"With that, Gabrielle returned to her table to pick up her belongings. Looping a strap to her staff, she passed it over her head to rest on a shoulder... Next she passed the cord of her rucksack over her other shoulder. The rucksack, of course, contained her scribe tools. Rolls of parchment, her quills, as well as a number of sealed containers for her finished works.Satisfied that this arrangement of her effects would free her hands for writing, Gabrielle left the tavern and started walking down. You wear shit clothes, you barely take care of yourself. You've stopped seeing all our old friends. Stopped seeing anyone we ever knew. You've stopped seeing the ones who helped you create me. And why? Because you think I turned out too good, that I make you look plain, frumpy, ugly? That's your fault. Two years of operations and conditioning, all the hypnotic teaching tapes. And you can't stand it."I sat on the edge of the bed. "Was it my fault that Dan wanted me over you? Did I even know you. More

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