Two days ago, a dwarf had marched into Ilisandoral's small bookstore and requested an expert in languages and lore. Why they didn't go to Candlekeep for a more active researcher and the fact that he'd have to close his shop made Ilisandoral very unreceptive and he'd almost chased them out, with a copy of [I]Emarshin's Primer for Shaping the Weave[/I] thrown at their head for good measure.

Cas, however, had grown more than a little bored being forced to sit and keep the store open. Ilisandoral might hate travel, but Cas found nothing more interesting than new people and new places. Of course, they hired him, grudgingly, but he'd refused to leave his dark carriage all journey. So it was Ardiane who sat on a horse, sidesaddle and cross-legged, playing a jaunty, simple traveler's tune on her flute as the wind blew her long, blonde hair back from her face.

[[3]]