‘When we reach the next town, might I sell my jewels to buy a sword?’ The sorcerer returned a look like blank glass, his cragged brow sprinkled with settled snow. ‘We’ll cross no more towns before arrival at Althain Tower.’ More forthright than his half-brother, Lysaer persevered. ‘Perhaps we could find a tavern keeper with a spare blade available for purchase then.’ Asandir’s vagueness crystallized to piercing irritation. ‘When you have need of a weapon, you shall be given one.’
Poor Lysaer
