'I am Caurib.' Logen blinked. The woman's voice was the most beautiful thing he'd ever heard. Calming, soothing, intoxicating. 'I am a sorceress,' she sang, tossing her head with a scornful smile. 'A sorceress, from the utmost north.' Logen stood frozen, his mouth half open. His hatred seeped away. They were all friends here. More than friends. He couldn't take his eyes from her, didn't want to. The others in the room had faded. It was as if she was speaking only to him, and the fondest wish of his heart was that she should never stop—
- The Blade Itself, Part I, The King of the Northmen