Description It was a rare occasion that the Wizard of the West would have visitors. Indeed, most either failed to find his tower or avoided it, fearing what mysticism was within. Those who did come upon it, however, perhaps did so by chance or of their own volition sought it out. Some, for reasons perhaps the Wizard himself did not know, were bound to arrive, as though written in a book of Fate. It was the middle of the harvest -- not that it meant much at Targaris, where the rain was steady and continuous -- and the Wizard of the West was enjoying his tea. Then came a knock on the door: "Pardons, is anyone in there? I have this coin?" The Wizard of the West set down his tea and smiled; perhaps the Wizard did not always know what made certain people bound to arrive, except every now and again when he arranged it himself.