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consideration. Thus, Balkan had not been away from Bastion in over two years. His duties fell to research and instruction. He was one of the principle teachers of the acolytes, the wizard-apprentices, and also spent a great deal of time delving into new areas of magic.
    Balkan took Darius deeper into his home and into the bedroom that he shared with Maggie. They crossed the room and Balkan paused before a door on the far wall to dig a heavy iron key from a pocket. He fitted it into a large lock that served primarily to keep Kaylie from satisfying any momentary curiosities she might develop.
    Balkan let the door remain ajar. Entering the room, he gave a practiced flick of his hand and several lamps sprang to life, bathing the small chamber in light.
    A pair of bookshelves had their place near the door, along with a finely carved and comfortable-looking chair for perusing the contents thereof. A desk occupied the wall opposite the reading chair, and the final wall was taken by a workshop table covered with woodworking tools and a few scraps of lumber. It was to this that Balkan went, waving at Darius to follow.
    “Take a look at this, my friend. What do you think?”
    It was a carving of a frog, akin in shape to one of the small creatures that might be found in the grass by the river near Bastion.  It was as large as the wizard’s open hand, far larger than what it – somewhat – resembled.
    It wasn’t particularly well-carved either, the eyes being ill-defined and the legs too thick. Darius stated as much, saying “I think you still need practice, Balkan. This is what I was to see?” he asked, genuinely confused.
    “Observe the circle upon its back, Darius. Press it firmly with your finger.”
    Darius did as much; his index finger feeling the shallow groove that defined the small circle as he pressed it into the misshapen oaken frog. He looked back up at Balkan, who gestured impatiently at the frog.
    “Watch, watch!”
    Darius returned his eyes to the carving. For a moment nothing happened, and then he was startled to see the thing shudder. At first he though Balkan was working magic on the carving, but there was no such activity from his friend. With wonder he gazed upon the frog as it shuddered twice, moving its legs a bit each time. Then with a jerk it leapt from the table, landed a few inches away, and was still once more.
    Darius’s mouth hung open in amazement. “Balkan! How did you do that?”
    “Impressive, isn’t it? Look closely, very closely, at the frog. What do you see?”
    Darius picked up the wooden object and peered at it intently. Myriad markings – most of them about the trunk of each leg – were sunk into the wood. He looked at the circle he had pressed to create the miraculous effect, and saw that the grooves were in fact more markings.
    “What are they?” Darius asked.
    Balkan turned and flipped up the lid on a finely wrought iron box. From within he lifted a scrap of white cloth.
    Darius lifted an eyebrow. The cloth was from the hem of an Angel’s robes, having a supple and unearthly quality that no material created by men could capture. Then his eyes widened in sudden realization. The runes about the hem were like the ones on the wooden frog.
    Darius took the cloth from Balkan. It was warm, despite having lain in an iron box in a dark room for some time. Looking at the runes, he could discern nothing from them. He had always taken them for granted.
    “Balkan, what…” Darius worked to form a proper question. Balkan merely stood there, enjoying his friend’s discombobulation. Finally, Darius managed to bring words forth.
    “Balkan, what is this new wonder you’ve worked? And where did this come from?” he said indicating the scrap of Angel-cloth.
    “To answer your last question first, it came from Gabriel’s robe. I had merely to ask, and he removed it. He didn’t even appear to be tearing the cloth. Incidentally, the next time I saw him his robes were whole again.”
    Balkan