“Two what, Dalinar?” Wit said, eyes twinkling. “Eyes, hands, or spheres? I’d lend you one of the first, but—by definition—a man can only have one I, and if it is given away, who would be Wit then? I’d lend you one of the second, but I fear my simple hands have been digging in the muck far too often to suit one such as you. And if I gave you one of my spheres, what would I spend the remaining one on? I’m quite attached to both of my spheres, you see.” He hesitated. “Or, well, you can’t see. Would you like to?” He stood up off his chair and reached for his belt.
