Myra took a moment to collect her scattered thoughts before she answered. "Well, I'll be the first to admit that I'm only a novice in the art," she began. "My only experience so far has been weaving small enchantments into things my customers have ordered: gold necklaces, rings, bracelets...things like that." Myra glanced at Lady Faylore, who gestured for her to continue with a small, patient smile on her face. "I've also been working on making a small block of rune alloy. Do you know what that is?"
"I've heard of it, but I'm not clear on the details," Lady Faylore answered.
"Well, it's pretty much just any metal with runes engraved on it to give it a more permanent enchantment, because the normal ones fade with time." Myra shook her head. "Stupid," she thought. "You don't have to explain enchantments to a mage." Aloud, she continued: "I've been engraving runes into this block of mythril I bought about a month ago. It's slow going, but I'm making progress." She lifted her left hand onto the counter, palm up. Her index finger was an angry red. "Sometimes...well, a lot of the time, I mess up the magic and end up burning myself."
Lady Faylore took her hand and examined the burnt finger. "Well, it's not a serious magical burn. Still, you may want to save this project of yours until you can better command the necessary spell."
Myra pulled her hand back, wincing as her arm twinged. "Again?" she thought. "I'd hoped I was past this."
"What's wrong?" Lady Faylore asked, concern in her eyes.
"I-it's nothing," Myra stammered, instinctively averting her gaze. "Just an injury from when I was young."
"Smooth," she thought, internally rolling her eyes at herself. "Real smooth."
"So, what do you say, Lady Faylore? Will you take me?" Myra couldn't bring herself to look into the mage's eyes.