"Stop that," Erkembalt said, reaching over to thump the Dark Feathered sorcerer on the back of his feathered head. He knew that his friend had invoked the founder's art to peer into the future for a glimpse of the young Frost Walker's fate when they debated about whether he should be freed from his curse or not, but the artificer had long ago turned away from the mysteries of the heavens and the words of fallen oracles.
More importantly, he was afraid of the price his old friend would have to pay if he gained a reputation as a man who could divine destiny or peer into the events of untold tomorrows. Each use of such forbidden sorcery carried with it a cost that must be borne by the sorcerer and one look at his friend's dark, murderous aura even in the midst of the celebrations taking place should be enough for anyone with eyes to see it to understand that Aspakos had already paid far too great a price for the secrets he'd divined.
