Fhena leaned back against Glim and exhaled deeply. “This is a nice place,” she said. “I like it.”
“So do I,” he said. “What I’ve seen of it.”
“What do you mean by that?”
“Only that I don’t know where we are. At first I imagined that we would be returned to Clavicus Vile’s realm, but although I’ve never been there, I don’t think this can be that place.”
“Of course not,” she said. “This is where the trees are from, not Umbriel.”
“But where is it?”
“Home,” she said softly.
“Well,” he said. “Now.”
“Always.”
He smiled, and surrendered for a moment to contentment-after all, it surrounded him. Everyone wasn’t content, of course. Down below, with the lords gone, the chefs and others who considered themselves elevated were doing their best to kill each other. But the skraws and fringe workers were free, and many of them had already left the city to find their livings in the lush world around them.
“What do you think that is?” he asked, pointing to a sort of spire near the horizon.
“I don’t know,” Fhena said. “A rock? An old building? What about it?”
“Tomorrow I think I’ll walk over and find out,” he said.
“Fine,” she replied. “But tomorrow.” And she nestled deeper in his arms, and they watched the wisperills dance.