On the stone steps of an exposed staircase, slick with ice and wind-blown snow, a Gallah lies on her stomach, her legs buried beneath the pile of rubble left where once the stairs led to an underground tunnel. Her mind drifts in and out of consciousness, the world around her seeming distant and unreal, drowned out by bitter agony. Periodically she recovers just enough presence of mind to try to wriggle out from underneath the crushing weight on her legs.

The brown-and-white canine, teeth gritted, fingers clenched around ruts in the steps, squirms, trying desperately to inch her legs free. Distantly, she hears squeaking, but it doesn't seem important, at least not compared with the throbbing pain in her right leg.

After a time, she recognizes the squeaks as a language. Babelite. Her pain-fogged mind is unable to make much sense of the words. "Cursed ground," someone says. It surely is, she agrees silently, her grasp on the flagstones slipping and her chin banging against the edge of a step. The woman lays still after that, stunned.

Something touches her shoulder, lightly. More squeaking. "Amputate," she hears, and then, a cry of protest, a screeched-out, "NO!" Is that me? the canine wonders, fuzzily, before consciousness slips away again.

Memory blurs with fever-dreams, of dark cells, shrieking goddesses, questioning priestesses. Faces slide in out of being; sometimes she thinks she is talking with her sister, only to have Katherine turn into a little Aelfin girl watching her with wide, concerned eyes. Fyiara giving her a lesson on the theory of Chaos magic turns into her mother scolding her for the length of her stitches. Her father and Lieutenant Jaskar are both with her on an airship, where Jaskar keeps telling her, "Lieutenant, you have to wake up! You've been sleeping far too long!"

Elise awakens, staring at an unfamiliar beige ceiling, her head feeling as if it were stuffed with cotton, and her legs immobilized. For a wild moment, she thinks herself still trapped beneath the rocks, but she feels too detached to conjure much panic from the fleeting notion. Mostly, she feels lucid, if removed, from her surroundings. The room is quiet save for the sound of a quill pen scratching across parchment.

The canine squints, and blinks sleepily. A sleepy and quiet voice at the back of her mind tells her she should be frightened, it offering partial reasons she cannot fully fathom through the cottony haze. As she tries to sort through jumbled advice her mind tries to offer her she stares with semi-glazed eyes above. Another thought edges upon her mind, that she should be hurting – that she should be dead.

The scratching sound of the quill pauses. Whoever is writing must be in the same room with her, not far from the bed. As the canine lays there in the otherwise silent room, she can hear the quiet sound of the other person breathing.

Elise wonders for a moment if she is dead. The thought is disrupted by a break in the constant, the pen … if it was a pen, she can't quite think clearly now … had stopped. She tries again to consider where she might be, that she may be in Babelite hands, or perhaps somewhere in the area around Babel. Any location in Babel troubles her, and though the fear and anger of it might prompt her to react, she cannot manage it. She just continues to stare upwards in a foggy haze.

The ceiling continues to be boring and beige as she stares at it. Eventually, the quill starts moving again, the rhythmic sound almost reassuring in its normalcy. After a little while, the poodle connects what she can see of the room with a familiar setting: it looks like one of the rooms in the infirmary where Mage Envoy was taken when she fell ill.

Elise, frowns for a moment, then just as quickly finds reassurance in the location. With all she has been through she's not dismissed the locale for a illusion or very vivid delusion, but of all she remembers this at least would seem to be the most promising vision. And it feels real to her, unlike so much she remembers in the days past. As her head clears of sleepiness and haze of incomprehension, she braces her arm against the mattress and tries to lift herself up a bit to look around.

Her arms feel like lead weights, barely responsive to her desire, and her legs are held immobile, underneath a sheet. They feel as if they've been cocooned in cement and fastened to the bed on which she lies. Her head flops around a bit on her neck, and she lolls it from side to side to look around at the spare room. On the other hand, at least nothing hurts. She ends her survey with the direction of the writer, whom she spots as a robed Aelfin. The girl has stopped writing again, and is watching her with large indigo eyes. "Miss?" she says, the single syllable in accented Rephidim Standard.

Miss? The question is familiar, she has surely heard it before. Indeed she remembers it now, the … young? … Aelfin's response when she was trapped. She studies the Aelfin's face for a moment and can only think to offer, somewhat uncertainly, "Are … you well?"

The Aelfin hesitates for a moment, her face screwed up in concentration, then she squeaks in Eeee, "I am fine. I don't speak Rephidim very well, Lady … Bellfweel." She fumbles a little over the unfamiliar word. "How are you feeling?"

"I … " The woman on the bed casts her gaze to the heavens, then around the room searchingly. " … am rather not certain. Though I am not in any pain to speak of. May I inquire as to what happened?"

"Many things, Lady." The Aelfin smiles, slipping off her chair, and then her expression takes on a hesitant cast. "I should let the mages know you're awake, Lady. Fyia will be very glad to hear it, I'm sure. I'll be right back, I promise." As she talks, she backs towards the door, with a look on her face as if she expected Elise to walk off while her back was clear … despite the canine's obvious inability to do any such thing.

Elise raises her brow slightly at the reaction, but then inclines her head to comment. "Very well, I … " She looks to the Aelfin, then to herself, and offers a small smile. " … I shall be here, I assure you."

"Okay," the Aelfin squeaks, then rushes out. Her footsteps pad softly away, then a few moments later, the sound returns, and an Aelfin face peeks around the corner of the door. She smiles again, seeing the poodle still there and awake, and she slips back inside. "Sorry. Mage Feaul will be here in a few minutes."

"You look worried … child? Ah, I fear I am not terribly familiar with the Aelfin, I should not refer to you as such … you simply, well, you must understand. Come to think of it, I never did have time to ask … " Her brow narrows slightly as she remembers the events around which she did meet the Aelfin. "… ask your name. Might I inquire as to it now? I, as you seem to know now, am Lady Elise Antoine de Bellefeuille … and you?"

"It's all right," the Aelfin says, giving a half-smile. "All the big folk treat my people like we're permanently pre-adolescent. I'm actually twenty-eight and am considered quite adult by Aelfin standards … er, not that I've been terribly acting it. I'm sorry, Lady, my name is Indigo Airsdaughter." She curtsies. "And yes, your people told me who you were when they came to retrieve you."

"They came to retrieve me?" asks Elise. Her smile brightens and her right hand lifts, barely, and then drops. She looks a bit discouraged by this but continues anyway. "Oh, thank the First Ones! I surely thought myself dead then and there. I … think you know that too. I assume you were taken from your home to be used in the ritual then? Ah, anddo forgive us for the anomaly we caused. I assure you it was necessary."

The Aelfin nods. "It's all quite complicated, really," she squeaks. Her Babelite is heavily accented but understandable. "After you … um … saved my life, I couldn't get you out from the collapsed tunnel. It was hard to even tell where you were, once you stopped moving. But I knew you were there, so I went to find help." Airsdaughter smiles a little. "You probably won't believe this, but it was Yodhrephath that I brought back, and they're the ones who got you out."

The canine nods her head slightly. "Indeed, I do find it hard to believe. The Yodhrephath? I cannot fathom as to how I cane to pass from their hands to that of the Mages … perhaps you could enlighten me further as to what occurred, that I might know the answer to that?" Elise asks.

Indigo fidgets. "The Yodhrephath didn't really know what to make of you, I think. They were quite ready to lump you and me both in as sacrilegious, I think. I was surprised that I managed to convince them we were the victims of the Diphath cultists and not their perpetrators. But they at least believed me enough not to kill us out of hand, or leave you there to die."

"It … is not far from the truth actually. Though I doubt they would have quite believed we were a victim of Diphath herself, or a disturbing spirit reincarnation thereof." Another small smile is offered, and Elise then tries to prop herself up enough to watch the Aelfin without straining. "Is there more?"

"Yes. I left out the whole story of witnessing Diphath, er, in the flesh. I wasn't terribly coherent but I could still reason enough to think that wouldn't be wise. From what I've heard since, it seems like the people I categorized as 'Diphath cultists' were probably something else entirely … but I wasn't in much position to tell at the time. Any road… " She runs her hand through her hair. "Your friends located you shortly after the Yodhrephath took us to their temple."

The canine nods again to the Aelfin. "A wise choice," she offers. "Go on?"

"I'm not sure exactly what they did or told the Yodhrephath, but the priestesses handed you over to them. I managed to convince your friends to let me come with you. I … " Indigo looks embarrassed. "I wanted to make sure you were all right. there hasn't been anything I could really do … but I wanted to at least be here for you."

Elise tries to lift a hand, as if reaching for the Aelfin, though she finds herself too numb to manage the movement and simply makes due with another smile. "Kind of you, considering the circumstances. Praise be to the First Ones that I have such friends in dark times, for I am surely grateful." The lady's head tilts. "Is there anything else?"

The Aelfin squirms at her comment, looking if anything more abashed. "It was the least I could do," she says again, softly. At that moment, a Kujaku in rainbow robes flutters into the room, clucking.

"Awake and aware, Lady Bellefeuille?" Mage Feaul twitters. "Do you understand where you are?"

The sight of an embarrassed Aelfin strikes Elise as rather adorable, though she forces herself not to physically acknowledge the idea lest she embarrass the woman further. Surely thinks the canine, the Aelfin must get such reactions all too often. When the rainbow-robed mage walks in the canine's gaze flicks to him, and she inclines her head to him in greeting. "Mage Feaul, I assume? I feel very much awake … and I believe I am in … the Caroban infirmary?"

"Very good!" the mage clucks approvingly. "You've been in and out of consciousness, m'lady, but not lucid. You sound as if you're coming around, though. How are you feeling otherwise? Anything hurt?"

Elise considers for a moment, eyes drifting down as she does so before she looks up again and answers. "I am in no pain, at least not that I am aware of at present. I … feel numb, more so towards my legs … though otherwise I am feeling quite lucid now. Remarkable, considering I had thought myself dead when last I was fully aware." She turns her smile to the mage now. "I thank the Guild for a timely rescue."

"Least we could do, really," the mage assures her. "Numb, you say?" He steps past the circle of runes surrounding her bed and lifts her arm, flexing her wrist, then presses two fingers into her palm, the motion visible to her, but the pressure just barely felt, as if through several layers of cloth. "Do you feel that?"

The lady glances to the Aelfin as well. "And I thank you as well, Miss Airsdaughter." Her attention turns to the mage who approaches her and she watches him as he lifts her hand, then presses his fingers to her palm. "Only faintly," she answers.

A cluck from the mage. "I told that mind mage his pain blocker was too strong. I'll send him down to drop it a few notches. Won't do to have you feeling nothing." He shifts around, removing the sheet from her legs, to reveal that they are in separate casts, each one secured firmly to the bed by multiple leather straps. The poodle also notices that her temporarily brown fur has returned to its normal white color, and has grown back enough that she ought to have it trimmed if she means to remain stylish.

The once again poodle lowers her head and gazes across her legs, bound in casts as they are. "Indeed. I would think to feel something, lest the strange thought that I may well still be dreaming persist. I also see you have removed my disguise, and I cannot say quite how ready I was for it to be gone. I had had quite enough of being a Gallah, enlightening though it was," says the lady.

"Yes, no need for it here," the Kujaku twitters. "You're among friends. I'm going to check on the status of your injuries. I'll be chanting for a few minutes." He begins the spell immediately.

Indigo fidgets, then re-takes her seat on the stool. "You don't have anything to thank me for, miss," she says, softly. "I didn't do anything except nearly get you killed."

Elise nods to the mage, and so as not to bother him in his casting, turns her attentions to the Aelfin. "Nonsense. Whatever I did, I did out of my own accord, and was therefore my own fault. You were merely a bystander in a plot that has extended across the planet," she mildly chides the Aelfin, though she continues to smile.

The Aelfin dips her head, though she doesn't look convinced. "I didn't have to be such a stupid bystander," she says, her childlike voice still quiet.

A feline head pokes around the corner, beams, and then the Khatta attached bounces into the room, stopping just shy of the bed. She plops her hands onto the edge, grinning like a maniac at Elise. "'lise! You're back!"

"It is quite understandable, given the circumsta- … " She pauses and looks up, then to the door as a familiar voice resounds in the room – a voice and a presence she could most certainly never mistake for another. Elise watches as the woman bounces over and places her hands on the bed. "So I am, by Their grace. I am glad to see you too are well, Dean Fyiara," she greets the woman, bowing her head in her best attempt at a near-immobile curtsey.

"And you sound just like normal, too!" Fyia mews, still grinning madly, her tail swishing through the air. "This is great!" Her hands knead at the bed's edge by instinct. "How're you feeling? Like you've had a ton of rock dropped on you?"

Elise looks at Fyiara incredulously for a moment, then grins all the more. "I have had a ton of rock dropped on me, Dean, though I feel remarkably intact given that. Well, to be honest, I do not actually feel much of anything. But I suppose that is better than being in pain," answers the noblewoman. "You certainly are in high spirits. I assume that you now know the dreams have ceased? Morpheus is free, and Saraizadze is dead."

The Khatta nods enthusiastically. "Yes. Everything's back the way it should be. Even Indy here promises me that there aren't any mage-cells left still trying to gather back together their splintered fragments of a toasted ritual," she mews, winking at the Aelfin, who squirms.

"I really don't think I should be cited as an expert, miss," the small adult protests.

"Splendid. Then our mission was a success, and I am glad to hear it. Though there are still some matters I am uncertain of, I can attend to them later I imagine," says the bed ridden poodle. "What of the other teams? Did Mage Stalker survive?"

Fyiara's whiskers wilt, and her impish grin vanishes. Even her tail droops. "Yes, it was successful. Stalker … uh. Stalker's dead." She rubs the back of her neck. "I'm sorry. The Fnerf Lanthia was partnered with for the planting, Nyff … he's dead, too."

Elise frowns as well, inclining her head to the information solemnly. "Then may the First Ones guide them to their reward." She looks uncomfortable for having brought down the feline's mood, almost guilty, and then offers, "I am glad you fared well. In fact, I am quite pleased we succeeded."

"Me, too," the feline mews. "Though I feel really bad about Nyff and Stalker. Poor Lanthia hasn't been the same." She brushes a hand beneath one eye. "Any road, it's just keen that you're conscious and talking to us and not asking your mom for sewing pointers or anything," she continues, beaming. "I'm sure you'll be up and about in no time. Right, Clu?" The Khatta glances to the still-chanting mage.

"I asked my mom for … ?" The poodle looks confused for a moment, then recalls vague memories of her mother chiding on her stitches, and just shakes her head before following Fyiara's gaze to the life mage nearby. "Has anyone been notified of my status, Rephidim, or my family?" she asks quietly.

Fyiara nods. "We told them we had you and that we thought you were going to be, um, at least mostly okay." She screws up her face. "I think the message got sent out to your sister and the Temple, oh, about a hemisphere after we pulled you out of the Yodhrephaths' clutches. Took us a while to get you stabilized and find a ship to take us back to Caroban. Most of the mission pulled up stakes and left as soon as we knew the RBM's ritual was kaput. Just a few of us stayed back to look for … well, you and Stalker."

"Understandable, and thank you for notifying Rephidim and my family. Though my sister has little reason to worry, as I never dared mention this mission, I am still glad to know that she is aware that I am fine. Though, I imagine I will meet her disapproval upon my turn, as I otherwise said I was going to be in Gallis … " The poodle frowns briefly, but the expression fades soon enough. "What of the results of the mission itself? I do not mean the ritual, but of how Caroban and the Temple views our success and the undertaking itself."

Fyia kneads at the bed linens further. "The College is officially all proud of us and stuff. The Temple is officially Not Involved, and also 'pleased that the College continues to exert its power to stop abuse of magic by renegade mages.' I dunno if they're going to give you a commendation or not." She glances about, then adds in a confidential mew, "The College has a got a surprise for you, though!"

"Well, I can only hope my actions helped improve relations and have shown that the Temple is interested in the welfare of Caroban, and willing to assist unofficially," says the Gallee. Her head tilts again and she looks vaguely surprised. "A … surprise? It … is not soup, is it?"

"Nope!" Fyia beams, her ears perked and tail swaying again.

The Kujaku mage finishes his chanting, and glares at the feline. "Now!" he twitters. "Stop agitating my patient with such things. She needs to rest and recover. Shoo!" He folds his wings forward and fans them in a dismissive gesture to the feline.

The cat skips out of reach as his wingtips brush her. "C'mon, Clu! She's my patient, too."

Elise's ears perk and before she can inquire further she is interrupted by the sudden twittering of the life mage. "Come now, I am hardly agitated," she offers, looking between the two.

The peacock clucks. "And no, you cannot bring them in here to show her, either!" he says to the feline, as if to forestall her next remark.

"Them?" asks Elise, trying to get a word in edgewise and looking rather lost for it. She continues to look between the two, trying to figure out what Fyiara is up to and if the life mage has any word on her condition. "This is entirely unnecessary … "

"See, you're getting her all upset, Clu. Stop fussing," Fyiara remarks.

Feaul looks irked, and his feathers ruffle. "Ahem! Lady Bellefeuille, it appears that your left leg has healed well," he informs her professionally. "If you like, after you've been awake a few hours and we've toned down that numbing spell on you, we can take the cast off and you can see how it moves."

Elise just shakes her head at the two, and when they finally return to regarding her directly she nods. "As you will, Mage Feaul. I would be very much interested in checking my condition. I have had quite enough with resting and dreams and would be quite pleased to be up and about again," she tells the man.

The peacock clears his throat, and glances at Fyiara for a moment, then back to his patient. "Er, 'up and about' might not be quite the right way to phrase it." Even the quiet Aelfin looks a little downcast at this mention. "Your right leg is, er … " He gropes for words.

The Gallee looks to the Aelfin, then Fyiara, noting their expressions before she looks back to Mage Feaul and regards him. "Yes?" she prompts.

"Ah." The peacock straightens his robe. "It's still there," he twitters. "Considering the condition it was in after the accident, this is quite an achievement in of itself. It does appear to be healing, even," he adds. "I'm just not … well, I don't think you'll ever recover full functionality with it," he says at last. "Maybe enough to limp along all right, but even with Dean Fyiara's assistance on the spells … "

Fyia gives a small, plaintive mew. "Clu, did anyone ever tell you that your bedside manner stinks worse than a three-day Dromodon corpse?"

The Gallee opens her mouth as if to say something, but doesn't quite seem able to manage it at first. She doesn't seem quite able to figure out how to react at all, looking between the mages, then to her leg, then off somewhere that no one stands. At last she gives a weak nod, and rests her head back against the pillow. "I see," she says quietly, sounding suddenly weak.

The feline mews again, and pats Elise's hand. "Don't listen to him, honey. When we found you, well, the life mage was about ready to write off you and your leg. But you showed 'em, huh?" She grins, infectiously. "Half of this recovery stuff is all attitude. You'll get as well as you make up your mind to be, even if the professionals label you a long shot." Her grin widens, showing pointy feline teeth. "And believe me, 'cuz I'm an expert on long shots."

Shifting her head along the pillow, Elise turns to regard Fyiara for a quiet moment after she's done talking. Her solemn, suddenly tired expression cracks a bit and she forces a smile that only partially looks genuine. "You are right, of course … I have come this far, I have no intention of giving up now due to a … mere injury," she tells the woman.

Several days have passed since Elise regained her senses. The Aelfin has remained at her side throughout, a quiet but constant presence unless the poodle orders her to leave. The life mages pronounced the canine's left leg intact but weak, and recommended exercise in moderate doses, allowing Elise to stagger around on crutches for short periods of time – initially, very short periods, as all her muscles had atrophied to a degree during her long convalescence.

On her first day outside, the Mage Feaul has ordered her to stay in a wheelchair, being pushed by Indigo, who occasionally lets the poodle turn the wheels on her own. As they turn a corner through the paths, the Aelfin starts to say something, then pauses, and observes instead, "You must be very tired of having people ask how you feel."

"Exceedingly," replies the poodle. "I am quite unused to being treated as if I may well break, as if I were but a mere cripple to be worried over." The woman sighs softly, shaking her head. She reaches over to pat Indigo's hand. "But … I appreciate the thought."

The Aelfin woman nods. "It seems to be an easy habit to fall into." She pushes the chair along the cobbled path. "Miss Fyiara was hoping you'd see the College's surprise today, while you're out." Indigo pauses. "She asked me to try to convince you to wear a blindfold while I took you to the site. Would you, Lady?"

Elise glances behind her, reviewing the small woman as if making sure she was truly serious. She lifts a brow slightly and then returns her eyes forward. "I would ask if you are serious … but if this is the doing of Dean Fyiara … well, that explains all. I would not think to ruin her fun. She is such a happy and pleasant sort, I cannot quite bear to upset her. Very well," she agrees.

Indigo smiles. "It's good of you to go along with her," she says, taking a light scarf from around her neck and wrapping it around the poodle's eyes. "It's not just Dean Fyiara, though. There are several other mages involved, as I understand. Any road, it's not much further. You'll see soon enough."

"Oh, I am sure I will," says the poodle, sounding just a tad nervous. She recalls Envoy's soup. As the Aelfin directs her wheelchair further she offers a nod. "I did not think I would have much to do with the Dean, as she is by inclination and career chaotic, and that is generally a trait I cannot abide by. But, she has a certain innocent carefree charm to her. I suppose that is just another reason why I undertook that mission … I could not quite stand to think she might well be handling this alone, in a way. She … did not fit there, that is as best I can describe it I think. And I did," she explains.

The young woman only murmurs her assent. After a bit of energetic pushing on the Aelfin's part, the wheelchair emerges into a clear area, judging by the unbroken breeze ruffling the poodle's fur. A ragged cheer breaks out, suggesting three or four people were waiting for them. "Okay, okay, now just so," she hears Fyiara's voice, then a whuffling noise, like a snorting Drokar.

Elise, for her part, does her best to look happy about the whole thing. The look isn't entirely so convincing that she might well appear all too pleased to be here, but she seems to be happily humoring the situation and in a fine mood, considering the circumstances. She folds her hands across her chest and tilts her head. "What are you up to, Dean Fyiara?" she asks.

"Ready?" the feline asks, having walked up to the wheelchair. She must not be asking Elise, however, because after some unseen cue, she giggles. "You can see for yourself now, 'lise." Indigo pulls the blindfold from her eyes.

"Surprise!" Fyiara stands to one side of the wheelchair, and a couple of unfamiliar mages in golden robes stand several yards before her. But neither of the humanoids are what catch her attention immediately.

Like an image from a dream – exactly like an image from a dream – a pair of Drokars stands, covered in finefeathers, one white, and one gold, both with great wings springing from their backs. They shift on cloven hooves, whuffling, as the Earth mages hold onto their halters and watch the poodle's reaction anxiously.

"I … " The poodle's jaw simply drops, completely unprepared for the sight before her. Winged Drokars, of all things! Her hand lifts and she runs it through her long curly hair, so stunned that she does not even notice how long it's been since she has been able to do that.

The feline bounces at her side, rocking on her heels. "Well?" she mews, demandingly. "What do you think? C'mon, say something! Do you like them?"

One of the Earth mages volunteers, "Their names really are Mystery and Secrets," he confides. "They were in your dreams – but they're real. We created them almost three years ago."

The poodle just shakes her head, leaving her hand to rest partially buried in her hair. Stray locks escape it and dangle across her face. She looks positively bewildered. "Astonishing!" she manages to say. "Did you truly create these? I … I did not think such a creature was possible … could even exist! It, it is like a childhood fairy-tale."

"Aren't they gorgeous?" Fyiara enthuses. She beckons to Secrets, and the mage holding him leads the Drokar forward. He whuffles at the feline's hand, then dips his serpentine neck to nuzzle at Elise's hair. "They're real enough! And several years in the making, I might add. These're the originals. They had some trouble with Mystery – she'd got heart problems, she even had heart failure once and they thought she would die – but they're in good health now. The next generation should be healthier still. But these two … " She looks down at the poodle in the wheelchair.

"These two are yours. We voted on it at a High Council meeting and everything. The College wants you to have them, with our thanks," the Dean of Chaos says, almost solemnly.

Elise's hand strays from her hair to run along Secret's muzzle, even as the 'flying Drokar' nuzzles her hair. The woman looks at a loss for words, dipping her head and closing her eyes. Fyiara can see that she inhales deeply and seems to swallow hard, and she just sits there quietly for the moment, letting Secrets be affectionate as he wills.

Secrets inspects the poodle's hand, perhaps hoping for a treat, and then lips at the sleeve of her robe, before going back to nuzzling through her hair. His mane feels strange beneath her hand, as if composed of long, yet soft and flexible, feathers, like the fronds on an ostrich feather.

Elise clears her throat after a moment, though she leaves her eyes shut. "Thank you, this is … too kind of you. I … " The words are as best as she seems able to manage, her voice a bit shaken, and she seems quite taken with the gift and the ceremony of it all.

"You're welcome!" Fyiara mews, brightly.

"And thank you," a deeper voice says. It takes Elise a moment to recognize the speaker as the Dean of Mind, off to one side and out of her line of sight when the blindfold was removed.

The poodle lets her hand rest on Secret's muzzle as she opens her eyes again. She gazes around to the gathered mages and inclines her head respectfully to them now that she has regained some of her composure. "It pleases me that my service was of use, honored mages … By the glory and grace of the First Ones, and in all humility, I accept and tell you that even without a reward I am happy that we have been successful. It has been well worth the effort," she says. Her hand begins to rub Secret's muzzle, and she casts a smile between Indigo, Fyiara, and Viscoi.