Most treasured Zann,

One thing I had managed to do was spend a few minutes with a map of Cas Crid. I had never seen the place back when it was still standing; I had only come to Crideon after it had been thrown down. And even then I had never really looked at the ruins. So if I was going to figure out how to get in, I needed to know what the layout of the place was.

As castles went it didn’t make a lot of sense. Crideon hadn’t been in any danger of invasion for centuries. (Or so they thought.) So the castle, before it was destroyed, was just another city building in a lot of ways. Different kings had added to it, torn parts down, built things on top of other things, and even included some buildings that were by any reasonable standard down the street from the actual castle. There was only about a third of the original curtainwall left, and it wasn’t really trying to defend anything so much as it was trying to stay out of the way. But I thought I had a good understanding of its main parts as I strolled up to it that morning.

Unusually for Crideon before noon, there was a mist around Cas Crid. I thought it seemed like a very lauran, greenkind kind of mist. Dark gray, with vague blue and yellow lights inside it. Like a fool, I walked right into it.

And then everything was different.

Life was pleasant inside the mist, as long as you kept out of the way of Lord Clear. Much nicer than the harsh sunshine world with all the filthy men and women. How long had I been standing here looking at the cairns of earth that had been raised over the corpse of Castle Crideon? Many days, surely, and contented ones. But now perhaps I could continue on my way, and find the rest of the Rosolla Guard within.

I strolled past the first mound, trying to fit it to what I remembered of the map. The one I wanted, I thought, should be in the middle of the cluster of mounds. I didn’t have a shovel with me. What was the point of digging up ruins? If Clear and the Rosollas and everyone were in here, it was through magic, and therefore I would have to find some kind of magic.

One good place to look might be at the top of the central mound.

Climbing a hill of dirt was one of the least frightening things I had tried to do in the past few swings. It was messy but not really very difficult. The mist was still everywhere, but I could see about twenty feet in all directions, and that was enough. Finally I stood on top of the mound, greyness all about me. There was something up ahead to the left, so I went to investigate. It was a flagpole, only about ten feet tall, flying a blue banner with a blue diamond on it. Lord Clear’s, surely. Could it be magical? It could.

I reached up to touch it, maybe to pull it down, and was wrenched aside magically! Something pulled me, roughly, through some walls of reality, and flung me to the ground. My hand stung where it had brushed the cloth of the flag.

I was in a stone room, somewhere, sprawled on the floor. A small torch provided the only light. There was one door, and it opened. Two Rosolla Guards strode in.

Trall and Carsaduam.

Love,

Ybel