This was not a good place to be.... After a moment, I realized we were caged, staring out through iron bars. Defion stood outside the cage, insect faced, no expression. Philip Prester stood beside him, but with his back to us, looking out over the plain. Windblown orange dust sandpapered my face. I felt a buzz inside my head, and knew the dust did that, as if it was electrically charged. After a few moments, I didn't notice it. "Where's this?" I said, mainly to hear my own voice, something familiar. Defion surprised me: he spoke. "Sinnabar," he said.