The Columbia’s wide here near the mouth, at least a klick across, I’d guess. The Merlin’s hugging the northern shore-line, a hundred meters or so out over the water, and we’re steady at about two hundred and fifty meters. I look out the left side of the cockpit. Over there, a klick away, is Tir Tairngire. The terrain, which looks exactly like that on the north side of the river, is basically flatlands with grass and small trees, the whole area looking kind of wet and swampy. Somehow I’m disappointed—the mucho mysterioso "Land of Promise" should look different, maybe covered with faerie glamor out of kids’ stories or some such drek. From this distance, there’s nothing special at all.