[Orin likes that rise she gets out of him; she almost reaches out to touch his knife, so eager for the blade to draw blood - even if it is hers. Instead, she caresses her own dagger, caressing it with the gentle touch of a lover.]

I guess the ratling couldn't figure that out on his own without his wizard, could he? No no no, don't you worry. Your wizard is alive and well - oh, not well, but alive... for now. How I long to split him like a pig, to spill his innards across the stones, but I must be patient. His foul blood would make a poor offering.