"The Temple is holy."
"The priests burned my brother for sorcery. He had one of the old books, that is all; he tried to build the machine it told of—and they burned him."
"They have enough old books themselves. They sit on all the wisdom of the ancients, and none of us can so much as read."
"The Fates are abroad tonight. I am afraid."
"My son is in the Household. They're after his skin—he'll hang if he isn't dead already—unless—"
"Aye, my son is in the city guards. They told him to go hunt down the stranger and the Empress—the Empress!—and off he went." A grim chuckle. "But I think he is sitting quietly in some corner, waiting."
"There is an old battle ax at home. My grandfather bore it in the Rurian war. I think I could still swing it if need be."
"I am afraid—"
Alfric smiled, a steely grimace in the shadow of his visor, and led the way onward.