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The Council of Three stayed behind while the White Robes filed out first according to custom. They were rollowed by the Black Robes, in deference to LaDo
It had also become custom among the Council of Three to conclude each Conclave with a reflective bottle of elven wine. Justarius did the honors this time, producing from thin air a dusty red bottle and three delicate crystal goblets.
Far-Salian swirled the rosy liquid in his glass, then sipped gingerly at the rim. Just as he liked it: dry. "Lyim Rhistadt does present a dilemma," he said almost without voice.
LaDo
The wine was too acrid for Justarius's taste. He set the goblet down after one sip. "I agree with LaDo
Par-Salian bowed his balding pate briefly. "The survival of magic alone must guide our actions," he agreed. "Very well, then." The Head of the Conclave swallowed the last of his ruby wine before waving a white- robed arm. Three heavily cloaked figures appeared from the shadows. Though the colors of their robes identified their different magical orders, they held one thing in common: the assassin's scimitars slung across their backs.