He looks at Herian, waits until she catches his eye, and then dips his head in acknowledgement. It is good enough for him, but then again, between the four of the division heads, he supposes himself the most likely to have the fewest concern about this particular knot they’re tangled in.

“Herian is correct, Beleth,” he says. “If it proves to be a poison, we cannot risk losing you.”

They’ll just have to strike the correct balance between ‘worth being trusted’ and ‘won’t be missed if dead’. But they’ve done more difficult things. To Lakshmi, next, his hands clasped before him, easy and smooth.

“Is there a compulsion to serve this ‘higher purpose’, or are those simply the traditional vows sworn by those who drink it?” He shrugs his shoulders elegantly. “You did not mention such a thing when you outlined what we might have to fear from it.”