Svetlana sighs, examining a fancy bottle made of iridescent glass. "A gift from Bokken. I'll miss that old cra

Svetlana sighs, examining a fancy bottle made of iridescent glass. "A gift from Bokken. I'll miss that old crank. I still expect to hear him muttering from behind the fence, or see him pop in the door holding a fresh-dug root to his chest like some great treasure. May the gods have mercy on him." A bitter smile touches her lips. "Let's talk about other matters. I do have something to ask, if you have time..."