Once we were through the west gate into Hoheit, Father Garshom kept the carpet at a uniform one yard off the ground. Strange as it may seem, this is harder to do than level flight at speed. We proceeded at about the trotting pace of a carriage horse. A lot of carts and single horse riders moved out of our way when they saw what we were riding on. Several of them started following us just to see what would happen next.

Hoheit was an old city and it lacked the stepped-level arrangement of Kizdangengar. There were no levels. There was just a hodge-podge of streets at strange angles. The ones that Garshom picked consistently moved us uphill toward the Hof. We left the bustle of the warehouses and wholesale supply businesses at lower levels and moved into craft shops and retail stores of increasing quality as we climbed upward.

About two-thirds of the way to the Hof, as the shops came to pass for posh and verging on snotty, people began to recognize Sven. Word began to travel ahead of us that the Duke de Vorvall had an amazing flying carpet, right out of the legends of the far eastern kingdoms where people never wore shoes inside, breathed smoke through a tube, and drank mint tea spiced with vinegar out of glasses instead of cups.

Uncle Sven took to public attention like a black-and-white bear to bamboo. He loved every minute of it, especially all the fine young ladies who knew he was still single after Duchess Arlaine passed away. He soon had Willam and my boy on their feet throwing largesse to the people lining the street as we passed. The largesse was individually wrapped maple sugar candies that Storm Eagle had made up to tempt the Sahkuhl. Sven convinced the Elf King to sell him some. We had two chests full, just for opportunities like this. The three of them were having a grand time. I ended up sitting next to Father Garshom to escape all the exuberance.

I must have nodded off because the next thing I knew was Garshom giving me a little shake, "wake up, my lady. We've got company."

I opened my eyes to see a wall of light cavalry in shining cuirasses blocking the end of the street we were on. In front of them was a tall muscular man with white hair and a lined face from many seasons of campaigning. He had a trim ring beard and wore his hair in an old-style bowl cut under an embroidered coif. He sported a tawny velvet brigantine and half-plate legs. There was even an old-fashioned bascinet on a helm hook on the back of his saddle. His unsheathed broadsword was resting on his right shoulder.

Sven spotted the old man, "Uncle! Hail and well met!" Sven spread his arms wide, "you need to get one of these, Uncle Valgard!"

Duke Valgard said nothing as he studied the passengers on the carpet. All I got from him was a raised eyebrow. His eyes stopped at Garshom. The duke's eyes widened for just a second before he pointed his sword tip at the old priest, "you! Where have you been? I thought you were dead."

"Well, I didn't mean to get your hopes up, your grace," Garshom repressed a smile.

"Humph," was all the old duke said in reply. Then his eyes landed on my boy who had sat back down on the carpet next to Willam.

He pointed his broadsword at my boy in earnest. Without realizing it, I advanced to the edge of the carpet while growling, meaning to get between the sword and my boy.

Garshom caught hold of my tail, "down, girl. It will be fine."

"How did the two of you get fooled by this imposter?" the old duke demanded of Sven and Garshom. "He's got two eyes!"

Sven looked skyward and shook his head. Garshom's forehead met his palm. Willam was grinning and whispered to Andray: "Do the eyes! Do the eyes!"

My boy let out a good-natured laugh, "so that's the problem! Willam, would you please hold these?" Andray took off his chaperon hat and his half mask and passed it to his brother. He fumbled in the case on his belt with his right hand.

"It's a fake, Uncle Valgard," Andray said in a reasonable voice with a smile. He put his finger and thumb on either side of the left eye socket and popped the eye out. He held it up for the duke's inspection, "see?"

Duke Valgard was horrified and looked ready to empty the contents of this stomach the wrong way. "Your...your...your! That's...I mean...where did the eye...eye..."

Andray leaned down and popped another eyeball in, "how's this eye, Uncle? I find it's really good for scaring room maids." The flaming eyeball had taken the place of the normal-looking green eye.

"Gaaah!" Duke Valgard backed up his horse.

"It's especially effective with young girls," Andray wore a happy carefree smile. "Now, I do like this one because it's so mysterious," he swapped the flame for the stars. "Don't you agree, uncle?"

By now the sword tip was pointed at the ground and Duke Valgard's jaw was hanging open.

"Not all of my eyeballs are for gags," Andray made another switch. "This one is practical since it's a lantern and it frees up both my hands. Clever, yes?" Andray's smile was just a little too innocent.

The duke regained his composure, "put the lantern away, nephew, and put the regular one back in or your Great Aunt Dora will die of fright. And since when did you start talking like one of those hole-dwelling elves?"

"Willam? Mask?" Andray sorted out his eyeballs, put the mask back on, and put the chaperon back on his head. He tucked the end of the drape on the chaperon back into the headstall on top, "do you see the collar of estate I am wearing, Uncle Valgard?"

"That's a chain of leaves, but only the Elf King's family can wear one of those," the old duke frowned. "What nonsense is this?"

"Storm Eagle took me in and made me his foster son. He gave me this chain. I talk like an elf because I've been living with my elvish family now for almost four years."

"I see we have some catching up to do?" The old man sheathed his sword, "Gilbert!"

"Here, Your Grace," a cavalry soldier rode up to the duke.

"Please warn my duchess that we four guests for dinner, make it with just the family, and we will need just as many rooms." He glanced back at my boy, "what should we do with your pet? I don't know if we can leave him inside unattended, and your Great Aunt Dora would have all of our heads if you brought him to the dining room."

"Ow!" Garshom flinched, "bad choice of words there, Your Grace."

"Please," Sven gave me a look, "don't get blood on the new carpet."

"What?" Duke Valgard was confused.

"Fuzzy usually sleeps on my bed," Andray shook his head, "and she's a girl and not a pet. If you could, please set up a bench or a high couch where she can see everyone at the table at dinner. She doesn't eat human food, and she is too polite to eat what she prefers when sitting with us, but she gets grumpy if she's not included in polite dinner table conversation."

"Very grumpy," Father Garshom nodded with emphasis. "If she isn't offered something appropriate to sit on, she may sit on the table in protest. I've seen her do it."

"You want me to sit your pet cougar at my dinner table?" Valgard looked and sounded outraged.

* Enough! I am nobody's pet! * I even hissed a little. * εασιλι, μει ἰν λτσε βλιζζαρδ σνιε ὀπ ἁρ ὁλλε! *

I sat up on my haunches, feeling pleased with myself as the miniature storm cloud gathered and snowflakes started to fall on Duke Valgard's head.

He gave me a disbelieving look and then looked up at the tiny storm over his head.

"My lady," Garshom leaned toward me and scratched my chin lightly, "the duke is colorblind. He's never been able to see blues and greens. He has no way of knowing just by looking that you're a spirit beast. He's an old friend of mine. Don't give him too hard of a time, please."

"That's a spirit beast?" Valgard was aghast. "Why didn't anybody tell me?"

* Alright, Father, * I conceded, * I will undo the spell. *

"No!" Duke Valgard held up a hand to stop me, "not yet. I want to show this to my duchess. She'll want to see it. This is wonderfully inventive magic!"

"Merciful Matadee!" Garshom dropped his forehead into his hand and shook his head, "you haven't changed one bit, have you?"