“I can’t think of anything else at the moment, and thank you very much, honored elders,” Kordas said, after a long moment.

Ponu cackled at that. “Honored elders! Did you hear that?” He laughed again.

“Toddle along, you two,” said Dole, dismissively. Then—“Oh, wait!” He pointed a finger at Hakkon. “Tell your pretty boy that the next time he punches a Portal into my space and sticks his hand in it to help himself to my things, he’ll be drawing back a stump. I’ll even cauterize it for him!”

“Really? Isn’t that overreacting? You had over a hundred firebird feathers,” said Ceri.

“And if I want a hundred and one, what business is it of yours?” Dole snapped, and threw something—it looked like a small cheese-crumb from his breakfast—at his fellow mage. It fell short, but the point was made.

That started them off, bickering and calling each other names. This was why their seats were positioned out of hitting range of each other.

Kordas grabbed Hakkon by the elbow and pulled him out before cups started flying.

Hakkon scratched his head as they emerged into the short hallway that led back into the rest of the manor. “Are they always like that?”

Kordas snickered. “Sometimes they’re worse. But, I’ll also say that despite the wardings in there, and with us—” he tapped the Crest of Valdemar on his baldric, then flipped it over a bit to show the layers of metal, lace, and wood hidden under it—“they still speak in code and implication. It might have sounded like pointless banter, but in truth, they were telling us valuable hints about what to think and how to do things just then. It’s a sort of game they play. Still, if I were you, I would warn Jonaton about the fact that his thievery is not a secret to the Circle. I’m pretty sure Dole was serious.”

“Oh.” Hakkon looked back at the closed door. “Right.”

“Come on, I need your calculating brain,” Kordas said, tugging at his elbow. “There are many steps in making perfect stuffed bread.”

Hakkon looked deeply baffled for six seconds more, then understanding dawned on his face. “They—oh. I only listened to the words, not what they could have meant,” Hakkon replied, actually blushing. “It was like those weird story problems I read to you when you were first learning magic.”

“A truth of magic is that we never stop learning, or the magic fades. New spellwork is invigorated by new knowledge, while if a mage stops new learning, they stagnate away into dull despondency,” Kordas said as the pair headed through alabaster-columned and wood-paneled halls, toward one of the lesser stable complexes. “That’s mostly what the Emperor has now, in the City. Mages that are decadent but dull. They learned the official methods to have power enough, then just stopped there.”