Dear Velverin, I read your letter with interest, and believe that I owe you a reply. I’m sorry that I alarmed you in going after the Hag’s knowledge. I see how it must have looked to a bystander. That said, I must point out that the building wasn’t burning when I teleported myself into it, and I was as surprised to find myself so… beflamed… as you were. I’m glad you see me as an asset and ally. That is certainly mutual, but perhaps next time you will take greater pains to stop Drev’nae and Hawk burning your assets alive. I don’t expect you to like me, Velverin. Wizards are seldom liked. As I’m sure you can imagine, it isn’t stable families and an excess of hugs that causes them to run away and spend their lives shut up in small rooms in high towers. For what it’s worth, you didn’t fail Gaston, Rhythm, or even Borgen, so don’t be so cruel to yourself. They were people who chose lives of danger and excitement, knowing what risks it posed and each of them would hate you to think you were responsible. I know I’m a hypocrite for saying so; Borgen’s death affected me similarly. Just know it is not too late to help them. We can still make sure that they have some sort of afterlife, some kind of existence, if we put a stop to this death curse. To do that, we need knowledge. We are dealing with forces more powerful than any and all of us and we cannot afford to lose any potential advantage, no matter how unsavoury the source. Even had the building been on fire when I entered, it would still have been worth the risk. You talk of it as “some papers” but perhaps you merely haven’t seen how powerful “some papers” can be. Wars have been won and lost on the basis of some papers, kingdoms have fallen. And, as any professor knows, a snide comment in the faculty minutes can cause more damage than a dozen fireballs. As for the new chaps, well… one of them tried to trap me in that hut, while the other ran off a cliff rather than share a room with me, so I think the time for making a good first impression has rather passed. It is a truly depressing fact about my life right now, that you’re one the least insane people in it. We will get through this, somehow, and I can promise you at the very least that I shall do my upmost to avoid being on fire in the future. Yours sincerely, Professor Faelon