low-lying table. "Only five of the Singing Blades exist in this world. Those who have heard their ethereal song are either their keepers or their victims." Dreamy brown eyes locked upon him with queer fascination. "Am I to be its next victim, General?" "Perhaps." He rested the scabbard across his
lap. "I did not request tea this late of an hour." "Late? Why the night is still young." She smiled at him with lips painted with a single drop of red on their bottom. "Look, the Moonflower has yet to unfurl into full bloom." A quick glance to the right and Korzha saw she was right. The pale
trumpet barely separated its five petals. Another oddity of the place was to see such a flower alone in a tall ceramic vase. He didn't know whether to laugh or be insulted, for every Toskan noble knew the flowers and their meanings. In this simple arrangement, it meant a one-night stand.
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