16
The thick, creamy paper shimmered, and lines etched in black ink began to appear, snaking across the pages. Torvaston’s map of the Vales of Wonder was first rendered, and then the ragged outlines of a mountain range. Helpful as Mauf’s recreation was, I still couldn’t see anything on it that would explain Wyr’s apparent interest.
But one thought did enter my head.
‘Mountains,’ I said, and pointed at the one before us (even if it was only a tall hill, in truth).
‘What?’ said Jay.
‘Griffins. Wherever we’ve seen griffins, we’ve seen high ground.’
‘We’ve only seen griffins twice.’
‘I know, but—’
‘Twice could be a coincidence. You need three for a pattern.’
‘Fine. I’ll bet you a stack of pancakes as tall as that hill that these Hyndorin Mountains are stuffed full of griffins.’
‘That
