"This is fine," said Prosper. He set the parchment on the desk and smoothed it out. He set the small case of paints next to it and flipped it open. A brush slid out of the side, and the paints themselves had an enchantment on them so that, even though they were watercolors, they stayed wet rather than going dry and crusty.

The speed at which Prosper put paint to paper had to be seen to be believed. Within a matter of minutes, a rather good representation of Tidewater was taking shape. Even before he named it, the water could almost be seen to dance.

"Tidewater," he pronounced to the paper, and put the paints away. He balanced Fish on his hip, pressed a palm to the portal, and vanished. In a matter of seconds, the portal had sealed behind him, leaving a dry painting in his wake.