Strange casts a matching bemused look to his colleague. Teren’s Scouting, so they haven’t associated much yet, but he’s caught her name since she’s noticeable: that jagged scar, the greying hair, both of which automatically earn the woman a bit more respect than otherwise.

Behind them: servants gather in worried clusters murmuring to each other, one of them now feebly waving a broom in the air like the noblemen are some bats trapped on the ceiling.

“Apparently they’ve been stuck up there for a while,” it had taken some time for Riftwatch to be summoned, on the basis of them all hopefully knowing this situation better than some hapless nobility, “so wait-and-see might be a waste of time. Still, I’m not actually sure how to stop it. It’s not a rift.”

He keeps his voice low enough that he’s not advertising to all and sundry that he doesn’t have an immediate idea besides, well, rope.