Treatment for Elise's "injury" proves curious. The Kujaku life mage – Clucaro Feaul, who came to see her at Yffryn's laboratory – conducts an arcane ritual there, then whisks her back to the Caroban infirmary. There, she is further poked and prodded, then treated to a succession of visiting mages, including, judging by their robes, ones from the Spheres of Dream and Spirit, as well as Life. All of them appear to share just one thing in common: a great deal more interest in chanting and peering at her than in answering any of her questions.

They confine themselves to comments like, "Ah, nothing to worry about. We just want to be thorough," and "Routine tests. We'll let you know as soon as we know more." Indeed, any time it seems like one of them might be on the verge of imparting some meaningful piece of information, they clam up, with glances to their fellows, and sidle off to another room to confer.

Finally, the Kujaku returns with two of his fellow life mages, and they perform a lengthy ritual that consumes the rest of the morning and much of the afternoon, but by the time it is done, the ache in the poodle's cheek has vanished.

The poodle sits up and shakes her head slightly, clearing the daze that has come with rest and boredom. She then turns her attentions to the life mage nearest her and focuses on him, thinking he to be the one who would know most about conditions such as her injury. "Honored mage, I know I have asked this before … quite repeatedly actually … but will you not speak of the ailment that seems to have been removed by your efforts? I must admit for my research and that of Dean Yffryn, an explanation would be quite useful," she asks him.

Mage Feaul clucks, then twitters to his assistant, "Check her over, please." The two others begin another chant, while he answers her question, "Ah, well, we were having a bit of difficulty determining just what the nature of it was," he admits, although that bit of information hardly comes as a surprise at this point. "But various indicators and signs showed that it would be curable by an appropriate warding spell of the Life Sphere, which myself and my assistants have accordingly performed. You will need to return for follow-up examinations every five days for the next Sphere or so, to verify that there's been no recurrence, but you should be fine now," he assures her.

"So the nature of the injury – or perhaps I should say infection, though I am not quite certain – is that it was magical in nature and not caused by any physical strike?" inquires Elise. Her eyes trail from the life mage who answers her questions to those that examine her, watching them for a time before she turns her gaze back to Mage Feaul.

"No, no, definitely not," the peacock chirps, "No one's physically hit you with anything recently, and you weren't bitten by any natural bug, either. Magic induced the infection."

Meanwhile, his assistants continue their solemn chant and symmetrical gesturing. Eight squat pillar candles – each a different color, spanning red, orange, yellow, green, blue, purple, black, and white – have burned to half their former height since the first ritual began, and their flames continue to flicker for whatever spell is now being performed. A rainbow haze of light forms around their heads and hands as they chant.

A nod from Elise. "I see. Well, it is nothing I did not suspect, though having such things proven through intense research is useful in itself. Definitive proof is rather valuable in research that seems fraught with vagueness as dreams can be … " A curious look crosses the poodle's face, brow raising and she tilts her head. "Would you imagine the reverse is possible? Magic induced healing through such means as a dream ritual?"

As she spoke, Mage Feaul fussed with the chest, stowing away various components from the ritual. At her last question, the Kujaku frowns, turning back to her. "Excuse me? Are you asking if a dream mage can heal people?"

"I … see you have no idea what I am speaking of. Allow me to clarify. I was wounded with a power not completely understood. Given what you have seen of me, would the reverse be possible? A … healing if the power in question desired to do so?" corrects the Gallee.

The peacock's head and neck feathers ruffle, and he swishes his tail, clucking. "N – no," he begins. "Er. Yes. What caused the infection could, potentially, have the ability to undo it, yes," he concludes with a twitter. One of the other chanting mages holds out her glowing hands to Elise, and the nimbus of light washes over her face, making her vision hazy, as if viewed through a thick mist of rainbow colors.

Elise squints, attempting to gaze through the haze of rainbow that now hinders her vision. Her nose wrinkles as she finds the view rather disorienting. "Hmm. Interesting. That … yes, interesting. I take it you are almost done with me?" she asks, her words slow as if she might be thinking of something while speaking them. The information given providing more solid proof for the dream realm.

"Yes," Mage Feaul assures her, swishing his tail feathers again. The thick mist clears away, and the assistant looks to him, nodding her head. "Yes, we're done with you now. Please schedule an appointment with the apprentice at the main desk, preferably, oh, five days from now, so we can have another look at you and make sure it's not recurring."

"I will do as you say. I thank you for your assistance and your care," says the poodle. She then steps to her feet and checks her uniform for signs of it being out of place, followed by a quick correction of a few wrinkled patches of her robes. She then inclines her head to Mage Feaul and the other mages before moving to depart.

The Ambassador, fortunately, seems to accept the lengthy time Elise has taken away from her duties with good grace, and even inquires solicitously after her health and encourages her to attend the follow-up visit. Despite Elise's anxiousness to return to the dream realm and the Eeee who pursued their hope for a cure from Gorphat, the poodle does not dream of the path on that night, nor, in fact, for several more to come. Her next visit with the life mage goes far more smoothly, taking only twenty minutes or so before the Kujaku pronounces her free to go, with an admonition to return again in another five days.

Nothing more interesting happens until Dean Fyiara responds to a request, made many days earlier, by Lieutenant de Bellefeuille, asking for information on the nature of magic and defenses against it. Somewhat to Elise's surprise, the Dean extends an invitation for a personal audience, rather than forwarding along a packet of documentation or a recommendation that she speak with some lesser functionary.

Navigation through the unpredictable streets of Chaos is nearly impossible for those without a gift for magic, or wings – and preferably both – but the Templar poodle bravely attempts it, with the guidance of a young Skeek Chaos apprentice. The mouse moves nimbly not just down the streets, but between narrow buildings, and then takes Elise quite by surprise when she hops through the window of one pyramid-like building – or at least, what Elise would take for a window, given its height off the ground.

"How very … odd," comments Elise to herself quietly in response to the obstacle that is the "window". Standing at its base, she peers up at it, and after a moment just shakes her head in amazement. She then reaches for the ledge and plants a boot to the wall before pulling herself up. "Apprentice Weeca? Are you here?" she calls inside.

As she starts to lever herself in, the lieutenant gets a view of a dimly-lit interior divided by sheets of fabric. A few people – chaos apprentices, judging by their attire – mill around in "passageways" demarcated by the fabric. Elise's mouse guide pokes her head into view from around the corner, and beckons to the Templar. "Sure, c'mon!" she squeaks.

"I am coming, I assure you, though slowly. I am not oft called to draw myself through windows." Pulling herself up is made more difficult by the weight of her armor, though is indeed possible. Once up and over her sword girdle is adjusted, and she walks on after the apprentice leading her.

Weeca waits, her tail tip twitching, and fingers fidgeting behind her back, until the slower woman catches up. One of the other apprentices murmurs something to her while she waits, and she covers her mouth to hide a giggle. Once Elise stands beside her, she says, "Okay! Follow me! Yell if I lose you!" and darts off down a cloth-demarcated "corridor". As the poodle advances down it, she finds the place reminds her a little of the Bazaar. A few sellers appear in "booths", even, though most of the places don't seem to serve any public purpose. The corridors twist as much as any maze in Rephidim, and soon Elise doubts that she could find her way back, much less forward, without assistance.

The chaos is to Elise as oil is to water. Being much the representation of order, a person whose life to a great degree revolves around one of the most ancient symbols of order on Sinai, she is careful to keep up and follow as best she can. Otherwise she is quite certain her own logic would never free her from the twists and turns of this place.

Eventually, the brown-furred Skeek leads her to a big black door with a sigil on it. Weeca pauses at the door, and does a quick chant, then makes a sign in counterpoint to the sigil on the door. The rune inverts with a ripple, and the mouse pushes on it with both hands, causing it to open on the right side. She hops out through it – promptly vanishing from Elise's view.

"Katherine, you say I never have any fun?" jests Elise quietly, that perhaps somewhere in the world her sister might hear it and find her predicament amusing. The poodle then steps through the portal without further delay.

"Watch your step," Weeca says, just in time for the poodle to pinwheel her arms as she starts to step through the doorway. The street outside looks quite ordinary, the poodle thinks, and the reason the mouse vanished becomes evident as she notices that the road is a good four feet below the level of the door.

Quickly the poodle reaches for the edge of the door to stop herself from falling, then begins the process of carefully lowering herself to the ground. The action is more complicated than lifting herself as the numerous chitin plates, her sword, and the skirt of her uniform all manage to be more of a problem climbing downward. "Ahh. Oh … my … what would I do without you?" Once down, she nods to the apprentice to continue on her way.

The Skeek beams at Elise. "Be safe back at the main complex!" she quips, then dashes off down the street. "You don't mind getting a little wet, do you?" she calls back over her shoulder.

"I do, but I must not keep the Dean waiting," answers Elise. Down the street she follows her, eyes cast skyward for a brief look to the divine in askance, and she sets herself to search for signs of approaching water.

After many more trials than it seems could possibly be warranted for covering such a comparatively small space of ground, and after coming to a new and firm understanding of why the official tour had completely skirted the area of Chaos, the poodle and her companion reach the central tower, and the mouse leads her through another bizarre warren and what must be some kind of enchanted lifting device, before they finally reach the top floor, and the dean's office.

"Fyiara? Your guest, the Lady Lieutenant de Bellefeuille, is here to see you," Weeca says, as she and the poodle enter through what proves to be door in one of the taller cabinets.

Although parts of her robes remain wet despite her attempts to wring them out before her entrance, the lady enters nonetheless. She steps forward from the cabinet doing a double-take of where she entered from, then performs a military curtsey – a slight dip with the general motions of a curtsey, though subdued as to be easily performable by one wearing armor. "Dean Fyiara, I thank you for seeing me personally," she greets the Dean of Chaos.

A calico cat in a plain green robe pokes her head out from the pillows at the central pit at Weeca's call, and smiles at the poodle. "Glad you could make it, Elise!" she replies, scrambling to her feet, and scattering papers and pillows around her as she does so. Once standing on the solid floor, she waves jauntily. "Weeca showed you one of the water routes, I see."

"I … believe she showed me every route, if my observation is correct," mentions Elise. The poodle smiles faintly, glancing at a water stain on the edge of her cloak before looking back. "I am uncertain if it was all necessary. Though I did not ask."

Weeca squirms nervously. "Did not! And I didn't think she'd do so well on the swing or stones route, Dean," the mouse says, belying Elise's suggestion. "And we're not equipped for the air."

"Mmm-hmm!" Fyiara nods approvingly, then waves a hand vaguely to the mouse. "G'wan, git, sugar, I'm sure you did fine. You were only gone three hours. That's pretty good time for around here." The Skeek bobs and hurries, closing the cabinet door behind her. "Sorry about the trouble getting here," the feline continues to Elise, once the apprentice is gone. "It's weird, but it's home. I forget how bad it can be when you're not used to it."

As the Khatta speaks, the poodle notices a fey glow, and distortions in the air, swirling around her hands and whiskers. A couple of balls of light, around the size of a child's head, bob and weave in the space around the dean's tail, to which she seems either oblivious or indifferent.

Elise shakes her head in dismissal. "Despite my comment, I do not mind. In the interest of relations, I thought it best if I did not question or complain, though I do admit to being more than slightly disturbed by it all. I am a woman of order, as you know," Elise explains. As she speaks, she steps into a parade rest position, hands folded behind her back formally. Occasionally her eyes shift from the calico cat to one of the swirling orbs that surround the feline, following them for a moment before looking back to whom she is addressing.

Fyiara smiles. "In a way, it's actually very orderly. It's just … a peculiar sort of order. Anyway, please, make yourself comfortable." She turns back to the pillow pit – easily large enough to accommodate a dozen or more adults, if they were so inclined – and gestures with her hand for Elise to come closer. The dean then flops back onto her stomach in her previous resting place, gathering together the papers she'd disturbed earlier. "What can I do you for?" The balls of light that had followed her tail earlier pause for a moment after the dive, then drop with the mage, resuming their dance around the tail tip.

The armored poodle moves when directed, walking forward and breaking from her parade rest. She makes her way over to the edge of the pillow filled pit and steps down into it before searching for somewhere to sit. "I am quite surprised you chose to meet with me in person, first of all. I imagined you would be too busy for the questions of but an accessory to the High Ambassador. But no matter, my questions are thus. I have in my time before and after becoming a soldier encountered magic, and constructions of magic. Golems, ghosts, and even such grand spectacles as the goddesses of Babel themselves. All this has left me to consider that when dealing with magic and such constructs I am at a distinct disadvantage, and was wondering if you might be inclined to speak of this," Elise answers in length.

"I am quite thankful you decided to speak with me in person, however. I can only imagine having your wisdom in the matter will lead to a productive talk," adds the poodle.

As it turns out, the "pit" appears to be, beneath the layer of various-sized pillows, ringed by an incline of padded "walls" and a "seat" below it. The overall effect is that of a ringed couch submerged under a sea of cushions.

Although she continues to gather papers as the poodle speaks, eventually laying them to one side, Fyiara keeps her ears pivoted towards Elise, giving the Templar her attention. "Whoa, tall order if you want advice on what to do about goddesses, ghosts, and golems. Though that you've dealt with all is, I'll admit, the largest part of why I invited you," she mews.

"I am afraid I do not understand the differences between them other than the obvious. I am aware that they are each in some manner magical, though beyond that I could not say. My knowledge of magic is to a great degree oriented towards military action, and even that is the tactical use of mages, not magical constructs." Having found a section devoid enough of pillows to serve as a chair, Elise seats herself and folds her hands across her lap. It doesn't look nearly as comfortable a seating arrangement as might be possible.

"Okay. Lemme start by explaining the differences to you. A 'golem' is a physical construct animated by magic. The golem itself isn't, generally speaking, composed of magical forces – rather, it's made of actual earth, rock, fire, what have you, and then given direction by a mage. A ghost, on the other hand, has no 'physical' component. In some cases, it's like a golem without a body – it's just the raw magic. A goddess… " Fyiara's mouth quirks. "Take your pick on that one. Either: a) Deities don't exist, or b) They aren't goddesses, or c) They're outside the scope of the laws of magic."

The poodle nods her head. "Very interesting." She then reaches for her rapier and taps the pommel of it, as if to indicate attention should be shifted to it. "I once possessed a sword that was anchored to a ghost – a rapier of a cadet killed in a duel. It … drained the life out of a Kavi I slew with it. The sword itself was not magical though it did have ties to a ghost. Can you speak of that? Also, that same revenant was disrupted by Sifran crystal. Have you any idea as to why that might be?"

"Sifran crystals have magic-resistant properties. Actually, they're magical 'nulls' of a sort – they block and disrupt spells, and resist attempts to be manipulated by magic. Cool stuff, really. Anyway, bet that's why it disrupted your ghost. As for your sword – that goes back to what I was saying about ghosts being bodiless golems. Like a mage can use magic to animate a golem's body, a ghost can, in some cases, animate objects, or act through them. Sucking the life out of a Kavi hit by a sword would be the ghost acting through it, using it as focus for its energy. That's most often the case if the item was of some import to the ghost in its 'life'," the Chaos mage lectures. She still lays on her stomach, but stuffs a few more pillows under her chest to prop her torso up so she can watch the poodle better, from her position across the pit.

Meanwhile the poodle listens attentively, sitting in the same position she has been since she sat down. Compared to that of the Dean's, it doesn't look very comfortable at all. "That too is interesting. And quite useful, considering my pendant that was given to me by … well, it is Sifran crystal, and attuned to dreams, it appears," says the Gallee. In further explanation she draws forth the pendant with a hand and shows it to the Dean. "My reason for asking all these questions is that I seek to better serve the Temple. I simply cannot abide by such serious gaps in my own ability, and as it is with the College here, there are few remaining who can handle magical disturbances."

Fyiara squirms closer along the seat in the pit, and holds out one hand for the pendant. "I've heard about it. And, yeah, having the College here doesn't help Rephidim much, at least so they think, poor babies." She grins mischievously, and winks. "Truth is, you've got fewer magical problems without us, too. Anyway, if you wanna know what to do about magical problems – let's see. The College party line goes, 'Get professional help. If you've got a problem with a ghost, ghoul, spirit, golem, mage, whatever, you're supposed to come running to your closest Guild-licensed practitioner, fork over a ton of cash, and hope for the best.'" Her grin scarcely dims as she relates this, then adds, "Betcha'd already heard that one, right?"

Elise eyes Fyiara in faint warning at the comment "poor babies", though the expression fades quickly and seems more like a reflex eased by understood humor than any real threat. Elise shows the pendant to the feline though keeps it far enough away where she cannot easily reach to grab it. "Of course," she admits. "Though to be quite honest, by the time the College was ever involved with disturbances I was present for, they had either been resolved or had become far worse than they started. Which is my worry. I am charged with protecting people, Dean Fyiara, and the lives of people cannot always wait – including my own, which oft is the one most threatened by magical activity."

When the pendant is withdrawn, the Dean drops her hand with a little shrug, then gives a nod to the poodle. "Exactly the trouble with the official line. And, truth is, if'n you can't get a professional, there's lots of stuff even amateurs can do about us magic practitioners, 'cause we ain't nearly as infallible as Party Line would like you to believe. Here's my number one recommendation – and you've probably heard this before, too, but it bears repeating: Get the mage first. A mage is almost always the weakest link in any spell – especially before it's completed, but often even afterwards. Now, mind you, you can cause nasty side-effects by interrupting the building flow of magic. But, unless you're interrupting a major ritual – one using multiple mages and/or going on for more than a day – odds are that the spell will fizzle, not explode. And even if it does explode, that's often better than allowing someone you know is planning Something Bad a chance to finish it."

When Fyiara is finished explaining, the Templar nods again. "Sage advice, and certainly useful. Though having heard that, now I only pray to the First Ones that I can get a chance to cease this dream realm ritual … and the mages who continue it – most preferably before whatever it is meant to do is completed, assuming it is not already done." Her eyes shift to the pendant and she holds it out again. "Forgive me, but I did not think it best you touch this unless you are confident your held magicks will not react. I have seen enough of you to think twice about chancing the wrath of your spells."

"That's okay. I've got my spells under control – they shouldn't negatively interact with your crystal. If it was that potent, as either a null or an active spell, I'd be able to tell from here. I'm pretty good at this sort of thing. But it can wait… " The Khatta waves her hand negligently at the pendant. "About the dream ritual – whatever that's building to is some seriously Bad Mojo, I'm sure, but it's one of those where I'd be real concerned how you ended it. If we do manage to track those creeps down, I'd want major backup around to see it brought to a graceful conclusion. We're talkin' a multi-year spell involving I-don't-know-how-many-but-the-number's-definitely-too-high mages. Eeek. That kind of pent-up magical energy could level a small country if not carefully defused."

"Babel … has suffered enough, yes. I would not see such terrible energies unleashed there if at all possible. I will remember that should the time ever come that this grand spell is brought to an end other than what was intended," Elise says. The pendant is again tucked away and the Templar shifts slightly, leaning back against some of the pillows on the higher tier of the couch-pit. "There is the matter of magic focused external to myself, but what of that directed against me? I am aware there are people who are more or less resistant to magicks than the average person might be. Had I more time, I would have inquired this of Mage Cyprian, but I fear we were too taxed by other matters."

The feline nods. "Some people are naturally better than others at blocking the effects of certain kinds of magic." She frowns thoughtfully for a moment. "As I recall, Cyprian's even one of 'em, though not extraordinarily so. Blocking magic comes in two forms: there's "resistance" – which refers to the ability of some people, or objects, to weaken or resist spells directed at them – and "null" – which refers to people or objects which are totally unaffected by magic. Resistance can be learned by living people, or enchanted into objects. Nulls occur naturally, and either are or aren't. We've tried to make nulls on occasion, but no dice so far on it – not by reputable sources, anyway."

"It is useful to know these categories. Not only for myself, but should I seek correspondence with mages in the future. And given the course of my life I am most certain that is an eventuality." Again Elise smiles, though as is common for her it does not last, her face returning to her usual stern expression, seemingly as if it were as she was born. "How does a living person learn to become resistant then? I find that especially interesting to know."

"Do you want the real answer or the College answer?" Fyiara grins again.

Despite herself, Elise smirks and quickly reaches up to cover what looked to be a rather wide grin in an effort to retain her presentability. She clears her throat, and says quite simply, "The latter."

The feline giggles, then sobers to say, "You practice. It's pretty much the same way you make yourself stronger or faster. The College will tell you 'you need Special Training' and tutors and the knowledge of the secret runes of N and Y, but it all boils down to a handful of intellectual exercises and meditation. Learn them, repeat them, and meditate upon them for a certain amount of time each day, and eventually anyone will be able to use that trained willpower to try to resist spells – with varying degrees of efficiency depending on their innate talents and how long, hard, and consistently they've tried, etc., etc. I mean, I'm not going to be bending steel bars with my bare hands no matter how many weights I lift. But if I did lift weights for half an hour every day, I would sure be a whole lot stronger than I am now."

Once the poodle has sufficiently resumed her previous composure, she refolds her hands and shifts her head more towards the center of the pillow she leans against. "Well, I am not a stranger to daily practice. I try to keep a daily routine of swordplay, and whatever other usual device I use – handguns the exception, of course. Well then, the intellectual exercises and meditation, is that documented somewhere that I may study it? Or, will you need to quote College stance at me again?" she inquires, the last question vaguely sounding like teasing.

"I've got some scrolls on it … ummm… " Fyiara pauses, sorting through the loose papers she's piled in front of her, then shifts down to a thin bone-and-leather scroll case. "… here. Got it out, thought you might want to see it." She flips the bone stopper off of the top, and slides out several sheaves of rolled paper, then straightens them before her. Wrinkling her nose, she studies the pages, and passes them over to the Gallee. "This guy wrote my favorite treatise on the subject. There are any number of different methods of getting to the same end, and this one might not work for you. But it's as good a starting place as any. I will warn you: you have to stick with it, and for a long time – definitely spheres, possibly years – before you'll show results, and even once you achieve them, they'll fade if you don't keep practicing. It'll be just like your swordplay – one more thing you have to do every day."

Elise sits up and leans over to review the papers. "I will do my best," she says as she does so. After accepting the papers, she sits back some and scans over the pages, each in turn, careful to keep them in order – or else sort them if they appear to be out of order. "Years, well, let us hope that is not necessary. That world peace will come. If not, well I will most certainly be a solider."

The papers are, surprisingly, in the correct order when Fyiara hands them over. The dean smiles at Elise's words, and then continues. "Yeah. For some more caveats: Magic resistance, in people, only effects non-physical forms of magic. As far as spheres go, that means you get some protection from Mind, Dream, Illusion, and sometimes Chaos and Shadow. In layman's terms: mostly attempts to control your mind, influence your thoughts, dreams, attempts to possess your body, or control your senses. It won't keep a fireball from burning you or a golem from smashing you. And there are some weird gray areas that it may or may not help with."

Once the papers are reviewed, Elise places them on her lap, though she doesn't fold her hands on top of them. Instead she puts her hands to her side and leans just a bit to her left, elbow propped up to keep her balance. "I thank you for your help this. I realize you could have easily been more difficult, speaking only in the terms of the College. Most certainly this will be useful as is quite obvious to everyone my mind is often being influenced as I sleep. Magic pervades my dreams," she says quietly.

The Khatta nods. "Yeah," she mews. "Yffryn's got charge of that and all, and you seemed willing to go along with it, so I didn't want to butt my nose in the middle of it. But I figure, sugar, if anyone needs an edge against magic, you do. 'specially if you're a strange attractor, which from your history you sure sound like."

Elise casts her eyes skyward. "'Strange attractor', what an appropriate term for it. I seem to … " She for a moment blinks, looking surprised, then smiles. " … attract the oddest of things. Dean Yffryn I do not entirely trust. She is one who would not hesitate to violate small personal freedoms for research. But to tell the truth I want to help in this. I want to see this resolved, and there are those within the dreams I want to help."

Fyiara flicks her whiskers, and little sparks of light ripple around them from the effect. "I don't think we'll be confirming Yffryn as Dean, if it's any consolation. What with all the dream mages waking up, and some of 'em way more qualified than Yff, the Council is sure to pick one of them instead. Last H.C. meeting we tabled the issue, but it'll come up again. Even if there were nothing else, Rageson is still all mad at her over Envoy." She hunches her shoulders at the memory, making a face.

"Over … Mage Envoy?" asks Elise. Her head lifts in sudden added interest.

"You know. Leaving her possessed. It's been, what, three spheres? Rageson's never gonna forgive any of us for that one." The Khatta's ears twitch. "Done is done. And, by the way, I'm glad you agreed to help Yff track the dream realm thing. It may not be the best tack, but at least you're managing to survive the experience and learn from it, which is more than most of the College has been able to do, either awake or asleep." She sighs, propping her chin against her hand.

Elise leans back again, taking the feline's propping of her head as reason to do similar. She lays her head on a pillow and looks, for the effort, tired suddenly, as if she were no trying to hide the fact anymore. "It pleases me to help. The College may not be part of Rephidim, but I have no more desire to see it suffer than any country on Sinai. That said, I still wonder at these dreams. They are testing me, as they did Mage Envoy, and I fear it. I really rather do," she tells the Dean.

One of the doors on a nearby cabinet opens, and the head of the Skeek apprentice pokes through. "Fyiara? Chamber Four is throwing out focal points. You said you wanted to know if that happened?"

The cat starts to respond to Elise, then bolts upright with a mew. "Chamber Four? You're kidding! You sure?" She glances to the poodle. "I'm sorry, sugar, but I gotta go look into this and I dunno how long it'll take… umm. Could I do one really quick spell on you before you go?" Her tail tip sways, the light balls rocking with it. "It won't hurt or anything. I just wanna check and see if you are a strange attractor or not."

Elise, who now that she's laying down looks for all the world ready to simply fall asleep where she is, blinks and snaps herself out of it. She immediately sits up and looks to the apprentice before returning her attention back to the feline and nodding to her. "As you would have it, Dean Fyiara. This sounds rather serious, and I would not keep you. Commence what you would cast at your discretion," she answers.

The Dean nods, scrambling to her feet, and says a word that Elise doesn't catch. One of the light balls around her tail bounces, then rolls over to Elise, and through her. "Oh!" the feline mews, blinking. "That's … hmm. Thanks, Elise. You can stay here if you want, or Weeca can show you the way out. I gotta scat. If you're not here when I get back, I'll drop you a note; we can talk more later." Tail tip twitching, with one magic ball still hovering over it, she heads for the cabinet door the mouse appeared in, while the apprentice squirms out into the room.

As the Dean rushes to depart, Elise lifts her hand to stop her. "Wait, wha … " The hand falls and the woman leans back, shaking her head. " … I can ask later. I will remain here until I am needed elsewhere." With the feline nearing the door the poodle just returns to laying where she was, and needing do nothing else, settles in to wait.