From the Books: "I had expected my eyes to adjust to the gloom of an interior room when we walked into Timoshenko’s workshop from the sunny morning. Instead, a miniature sun assaulted our eyes as we entered.
As my eyes reacted, I realized that the small sun was merely a large oil lamp set amongst mirrors that amplified and reflected its light. Immediately below the light, a table with various delicate tools sat before a tall man with lanky, blond hair balding on top and bound in a tail in the back.
He looked up, dropping a glass from one peering eye to rest on his chest where its cord held it." - TEOAD, p. 159