"Magic has the habit of existing in each world even if creators attempt to avoid it, but 'reliable' is not a word I would use to typically describe it. Very lucky, indeed."

"I just keep hearing new reasons to be impressed with my latest predecessor."

"He put everything he had into this world. I would hope that it could at the very least be described as 'impressive,' else the sacrifice seems rather senseless."

"What was his name?"

One bag packed, on to the second.

"Esere. The last name escapes me. Ranelin or Saerith might know, and if they don't, Ilifalyr's notes would certainly have it."

"Notes?"

"Once, Ilifalyr had a perfect memory. Now, she is lucky to remember any details of a conversation she had half an hour ago. There are few things we can do to compensate for what's been lost to the book, but still we try."

There's that iceberg hint of anger again.

He packs his second bag, quietly.

Kastim floats, silently watching. Ah, how the humans act so appalled at the spirit's situation, and what little good it's done any of them.

By the time he finishes bag number two, the anger has subsided, leaving no trace of its passage.

"Can you carry one of these, and would you mind doing so?" he asks, indicating the two bags.

"I can, and I don't care. Though you might, it will be visible for a little while after I sling it over my shoulder, floating in the air."

"I don't care if people see me being followed by a floating bag. I'm sure they'll have more important things to worry about."

With transportation secured, he packs a third, smaller bag, picks up that and the first, gestures to the second, and heads back out into the hall.

Around the first corner in the direction of Vira's rooms, they encounter a middle-aged woman in a plain blue dress. "Lord Kazegann," she says, eyeing the floating bag, "Viralenn wants to know if you need anything immediately."

"The Emperor's swoop, provisioned for a year's journey around the continent, soonest. And an imperial seal."

"... I'll tell her," says the woman.

"Thanks."

The woman looks at the floating bag again, declines to comment, and strides off. Riale takes a different turn and heads through new sections of the palace, filling the book as he goes.

Kastimund smiles brilliantly at the woman as she stares at the floating bag. "Please," he says, pointlessly. "My eyes are up here."

He follows Riale out. "Is there anything fragile in this bag?"

"I would appreciate if you didn't abuse it too badly, but it's mostly clothes, it won't suffer much."

"Excellent, thank you."

He then proceeds to dangle the bag alarmingly in front of guards they pass, watching their reactions.

The guards, every one of them: look at the bag, and look at Riale leading it through the palace, and shrug or shake their heads or glare at him.

Riale finds this highly entertaining.

Kastimund finds this almost amusing, which really makes it worth the effort. He decides to experiment with the bounds of their exasperation, taking the bag in neat circles around one guard, lifting it up and down in front of another, dangling it invitingly in front of one before dashing off. He can get creative. Why not? He wants to see just how much they will attribute this to Riale.

And all of them get variously exasperated with Riale and don't otherwise react.

They proceed through a courtyard. Riale pauses to put a huge and beautiful oak tree in the book. After a few more corridors, they go up some stairs and emerge onto a low roof, where half a dozen people are bustling around loading supplies onto something like a sleek elegant winged boat.

"Lord Kazegann!" says the first one to catch sight of them. "The swoop will be loaded in a few minutes—Simm, show him the inventory—"

A uniformed man holding a clipboard comes over to show it to Riale. Riale looks it over and nods encouragingly. Someone comes to take his bags; he hands them over, still reading the checklist. The same person comes back and reaches out uncertainly for Kastimund's floating bag.

Kastimund hands it over, of course. Why wouldn't he?

He was getting bored of the joke, anyway. There's only so much entertainment to be found in dangling a bag in front of people, especially if they all barely react.

"It's all right," says Riale without looking up from the checklist, and the person nods dubiously and carries the bag onto the swoop without further comment. "Yeah, this looks good, thanks."

"Should I ask why they all look to you when strange, inexplicable things occur?"

"Experience," murmurs Riale.

"What was that, Lord Kazegann?"

"Nothing." He surveys the loading of the swoop and nods consideringly. "Good work." The people doing the loading all brighten up immediately.

"Hm," says Kastimund. And that seems to be all he has to say on the subject.

Is there a good place from which to survey the surrounding area? Kastimund believes it time to look upon this latest world.

There is! This roof has a good view of part of the city, and if he ascends the wall behind Riale, he'll find another roof where the view is even better.

Meanwhile, Riale hands the checklist back to Simm, who verifies recently loaded items and then gets back to checking them off as they come in.

He looks out at the city that will be lost with everything else at the end of the year.

Esere did good work.

He retrieves the notes and pen and begins to write again, while they wait.

This will involve a floating stack of papers and a pen appearing out of nowhere, and then functioning on their own. On the roof, but still.