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Jarin considered it her duty to see Diri well settled in a guest house before she made her way to the outer town. She decided to forego a boat and walk to savour the pleasure of being back home. Tiny crumbs of snow fell down in swift, straight lines around her like so many shooting stars. Jarin noted with surprise that the streets of Levare were just the same, then she shook her head a little at her foolishness; she hadn’t been away for that long. It was dusk, and the stall holders in the market were lighting their lanterns. But there was no brilliance to the light; it diffused limply in the winter air. The sky had that stuffed, colourless look that promised more snow. Jarin stopped at one of the stalls and bought a jar of gooseberry jam as a treat for her father and then, at an impulse, a second jar to give to Diri later.

She crossed the bridge into the outer town and soon saw the windows glowing in her father’s house. With a sudden pang of guilt she thought that she should have come here first. How could her fellow lungi and a dwarf she hadn’t even known a couple of months ago have a greater claim on her than her own father?

Margig stood by the fire stirring something in a pot when she entered the house. He looked over his shoulder.

“Jarin! I thought you would get here tonight. The stew is nearly ready, and I have cocoa warming up, too. I made up your bed, in case you want to sleep here.”

“Thank you. I brought you gooseberry jam.”

She placed the jar on the table, Margig put the wooden spoon aside, and after a breathless moment they both sobbed and threw themselves into a tight embrace.

“Oh, Father, you must have been so worried! I am sorry for all the distress I caused you.”

“Shhhhh. I was worried, but it’s not your fault, my dear. And from all I’ve heard, I have every reason to be proud of you. But let’s sit down and you can tell me all. No, wait, let’s dish up the stew first.”

So they ate, and talked, and drank their cocoa, and talked, and moved over to the bench by the fire and talked, until the tale finally reached the current day and Jarin’s arrival in Levare.

“And Wan took us straight to the Houses, and there was a meeting going on when we came in, so we stayed for that, and then I had to make sure that Diri had somewhere to stay, so please forgive me for not coming here first.”

Margig waved this aside. “I had no notion of when you would arrive anyway. It was enough for me to know you were on your way home.” He swirled the dregs of his cocoa around in his cup. “But this Diri,” he said, “he’s a dwarf?”

“Yes, of course he’s a dwarf. Kamenogi is a dwarf city; you know that.”

“Hm.”

“He is…very clever.”

“I’m sure he is. So tell me about this plan of his; how exactly is it going to work?”

“I don’t think I completely understand it just yet. But it involves this device Diri has invented. Only it is in Kamenogi, and he would have to build another one here and that would take some time, but Pallando says we will need to go out on dragons anyway, so a couple of weeks won’t make much of a difference. And Diri can get all the best mirrors here in Levare anyway, and the glassmakers can make him these things called lenses, which is why he came here with me in the first place.”

“I see. And no doubt you mean to be going on this quest as well?”

“Well, yes, of course.”

“Then you’ll have your loyalties tested, won’t you?”

“What do you mean?”

“You can take only one passenger. Who’s it going to be?”

“Oh. I hadn’t thought of that.”

“Oh, well.” Margig got up, took the empty mugs, and patted Jarin’s shoulder as he walked past her to the sink. “You’ll work it out somehow.”

Jarin slept in her childhood bed that night, dreaming of mirrors, and cliff tops, and a road that went on and on across a snowy plain.

-oOoOo-

When it was all explained to her, first by Hamûjil and then a second time, with more gravitas, by Alatar, Majani conceded that it was a feasible plan. She rescinded the Clause of the Seraphine, leaving Hamûjil once more to make his own decisions. He sent word to the Houses that preparations could go ahead.

By the afternoon, quite a little crowd had assembled at the palace, keen to offer help and advice. The Mayor was there, Mistress Tilar, Nevine the Warden of Plain, Alatar with Uilara, two of the Seekers and most of the lungi. What surprised Hamûjil was how many people wanted to come with him. All but one of the lungi present volunteered on behalf of their dragons. The Seeker of Connections wanted to go so he could see how the device worked, and Tilar made a case that as the leader of the Traders’ Guild, she had business relationships with the Krâ. Hamûjil thought neither of these very good reasons and secretly doubted that a dragon would carry Tilar, whom he considered a vain and foolish woman. She argued for a while, but Hamûjil told her that this had nothing to do with business relations and that if he was taking anyone at all, it would be the Guardian and the Wanderer.

“You will have to take Diri,” Jarin pointed out.

“Of course,” said Hamûjil. “Where is he, by the way?”

”At the glassmakers, talking about lenses.”

“He doesn’t lose any time, does he?”

“He came to Levare specifically to see them.”

“True, why else would he be here.”

Why else indeed.

Even though most of the visitors had come unbidden, Hamûjil and Majani nevertheless treated them to a princely dinner and then provided bini carriages to take them home. Jarin rode with Sâlian. They had barely had time since Jarin’s return to catch up fully with each other’s stories, and Jarin began to give a vivid account of her adventure with the Hwenti, but she noticed soon that Sâlian was bursting with something else she wanted to say.

“So what’s your news?” asked Jarin.

Sâlian jiggled a little in her seat. “You will like this. I struck up a friendship with Aluir’s sister. She is really nice.”

“I know. I’m glad you like her.”

“Yes, but that’s not my point. I had the chance to sound her out a bit about him, and I think I know why he couldn’t even remember you from that first time when you and Wan took him to Najûn. Uilara says he was terrified because he’s afraid of heights.”

“Well, yes, a lot of people are.”

“But it means he wasn’t ignoring you or overlooking you. He was simply too scared to pay attention to the lungi.”

“Yeah, fair enough.”

Sâlian looked at Jarin in puzzlement. “Is that all? Just ‘Fair enough’? After everything you –”

“Listen, Sâlian,” said Jarin. “I appreciate you thinking of me, but … well, I just don’t care about him anymore. It was always just a foolish infatuation. I mean, I barely know him. I think I was drawn to his good looks and his dashing manner, that’s all. And I’ve come to think better of it. So enjoy Uilara’s company for its own sake. She’s a lovely woman. But I hope I’m still your best friend?”

“Of course!”

When they reached the grounds of the Houses, the women wanted to get out and walk, but the driver said he had instructions from the Seraphine to take them all the way to their door. And so it came about that they were driven in a royal carriage past the cedar tree, where the Seer sat wrapped in many cloaks.

“Jarin Dragonrider!” she called.

“Excuse me,” Jarin said to the driver, “but I really must speak with her.”

She climbed out of the carriage and walked over to the old woman.

“So,” the Seer said. “You have returned.”

Jarin inclined her head.

“And did the north wind take you, as I foretold?”

“It did. But not for ill, I think.”

“I said it might be for ill or for good.” She scrutinised Jarin with her deep-set eyes. “That is a mighty fine bauble you have brought back with you.”

“Oh, the new flute? Yes, my old one got broken. A friend made this for me.”

“And gave you that chain, too?”

“No, that is a gift from the King of Kamenogi.”

“My, my, you are a fine lady these days.”

“He was very kind.”

“I dare say so! Kind and generous. Do you realise what a royal gift this is?”

Jarin looked puzzled. “Many people have silver chains.”

“Silver?” The Seer scoffed. “You think that is silver? Does it tarnish?”

“How would I know? I’ve only had it for about a week.”

The Seer shook her head and beckoned Jarin to come closer. Jarin crouched down beside her.

“That chain, Jarin Dragonrider,” whispered the old woman, “is worth more than a crown of solid gold.”

“Surely not!”

“Believe me or don’t,” said the Seer with a shrug. “It’s all the same to me. But don’t you think you have come back changed, Jarin? You have seen dangers and adventures, and something has taken hold of you that you did not expect. And I think you know what it is.”

“Maybe I do,” said Jarin. “But I don’t want to talk about it. There are more important things to worry about. Have you any forebodings about the Archseraph’s plan?”

“Forebodings? No. He left it a little late.”

“You think he will fail?”

“Do you?”

Jarin sighed. “You are as enigmatic as ever. Come inside with me, it’s cold, you shouldn’t be sitting here.”

“If I had not been sitting here, I would not have seen you arriving in a royal carriage.”

“Well, you have seen me now. Let me help you up, and we’ll warm ourselves by the fire. I’ll tell you everything that happened to me, everything you’ve not already seen in your mind. And there’ll be cocoa, too.”

The old woman pulled herself up with Jarin’s help and smiled.

“Jarin,” she said, “I’ve missed you.”

-oOoOo-

Within a couple of days, the news that the Archseraph was going on a grand quest to bring the straying Krâ to heel had all Levare abuzz. Fishwives in the marketplace were debating it with as much passion as the Seekers in the Tower of Knowledge and the lungi in the Houses. It was a matter of speculation at dinner tables and in coffee houses, among barbers and boatmen; even children had started to base their games on this fascinating notion and were riding chairs, brooms or pillows as their dragons, declaiming from imaginary heights, “You naughty Krâ, you must go home!”

The Archseraph, meanwhile, had declared that until he had definitive assurance from Diri that the device could be built in a reasonable timeframe, he would discuss the matter with nobody apart from the Guardian and the Wanderer. The three of them sat in his private study that overlooked the gardens. Outside, all the peacocks but Vani showed up brightly against the snowy ground, a neat reversal of the facts of summer.

Hamûjil smoothed down his moustache and took another sip of tea. “I don’t know whether to laugh or cry,” he said, gesturing at a pile of papers that were stacked on his desk. “Here I have no fewer than a hundred and sixty-three letters from well-meaning citizens of Levare and even a few that came by dragon post from Mil Nahara and Najûn, and they are all urging me to follow their advice. Some implore me not to go, others ask why I haven’t left yet, at least a dozen have written speeches they want me to give to the Krâ and easily thirty or forty offer their services to accompany me.” He shook his head. “And now even Miriel is telling me to be careful! As if I was likely to be reckless without her admonition. She wants to come for my protection. At this rate, half of Levare will be going with me.”

“There aren’t that many lungi,” said Pallando evenly. “And the delegation should not be too big. Here’s my suggestion: Jarin will ferry you and Sâlian will ferry Diri. Alatar should go with Vilajin; they are old friends; and I will bring Uilara. That is enough. Unless…yes, I think one of the Wardens should come with us. How about Olan?”

Hamûjil shook his head. “Olan will not travel by air. Neither will Nevine, and Lainu is sick.”

“Then take Yun. He is your staunchest supporter among the Wardens and he used to ride dragons from time to time when he was younger.”

“But now he is older. It’s a strenuous journey.”

“How about this,” said Alatar. “Pallando can go out to Wood and offer to bring Yun to Levare. Tell him we seek his counsel. Depending on how he copes with that journey, he can decide if he wants to venture on the longer one.”

“A good plan,” agreed Pallando. “So, what is the word from our friend Diri? Can he build the device here or not? I should really know that before I go and drag an old man away from his home.”

Hamûjil leaned back in his chair. “As far as I understand, there is no doubt that he can build it here – most of the crucial parts for the device he built in Kamenogi came from Levare anyway. It’s a question of how long it will take. Currently he is drawing up plans and showing them to the various artisans whose services he will need. He says within the next few days we should know more.”

“Then we must wait.”

It started to snow again.

-oOoOo-

“I did what I could. But Hamûjil is not to be persuaded.”

“Never mind. His ludicrous quest will fail anyway, with or without your interference.” The ambassador drained his silver cup and tossed it aside. “And while he is away, we will prepare some surprises for his return. It’s time for more than the little mischief we’ve done so far.”

“And what of my reward?”

“You will have your reward, if you think serving Sauron the Great is not reward in itself.”

-oOoOo-

When he wasn’t trailing from workshop to workshop showing his drawings to the artificers, Diri spent his days in the Tower of Knowledge, were the Seekers were happy to supply him with all the paper, rulers, compasses and so forth that he required in exchange for nothing other than the chance to take a look over his shoulders. In the evenings, he met with Jarin in a coffee house to discuss his progress. They had a favourite table in a little nook half hidden by an olive tree in an enormous embossed brass pot.

“I told the Archseraph today that I can accomplish the work in three weeks.”

“That long?”

“Jarin, the original device took me more than a year to build! Of course that was a lot of trial an error. This time I know what I’m doing.”

“I see. Can I help you with it at all?”

“That depends. Do you have any experience with optical engineering?”

Jarin giggled. “You know I’m a dragon rider. But I am diligent and dependable and I can follow precise instructions.”

“Say no more; you’ve got the job.”

They grinned at each other. Diri refilled his coffee cup from the long-handled copper pot. For a while, they sat in silence, listening to the murmur of other conversations in the room.

“Diri, this chain the king gave me…”

“What about it?”

“Is it silver?”

Diri threw his head back. “You don’t know! How can you not know!? Ah, but of course you don’t know.”

“Know what?”

“Ha, you see, I was puzzled when the king presented this to you and you thanked him very politely but showed no sign of…well, I’m going to use the word awe again. But I put it down to what you told us before, that you were no stranger to royalty, so I thought, perhaps Hamûjil, rich as he is, has given you costly presents before.”

“No, he hasn’t. The Seraphine gives me nice things sometimes, like a scarf or a bottle of wine, but nothing extraordinary. Come now, tell me what it is with this chain.”

Diri reached across the table and let the chain lie on his palm. It was beautifully made, with thick links that each was etched with delicate patterns. Jarin was always surprised that it didn’t weigh more.

“This,” Diri said, “is most definitely not silver. It is a far more valuable metal that we call medril. By giving this to you, the king showed you great favour.”

“The Seer said it’s worth more than a golden crown.”

“Well, not quite. But it is very valuable.”

“Was he offended at my lack of gratitude?”

“I doubt it. He probably realised, like I did only just now, that you would have no idea this was medril. It may have been his little joke.”

“But how come I’ve never heard of this medril?”

“Because it is rare and we do not trade it. We use whatever we can find of it for our own purposes. No doubt you find this very unneighbourly of us.”

Jarin shook her head. “How could I? The Kûzeen keep the Three Secrets to themselves. You know, the making of silk, of porcelain and of glass mirrors.”

“Don’t I know it! Actually, I see a little problem on the horizon here. I will need some back-up from the Archseraph. Will you come to the palace with me tomorrow? I have a feeling the Archseraph will treat me more favourably if you are with me.”

“No, he won’t, he is very fair. But I can come with you anyway, if you like.”

On the following day, therefore, Diri and Jarin sought an audience with the Archseraph, which he granted within the hour. He received them in the throne room, though he didn’t sit on the peacock throne, but at a chess set where he had been pondering moves before they came in.

“Archseraph,” said Jarin, “Diri has come up against a problem that he cannot solve, but you may.”

Hamûjil raised his eyebrows. “Whatever could that be?”

“The Seekers of Levare,” said Diri, “have been most obliging and supported me in every way. But the craftspeople of this town are less accommodating. Without exception, they have made it clear to me that while they were happy to create the parts I have requested, under no circumstances will they allow me to be in their workshops while they are working on them. But I really need to be there to make sure all is made exactly as I need it.”

“Why would they not – oh, I see…”

“Yes. They think I will steal their trade secrets.” Diri scowled. “I have a secret or two at stake here, too, you know, but unlike these Kûzar geniuses, I know the meaning of the word priorities.”

“You speak very plainly,” said Hamûjil.

“In my experience, speaking with circumspection rarely achieves its purpose.”

“And what do you want me to do about this?”

“Aren’t you their ruler? I am building this device for you. Tell them they have to comply with my wishes.”

Hamûjil raised a hand. “It’s more complicated than that. I am not supposed to interfere with guild business. But I will speak with the Master of the Artisan’s Guild and tell him that I vouch for you. I am fairly confident that he will agree.”

Diri bowed.

“Other than that, “said Hamûjil, “I trust things are progressing smoothly?”

“Tell him,” whispered Jarin when Diri didn’t immediately reply.

“Very well,” said Diri. “There is another thing, though I do not expect you to have a solution for it.”

“Let’s hear it anyway.”

“I cannot project onto thin air. I need a surface, like a flat rock wall, and there is no telling if we will find such a thing whenever we overtake the host. And even if we did, it might not be in a good position for them to see it. In any case, for us to project and for them to see it at a decent angle, we would have to be almost among them.” He scratched his beard. “Jarin and I discussed this the other day. It’s tricky.”

Hamûjil frowned. “This was your plan in the first place. Did you not think of these things?”

“Not in this much detail,” admitted Diri. “I can work something out, but I don’t know how long it will take me.”

There was a pause, during which Hamûjil looked a little crestfallen, and then he asked, “Does it have to be a rock wall?”

“No, any smooth, flat surface will do. A floor, a table top, even a large sheet of paper. I suppose we could take paper –”

“Wait!” Jarin held her hand up to silence the others while she was trying to catch the thought that had just fluttered through her mind. Paper, paper…what had that made her think of? Oh, scrolls!

“Diri,” she said, “if the surface were see-through, like fine silk, could you project onto it from behind?”

“Possibly. I’d need to try it out.”

“But wouldn’t that mean,” said Hamûjil, “that I’d have to stand behind that surface? Putting me right in the line of fire with nothing but a sheet of silk between me and any Krâ arrows?”

“No, you could stand off to one side and we’d use an array of mirrors. We will have to practise this, though, because it’s difficult to do. And we would need a stronger light source. A very strong light source. I’m not sure we can find anything bright enough.”

 “I think I can help you with that,” said Hamûjil. He explained what he had in mind.

“Yes,” said Diri, “that’ll do fine.”

“Oooh, oooh,” cried Jarin, whose mind was still on silk scrolls. “I’ve had a brilliant idea! Oooh, Pallando will love this. And the Krâ will think it is magic. Listen…”