"Let me see..."
Rorschach took it. The water hadn't soaked into the taut donkey hide, and the midday sun made it shimmer with mottled points of light.
"A Spirit Talisman! A hide tanned by the Shanshi people... I know this trick. It's from that old antique dealer... Ninety percent of his wares are fake... I only carry it because I have nothing else!"
The script on it was ancient Jabber Language:
To possess me is to possess all, save for a life that is lost, which you experience with every passing moment.
A willing trade is a fair one, no matter what rests on either end of the scales.
May your wish be satisfied, may your wish be fulfilled.
Each time one of your desires is realized, I shall shrink.
...
"The gods will permit it... I hope so!" Valon said, his voice trembling.
"You know the Jabber Language too? You're not a Mage or a Priest, so you must be from the Nobility."
"Nobility!" He gave another bitter laugh. "That title is worthless."
