"I've been a prick, I can admit that," she went on. "And I won't be any longer. But… there is still one thing." His hopes faltered. "What now?" Wren jabbed a finger painfully into his chest, emphasizing her words with it. "You matter. I don't. No, don't argue — I'm not trying to gain your pity. I'm just facing how things really are. You're a Fount, just as you said. You have that devil in your head and grasp sorcery as easily as walking or breathing. You might make a difference against Yuldor. But me? I can scrap, and caper, and read — but none of that matters out here in the East." She
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