Leaving Ilacorin

	When she was done, Lumalia sat in silence for a few long seconds.  When she was done, she turned to the dragon beside her and waited.  “And thus ended that chapter of my long, bloody life,” she said simply.  “From horrible loss was born delight.”

	Ilacorin nodded slowly.  “Then you have fulfilled my request to the letter.”  She turned to the spellbound fey.  “All right, you all have jobs to do, so get gone!” she said loudly.

	The dragon’s words broke the spell, and the crowd quickly broke up.  When the stragglers were gone, she stood.  Lumalia pushed back the entirely natural sense of discomfort that arose from being near something so big that could move so easily.  “Now then,” she said matter-of-factly.  “Thank you for your honesty.  Had you told me lies, I’d have eaten you on the spot.”

	“So I assumed,” Lumalia said.

	“Right.  Dragon, and all that,” Ilacorin said drily.  “Now, then… Sir Lacrima is a vintner, as you know.  What you may not know is that he is also a connoisseur of music, and the target of frequent attempts of assassination.  He has many rivals, many envious subordinates… and much time on his hands.”

	Lumalia stared.  “Assassinations?  Against an Archfey?  Is that even possible?”

	“It is generally fruitless, no,” Ilacorin admitted.  “That doesn’t keep them from trying.”  The great dragon shook her mane and stepped forward into the pool, raising the water level considerably.  “Anyway, the fastest way to The Great Old Vinetum is an Ethereal Passage.  If you can’t do those, I know a shortcut that will allow you to fly there in under four days.  A direct flight from here will take many times that, thanks to the effects of the Forest of Towers.”

	“A shortcut?”

	“An underground tunnel that allows those within to escape the effect of the trees,” Ilacorin explained.  “The entrance is close.  It will take you nearly to Sir Lacrima’s walls.”

	Lumalia rose from the pool and flicked some water from her wings.  “Excellent.”

	“Do stay the night, wouldn’t you?” Ilacorin asked.  “It’s nearly two in the morning, and you are weary.”

	In truth, Lumalia felt fine, with her deva physiology providing her with the resilience she needed to endure a sleepless night, but she knew what hospitality meant in the Feywild.  “Very well, thank you,” she said.

	“Your key will let you in the women’s wing of the building,” Ilacorin said.  “Your possessions are inside.  I will speak to you again in the morning, Lumalia.  Rest well.”

	Lumalia bowed low.  “Thank you, Mistress Ilacorin.”

	The dragon bowed her own head back and spread her wings.  She rose from the water with a rush and flew up to the highest broad window of the main building.  Suddenly, their size made far more sense.


	Inside, Lumalia collected her freshly-cleaned clothing and shoes from an Eladrin attendant, who passed her a slip of paper.  The angel went to the corresponding room and slid into the bed there, and settled in to meditate.  She was already planning the next stage of her journey.

Chapter Eight: The Frog and the Snake
	When the sun rose, Lumalia was already dressed in her clothes, with her boots and socks tucked up under her arm.  Outside the front entry to the compound, Ilacorin awaited her.  “Ah, there you are, Lumalia,” she said.  “Would you join me for breakfast?”  Beside the dragon, sprawled out on a blanket on the lawn, were a handful of the fey Lumalia had seen the night before, and all were feasting on a great spread of grain bread, vegetables, soups, and a steaming hunk of pork that Lumalia assumed was for the dragon herself.

	“Certainly, my gracious hostess,” Lumalia said.  “But I fear I must depart adroitly after the fact.”

	“That is fine.  Do dig in,” the dragon said, and began gnawing on the pork.

	Lumalia sat amongst the fey beings and took a few pieces of food.  She looked around as she did to see if she was being unmannerly, but the other fey were mostly ignoring her, in favor of stuffing their faces.

	“Breakfast is the great equalizer, you see,” Ilacorin remarked.  “After the meal, it’s back to work, running my prestigious place of business.”

	“So, this is a resort for paying customers, as well as your home?” Lumalia asked, intrigued.

	“It is.  My life’s work.  Why hoard treasure when you could hoard people’s happiest memories?” Ilacorin asked smugly.

	Lumalia looked around.  The place was almost as grand in the daytime.  “It is beautiful,” she confirmed.  “I should like to return some day.”

	“You would be most welcome,” Ilacorin assured her.

	“Thank you.”  Lumalia ate contentedly for a few moments, watching the innocent and spirited fey beings all around her finish their meal and set to play, or work, or whatever Ilacorin desired.  “It seems the people here are happy.”

	“I should hope so,” Ilacorin sniffed.

	The dragon finished the pork chunk and dug into another.  “And now, dear messenger, I shall tell you where to go.  Outside this compound, four minutes’ flight to the south, there is a fallen poplar tree.  It is artificial.  Underneath the tree’s false trunk is a hole.  Fly through it and the tunnel beyond, and you will emerge outside the Forest.  From there, chase the rising sun, and you will find yourself at Sir Lacrima’s vineyard in four days.”

	“I thank you, then, Mistress Ilacorin.”  Lumalia rose to her feet and brushed the crumbs of bread from her lap.  “And thank you for your hospitality.  I wish I could show you how you may have saved a life with your intervention here,” she said.

	“Then do return, and tell me that story in turn,” Ilacorin said.  “Farewell.”


	Lumalia found the entry to the tunnel at once, and found it dry and wide, dimly lit by glowing mushrooms on the ground.  She flew along its length, and in under an hour, she emerged into a brilliant morning once more.  She spiraled upwards to be free of the earth, then banked east.  She covered her eyes and stared, but there was nothing in sight but untamed wilderness.  The forest behind her was one thing, but this looked more hilly and dry than forested.  A few patches of spotty trees provided some shade, but most of the land looked like patches of bushes and grass.  There was no civilization in sight anywhere.

	“No time like the present,” Lumalia said to herself, and she took wing once more.