While Father Garshom, Cat, and I labored all day to make the two adolescent wyverns their amulets, Duke Sven, Prince Willam, and Cloud Eye spent their day trying to remove the hair bleach from red hair. A lock of Sven's hair was the sacrificial victim. Their best attempt turned it pink.

The three were huddled at a corner table in the meeting hall waiting for dinner. Father Garshom spotted their long faces as we entered the hall. Given his nature to want to heal all wounds and sorrows, he made a straight line for the dejected trio.

"The three of you look like your best friend just died," Garshom inserted himself on the bench next to Cloud Eye and across from Willam and Sven.

"We've been trying to come up with a way to undo the dye job on Andray's hair," Willam responded in a voice wreathed in failure.

"Why bother?" Father Garshom asked as I dragged over a bench so Cat could sit at the open head of the table.

"If we're going to drop in on the old nobility," Sven fidgetted with his mug of ale, "Andray's hair needs to be royal family red." He nodded to Cat as he sat down, "Nephew, I hope you had a more productive day than we had. Hey! Fuzzy! Get off the table! We have to eat here, you know." I laid down on the end of the table opposite my boy, who was trying not to laugh and failing.

*Make me a seat so I can sit at the table and talk, and I might consider it.* Being shaped like a cougar meant I didn't fit on most furniture made for two-footed upright creatures. It could be the most annoying. Sven glared at me. I flicked my long tail up, so the end whacked him across the shoulders.

"Children," Father Garshom growled in a voice so authoritative and threatening that we all felt like we were school kids caught in the act of some naughty misdeed. "That's better," he smiled with the smugness of a bishop about to dole out penance. I suspected he might have some experience with that.

"Hmm," the old priest stared at Cat's hair and then pointed a finger, "Κερτμαχεν!" In the time it took to inhale, Cat's hair returned to its usual bright copper red, just like his uncle's. Garshom picked up a cloth napkin from the table and rubbed his finger with it.

"Your Most Revered Eminence," Sven shot Father Garshom a dubious frown, "just what are you doing?"

"Polishing up my finger," Garshom gave Sven a slightly annoyed glance as if Sven should know better than to ask. "The next item will be removing the ear point made with crepe latex and stuck on with spirit gum — nasty stuff. Two magic uses in a row can be hard on a finger, so it helps to give it a good polishing between spells. And I'm not a bishop anymore, so you shouldn't use that honorific."

Cat had to hide his smile behind his hand. Sven looked disgusted. Willam and Cloud Eye both had their jaws hanging. I just shook my head. The good Father Garshom gets like this when he's showing off how good he is at creating one-word spells that actually work.

"Αβλοεσεν!" Garshom pointed his finger, and the pointy ear tip fell off Cat's right ear, bounced off Cat's shoulder, and dropped to the floor. The old priest started to rub his finger some more with the napkin, "See? Didn't that work well?" He smiled, satisfied with his performance. I think the poor man doesn't get out enough.

Garshom inspected the top of his finger, frowned, and started rubbing again, "If Prince Andray meets with supporters, he needs three proper mid-calf houppelandes and new thigh-high boots in black, yellow, white, and light brown. We'll also need some jacquard linen chemises, new braies, and hosen fitted to both legs."

"Does he really need all that?" Sven asked, shaking his head.

"You never were very astute about presentation, son," Garshom served up an expression of long-suffering patience. "We're not dressing Cat Rider or your long-lost nephew." The priest's face shifted to one of utmost solemnity, "We're presenting the Mage Prince and future King of Nordvek, inventor of new spells of power, and both the bane and the tamer of wyverns. You can't send a man like this out into the world in an unfitted wool overtunic and baggy hosen!"

Garshom studied Cat's head, "The hair is too short. Andray should have that fashionable new hairstyle to the shoulders with bangs in front, like his brother." He pointed his finger, "Φαχσεν!"

"Aaaar!" Cat's hair started growing out until his face was covered. He pulled the hair away from his face, "Warn me when you're going to do something like that, Father. And I like it short. This is too long. It’s not practical."

"No, grooming matters," the old priest declared. "I'll need some light shears and will trim your mop after dinner. Let me think. We'll need a new belt, narrow leather with gold plaques, and one of those new fashionable pouches with the eating dagger sheath built sideways into the belt hanger. It's a shame that we can't sneak the gold collar of the Crown Prince out of the palace," Garshom sighed, "because nothing says 'I'm the real thing' as well as a collar of estate."

"He can borrow my gold chain of leaves," Storm Eagle said as he walked up behind Cat. "He's my adopted son, so he is entitled to wear one. We should replace the eagle pendant in the front with a wyvern decorated with an emerald or peridot matched to the green of his eye."

"Emeralds, we have a pile of them," Queen Margo said as she caught up with the long-legged Elf King. "We don't know what spies may be lurking in the city since there are always a few human merchants around doing business in the souk, but I know our crafters and artificers will be happy to come up to the palace to do fittings for Cat Rider. I'm sorry, to do the fittings for Prince Andray."

"Do I get to have any input about this?" Cat protested.

"No, son, you don't," King Storm Eagle commanded. "I probably let you run too freely around Elvenhome in scuffed-up elkskin tunics and worn-out deerskin. That's fine for elves who live a little closer to the ground than many other races, but it's not the standard human Princes should follow, at least inside a palace. Humans place great value on looks and presentation. You must dress the part of a puissant human Prince if you want to succeed in rescuing your father and sister."

"That goes for Fuzzy, too," Storm Eagle pointed at me. "We need to get you a new barding that says you're the companion of royalty."

I sat up, tilted my head, and gave Storm Eagle a put-upon look.

"I am willing to bribe your cooperation," the Elf King grinned. "How about a flying carpet to share between the two of you," he pointed at Cat and me, "and lessons on flying one in the morning?"

Yep, that worked as an acceptable bribe.

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I skipped interspecies two-footed dinner and social hour and took a long nap on the elevated platform for the meat-smoking chamber in the meeting hall kitchen. It was a nice toasty spot next to all those warm chimney bricks and out of the way of Willam's ballistae troops, who were quickly becoming excellent cooks. The longer we stayed, the more popular the ballistae troops became with the hobgoblin soldiers.

I didn't see my hunting party partners complaining, either. I know for sure that the pit with no bottom, otherwise known as Motley Owl, devourer of worlds, had an arrangement to smuggle out his own loaf of bread and a pot of butter every morning. I also noticed he was giving sparring lessons to the ballistae troops under the approving eye of Sergeant Albert.

"Fuzzy? Are you coming, Fuzzy?" I heard the voice of my boy calling me in my dreams. Soon, a well-aimed shower of those little table-billiard-sized cabbages began to fall out of the blue sky of my dreams as I happily chased fat deer across coney-filled meadows. I sadly woke up to find the deer were æther, but the tiny cabbages were real. I growled at the kitchen crew below, and they laughed at me. I knew then that it was time to chase them to pull out the laces of their leather hosen again. The first time was after they put a hot pepper inside a big cube of venison. The second time was when…

"FUZZY!" Cat's usually well-modulated baritone surprised me as it erupted in volume. The new haircut made him look very adult, vexed with everything, and impatient with me. This was probably because he was tired and wanted a lift across the green so he could sleep. I scanned this evening's cooking crew and spotted Squire Rendell with several billiard-ball cabbages in his hands. Now I had a culprit to target.

I carefully picked up a little cabbage in my teeth and padded down the stairs of the meat-smoking platform. I made sure my route out of the kitchen took me past Squire Rendell and the leather jack of ale in his hand. I stopped in front of him and turned my head to look at him.

"Lady Fuzzy," the boy sounded a bit worried, "is there something I can do for you?"

I stood on my hind legs, put my front paws on his shoulders, batted my eyelids at him, and dropped the tiny cabbage in his ale. I waited for the predictable objection.

"Hey, Fuzzy, that’s my..."

My timing was perfect as I slobbered a wet lick all over his face. Happy, I followed Cat out of the kitchen. I did note my boy was trying hard not to smile. Our usual pile of Cat, me, and Owl slept peacefully until morning. I was usually the last to get up because I didn’t have the burden of finding clean underthings, pulling on boots, or the ritual of letting Wren have the room to herself so she could change. I just kept sleeping until it was time not to sleep anymore.

Cat prodded me with his walking stick, "Up, up, up, Fuzzy-slug-cat! We eat, and then we get our flying carpet lesson." I really don't know why it worked, but I was on my feet and instantly out the door. I could hear Cat and Owl laughing behind me.

It was a bright sunny morning. I chased a squirrel up a tree, but it escaped me. I jumped between several trees and managed to get a drop on Owl. Then there was a pile of raw beef flank and skirt meat for breakfast. Beef! Not mutton! My day was going great right up to the point where I curled up in a patch of sunshine on a window bench. I felt two people sit down on either end of me.

I opened my eyes when someone started scratching between my ears. It was Wren, who was standing and leaning over me. Owl was sitting next to my head. Blue Fox was sitting by my feet.

"Hey, Fuzzy," Wren pointed at the leather riding pad, "I want to get that off you to clean it before we get on the flying carpets. It's kinda scuzzy. Can you stand up, please?"

Something seemed a little off, but I couldn't put my paw on it. I stood up and let Wren take the pad off.

*Please take my glasses and my hunting guild papers out of the pockets before you get things wet?*

"Of course," she did up the hanging straps before tucking the pad under her arm. "I wonder if Sergeant Albert is back with the saddle soap yet?" She looked over to the door of the meeting hall. I followed her eyes and was surprised to see a double line of hobgoblins in full armor form a double-high barrier with their big rectangular scutum shields to block the way out of the hall.

My puzzlement lasted only half a breath. Owl's long arms wrapped around me from behind as he picked me up off the floor. Fox then wrapped his arms around my lower abdomen above my hips but below my rib cage so I couldn't push him away with my hind legs, the most powerful part of any cougar. The boys had rendered me helpless because they knew I wouldn't claw or bite them. So far, there was no reason to panic. We always roughhoused, though doing it inside was a bit odd.

Then I saw the worst possible thing in life — worse than even eating plant matter. It was one of the portable tubs, and it was filled with water. I could see soap bubbles! Now I understood why there was a hobgoblin shield wall blocking the exit.

This was war. This was a betrayal of the worst kind. I was a fastidious cougar, and I was vigilant about my grooming. I did not need a bath.

*Μει εασιλλι jο φυοττεν φαν λεαδ jααν!* I cast lead feet on Owl and Fox. Then I whipped my long thick tail so it struck poor Blue Fox between the legs. He dropped me as he crumpled and wailed from the pain. That put my feet on the floor. Owl groaned because he knew this move of mine. I had cast lead feet on him, and he couldn't counter me.

"Fuzzy, I hope the water is good and cold when they finally get you in that bath," Owl said quietly but with passion. I pushed backward with my feet, able to use all the muscle in my hindquarters, and over we went. Owl flung me away from him so he didn't have my weight falling on him as he fell onto his back. I'm confident I outweighed him, and he's a big elf. I rolled onto my feet and dodged an attempted tackle by Storm Eagle, only to be side-swiped by Cloud Eye. He had me on my side with him on top, but he couldn't stop me from rolling onto my paws.

"Oh no! Help! I need a hand! Anyone?"

Willam came from the other side and tried to pick me up with Cloud Eye. The problem here was that Willam was all enthusiasm but not enough substance. He was a tall boy, but he was still a boy. He didn't have adult muscles yet. The solution to two-footeds with insufficient weight was sprinting. After ten or so yards, Willam and Cloud Eye couldn't keep their grip on me and dropped off. I started looking for a way out of the building. The way into the kitchen was barricaded with more hobgoblin shields. There were two more shield walls at the far end of the hall on either side of the stage, where steps went up into the wings. There were probably doors back there, too, now blocked.

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I saw Father Garshom undoing the lead feet spell and then tending to poor Blue Fox, still curled up and miserable. Storm Eagle, Duke Sven, Willam, and Cloud Eye were circling. My boy was watching all of this with interest while sitting on one of the table benches with the Sahkuhl, the Sahkeena, Queen Margo, First Minister Magrat, and one of the Zimlakan mages.

The Zimlakan mage nodded to Cat, and Cat nodded back. Then Cat looked at me and beamed. He pointed and said: "Οπ!"

This was bad: there was no counter I could think of as I floated up off the ground.

"Not bad," the Zimlakan mage told Cat. "Now, try the direction magic."

Cat stood up, balanced on his walking stick, and walked just out of reach of my paws. Yes, of course, I tried to reach.

"Φοαρúτ," Cat commanded. He walked with me as I floated butt first, facing him as he magicked the direction I traveled through the air. "Λινξ," he directed a turn, concentrating. "Οφâλδε," he stopped my motion several feet above the tub of soapy water. Owl and Wren came running up with a chest and throat restraint, the kind they used for mastiffs. They buckled it on me and ran the leash straps through d-rings on the side of the tub. It was over. There was no escaping.

"And now the final spell," the Zimlaken mage instructed, "is the most difficult. She will have her fall broken by the water in the tub if you miscast the strength of the spell, so do not worry if you use too much or too little magic."

"Ομλεεχ," Cat commanded, and I floated gently into the warm soapy water.

*Traitor!* I glowered at Cat with malice in my heart.

"I hope you were paying attention, Lady Fuzzy," the Zimlakan mage addressed me respectfully, "because these are the basic commands you must master to use the flying carpet."

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Storm Eagle, King of the Green Elves, arranged a trade deal with the Sahkuhl of Zimlakuliku for commodities the elves did not produce for themselves, like cotton, silk, certain resins and gums used in medicine and commerce, and spices like galangal, pepper berries, and cassia. The elves would provide fresh truum in season, dried truum in the off-season, purple and golden chanterelles, maple sugar, maple syrup, acerum, and longbow staves.

Included in the haggling was one flying carpet for Cat Rider, lessons in how to use a flying carpet for me, Cat, and Father Garshom, and lessons on how to weave flying carpets for Deer Foot. As he coached us, we took turns flying the carpet with Rumpal, the Sahkuhl's personal mage. Flying was fun, and I got to do the landing with the other three carpets on the Goblin Queen's palace lawn.

Flying in from Whiffleblatt took only an hour. I was amazed by how fast the carpets flew. The disadvantage of the carpets was the need for the strongest mages. Someone like Cloud Eye, who was what the elves called a domestic mage, didn’t have the power to manage a flying carpet. Cloud Eye’s magic was good for providing spells to drive away wolves, keep birds from farm fields, and discourage rodents from getting into grain storage. He could also mend straps, remove cracks in metal, keep bread from molding, milk from turning, butter from going rancid, heal everyday cuts and bruises, and cure common colds.

A step up from a domestic mage was a battle mage who could throw a fireball, create a small storm, break a gate open, heal deep wounds, and cure wound infections. Flying carpets were for the very best mages who could make magic tools like Father Garshom or Deer Foot, who could heal diseases like palsy, cancer, and lame joints like Cat Rider and Sleeping Willow.

Since I could fly a carpet, I probably should include myself with the best mages, though I don't think of myself as a mage like Cat, who is an incredible talent. The ability to do magic runs in the Nordvek royal family and shows up every two to four generations apart. Cat wouldn't be the first Mage King if he took the throne, but he would be the first since his great-great-grandfather. The occasional mage in the family is why King Stephano had all his children tested for magic talent at birth. Thinking on that topic reminded me to ask Uncle Sven about that mage prophesy regarding Prince Andray. I needed to do that soon.

We brought Uncle Sven and Willam with us to Queen Margo's palace but dressed them up as Zimlakans so they wouldn't be recognizable from a distance. This was to keep them from being spotted by whatever agents the Regent or Magus Keleher might have in Kizdangengar. They were hustled inside the palace as soon as we put the carpets down on the ground. They would stay inside the palace and out of sight from all but goblin, elven, and Zimlaken eyes until we left in a few days for Nordvek. My boy stayed in the palace with his brother and uncle.

A steady stream of goblin tailors, cobblers, hat makers, and leather crafters soon visited the palace to clothe our rebellion plotters, namely Sven, Willam, my boy, and Father Garshom. I should include myself, but the Queen and the Sahkeena decided to take me shopping in the souk instead.

Margo is shorter and smaller than her sister, and Sahkeena Aisha is not a very big human, shorter than even Cat. I should have expected this outcome: the Queen and human Princess both piled on my back and rode me down to the shop that does the tack and reins for the Queen's carriage that she rides around the city. In fact, the Queen's carriage was already waiting at the shop, which suggested to me that a little green person of my acquaintance had indulged in advanced planning.

It was then that Blue Fox attempted his revenge for my wounding of his masculine pride at the time of my soapy water torture. He wandered into the shop as the Queen was having me measured for new riding pads and barding. The Queen ordered two pads with deep green barding in silk velvet, made with goblin magic to repel water. She ordered a third pad in green leather in the same design as the pad Cloud Eye made at the beginning of our adventuring. I don’t think I was meant to overhear Margo asking for a decorative edge trim of stamped and gilded cougar heads.

Aisha walked up to me while I looked around the shop after being freed from being measured. "Hey, Fuzzy, I heard that felines like the smell of this tea powder." She already had the top off of the tea tin, and I could smell, could smell, smelllllllllllllllllllll……

I had to have the tea tin, must have tin, give me the tin. I will lick you, Aisha, until you give me tin, so good, so goodddpprreeeuuuuuuurrpuuuuuurrrrrrrrr puuurrrrrrrrrr purrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr...

I have the strange recollection of looking at the world upside-down as Owl and Storm Eagle carried me into the palace and up to Cat's room. They put me on the bed, where I was unable to do anything but lie there and purr. Cat sat with me and talked to me softly with my head in his lap. I fell asleep like that.

"Fuzzy," Aisha shook me. "Fuzzy, wake up."

My head was still in Cat’s lap though he was reading a book while waiting for me to recover. I opened my eyes to see Aisha pull up a chair and sit down facing me.

"Hey, Fuzzy," she said in her exotic-sounding accent, "I didn’t know how you reacted to silvervine powder. If I had known, I would have turned down Blue Fox when he suggested it."

*Please tell me you didn't say silvervine powder. I want to hear that I just misheard you.*

"My apologies, Lady Fuzzy, but I can’t tell you that you misheard me." She smiled sympathetically.

*I hope no one got hurt?*

"Well," she smiled mischievously, which concerned me, "I don't think having you knock me down on my bum and then wash my face will have any lasting effect. Blue Fox panicked and took the tin of silvervine powder from me. You chased him down one lane of the souk and back up the next. You managed to bring down your prey, which unfortunately broke his arm. It didn't help that you sat on him, rubbing all over him because he spilled the powder all over himself. Then you licked up all the excess powder on his tunic. Father Garshom lured you off Blue Fox by making a bright dot of light on the ground. He had you chasing it in circles until you fell down exhausted, but you never stopped purring."

*Is Blue Fox alright? Was he hurt badly?* I was upset that I had been drugged. I was also concerned for Blue Fox. A two hundred-plus pound cougar on a drug trip can be very dangerous, and Blue Fox wasn't used to roughhousing with me like Cloud Eye and Owl.

"Your Father Garshom is healing his arm now," Aisha grinned with evil glee. "I think the worst hurt was from his injured pride after his father, the Elf King, had some words to share about why it is a rule in Elvenhome that no one ever gives you anything like cat grass or silvervine or Oster honeysuckle."

She reached over and got the sweet spot under my chin, "I found it a most informative evening adventure. Other than the humor value and the relief that no one was badly hurt, the most interesting thing was how all the goblins near the saddle shop ran and got between you and the Goblin Queen. I was shocked when she took me shopping without guards or retainers, but now I understand why. Her people will protect her with their own bodies without thought for themselves. King Storm Eagle was trying to impress upon me how different goblins are from we humans and elves. I think now I have a much better understanding of what he was trying to tell me. Goblins are rather amazing."

I like Sahkeena Aisha. She's a smart girl.

Cat and Aisha went off to dinner together. I found out later that Storm Eagle and Blue Fox were missing from the dinner table. When we gathered for the trial of the Bishop and his henchmen in the morning, Blue Fox was present and looking deflated. I wandered up and put my head on his thigh, startled him.

*Between the ears is a good place to scratch.*

"I’m sorry, Fuzzy. I didn’t realize silvervine was dangerous for you. I wasn't in Elvenhome last year when someone slipped you some, and you destroyed the common room in Father's house. I just thought you would make a fool of yourself, and I would get a little revenge for your assault with your tail yesterday morning."

*I should have apologized afterward for that. I'm not rational when confronted with the soapy water torture. Seriously, felines and water don't mix. Baths bring out the absolute worst in me, especially since cougars do not need baths other than our own tongues.*

"Huh," he smiled thoughtfully, "maybe someone should drug you with silvervine next time you need a bath. You’d konk out and purr through the experience."

My heart dropped into my stomach when Wren's voice behind me said: "Blue Fox, that is one of the most intriguing things you've ever suggested."

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The ballistae troops under the command of Sergeant Albert had been sent on the slow road back to Kizdangengar. The schtick was that Sven and Willam were with the ballistae troops. The reality was that the Prince and Duke watched the trial of Bishop Geralt de Ramnerburg and his henchmen through spy holes in the ornamental molding between the wall and the ceiling of the courtroom at Queen Margo's palace. My boy and Father Garshom joined them since we didn't want to advertise their faces to the good Bishop of Tammerhof. As for me, I followed Wren into the courtroom. She wore that killer white deerskin houppelande again.

Queen Margo waited for the hobgoblin guard to bring the gagged and chained Bishop into the court. Only then did she invite us to sit with her at the two-tiered court bench. This meant that Fox, Wren, and I left our seats behind the rail for our new seats at the top tier on the bench. I'm sure it was all deliberately staged by the goblins for the benefit of the Bishop. The look on the man's face was exquisite when he realized the rulers of both the Green Elves and Zimlakuliku were watching the hearing, seated side-by-side with the Queen.

The hearing wasn't lengthy. The Queen had already posted multiple copies of the interrogations of the four henchmen throughout Gorgurak. Justicar Salsa read out the most damning of their statements to the court. Salsa added the transcript of the Bishop ordering Wren's murder.

"Ordering the murder of a foreign Princess and attempting to frame a high minister of Gogurak for that crime are grounds for war," Margo announced. "All humans who are not part of the Zimlakuliku delegation must leave our kingdom in the next ten days. The border between Gorgurak and Nordvek is now closed, effectively immediately.

"The Bishop's soldiers who did the footwork for the murder attempt will be executed by quartering immediately after this hearing. Following that, the Bishop of Tammerhof will be granted a partial commutation of his death penalty in consideration of his status as a priest. He will be stripped naked, and every part of him shaved. He will exit this nation by walking barefoot, wearing a yoke, and gag. Once he leaves Gorgurak, he may be killed on sight if he ever returns."

Since Bishop Geralt de Ramnerburg was both soft and round, walking to Nordvek would be torture. I doubted that he could walk more than a mile.

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Our departure for Nordvek was dependent on receiving court-worthy clothes. While I waited, I felt like I wanted out of the palaces and back into the forest. Since that wasn't possible, I settled for experimenting with Cat's scrying ball. The first thing I did was check on the King.

The King was suffering. He was going through the shakes. Griselda was overjoyed since none of them knew the medicine bottle was filled with apple juice. She thought he was approaching death. If the King died on his own, then she wouldn't need to murder him. Magus Keleher thought the same. I got lucky and found the Magus conferring with the King's sick room attendant. Following him, I could finally track the Magus back to his rooms. Now I knew where he slept.

I confirmed that Keleher also had one of the magic protection pendants. Removing him would require indirect magic or a physical attack. That was the bad part. The good part was Keleher's housekeeping. He was disorganized and careless. For example, a drawer in his desk was filled with the King's jewelry. Stealing the King's possessions was a hanging offense. In another drawer, I found letters between Keleher and Sigurd, King of Osterius, about progress in their plan to annex Nordvek. Just one surprise raid of his rooms would be good enough to turn Keleher into gallows fodder.

Keleher's pendant forced me to use indirect magic. He was a ladies' man, so I thought I would help him with that. I cast charms of anti-impotence on all his braies. I also enchanted his eating dagger to make any food it touched into an aphrodisiac. That would get the Magus off to a good start. He would soon be a very distracted mage.

Next was the creation of an illusion which I confined to the palace's ground floor so the maximum number of people could see it. It was timed to come out at midnight and last until just before dawn. The illusion had the head of the late Queen Eleanor on top of a shapeless body in a funeral shroud. While it was active every night, it would whisper: "Murder! Murder! Who will avenge my children?"

I built an auditory illusion of just footsteps running inside the palace, through hallways, and up and down stairs. I set this one to run between the dinner hour and midnight every day.

Last, and best, was another illusion. This one was not also auditory. It was the voice of a teenage girl reciting the love poem "To his coy mistress." I let this illusion wander anywhere on the palace grounds. I did not embed any timing into it. It would function round the clock.

It took two more days for the clothes to arrive. Father Garshom opted for some austere floor-length houppelandes and a matching chaperon hat. My boy's mid-calf houppelandes were deep blue, forest green, and pale yellow. He looked great in all three, though I could be biased. Sven and Willam used the court clothes they brought with them.

The accessories held us up by one extra day. The reworked chain of leaves featured a new pendant of a wyvern with an emerald as big as a thumb mounted on it; however, the new masks stole the show. There was a simple utilitarian mask that was gilded leather. Then there were three more masks, one matching each houppelande's color. These were on a brass base. The colored portions were enamel, and the decorative swirls and fimbriations were gold. The new masks covered just the scars on the left side of Cat's face. The masks had no laces. Cat kept them on through magic.

Just after lunch on the third day after the Bishop's sentencing, Cat, Sven, Willam, Garshom, and I left for Nordvek on Cat's flying carpet. I don't know what the Elf King had to barter away to obtain it, but the price had to be steep. His gift of the carpet to Cat showed how much he cared for his adopted son.