The city of Millpond, climbing towards the sky and draped in a thousand bridges and roads. Terraces and boulevards, canals and alleyways, locks and drives, streets and chases flowered like strange proliferations of architectural foliage. Roof-top gardens nestled amongst steep slate roofs and minarets hugged smoking chimneys amongst the gable-ends. Witch-turrets clung precariously to tenements as smogs entwined the city and lurked in the shadows, away from the sun. Pagodas vied for space with gargoyles and weathervanes spun above statues of bronze and marble and glass. Oak and beech and granite and brick and steel and tin. All these things and a million others collided and melded and stood apart in the city on the Legerdemain River. Vast, wooden, water filled caverns sat at the rivers edge, hidden under the skirts of Dame Millpond. Buttressed with a forest of pillars and lit with fire and magic, swarming with a host of barges and paddle ships and longboats and steamers. Jostling for space in the under docks…