The wind was changing, blowing down from the valley. He expertly shifted his weight, pirouetting around, changing his tack.Further out were three sail...oats with furled sails. A powerboat zipped by, and they tossed in its wake. A pretty girl dived from the stern of one and swam to another.Beyond the lake were stone cliffs, towering, jutting up from the water, flat and sheer, as if the lake had been carved by a giant knife. I didn't rule that out completely. Giants had indeed once lived here.Our. She glanced at her notebook as if she needed to refresh her memory, and I think that is true, in so far as the thread of her memory is unraveling. ?Exactly, where am I?? She asked.?You are in The House of Singing Wind.? I replied, hinting in my voice that this was an illogical question. ?I mean, exactly where is the House of Singing Wind? Generally speaking, I don’t want to know the GPS coordinates or anything, just where I am.? Her confidence was returning, though not to full. More

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