Kutur looked at the page where Kali left her mark. The symbols were . . . different, to say the least. There was no wrong way to illuminate a text, but the way her patterns arranged themselves was vastly different from those of him and his fellow magisters. Usually, the Red Discipline students had much the same signature about them, allowing them to weave and intermingle with each other, stretching down page after page. Kutur, in fact, was often seen as the odd one out, simply because his scale patterns reflected the small links of kobold scales, rather than the large layering scales of dragons.

Kali was something else entirely. It was simplistic in its style, nothing like the complex whorls Kutur's master taught him to do. It was just her, and her opinion, on the page. "Yeah . . . I think that'd about do it," he said. "Maybe we should wait till after lunch. I'd rather not attract stares." A few curious kobolds were looking their way already.