Alain gave this due consideration, looking down at the book. On one level, it made his skin crawl. He wasn't a wizard, but a gunslinger; magic wasn't what he was built for. And yet it had saved them, probably saved Roland and Nariko too for that matter. Could Prim-magic be turned to the White? Was this of the Prim at all? It was all a tangled knot of riddles.

Alain Johns had always had a flair for riddles.

Turning his face back up to Trish, he gave her a rather thin little smile. "Then at least it's more loyal than some magic I've known," he said eventually, and put the book aside again. "I guess I've got some reading to do."