A week later.
An enormous shadow loomed over Minas Tirith Harbor.
In the airspace around the harbor, the Great Skuas resting there circled the procession of carriages at a distance, their eyes full of curiosity, scrutiny, and even defiance. These fierce birds, recently tempered by war, seemed to wonder where these gleaming "pretty toys" that flew so slowly had come from.
Leading the procession were six snow-white Unicorns, wind magic flowing through their manes, slowly descending with a carriage suspended behind them. The carriage had no wheels. Levitation magic arrays covered its undercarriage, and its body had been carved from a single block of star-patterned wood. Silver light rippled like water across its deep blue-green surface in the sunlight.
Such was the pomp of the Elves.
Veylin stood on a broad platform specially cleared on Miport's second level, with Tristan and a group of City Hall officials behind him-the buildings on the first level, where City Hall stood, were packed too closely together to make room for such large magical vehicles to land.
The crystal carriage settled into place, hovering three feet above the ground.
Its door slid open silently. No one stepped out.
First came a fine spray. A cloud of lavender-scented purification mist gushed from the carriage, cleansing the air within two meters of it.
Then a foot in a white knee-high boot emerged, but remained suspended in midair, refusing to touch the ground.
Marquis Golden Ear sat at the edge of the carriage, wearing a veil embroidered with silver runes that left only his indifferent eyes exposed. He held his signature silk handkerchief over the veil, as though even this double filter could not keep out the air of a human city.
"This is Minas Tirith?"
The Marquis's voice sounded somewhat muffled through the veil.
He turned