An elf who had been standing watching the proceedings gives a high, squealing laugh. "Ain't it obvious, lassie? The Shadow Lodge returns to the shadows! All of this forthright dealings and honest talk shan't do for us or them. It's quite the bad watchman who stands in plain sight - ye must remain unseen if you're to catch the wicked at the unseeable."
He pulls out a small book and flips through the pages. "Nay, companions, ye want to make Pathfinders work together? Ye dangle a carrot in front of them and have a stick behind 'em. Put a cursed artifact at one end of the tomb, and a wall of their sins and 'favors done' to keep 'em working together. Works the same for a wet-behind-the-ears milk-drinking baby-faced recruit or for the Decemverite themselves - the power of secrets simply comes in their magnitude." He winks. "That's why I try to make sure I have enough of 'em." The book vanishes into a pocket.
