Rod frowned, trying to remember. "I made them greedy, and wanting to have absolute control over their own small territories, but what else do they want? Can't they just whisk themselves anywhere, if they just want to snatch gold coins and gems and… and whatever?"

Taeauna smiled thinly. "Smallholdings no more. And each seeks to gather the most powerful spells and enchanted items from the ruined castles of long-fallen kings, and so rise to rule all Falconfar."

"And what's stopped them from doing that, besides each other?"

The Aumrarr shrugged. "Brave men with swords, doing what little they can. Most holds like Hollowtree are ruled by old wolves: hardened warriors who'd be happy to be rid of all magic, and all wizards. Oh, and there's one thing more. Fear of what the fourth and greatest Doom will do, if their deeds awaken him."

"I don't remember including any sleeping King Arthur under the hill in my Falconfar," Rod grunted. "So who's this fourth Doom?"

Taeauna gave him another crooked smile.

"You."

'So… are the three wizards watching us now?" Rod asked, much later, when sweat was streaming from him despite the increasingly chilly air, and they were high above the rolling greenery that held Hollowtree, somewhere back below them down there.

Taeauna had finally paused to rest and drink a single swallow of water. She stopped Rod from gulping more of his own with a firm hand, and went back to frowning up at the increasingly frequent flapping black birds. All of the same sort, they seemed to be converging from several directions, and all heading for somewhere not far ahead.

"Mayhap," she replied, "but I doubt it. Working magic's tiring-as tiring as running hard, or fighting, I'm told-so even powerful mages use their spells sparingly. I saw a lesser wizard once, sitting in a chair keeping two magics on his lord from the other end of a market: a disguise and a warding against knives and arrows. He was white and asweat and shaking with weariness."