"According to Sephrenia, we still are that young," Sparhawk replies, still slightly absent, although starting to come out of his own head.

The conditioned response that Martel equals hate is starting to fade now. This man he has met is both like and unlike the Martel Sparhawk knew. The sharp wit is the same, the acerbic tongue, the provocative way of talking. But all the sins that Martel committed were expiated in blood on the floor in the temple of Azash, and Sparhawk finds himself feeling grateful for what he's beginning to think of as a second chance.

"Would you say," he starts slowly, "That we could ever be more than enemies, after all that has happened?"