[ Estinien shakes his head impatiently, lips thinning. ]

You think I'd send you back out to find another? With the damned moon upon us? Don't be a fool. We should go to the witches tonight.

[ Witches is not a friendly word on his tongue. He's only made cursory attempts at each of their schools of magic, and none of them has made him feel a kinship with Aefenglom's witches — only frustration, and the errant needling thought that Ysayle or Alphinaud would have been better suited to all of it than he is. ]