"That's not sorcery, it's magic," I corrected him. "Terrans are into sorcery; we Imperions are into magic." I sniffed. "You're using basil? It should be rosemary."
"I've been a skilled sorcerer for three centuries before you were even born, Viktor," he retorted. "Rosemary or not, I know what I'm doing."
"The manuscript didn't specify," he continued. "It's been damaged by fire." I nodded. "What were you attempting to see?"
"Just around the bend," he replied. "It's a simple test. Now, please, have a seat. What can I assist you with?"
I settled into a plush, black leather chair. I found a sheet of paper and a pen on a side table and started jotting down some notes. In the meantime, Opal flew to Drevolan's shoulder. He scratched his head, and he flew back to me. I handed the sheet to Drevolan.
"Three unfamiliar names," he observed.
"They're all Vorgan," I clarified. "Thorne can connect you with them."
"For what reason?"
