The Sorcerer sat his black stallion with the straight-backed formality of Daelion, Master of Fate. "I will answer when you ask out of concern, Prince of Rathain."
Arithon recoiled in a high flush of fury. "No need to answer at all, Sorcerer. Everywhere I turn, it seems I get saddled with sand kingdoms. Well, pity has torn out my heart far and long before this. I bear the ache already, like a bad scar."
