A Wyvern's body is different from the body of a young girl's in several major respects. First, it has wings, which most young girls do not (there are exceptions). Second, it has a very long, thick tail, which some young girls may have, but those who find themselves so lucky keep them well hidden. Let us just say, there is a reason some ladies wore bustles in times gone by! Third, it weighs about as much as a tugboat carrying several horses and at least one boulder. There are girls who weigh that much, but as a rule, they are likely to be frost giants. Do not trouble such folk with asking after the time or why their shoes do not fit so well.

We seek out Quest-Dense Zones and hop in with both feet. We Experiment. We prove. Mersenne has gone off into the Jargoon Mountains to work on his thesis, investigating the spiritual connection between dragons and maidens. Candella last reported from the bottom of Blackdamp Lake, conducting experiments on free-range treasure. Red Newton wholly devoted himself to the study of magic apples, immortality causing and otherwise, and that means setting up a year-round camp in the Garden of Ascalaphus. . . . It is my dearest hope that one day I shall be the one to discover the GUT -- the Grand Unified Tale, the one which will bind together all our Theorems and Laws, leaving out not one Orphan Girl or Youngest Son or Cup of Life and Death. Not one Descent or Ascent, not one Riddle or Puzzle or Trick. One perfect golden map that can guide any soul to its desire and back again.

Avogadra grinned. "Whilst on an expedition to prove the Rule of Three, my honored colleague Black Fermat hypothesized that certain Quest Objects cast a field around them, like a magnet or a planet -- an Everyone Knows That Field. This is how they draw in unsuspecting Heroes. When an E.K.T. Field is in effect, everyone within its power will know a good deal about the Object, even if they can't say where they heard about it or why it's so deathly important to remember all that dusty old nonsense. They'll chat about it with any passing stranger like it's sizzling local gossip. 'Oh, the Troll-Goblet of Clinkstone Hall? A Forgetful Whale swallowed it, and took it to her pod so they could bring the Whale-Maiden Omoom back to life. Everyone knows that! -- the sword Excalibur? Nice lady down by the lake will let you see it for a dime, swing it for a dollar -- Everyone knows that!' Trust me, if you want to know the score, just find out What Everyone Knows, and you'll be on the scent.

A wyrmhole just goes from one place to another place. Dull as a street. A squidhole starts in one place -- like my shop here -- and goes five or ten other places, depending on how many field mice you happened to get.

For there are two kinds of forgiveness in the world: the one you practice because everything really is all right, and what went before is mended. The other kind of forgiveness you practice because someone needs desperately to be forgiven, or because you need just as badly to forgive them, for a heart can grab hold of old wounds and go sour as milk over them. You, being sharp and clever, will have noticed that I said "practice." Forgiveness always takes practice to get right, and September was very new at it.