“Poll evil,” Swiftwing muttered. A disease which sounds conveniently made-up. “I do hope she finds herself well quickly.” He scraped a talon across the floor. “We—the griffon embassy—would be quite willing to provide you with a personal secretary as a show of friendship. You'd be amazed how quickly a griffon can take notes with his talon. It's far more efficient than using a field to write, so he wouldn't miss a detail . . . and of course, he'd have a ready supply of quills.”