"Fourteen? Why such an odd number?" Tsillu took the papers from Grarhi and rifled through them, careful, decades-practiced movements keeping his sharpened claw tips away from the paper, his pure black eyes giving no indication of actually reading any of them. He absorbed the information quickly, pausing on a page now and again, cocking his head from side to side as he read over the sheets on either side of his beak. All these artifacts in the hands of a private... collector? Author? Scientist? Oh, that was a nice one. Obviously no outside documentation, that one was supposed to be lost in the sinkhole of Fehl'ala, twenty years ago. If that lady just sent these documents around willy-nilly, then someone in the Society must know that it wasn't at the bottom of a miles-deep hole. Tsillu had never visited what used to be Fehl'ala, so he had assumed the estimation to be an exaggeration.

"I mean, an even fifteen would have made the numbers nice at least." Tsillu blinked, continuing to rifle through the document. "But, you see, your lady has put you in an awkward situation, just as you have me. I don't own this dig. Honestly, no one does. The Society went through all the local customs centuries ago and has generations-long pacts with the locals, such as my family," he splayed one hand across his chest, the other holding the folder open in front of him. He continued to gesture softly as he spoke, "and has the blessing of our descended pantheon to choose sites around Thrun'valak that it can produce verifiable evidence that the site contains... eh," he waved his claws in the air to emphasize, "'potent' artifacts that might have some impact on the world order if they fall into the... eh, wrong hands. You understand my dilemma, yes? Yes. We cannot barter over things we do not own ourselves."

Tsillu started to turn back into the tomb, his legs crossed defensively, ready to turn back if the orc made a movement he didn't like. He paused. "That is... If I can't make you a deal."