Like a chipmunk from its hole, we popped out of the narrow mountain pass. I was watching though the carriage window as the dark cliff wall drew back like a curtain in a play, and there it was--finally--across a blessedly flat plain--the City of Spires.
Next to me, Mother sighed wearily. I heard the horses whinny and the Driver call back, "That's right, m'lads! Warm beds for us all this night!"
Mother said we lived here when I was a little girl, and the glorious sight brought back confused memories--swimming, dim and tangled, too far down for me to catch.
I needed to see more.