Ralston tips his head. The gesture is some combination of practiced and instinctive—learned with intent as much as it is habitual. It denotes some flickering sense of superiority; the pleasure of closely studying a thing knowing that you are the cause of it. If Kirigan's barbed little threat were an object, he might be compelled to take it over in his hands and turn it over to observe it from a variety of angles.

Instead, he smiles. Ralston hooks his free wrist across the hand currently in possession of the borrowed cane.

"Oh, all manner of things. Just between you and me, I wonder whether Ambrose understands exactly how motley the crew he's assembled here is. If what was made in Horizon is any indication, the High Mage has been fishing in the Well with a net rather than a hook. I almost admire the commitment to risk."

Dangerous, isn't it? To play with a thing only partially understood.