Magic in Ithkar
Magic in Ithkar
“She sensed several people approaching, and an acrid, unfamiliar reek met her nose. In the next stall, Daramil the baker muttered, “So the priests of Thotharn have added alchemy to their other wickedness?’’ The voices of the priests of Thotharn came closer; one, hard and jovial, nagging at the edge of familiarity. The priests appeared only as a blur to Corielle, who was nearly blind, but she listened as she checked the bracelet over with practiced fingers. Feeling a slight roughness, she picked up an abrading tool and began to work. The priest of Thotharn spoke, sourly.
“That is what I mean, brothers. The places that could be given to master craftsmen are now cluttered up with the likes of this bedraggled wench, who has somehow managed to lay her hands on some craftsman’s tools—the fair-wards must be as blind as she is to let her get away with it!—and sits aping the motions she must have once seen her master make, in hopes the ignorant will mistake her trash for honest trinkets.
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