"Where does this room exist?" I asked. Asterion had left me with a stranger, but I knew better than to think he would do so lightly. He trusted this King of Clouds, this gryphon. And while Laszlo watched me with a bright golden stare through a pair of spectacles I doubt he needed, it was the brush of curiosity rather than the glare of intent. "It's Hywel's dreaming." Which said nothing, really. I glanced at him, and his head tipped. "This is not just my home. Hywel sleeps below the castle. He dreams. Those dreams seep into the stone."
