Cleansed drags up all the old rumors, tales passed on and on and on between Wardens until it meant nothing. He'd never asked Alistair of any of them, had pivoted so sharply from the discussion of Fiona that mentioning any other rumor was impossible in the moment.

But even the prospect of reaching out to other Wardens makes Ellis hesitate. It's hard to tell how much of that is his own reluctance to present himself to any of his fellow Wardens and ask their attention and how much stems from what he and Vance had worried about: the prospect of infiltration, of the potential that Corypheus' agents had spread farther south than anyone knew. How could they risk calling something like this to his attention?

"No," Ellis agrees. He can feel the pressure of the Calling like clawed fingers dug in at the nape of his neck, not increasing but holding, steady and intolerable. "But we might not come up with a way to deal with it today."

Even shouting, his voice doesn't carry beyond either of them.

"As long as it's kept hidden, we'll have a chance to neutralize it."

Is that a reassurance? He isn't sure that it is.