Вилорп

→Immediately a discussion starts up about the value of traditions in the life of the city. Lisutaris and Samanatius weigh in, as does Coranius. Everyone seems to have an opinion apart from Tirini Snake Smiter, who looks bored, and busies herself in front of a small mirror. Makri wades into the conversation, arguing quite spiritedly with Samanatius over some point of history. Samanatius listens, then counters her argument. Lisutaris puts forward a different point of view and Cicerius tells them they're all wrong. In no time at all facts and opinions are flying round the table covering everything from the traditions of hospitality in far-away Samsarina to the ancient ethics of the Orcish warrior class.

→What with the malady, Deeziz's spell and the thazis, the greatest Sorcerer in the west is once more out of commission. She falls asleep as we drift away from the shore. I haul both Lisutaris and Makri into the small cabin, cover them with their cloaks, and go back on deck, looking towards Turai. Flames and smoke tower over the Palace and dragons still swoop down from the sky. I let the boat drift with the current, and I wonder if I'll ever see the city again.

→I gaze towards the shore. Maybe I'll come back with her, and help chase the Orcs. Or maybe I'll just keep going till I reach the furthest west, and see if anyone there needs an Investigator. The way I've been feeling about Turai recently, just keeping going doesn't seem like such a bad option.

→"When I get my strength back," she says grimly, "I'll come back and chase those Orcs all the way to the mountains."

→I hand the sorceress my thazis pouch. She rolls herself another stick.

→"More thazis," she mutters. "I want more thazis."

→Lisutaris lies down on the deck.

→Lisutaris snaps her fingers and we begin to drift out to sea. The dragon turns its head towards us but doesn't follow. Dragons are not keen on flying over water.

→"Use a spell," I scream. "Get us out of here."

→The dragon, flapping its wings languidly, appears over the city walls, heading our way. A small boat heaves into view. A tiny fisherman's craft, with one sail. I sling Makri over my shoulder again and splash through the water towards it, flinging her over the side then climbing in myself. Lisutaris can't make it over the edge and I have to haul her in. The dragon is getting ominously close.

→"Good. So is a dragon."

→"The boat is coming."

→Lisutaris snaps the book shut, and utters a few words, a spell of bringing.

→The Mistress of the Sky flips over the pages while I light the book with my illuminated staff, trying not to make it to bright for fear of attracting attention. There's no saying that a dragon won't suddenly decide to practise its fire-breathing technique on the hopeless survivors who throng the beach.

→"Of course," she says. "I'm a Sorcerer. I do spells. Let me see that book."

→I take out some thazis from my bag. It's still fresh and green. Lisutaris's eyes light up and she rolls a thazis stick with nimble dexterity. Without even thinking about it she mutters a word, causing the stick to light, and inhales deeply.

→"Could you make an effort? I've just dragged you from the Avenging Axe to the beach via a sewer. The least you could do is remember a simple spell. Here."

→I explode with exasperation.

→"I can't read it."

→I drag my old, out-of-date grimoire from my bag. Most of the spells in it I could never use and the few that I could are no good in the circumstances. Maybe the head of the Sorcerers Guild can make something of it. I thrust the book at her. Lisutaris looks at it hopelessly.