[Suzerain of Sheol]

"Power?" he repeated in a murmur, taken somewhat aback by the casual way the dragon had spoken of it. Some kind of haven for weavers of the Wyrd? A coven of warlocks? He regretted again the loss of his sword, for all the good it would do him against three dozen mystics frying him with conjured lightning.

He had been imagining a hamlet of peasants leading small lives, perhaps superstitious and distrustful of strangers. This... had the sound of something else entirely. Skeye had always dealt with arcane matters; Kyarr had no idea what to expect from these magi, or even what they all might be doing here, gathered together in a seeming remote region of wilderness.