"You're frowning again, Kal," Syria said, her slender, delicate fingers tracing the long row of books on the fifth shelf of one of the enormous bookcases that nearly reached the room's saffron-colored clay ceiling. Kal merely exaggerated a sigh. The two friends were in a medium-sized room, well-lit by dozens of gleaming, six-branched silver chandeliers. An impressive round table, about three meters in radius, stood prominently in the center of the room. And upon it, right in its center, a sculpture of exotic, dark, and gleaming metal commanded all attention. The sculpture-statue depicted a dark-haired maiden. She was wielding a sword, and the most curious detail was that from her back sprouted arms like wings; at least twenty slender, thin arms on each shoulder.
"Mmm… Ahem!" Syria didn't bother beating around the bush: "How are you this morning? Any good results from yesterday's practice? Have you received any news?"
