Book 2, Chapter 1: By fire, be purged!
The water rippled.
Fabrisse stared at the ripples for a second too long, just to be sure it was him who’d done it. The ashwood shaft of the Tideshift Conduit was a little too long for comfort, so that when he’d turned to check the surface of the small training bucket Lorvan had set out, he’d accidentally swung the staff around like a menacing weather vane.
The rest of him looked like a walking supply closet: padded mitts up to the wrist; the Concord of the Fifth Line snug around his right hand; three thumb-sized Traniv quartz clinking somewhere in the inner folds of his robe like badly hidden contraband. And, just behind him, Liene held the overflow—spare teacup, treatment balm, apology parchment—in a careful bundle like she was guarding unstable alchemy.
The Eidralith’s confirmation came a second too late.
| [Spell Cast: Ripplecall (Rank I)] |