Grandmother Bright tries to look unimpressed. She does a very good job, right up until she raises the aroma cup to her nose. Her eyes widen, and she looks at Wirric Stanton in a new light.

"I have observed, in the past, that Guildsmen are in the habit of making audacious boasts. But you..."

She takes a small sip from her other cup, just to be certain. She nods.

"Despite all the flair and falderal, you have certainly backed your claim. I do not say this very often, but I am impressed."

She gestures again to her servant. While he disappears behind the curtain, she begins to speak.

"Only one of the persons after whom you ask is still present in the city. She sees fewer visitors than I - a caution which I must admit is not unwarranted - but she's not fool enough to turn away such a cup of tea as this."

The servant emerges from the back carrying some small trinket. Grandmother Bright takes it in her hand and holds it out for Wic to inspect. It is a simulacrum of a butterfly, exquisite in detail, but made entirely out of a shard of dark black glass. The edges of its wings are razor-thin, sharp enough to draw blood at the merest touch.

"Do you know what this is?" she asks the alchemist, looking at him inquisitively.