"A little steeper than some, but given they're made by such a master craftsman, I suppose that's reasonable." Straightening slightly, Zevlor makes a show of fishing for his purse. He merely nods along with the spiel Rolan gives him, accepting the information without further questioning, though he has to wonder, exactly how many summons can one wizard handle? Power is all well and good, but surely there is some limit to concentration.

He doesn't have that answer. Rolan might, though. "Fascinating. I'm sure you'll be interested to learn how he manages so many at once."

"I'm a traitor. They won't see me." He answers the question without hesitation or self pity, though there's something dark in his eyes. "You're not leaving this counter while Lorroakan insists you remain, so you're a captive audience. Congratulations."

"You might want to consider the ramifications of that. The power he holds over you even now. You'd do anything to protect your siblings, keep them safe in the Gate." Master Lorroakan has hostages, if he wants them, but with luck, perhaps he's too arrogant to realize he needs them yet.

He finally withdraws a handful of coins, and with them a rolled slip of paper, seeking to drop the lot into Rolan's hand. "Two, please."

If he accepts the paper as well as the coins, Rolan will see an address scribbled across it. A location close to the docks, if he knows the area.

"I wouldn't worry about our heritage here. It won't matter for long. All are one under the Absolute." At this he casts his gaze down; the words taste foul on his tongue.

"Frankly, I don't know what I expect, either. Only what I fear. You, at least, are a wizard in a tower. It's a good vantage from which to keep watch."