“Blessin’s of day, young masters,” said a woman, giving the lads a little nod as she passed by.
“Arna shine on you, lady,” replied Authran, with the crossed-arms bow. The woman smiled and hurried on. “And what a figure to shine on!” he shouted after her. She gave a shocked, shrill laugh, stifled it, then went on her way, smiling and tittering.
“Didn’t know novices got a bow,” said Tyr when he had calmed down.
“They don’t usually, not unless you cut a very impressive figure. Or she might just have been in a good mood.”
Tyr grinned massively. “She’s in a better mood now.”
Thus, they arrived at the Potters’ Square. The Cure was waiting for them, looking as inviting as an inn can when placed beneath hundreds of feet of granite. Despite regular visits during his brief time in Valderthaan,
