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Before they all set out to gather supplies and, at the same time, fill their bellies in the dining hall, Safis enchants Dorian’s armor to protect against the first attack, and his own gloves to inflict paralysis.
“Spirits of flexible armor, preserving blood, in your strong embrace, protect, deflect the first attack of fangs and claws, arrows and swords, with your power hide the heart of man...”
“Spirits of grasping gloves, guiding the hand, filled with courage, in you the attack begins, with your grip the weapon is strong – let the enemies be terrified by the power of my shot, let the despicable freeze in fear and weakness...”
The sorcerer finishes counting the beads and returns from the resonant otherworldly voice to his ordinary human self.
“Talking to spirits is tiring. I need to regain my strength.”
E si sui vius, er mi grans benananza, e si ieu muoir, er mi grans deliuriers