A sharp clap of hands made them all jump and return hastily to their work, and Telmé turned toward the source of the sound. He watched with some trepidation as Lord Ness Leifsson strode down the hall toward them, heavy black robes snapping with every step, and the long gold chain wrapped around his hips, ends secured at the front and falling nearly to the floor, clinking loudly in the silence. Witchlights glinted on the bright blocks of color that edges his wide sleeves and the hem of his robe. His brown hair was braided, beard close-cropped, and his voice was quiet, friendly, as he spoke. "Merry day, Highness, High Priest. What brings you to the Hall of Magic?"
"Me," Telmé said. "I meanI was hoping you could tell me more about my abilities, what demon blood I possess."