Gods, I was hoping my eyesight wouldn't give out completely before I ever had a chance to see the world, even a small part of the world. I pressed my cool fingers to my eyelids and willed them to rest. Rest and clear the blur and the dry and the wavering focus that I feared would someday not leave. A complete night's rest would be good, though it wasn't going to happen as long as Master Grieg wanted all his spells copied within a week.
I blinked at the bleary ink, hoping I hadn't ruined another spell by getting sloppy. Sloppy spells weren't merely irritating to wizards; they were deadly. Though Master Grieg could be mean and stubborn and uncaring and unwilling to listen and hurtful, I didn't want him dead. Much.
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