conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Give me the first four paragraphs for a book with the title 'Daughter of the Drow'.. Start with the sentence 'Daughter of the Drow
  Liriel looked the copper-haired male up and down, and she believed his claim'.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: Daughter of the Drow
  Liriel looked the copper-haired male up and down, and she believed his claim. Merchant captains often possessed great wealth and influence. No one could attain a position of such power without considerable might of arms or magic, and this one did not have the look of a fighter. He was too thin, too finely drawn, almost effete in his elegance.
  The merchant rose from his chair. Placing both hands on the desk, he leaned down to look directly into the old wizard's face.
  With that final taunt, he left Kharza-kzad alone to sputter out his usual denials. It was an odd game, but one Nisstyre enjoyed playing. In time, perhaps Kharza would become so accustomed to the insinuations that he would come to think of himself in those very terms. This was unlikely, to be sure, but a Xorlarrin wizard, a master of the famed Sorcere, would be a prized addition to Vhaeraun's band.
  The merchant hurried from the Spelltower Xorlarrin to his rented house near the Bazaar. Now that he had met Liriel Baenre face-to-face, he was more interested in her than ever. She thought for herself, followed her own rules. No slave to the fanaticism that paralyzed so many of Menzoberranzan's drow, she was a prime candidate for conversion to the ways of Vhaeraun. Granted, she had in full measure the haughty arrogance of noble females, but that could change in time. In fact, the task of humbling the little princess greatly appealed to Nisstyre.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Give me five more paragraphs.. Start with the sentence 'Since he could do nothing but wait, Nisstyre found himself a comfortable rock and sat down for the duration'.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: Since he could do nothing but wait, Nisstyre found himself a comfortable rock and sat down for the duration. He had seen many fearful deaths—most of them of his own plan and execution—but never had he witnessed such suffering. Yet he watched impassively as the magic fire seared through his son's body.
  The answer came from Gorlist himself. The fighter spat out splinters of green wood and climbed slowly to his feet. Nisstyre noted the bloodlust in his eyes. It would be difficult, he realized, to keep the headstrong young drow from pursuing the human who had so grievously wounded him. Nisstyre hungered for the taste of revenge, as well, but he needed Gorlist to focus on an even greater prize.
  Nisstyre did not doubt what the fighter would demand. "The human was badly wounded," he lied. "Although he escaped, he will not long survive."
  The fighter shrugged away this news and thrust his fist high, turning it so Nisstyre could see the thin line of scar that ran down his forearm.
  The wizard rocked back, momentarily at a loss for a response. Nisstyre tended to indulge his followers, encouraging them to enact revenge as the spirit moved them. Drow needed a focus for their inbred hatred, an occasional vent for their simmering rage. It was unfortunate Gorlist had chosen such a valuable target.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Give me the last four paragraphs.. Start with the sentence 'She also haunted the hallway outside Fyodor's room'.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: She also haunted the hallway outside Fyodor's room. His wounds were mending, but slowly, and only on the third day after the battle was she allowed to see him. There was much she needed to tell him, so he could understand what lay ahead.
  The Rashemi listened as Liriel told him what she knew of rune magic. First the shaping, in which a rune was formed through a journey of discovery. Then the carving of the rune on the sacred tree Yggsdrasil's Child, using as a tool the chisel hidden inside the Windwalker amulet. Finally, the casting of a spell that forged insight into power.
  The drow stared at him. Understanding came to her, then rage. Snatching free her hand, Liriel leaped to her feet, head held high and eyes blazing. "After all this, do you still think so little of me? Or do you doubt I'm wizard enough to wield the Windwalker for us both?"
  Liriel fell back a pace. It had never occurred to her that Fyodor might not wish to come with her. "To see the land of your ancestors!" she wheedled.