper. Gresh pointed out the skin of an actual dragon’s tail pinned to one wall, but none of the others were particularly impressed.

An hour later they emerged to find four boys throwing rocks and other small objects, trying to land them on the hovering carpet. When Tobas cleared his throat, the four took one look at him, then turned and ran.

No one pursued them, though Alorria looked as if she wanted to. Instead Tobas picked Karanissa up by the waist and tossed her upward, as lightly as if she were a mere toy rather than a grown woman-witchcraft again, obviously.

She caught the edge of the carpet and pulled herself up. A moment later a shower of pebbles, sticks, half-eaten candies, and bits of string tumbled down. Gresh grinned at the sight; Alorria frowned furiously. Apparently those boys had been at it for some time and had been fairly successful at their game.

“Is anything damaged or missing?” Tobas called up, gesturing as he did so.

“No.”

And with that, the carpet began descending. When it was low enough, Tobas lifted Alorria and Alris into place, and then the men clambered aboard. When everyone was settled in their accustomed places Tobas waved a hand, and they soared up and out of the market.

Their route now took them east across the city, from the crowded streets of Westgate to the elegant shops of the New Merchants’ Quarter, then over the rooftops of the mansions of New City. Gresh watched the overlord’s palace slip past on the left and tried to make sense of the tangled streets of the Old City, but they were no more comprehensible from up here than they were on the ground.

Then they sailed over Allston and Hempfield and Eastgate and out over the city wall into the sandy expanse of the eastern peninsula. No one farmed here, but a few homes were scattered about, and along the beaches to the left Gresh could see children digging for clams.

The coastline curved away to the north, and the wasteland below grew more deserted, until an hour after they had left the city the coastline reappeared ahead of them. They had reached the Gulf of the East and headed out over open water.

Before long the land was lost behind them, and only water was in sight in all directions. Save for an occasional glimpse of a merchant ship’s sails in the distance, the monotony of the crossing was unbroken until the coast of the Small Kingdoms appeared, rushing toward them.

This land was no flat oversized sandbar like the peninsula, but was rolling green hills behind a line of crumbling brown cliffs. Tobas adjusted the carpet’s altitude, taking it higher to be sure of clearing all obstructions; it had descended a little while crossing the Gulf.

As they soared over the white line of surf breaking against the steep slopes below, Tobas pointed out the forbidding stone fortress that clung to a rocky stretch of shoreline just to the south. “Imryllirion,” he said.

Farms and meadows flashed past, and mere moments later they passed almost directly over another castle, a few miles inland. Tobas announced, “Chatna.”

He continued to tell Gresh, unasked, the name of each kingdom they passed over-Hsinorium, Strivura, a corner of Nebhala, Torthon, Danua, Ekeroa, and Vectamon, though they did not pass within sight of towns or castles in Hsinorium or Nebhala or Ekeroa, and Castle Torthon was merely a speck on the horizon. The trees hid most of Vectamon Castle, as well.

They crossed the river in Ekeroa, and the land began to rise, farms giving way to woodland. The sun was low in the sky behind them, mountains were looming ahead of them, and the carpet was rising, when Tobas said, “Lumeth of the Forest claims that land to the right.” He gestured at what looked to Gresh like just another stretch of unbroken forest on rolling hills. “But Vectamon and Dwomor don’t recognize the claim.”

“It’s Dwomoritic land,” Alorria said.

“The Vectamons don’t think so, any more than the Lumethans do,” Tobas retorted.

Alorria replied in a language Gresh had never heard.

“She’s fluent in Vectamonic,” Tobas said. “But she mostly uses it to insult them.”

Gresh decided that was a hint that he should not ask for a translation.

Then they were descending to treetop level and heading directly for a sprawling castle that appeared to be in a state of mild disrepair, and Gresh forgot the conversation and focused his attention on Dwomor Keep.

The Spriggan Mirror

A Legend of Ethshar

Dwomor Keep had obviously not been built quickly or recently. It occupied the center of a small plateau, surrounded by a double handful of thatched cottages that presumably constituted the capital city, but the castle itself was quite large-easily as large as the Fortress back in Ethshar of the Rocks, at least if measured by any surface dimension. The interior volume of the solidly compact Fortress might well exceed the space enclosed within the keep’s sprawling tangle of wings, towers, and turrets, though.

Every wing or tower of Dwomor Keep seemed to have been constructed in a different architectural style. Some walls were smooth, unadorned stone, while others were rough, or decorated with elaborate carvings. Windows ranged from narrow arrow-slits to grand mullioned or tracery affairs with hundreds of leaded panes, and were made variously of clear glass, stained glass, and wooden shutters over unglazed openings.

There were two unifying features, however-every exterior wall was constructed of the same gray-brown stone, and every roof, whether tile, thatch, or slate, seemed to need repair.

As they approached close enough to see into the courtyards, Gresh discovered the inner structures to be even more varied than the outside, as these walls did not need to be good defensible stone. Some were brick, or wood, or half-timbered plaster, or even wattle-and-daub, while others were that same gray-brown stone.

The courtyards themselves all appeared to be mud, though, untroubled by any pavement or boardwalk.

The carpet swept down toward this castle, and Tobas and both his wives began to shout and wave. People appeared in windows and on battlements, waving in response. The carpet flew a long loop around the castle so its passengers could greet everyone, but finally came soaring in toward a railed wooden platform that looked newer than any of the other structures. It stood atop an old slate roof, next to a tower where a new door appeared to have been cut into an old wall, and had no recognizable purpose for any ordinary castle.

It was, however, just the right size for landing this particular flying carpet.

The rug settled gently onto the platform, stopping when the luggage first lightly touched the wooden surface. Tobas then climbed off the front of the carpet, then stepped around the side to help his wives and child off. Gresh was left to his own devices and clambered awkwardly off, pulling his bag up and heaving it over one shoulder.

A moment later Tobas had the door open, and the entire party stepped into the tower, into a good-sized sitting room. Faded tapestries hung on several walls, and a few rather worn settees were arranged below them. Assorted tables, chairs, and cushions were scattered about, and three rugs covered portions of the plank floor, leaving a good-sized bare area in the center-one that Gresh recognized as a convenient place for the flying carpet. A spiral stair rose in one corner, and in the far wall two carved wooden doors stood solidly shut.