"...what do you want? I was just flying around and you started casting spells at me."

The priest straightens himself to his full height and glares at Cam, though the effect is slightly ruined by the fact that he's trembling. 

"This kingdom is under the protection of Vkandis Sunlord, and your, your witchcraft, is not welcome here!" he growls.  

Cam resists the temptation to put on a witch hat. "...why not?"

The priest starts to open his mouth to answer, and then instead snaps his jaw shut with a click and folds his arms and glares. 

"Well, I can hardly be expected to change my ways if nobody will explain what the matter with them is, can I?"

The priest doesn't answer immediately. 

(He's thinking that this is a reasonable argument, but also he's feeling INCREDIBLY unqualified to have this conversation and like the mysterious winged witch-or-whatever-he-is is going to out-argue him on every point whether or not he's right.) 

"...You could talk to the Son of the Sun?" he ventures, finally. "He speaks directly for Vkandis." And is also the highest authority in Karse right now, meaning that he presumably won't be worried about getting himself in trouble with the other authorities, except for Vkandis Sunlord Himself, of course... 

"Sure! Which way?"

"I - guess you could go wait outside the High Temple to Vkandis and, um, ask for an audience? It's that way." The priest points, in the same direction as what Cam's map would indicate. 

"Great, thanks! Feel free now that you're not throwing fire to break up that ice wall and use it to chill drinks or something, it's clean except where it hits the ground and it'll melt if you don't use it for anything." And he's off.

Baffled looks follow him, mostly eyes peering out from hiding-places behind crates and doorways. Nobody moves to touch the ice wall. 

The priest slumps against the wall of the nearest building until his heart isn't pounding quite so hard and he feels less like he's about to faint, and then he tries to collect himself, smoothes down his robes, and takes off at a brisk walk, breaking into a run halfway down the street. He urgently has to get a report out with one of the Mindspeakers, warn the high priest so he's not so entirely caught off guard... 

...

It seems like some kind of report reached the temple staff in advance, while Cam had stopped to talk. There's an entire company of Karsite soldiers assembling to guard the doors and courtyard. And half a dozen priests are visible, shielded behind the ranks. 

The Son of the Sun is easy to pick out. He's the one in the absurdly elaborate cloth-of-gold robes and enormous glittering headpiece. 

"Good morning!" says Cam, coming in for a landing.

The Son of the Sun does much better at keeping his composure. He clasps his hands behind his back, raises his chin, and stares levelly at Cam. 

"Who and what are you, and what brings you here?" 

"My name is Cam, I'm an apsel, and I came to see how you guys were doing! How are you guys doing?"

"- I, personally, am much more confused than I was when I woke up this morning. What is an 'apsel'? Where do your powers come from?" 

"Apsels are a kind of person who can create arbitrary material objects! There are lots of us but I get the sense we aren't common around here. Would you like any material objects?"

"- And what price would you ask, for your magic?" The priest's eyes narrow. 

"Oh, I don't charge, I don't have to because I can make arbitrary material objects."

"Not all prices are paid in coin. What feeds your power? It is certainly not granted by the grace of our Sunlord." 

"It's not! It's just something I can do all by myself, it doesn't need fuel or anything."

"That - sounds awfully convenient. When tales are so convenient, I think wise men should doubt them." 

"That's not unreasonable of you! How do you propose we find out if my powers have some consequence I don't know about?"

"I could petition Vkandis Sunlord to send a vision with answers, I suppose." 

"Sure, go for it, let's see what he says."

The priest nods, and then kneels, closing his eyes. 

The waiting ranks of Karsite soldiers fidget. There are some whispers.