"How exactly do the patrons get up there? I do not see a staircase, and the local nobility strike me as entirely too lazy to levitate themselves."
I asked, analysing the sheer density of the levitation arrays radiating from the floating structure.
"They use the pressure movers, but we are not doing that. The elevators are heavily monitored, and I refuse to stand in a tube with a surface diplomat who smells like cheap floral perfume."
Krave pointed toward a series of hollow, cylindrical crystal tubes rising from the plaza floor.
"We are flying, then."
Luna stated from her perch on my shoulders. It was not a question. The silver wolf sounded immensely satisfied by the prospect.
"We are drifting."
Krave corrected, her dark eyes flashing with that familiar, manic thrill.
We drifted upward through the swirling fog, rising smoothly alongside the massive crystal elevator tubes, completely undetected by the wealthy patrons riding inside them.
