Durene glances at Kelvin, an amused smile on his face. "How did he die? That's easy--he went to bed one morning, and didn't wake up the next day..." He opens a small drawer on the desk, and then takes out a strange, pungent smelling brown stick. Noting Kelvin's questioning glance, he says, "A cheroot. It's how the Rus smoke sweetweed. I picked up the habit from the natives back when I was helping to excavate some old Rusinian ruins..." He makes a simple pass with his hand. A tiny flame appears on the tip of his fingertip. He lights the cheroot with it, then takes a long satisfied draw. He puffs out a perfectly circular smoke-ring, which, on closer examination, takes the form of a snake, swallowing its tail... "A vice, I admit," he says with a slight smile, "but really--what isn't...?"
He takes another puff off his cheroot, then glances at Kelvin after he finishes his question. "As for that--as I said--you can't look at the book now. Not until a permanent Master is chosen. That will probably be me, though Lady Syleria seems to think otherwise..." He shuts his eyes. "I don't know if you realize this, Arestine, but Ailil has asked a very weighty thing. 'The Speaking of Words' is not a book we grant ready access to..."
He takes another puff off his cheroot, then glances at Kelvin after he finishes his question. "As for that--as I said--you can't look at the book now. Not until a permanent Master is chosen. That will probably be me, though Lady Syleria seems to think otherwise..." He shuts his eyes. "I don't know if you realize this, Arestine, but Ailil has asked a very weighty thing. 'The Speaking of Words' is not a book we grant ready access to..."