THE WORD kept popping into Eliza’s mind, each time she caught sight of a new vista, a higher ridge, a more dramatic river valley. She’d heard that parts of the Spanish territory south of the Dominions were even more stunning, a desert land of fantasy colors and jaw-dropping canyon systems. But this . . . she’d read, seen some artwork, studied topographical maps galore, but she simply hadn’t grasped how big it all was until she saw it from the air. Even flying low, below the clouds and the risk of ear damage, she could see for miles when she topped the rises, and the mountains seemed to go on forever. As the plains dwindled behind her, the crests and snow-topped peaks grew higher. After the first few hours of being too in awe to notice much else besides the view, she realized she was growing quite cold. At the same time, the uncomfortable pressure in her eardrums grew to a stabbing pain, despite the special plugs Dexter had designed to help her adjust to the changes in altitude.
