"They've split up," Wilbur said, looking up from his scrying orb. "Dreth is on an island of some kind. They've left one of the zombies and the little one on the ship with the man."
"Interesting," said Harold the Hedonistic without turning around. He was staring out over the railing of his ship, seemingly entranced with the Sparklyblue Sea. "Who's on the island?"
"I'm not sure milord, my scrying is at the limit of its range, and the island appears to have some kind of magical warding. We may lose sight of Dreth if he goes inland." Wilbur gulped silently to himself. Harold didn't usually like being told bad news. He knew he was the third Magical Advisor to the king this year, and that was because he'd been away when the Wizard's guild had chosen the post. For the hundredth time he lamented skipping that meeting. Today though, it seemed he was in luck.
"Very well," Harold said, waving a hand vaguely. "Keep an eye on their ship. Let me know when they move off."
