"It seems to me," said Garaz, thoughtfully looking into the depths of his flin. "That all great ideas come from pure happenstance. Take for instance, the story I told you last night about my cousin. If he hadn't fallen off that horse, he never would have become one of the Empire's foremost alchemists." It was late one Middas night at the King's Ham, and the regulars were always especially inclined toward philosophy. "The problem with your theory is that your example is entirely fictional," sniffed Xiomara. Arslic Oan assumed that if he ignored them, they'd go away.