The sorcerer stared into the open caravan, eyes darting from hook to hook, drawer to drawer, basket to basket. Part of him wanted everything, but he had learned self-control over the many years. "I'm not really a potions-and-charms sort."
"Perhaps a staff?" The merchant pulled out a gnarled shock of oak-wood capped with a bulb of dragon-bone. "Pepier the Elder made this. It's a blank, of course—"
"A Pepier blank after all this time? I'll be able to tell if it's a fake…"
"I stand by my wares, my Lord."
The sorcerer's grin deepened, spread. "I'll fill it with fire."