"Little Turnip?" Dallben repeats, amusement in his voice, and Coll starts—still unaccustomed to the way the enchanter glides about their cottage as if one with the air. He's like one of the house cats, Coll thinks: both unaware of his astounding stealth, and indifferent to whether it scares a man witless.

He chuckles at the thought. "It's what my father called me that when I was a lad."

"Well, I daresay it suits him," Dallben leans forward to inspect Taran, a twinkle in his eye. "I'd a thought to call him 'chicken' myself… No—I quite like yours better."