Every eye in the room was fixated upon him. Someone who spoke, but almost apologized beforehand. And worse…a tax collector. Jakob cleared his throat, and tugged at his collar. He did not normally drink in public, especially at one of the rowdier establishments in Vladisburg. But when he had heard of a possible convocation to speak on Viola’s rule, he felt a duty to attend. If only he had known the tenor, he might have

            Dear words, how often I feel thy sting.             To be poetic, thou art so beauteous. Your curved grace, the lift and fall that can raise the viewer to highest of heavens. I love your sight, your sound, your taste. To be in the presence of such words cannot help but fill mine ear, my soul with glory.             But words are not always so kind. In fact, your malice far outweighs your grace.

Willow Sam turned around, and saw fire. A man stood there. His face was drawn, weathered. His silver hair was worn in fine curls that trailed across his face, thinning as he neared middle-age. He wore fine furs, lined with filigree. Even so, this was a man who knew how to wield the axe by his side, or the torch in his right hand, held aloft. And from the look in his eyes, he had