"You all know that something wild and uncontrolled has crept into the Art of late. This chaos may or may not be linked with spellfire — but it prevents us from surrounding the maid and overwhelming her with spells. We can, however, take her deep in the wilderlands, where we can act unobserved, and the unintended effects of such a confrontation can be curbed without much loss or concern.

"All knowledge of her powers and anything you learn or take from her will be placed entirely at the disposal of the Brotherhood. Hold nothing back. Those who fail to exhibit such probity will earn an immediate and permanent reward. Those who merely fail against the girl Shandril will have as many chances as they feel they need to impress us. We will be watching. As always." His eyes smiled merrily at them as he devoured the head of an eel, touched the bowl casually, and vanished with it in a flickering instant.

The end of the table was utterly empty again. Only faint wisps of spiced steam remained behind, curling in slow silence.

The magelings stirred, shoulders visibly relaxing here and there down the table. Heads turned, throats were cleared — but these stirrings came to a hushed halt an instant later as Sarhthor's purring voice came again from the near — darkness at the other end of the table.

"So who here volunteers to seize or destroy spellfire for us? Yield me your names, or" — he smiled faintly — "recall urgent business elsewhere and take your leave of this place… and also, I fear, of the Lord Manshoon's favor." He looked around, meeting the wary eyes of several wizards too brave or foolish to look away. "Your patience we have seen this night. We have also taught you to be decisive; show me the result of that teaching now."