A fine cloth floated a pace above a tightly-fit stone floor. Somewhere overhead, a harsh light shined down upon the cloth, creating a cone of sunlight five paces in diameter. Outside the circle of light was nothing but darkness, a darkness that suggested nothingness. The cloth stretched from one side of the circle to the other, with nothing suspending it. An observer would see that the cloth moved, slowly drifting from an unseen loom in the nothingness to the left towards an invisible bolt of cloth to the right.

It was a chilly early spring morning in the Dales. Sturmelina marched around in the yard of the del Cartach manor, carrying a wooden practice sword held overhead with both hands. The wooden sword was a pace long, a typical knightly sword in styling, but on such a small girl, it was like a greatsword. Several young orcs marched with her in a staggered line, a group of children trying to act like a trained military formation.

The journey to Londoun was tedious, Bilbus concluded. Previously, he had traveled by sea, using the Aquasition to cover the distance from Portsdale to Londoun in a manner of days. Before that, he had been traveling with his friends, trying to save the world. Despite the seriousness of the circumstances, Bilbus had fun.

After a twenty minute stroll through the waking city of Londoun, the party was at its vast harbor.

Eric drove the wagon through the tunnel into the circular canyon that hid Suderpol. The sky above was a brilliant clear blue, with only a few light clouds drifting by, a sharp contrast to the dark stone of the sheer canyon walls that encircled the lake and the island that held the town of Suderpol. On the far side of the ring canyon, two miles away, Eric could see signs of a rockslide that had partially collapsed the tall canyon wall. Even where the wall had collapsed, the canyon was over thirty paces deep.

Several hours passed as the Rising Wave sailed west. The sun was sinking into the sea ahead of the ship, lighting the entire sky in a stunning display of oranges and pinks. Eric stood near the middle of the main deck, looking about at the colors. He leaned over a hatch that led into the merchant ship's hold.

The three carpets flew over the Vasmar on a south by southwest route that Eric had chosen by dead reckoning to take them to the village of Pubshill. As the Azirian noble glanced towards the sun again, trying to get his bearings over the open sea, Bilbus hollered from the second carpet.

The Javik boats sailed along towards the north, taking advantage of a strong breeze. Kasey gathered some spare sail canvas from the paltry stores of the boat he was on.