"Impossible," Rastlan said, staring at the cracked shield of ice before Aspakos and the small constellation affixed to it.
Aspakos had called it Acat's Snare and several other things. It was a tiny constellation. Just four stars in a wide V-shape. Yet to Rastlan's eyes, it was an all-devouring maw, filled with a danger that couldn't possibly exist.
"No one but an Oracle can practice the Sovereign's Art," Rastlan said. "It isn't meant for lesser men, it…"
"You're wrong, young cub," Aspakos said. "Your words trap you. 'Lesser men' isn't how anyone should think of themselves. Less fortunate men, perhaps, but not lesser beings. The Founder's Art isn't out of reach. The price is simply unimaginably high."
