Calyx swallowed his pride. He opened the interface and pushed the words through, blunt and urgent.
[My lord. We may yet come too late to save your two disciples. Might I beg the use of your divinizing art? Let us have their bearing, and we shall make better haste.]
The five wraiths withdrew from the herb plantation and vanished into the bazaar's flapping tents.
They waited there, listening for the chime that meant Radeon had bothered to answer.
Oisin rolled in tight circles, agitation making his movements jagged.
"Calyx, if I may. Allow me to send a message as well. I should like an explanation, if you please. Why was the deduction so inconsiderable?"
"You're in jest, surely. We are in rather grave trouble already," Maeron sneered.
"It makes no sense," Oisin said, bristling.
"Do try to use that brain of yours on occasion," Maeron said. "First we set the failure to rights. Then we contest the charge."
"My chest feels tight. Let me send the message now," Oisin insisted.
