My name is Glyndallagan, and this is my confession. I should begin at the beginning—as if there were such a thing. I came to the city as a mage of modest means. Nothing but holes in my pockets, and a rattling cart full of knickknacks. I suppose you could consider me a con-man. My game was simple: lure affluent, small-minded people to my cart and make a wager. "I bet you—" I said, "I bet you I can turn whatever you have in your pocket into an apple." Of course it wasn't always apples. It could be a thimble, or a button, or an old shoe. Inevitably, they would bite and take up the bet. I would cast a simple translocative spell, whisking their item into my cart, and replacing it with whatever garbage I had managed to gather up the day before. Such a transfer is child's-play when compared to an