He almost felt pity over the ignorance of the reptile. Clearly it knew very little of the nature of a dragons flame. It was said to be the hottest fire in the world; no matter how hard a metal he forged to clothe the slithering body, he would not escape unscathed should Fajira choose to unleash it. He was sorely tempted to let her. The patronizing attitude of the intruder made Lace grit his teeth, muscles steeled and ready to move at the slightest of signs that the so called Artisan was about to attack.

The snake snapped the roots of the trees and he allowed them to recede, unwilling to further damage the trees. A black-laced ear twitched and Fajira slipped out of the way of the sharp teeth, hissing and beginning to loop around the head of the intruder, prepared to attack at a moments notice. No other reaction was given to his sudden loss of advantage, even as Bazilisk raised the massive head and stared down at him. May it be that he was but a Glazier, he had spent his whole life training and participating in battles, guarding borders and staving off unwanted 'guests'. The body was trimmed to the fullest, as much as possible during a season where food was scarce, and he had lost none of the skills that kept him alive so far.

As if a snake, no matter how big, would be able to make him back down with only a few words.

"As a member of Dragons Throat you are expected to pay attention to such things, and then you may be an idiotic snake or a rock, I don't care. There are plenty of grounds to hunt on besides the Edge; I suggest you take your leave, if you can't be civilized. You wouldn't want to face the DragonHeart - and you will, should you linger without invitation."

He didn't doubt that Fajira had already passed on the news of the intruder to Akaith, who in turn would relay it to Mirage. He hoped it wouldn't be necessary for her to step in though; such a small matter shouldn't have to require the attention of the WeyrLeader, and he didn't wish to be insulted by suggesting that he couldn't handle the situation. Still, if it was for the safety of the herd, he'd swallow all the pride he had and even call for help. He didn't have to like it.

"If you do change your mind, however, I have some things I would like to discuss with the Artisan of the Throat. My name is Lace, bonded to Fajira, Glazier of the World's Edge. Through the grace of the Lady of the Moon, I create and shape glass in any manner of way. Is that perhaps of interest?"

Perhaps a bit of honey might be better than simply stick. Sometimes a layman could be soothed by discussing his own trade, and as irritating as Lace found the snake, he wasn't going to do anything drastic. He had no desire to start a conflict with the Throat; even though the basilisk started it, no one would excuse him for adding fuel to the fire.