meeting Ilacordin

	The more of the huge building that Lumalia saw, the more impressed she became.  The part visible from the front was only half.  The back half was a huge, sprawling, mist-shrouded hot spring, and its capacity was vast.  Random wall segments blocked sight between parts of it, although there was a red-painted wooden catwalk overhead to circumvent that.  The sky was open above the water, providing a beautiful view of the skies.

	The only light sources were glittering blue lights on tiny stalks, like flowers made of stone, that glowed silently from above and beneath the surface of the water in random places.  There were thousands of them, lending the entire sprawling spring an eerie glow of blue, ranging from deep navy blue to robin’s egg blue.

	“This place is magnificent,” Lumalia said.  She didn’t know why her host was so quiet, but she kept her own voice low out of respect.

	“Yes it is,” the Eladrin said proudly.  “We worked for many years to craft it for the Mistress and her honored guests.”

	“I do feel honored to be one of them,” Lumalia said.  “However, I am at a loss.  What would be an appropriate gift for such a host?”

	“A good question.  I would recommend something personal, something small but carrying meaning.”

	Lumalia thought that over.  She had precious few possessions on her.  She doubted somebody who would build such a place would want her spare bootlaces or a pack of iron rations.

	Abruptly, the Eladrin stopped and turned.  “The Mistress awaits you, honored guest,” he said, and bowed.  He held his arms out to his right as he did, gesturing for her to go on alone.

	Lumalia bowed back.  “Thank you, sir.”  She walked down the indicated path, which was no different from any of the others that wended among the many pools of steaming water.

	The footpath was bare rock, coarse and easy to walk on when wet.  It took her among the pools for a minute or two before sharply turning behind a high wall segment.

	Lumalia turned the corner and stopped cold.  There, lounging on a steaming hot stone, being doted on by two satyrs with wet rags that rubbed down her flanks, was a forty foot long dragon, with bright blue scales, green wings tucked back, and strands of vivid green hair hanging from her chin and the back of her neck.  A thick spike of pale blue armor jutted up through the skin of her snout.

	A Moonstone Dragon.  Lumalia felt her surprise fade as she realized what she was seeing.

	“Ah… and there is my new guest,” the dragon said, raising its head from where it had been resting on the stone.  “Boys, collect her things and take them to a room in the tower.  Mistress Lumalia is an honored visitor.”

	“Yes, Mistress,” the young satyrs said.  They set down their rags and moved to collect Lumalia’s kitbag from her, which she proffered freely.  She didn’t quite understand the whole concept of fey hospitality yet, but she doubted she was in any danger.

	When the satyrs were gone, the dragon set her head down and closed her eyes.  “Now, then, messenger of Mystra.  Please, step behind the partition and collect your swimming accoutrements if you want them,” she said.  “Don’t step into the water so dressed, I ask you.”

	Lumalia glanced around and saw a basket with a simple set of bathing pants there behind a wall segment, with a matching top.  “Oh, certainly, thank you,” she said.  “Honestly, I would prefer to bathe in my skin, if you will permit me the indulgence.”

	“It is all the same to me,” Ilacorin said indifferently.  “Do as makes you comfortable.”

	Lumalia quickly disrobed and set her clothing aside.  She quickly splashed a bucket of water over herself behind the partition to get the sweat and dirt of the day off, then returned to the water and stepped in.

	It was deliciously warm and soothing.  “Oh, that is lovely,” Lumalia sighed.  She sank in up to her collarbone and settled back against the wall.  “Goodness, how comfortable.”

	“Good,” Ilacorin said.  She yawned, displaying fangs the size of baguettes.  “You are a rare guest indeed, but I do hope you don’t mind if I take some great pride in the experience my establishment offers.”

	She chuckled, and the sound vibrated Lumalia’s teeth.  “As I see it, I can either hoard valuables to myself like a common bandit, and make myself both the target of every robber for a thousand miles and paranoid about the same, or I can make even being allowed near my home an incomparable privilege.”

	“A wise choice,” Lumalia said.  She set her arms up on the edge of the water and relaxed.  Flattering a dragon was never the wrong decision.  “You reacted with immediate interest when you sensed me, did you not, my hostess?  What about me attracted your eye?”

	Ilacorin sat up and looked down at her guest from on high.  “Why, your mind, Lumalia,” she said.  “I can feel your psychic abilities, you see.”

	“Ah.  My telepathy?  Yes, all devas have that,” Lumalia admitted.

	“Well, you are here and they are not,” Ilacorin said.  “But you spoke of a journey to seek the old fogey of the grapes, hmmm?”

	“I did,” Lumalia confirmed.  One of the satyrs reappeared, dropped a key in the basket with the bathing clothes, collected Lumalia’s dirty clothing, and vanished without a word.

	“Do tell.”

	“I must find Sir Lacrima, for I am told that he can inform me of the identity of the holder of a pact made with a child I know as collateral,” Lumalia said.  Total honesty was clearly the best path here.  “It is dreadfully time-sensitive.  The child may have months to live.”

	“Dreadful,” Ilacorin sighed.  “But I assure you that Sir Lacrima is no bearer of any such a pact.  Ah, but he would… hmm.  He would know an Archfey or two who might,” she mused.  “As good a target as any.”