Ben glanced over at him doubtfully, then looked down at the map. The whole of the valley was inscribed on the parchment, inked in various colors to designate forests, rivers, lakes, mountains, plains, valleys, deserts, towns, territories, and castle keeps, the names of all meticulously marked throughout. The colors were faded, the parchment worn. Ben squinted. His eyes came to rest after a moment on Sterling Silver and then on the dark and forbidding hollows he had seen earlier from the heights. The name of the hollows was smudged and illegible.
“There,” he indicated, inclining his head. “That hollows north of here. Show me that.”
“The Deep Fell.” Questor spoke softly. “Very well. Grip the railing tightly, High Lord. Take a deep breath. Concentrate on the map.”
Ben’s hands tightened. His eyes locked on the map and the hollows marked upon it. The mists that shrouded Sterling Silver swirled in murky trailers before him, and the darkness of coming night slipped across the land. Time froze. He glanced curiously at Questor.
“Concentrate on the map, High Lord.”
He looked back at the map, concentrating.
Then the whole of the castle fell away beneath him, stone block walls, towers, and battlements dissipating into empty air, the mists faded and the night sky shone clear and starlit all about him. He was flying through space with only the silver railing and lectern wrapped about him for support. His eyes widened in shock, and he stared downward. Below, the valley sped away in a void of shadows and moonlight.
“Questor!” he cried out in terror, arms stiffening to brace his fall.
The wizard was next to him. One hand slid across to squeeze his.
“Do not be frightened, High Lord,” he said. His voice was calm and reassuring, so normal in tone that they might still have been standing within the tower. “It is only the magic at work,” he continued. “You are in no danger while you hold fast to the railing.”
Ben was holding on so tightly that his knuckles had turned white. He was firmly anchored, he discovered. While there was the sensation of movement, he could neither feel nor hear the wind rush past and no air stirred the parchment map. He held his breath and watched the land sweep away hundreds of feet below, a panorama of shadowed forests, jutting mountains and shimmering lakes. Landover’s moons had all risen into view now, a gathering of colored spheres dotting the heavens — peach, burnt rose, jade, beryl, sea green, a sort of washed-out mauve, turquoise, and the largest of all, a brilliant white. It was the strangest display that Ben had ever witnessed, a kind of still life fourth-of-July.
He relaxed a bit now, beginning to feel more at ease with what was happening to him. He had ridden in a hot air balloon once. This flight had something of the feel of that.
They circled the valley’s mountains in a slow arc, crossing above the mists of the fairy world.
“There is where Landover’s magic is born, High Lord.” Questor spoke suddenly. “The fairy world is the source of her magic — a place of timelessness and infinite being, of everywhere and always. It borders on all worlds and has access to all. Corridors pass through it, linking the worlds without. Time passages, they are called — pathways that lead from one world to another. You took one of those pathways when you passed from your world into Landover.”
“Do you mean that the fairy world lies between my world and Landover?” Ben asked, realizing suddenly that he was shouting to be heard and that it was quite unnecessary.
Questor shook his head. “Not exactly. The fairy world is an ephemeral place of non-being, High Lord. It is and at the same time it isn’t, being both everywhere and nowhere all at once. It cannot be self-contained nor is it the final source of all things. Do you understand?”
Ben smiled. “Not a word.”
“Think of it in this way, then. It is closer to Landover than to any of the other worlds it touches upon. Landover is a sort of stepchild.”
An odd comparison, Ben thought and watched the mists slip away. Then they were descending, dropping swiftly toward the Deep Fell. The hollows lay directly below them, a tangled stretch of wilderness forest nestled close to the high mountains that formed the northwest comer of the valley’s perimeter, a dismal and forbidding wood that light could not seem to penetrate. Shadows lay over everything, and the mists of the fairy world that ringed the valley seemed to reach downward and drape across it like the comer of a blanket.