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.

Tayend nodded. “I know it won’t. I admit I was worried about you, but you are still your old self, underneath.” Dannyl straightened in protest. “Underneath what?” The Elyne stood up, waving one hand in Dannyl’s direction. “All…that.” “I’m reeling at your descriptive clarity,” Dannyl told him.

How am I going to make friends with these people if all I can think of is how easy it would be to rob them?

I wound up studying art and design, got a job at Lonely Planet Publications as a designer, cartographer and illustrator.

If your appearance is all people see, they have no respect for your mind.

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

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