1
‘So,’ said Jay. ‘Tell me again. What exactly are we doing here?’
Here was a breezy, grassy plain adorned by craggy chunks of rock nicely arranged in a ring. Two rings, actually, one inside the other; swaying gently in the centre of both was me.
‘Visiting my mother,’ I said, swallowing nausea. I thought I was getting used to flying down the Winds of the Ways, but today…
‘Ves,’ said Jay, wearily. ‘Visiting one’s mother consists of popping by for tea and scones on a Saturday afternoon, and having a cosy chat. It does not consist of flying off to the other side of the country at a moment’s notice, with nothing but a set of co-ordinates to inform us as to her precise location, and after six years of total silence on both sides.’
‘All right,’ I said, venturing a step or two beyond the con
