The Sea of Storms was quieter in the summer. Tossing his reins to one of the soldiers, he disappeared inside. The murmur of conversation picked up once more, and the juggler spun his hoops again in a narrow loop that almost reached the worked plaster ceiling, a good four spans up. Think of the Horn.
We are not hunting the Horn, mistress. He cast a glance to either side of his fire. Lamps and beeswax candles around the room gave a good light; Mistress Tiedra charged heavily, but she did not stint. Emptiness except for saidin.
Join the newsletter to receive news, updates, new products and freebies in your inbox.