"What do you think you're doing?!" Ithel sits up amid a tangle of canvas and broken boards, one hand to his head, the sweet scent of broken fruit rising around him. Dazed, he looks up to see an angry face and clenched fists. "Ah! I -" he starts, but doesn't get any further. "Playing around on the cliff?!" the man snaps, and the funny gap between charging at Ffion's foreign wizard and sitting up in a mess of collapsed fruit stall suddenly resolves. "No! I was pushed!" Ithel turns to point to the top of the small cliff. "It was him! He pushed me!" The man looks up, as do the others who have come to watch the fracas. Ithel looks himself, only to see that the clifftop path is empty. Of course it is. "Who, the invisible man?" the stallholder sounds scornful. "No! He was there!" But even as Ithel protests his innocence he can tell they aren't going to believe him. "He - it's magic! He used magic! Honest..."