"It's not a tattoo, it's a Brand," Owain corrected. "THE Brand. Of the Exalt." Man, being patient with someone who lacked even basic knowledge was hard work. He rubbed at the bridge of his nose. "It is no mere mark made by mortal hands! It surfaces naturally, when the time is ripe. My cousin's is in her eye."

He twisted to look over his shoulder at his coat-tails. "Come on, they're not that long," he insisted. "And I'm far too alert to allow such a thing to happen. Besides, they're cool! See how they flutter majestically in the breeze?" There was no breeze. They weren't fluttering at all. "They're like a cape! Just... lower down."