3
Alluvendran looked at the sheets of parchment covered in ancient tongue with several rough sketches nowhere near the detail of a blueprint, and then at the small device that emanated magic even he sensed. An empty laughter grew in his lungs, but tight lips kept the mockery at bay. The cellar given to him as a workshop reminded him much of his previous prison, with its dark corners and bare stone walls. He might have been released, but he was far from free. At least his new lodgings provided a lot of space, and he could think of many uses for the equipment collected within its walls. Wasting time chasing a madwoman’s dream was not one of them.
“Well?” One word was enough to convey Cahala’s impatience.
He couldn’t resist half a smile but otherwise kept the sarcasm to himself. “This task
