Quaster looks upon the thief, "I think I can do something to aid you." The wizard quickly intones an incantation ere waiting for Stark's rebuke. The kenku shudders in discomfort as crackling energy and an icy shroud encase his form.
"Great, just what I don't need, more ice.", snarls the chattering voice in Stark's mind. Recalling his leaders' dictates to remain civil, Stark whispers, "Um, thanks...", his breath clouding as it passes through the freezing shield. "I suppose this thing will melt in time." he growls under his breath.
"No fire or magical flame shall remove that ice." explains Quaster. He smiles and instantly disappears.
Stark mutters an oath about his ill luck, and silently praises Kossuth that he can at least again be on his way. He quickly makes his way into the inn and collapses into a lush chair, his shivering form mere inches from the welcome blaze of the hearth.
The relief of keeping his information from Quaster's notice helps to calm his initial anxiety. Soon this inner tranquility is replaced by profound curiosity.
