"I can make another one at Highpoint. Show it off to Saerith, maybe, if Saerith is interested."

"Possibly. Saerith might also have other ideas for what you should make instead, though will doubtlessly appreciate accurate geographic knowledge."

"I guess we'll see."

"That we will."

The provinces of Heron River, Jeweled Sea, and Rainmere are just barely visible in the distance, vast shadows hanging in the air over a faint smudge of a mountain. Riale aims for the mountain.

Kastimund looks impassively at the provinces, then glances at Ranelin.

"I don't believe maps do a world much justice," he says, "so you have a better idea of the world than I, firefly. Tell me, what's this world like?"

"Oh, um. Well I think Riale will know better than I..."

Kastimund rolls his eyes. Subtlety, thy slayer is Ranelin.

"I believe Riale is quite indisposed with navigation...?"

"And I might have better knowledge of the subject, but you have better knowledge of the audience," says Riale.

"That makes sense," she agrees. "Correct me if I get anything wrong?"

"Of course."

She does not get anything wrong. She remembers names of continents and defining features and cities, and certainly seems to enjoy relating them to Kastimund.

Kastimund asks leading questions and pays attention to the conversation. He's not the worst conversationalist, when he's actually trying.

Really, he doesn't actually care about the subject matter, but Ranelin cares, and talking about this clearly makes her happy. So he'll play along and gently lure her into talking about things she loves. He doesn't have anything better to do.

Riale is so occupied with navigation. Look how occupied he is.

Well then, someone with a lot of practice at this sort of thing might even be able to keep Ranelin talking for most of the way there. Luckily - or perhaps, more accurately, unluckily - Kastimund has had an uncountable number of years to sharpen this particular skill. He can keep Ranelin talking about things she loves until the faces of the world dissolve, as long as she enjoys the exercise. And clearly, she does.

He breaks out the paper and pen again soon enough, writing absently as he prompts Ranelin to speak.

And Riale seems content to leave them both to it. He flies the swoop and fills the book and eats food at appropriate intervals. The sun climbs the sky, and Heron River province resolves from a vague shadow to a looming mass, with the sparkling cloud of Misty Falls spilling from the northeastern edge.

When they go under the edge of Heron River, just before lunchtime, it gets darker. The patchwork of farms underneath them gives way to untidy fields of wild grass. They spend a few hours in the shadow of the continent; another swoop passes them going the other way, but they don't come close enough to exchange greetings. Ahead, the mountain of Highpoint becomes gradually clearer. The continent above them blocks their view of the peak, and its shadow falls across the foothills, but the parts in between look lively; someone has taken care to carve out safe roads, and lines of carriages trundle up and down the mountainside in the afternoon sun.

As afternoon starts to fade into evening, they finally emerge into the open space framed by the Highpoint Provinces.

Above and just behind them, the edge of Heron River province sweeps out to either side, a vast crooked cliff hanging in the air; higher up and a little to their left, the river itself pours out of the Jeweled Sea and down onto its very own province in a huge sparkling waterfall, a shimmering green curtain wreathed in white mist, exactly at the point where the edges of the two continents come together so that Jeweled Sea above overlaps with Heron River below. From there, the edge of Jeweled Sea curves back and away; you could almost imagine that the two continents are the arms of a giant, reaching out around the mountain below with their elbows politely pulled back to give poor Highpoint some breathing room.

If ever a mountain needed breathing room, it's Highpoint. Tall and broad, it rises from the mainland like a storybook tower, with its roots in the shadowed hills and its peak gleaming in the sun almost level with the upper edge of Jeweled Sea. It wears its city like a cloak, a patchwork of buildings draped over its stony shoulders and covering it almost all the way to the ground, stitched together with smooth well-maintained roads, buttoned with warehouses and landing pads. Airborne vehicles dart and swirl around it, flying to and from the three provinces above; now and then, a sleek quick-moving swoop or a slow broad soar flies off on a more horizontal heading, bound for a destination on the mainland. The half-organized chaos has a kind of beauty to it.

"So," says Riale, beginning to slow their flight. "Where should we start looking for Saerith?"

"It's hard to really say," says Kastimund. "There could be a number of potential places."

"It varies, depending on how the city..." she waves a hand expressively, trying to choose the correct word. "Flows. How the people in it move and live their lives."

"Saerith will be somewhere where one can watch its heart best, separate from it, but not by very much."

"And probably somewhere very high up, even by the standards of the city."

"Likely a bit dramatic, as well."

Ranelin tilts her head thoughtfully, ear turned towards Kastimund.

"... You have an idea of where to look!" accuses Ranelin.

Kastimund smiles. "Perhaps. We'll see." He points at one of the upper docks, currently empty of anyone. "Riale, how much traffic does that get throughout the day, do you think?"

"I don't know Highpoint well enough to be sure, but it looks pretty well used from here..."

He considers, then shrugs. "It's a place to check, certainly."