Orrill sat at his bench mixing the potions before him. A steady green flame burned below one beaker. The wizard attempted as much of a smile as his crocodilian head would allow. Then a sudden gust of wind rushed through the room, blowing it out. Orrill grabbed several papers that were blown loose, and glanced to see his employer standing there. "Thire," he said to Belberith, making a rather curt bow. "I hope all ith well?"
"That fool Asterot is having second thoughts," muttered the Dev, stalking through the room. "I should have seen this, I suppose--he is a weak reed at the heart of him."
"Indeed, thire," muttered Orrill quietly, setting his papers back on the desk. "Thuch a shame we mutht uthe him, but tho it goeth..."
Belberith regarded his lieutenant for a moment. "Tell me, have you ever...?" The Dev sighed and shook his head. "Never mind."
The wizard regarded him with curiosity. "What, thire?"
"It is immaterial," said Belberith. "I am tired. Forget about it."
"Very well, thire," agreed Orrill. "Tho, did you perthuade Athterot to continue with hith... thupport?"
Belberith stared at Orrill for a moment, and then nodded. "I managed to persuade him." He glanced over the experiment. "Your work progresses... well?"
"Oh, very well, thire," stated the wizard. "Why the progrethion of..."
Belberith raised his hand. "I do not need specifics. Simply... understand that we will be moving soon."
Orrill bowed. "Of courth, thire," he said. "Do you have anything elth you wish...?"
Belberith's usual frown seemed even deeper than normal. "Nothing I can think of," he said at last. "Once you are finished with your work... begin... preparations." He stared for a moment longer, than apported away.
Orrill sighed and began to straighten his things. "Tediouth, pompouth old fool."