room… step outside onto the high terrace—small for a terrace; perhaps really a patio?—along the north face of the mountain’s peak, under a heavy brow of overhanging stone. Walk along the balustrade, look over the city and the surrounding plains… step back into the receiving room and pivot the door closed, run a finger along the seam between door and wall, watch the stone weld together; that’s how you lock a door, if the mountain likes you. Now, through the bedroom and into the bathroom.
A waterfall dominated the room. It was only about eight feet; it plunged into a pool the size of a hot tub in the stone floor. The overflow vanished through a hole in the side of the tub and ran below what was obviously the toilet. A small stream of water emerged from the wall inside the toilet and swirled around before joining the tub runoff and flowing away.
The water steamed slightly; somehow, the mountain heated it. Geothermal processes? No, magical processes. I think. I couldn’t quite recall. While asleep and dreaming a city, the mountain and I came up with something. All I knew for sure was that we’d taken care of it.
I stripped out of my outfit, ran a cleaning spell over all my stuff, and stepped down into the tub.
I still sink like a rock; the density of my flesh is much greater than that of a human being. I’m glad we included an underwater ledge for a seat in the tub. I missed having soap, but a good soak did me a world of good. Lounging in the churning water was surprisingly sybaritic. No towels, but drying off with magic is, while less satisfying, equally effective. Good enough. I headed outside.
The day was into the early afternoon as I took another walk on the top step, all the way around the courtyard wall. The scenery was pretty, but relatively boring. Rolling plains everywhere, sharp mountains to the west, canals running off toward the cardinal points, and a lot of dead dazhu going bad in the sunshine. I felt oddly sad about that last one, probably from a sense of the waste involved. That was meat enough to feed a thousand people, hides enough for blankets, cloaks, even tents…
I walked up one of the staircases along the inner wall of the courtyard and looked through the wilderness area above. The upper slopes of the mountain had been allowed to grow wild with trees, bushes, and vines. Several of the bushes looked as though they might have berries in their season, and many of the trees fruit or nuts. Nothing seemed ready this early in the year, though, so I just gathered up some more fallen wood to take back to the firepit. Something like a snake with batwings looked at me from one tree; I ignored it as long as it stayed where it was. It didn’t seem hostile, just wary.
Back in the great hall, I stacked wood by the firepit and I realized I probably needed to enchant some permanent or semi-permanent lighting spells for the place.
While I thought about different types of lighting spells, I went back out and stood on the steps of the outer courtyard wall, looking south, resting/leaning on the wall between two merlons. I couldn’t see Mochara as anything more than a dark blot to the south and there was no sign of Bronze, yet. I wondered if I might be able to see it more clearly at night. The world is supposed to be flat, after all, and my vampire eyes see as though darkness were a form of light. Then again, smoke, dust, fog, even mist from the ocean would obscure vision eventually…
As I stood there thinking, a power came over me. I felt the spell drive home like a bolt of lightning and just had time to realize what was happening. The world darkened and disappeared.
Fade to black.
Falling. Hot. Cold. Hotcoldhotcoldhotcold, merging rapidly into a generic warmth, like pulses of light so rapid they become a single, steady glow.
And not falling.
I was sitting in a comfortable chair. Before me was a circular Colosseum in miniature, no more than ten feet across. I looked down into it, saw smooth, black
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