Sawtooth Spire erbärmlich

mahler was charmed by how well the old words found its way to phaedra's little maw. it was a small victory for him, then, to have handed that down as a bit of legacy for his children. her impediment too was a singular delight to the shadowpriest, for he trusted she would eventually grow into better speech. easy then, to find precious the first sentences to word the unending curiosity of a small child.
"they fight for a vife, or many vives," mahler answered, thinking too late of the fact that his own status with wylla might not have engendered the word yet in phaedra's lexicon. therefore he swept on, intending to provide her small ears with more intriguing images than the contemplation of wedlock.
mahler's attention was captured by the bravery of the delicate animal. it could have very well been stupidity that drove the basic machinations behind the buck's brow. "maybe he could have two names. the name his mutter gave him, and vone for you." he looked down now at the blurred flaxenlocks of her head, returning her sunglow grin.
"vhat a good name, phaedra. vhere did you hear it?"