Elaith no longer wondered why his moonblade had rejected him, those many years ago.
The elf handed Arilyn a tightly rolled scroll. 'This is a history of the Craulnober moonblade-its wielders, its magic. This is what Azariah must know. Teach her the necessary skills, make sure she understands the rules."
Elaith paused, and his amber eyes held the sadness that comes in wisdom's shadow. "Make sure she learns the rules," he repeated softly, "and then, above all, teach her to question them."
The Meaning Of Lore
Barb HendeeThe corridors of Twilight Hall dawned cold and quiet that morning Dealing with freezing temperatures, even in early fall, was a common annoyance that every citizen of Berdusk adjusted to quickly "Colder than a Berduskan attic in winter," was a phrase familiar throughout the Heartlands.
Chane Troiban drew his floor-length wool cloak a bit tighter around his neck, picked up a small canvas bag for his journey, and slipped out into the long stone hallway He hoped to reach the courtyard before anyone noticed him.
"Master Chane! Master Chane, please wait," an irritating voice called from nowhere.
Master Chane. How hollow those words sounded to his ears. To be such a talented priest of Oghma among a score of inferior loremasters was to be less than nothing To be a perfect rose obscured by a vast bundle of red carnations meant oblivion Clutching his bag, fingers twisting in a hidden expression of frustration, he turned and smiled.
"Yes, Triska, you needn't shout I am here "
Running toward him up the stone corridor, panting with lost breath, came Triska, the pudgy apprentice of Master Minstrelwish Roles of flesh jiggled beneath the young man's burlap robe, making him appear even more ridiculous than usual. "Please-" he paused and gasped for breath "-the others have been waiting. You must help screen two new applicants for the guard. Have you forgotten?"