It is said, in Imardin, that the wind has a soul, and that it wails through the narrow streets because it is grieved by what it finds there.

Nodding, Cery strode to the door and stepped through. Though the burly guards eyes him suspiciously, Cery smiled back. Never make enemies of someone's lackeys, his father had taught him. Better still, make them like you a lot.

There's always a bit of truth in each rumour, the trouble is finding out which bit. - Tayend

The Magicians Apprentice was about someone from the low end of society manifesting magical power and how that completely messes up the balance of the whole system.

It was impossible to imagine the aloof, dignified, powerful High Lord living as, of all things, a slave.

So what were you [Sonea] and Dorrien discussing before?' Akkarin asked. She turned to regard him. 'Discussing?' 'Outside the farmhouse when I was buying the food.' 'Oh. Then. Nothing.' He smiled and nodded. 'Nothing. Amazing subject, that one. Produces such fascinating reactions in people.

What was I thinking? Of all the assistants I could have wound up with, why did I have to choose the one with the scary mother and troublemaking in his bloodlines? I am doomed.