“Wait a minute,” says Asprin, with the evident feeling that things are slipping out of control.
Being The Authority, he informs us that whatever it is, it is quiescent and will remain that way.
Across the table, several writers exchange thoughtful looks. Now, none of us would violate that rule. After all. The Authority could toss us out. On the other hand, recall that this particular assembly of individuals can pick locks, plumb Min-oan buildings, set bones, and negotiate a ceasefire. So can Asprin, who built this place, and who probably knows more about its underpinnings than we do; and Abbey, who has connections to the gods, is already thinking of ways to head this off which are capable of distracting all of us.
Not a good idea, we decide.
Later.
The End