for Myrobalan

Loyalist traitors will burn with the Chantry!

Stand for freedom--or fall with the slavers.

The choice is yours.

The flyers line the second-floor corridor, pasted on the door of every double room. The apprentices and enchanters have been spared the propaganda. Vandelin deduces that the culprit isn't allowed up onto the enchanters' floor of the tower, and wouldn't be familiar enough with it to pick out the Loyalists' doors in any case--but he or she knows that the mages are ripe for recruitment. He suspects 'she,' and can hazard more than an educated guess about her name.

He'll be expected to discipline her; she's his apprentice, after all, and he'll be blamed for this little stunt--but he's tempted to leave the flyers as they are, just for a little longer. It's only when he notices that one's already been taken down that he reconsiders. And it's only when he realizes that the door belongs to his cousin that he feels a tiny pang of remorse.

Quietly, he knocks.