Falling to a knee and sucking air back into his lungs, Minkus suddenly heard and understood what the man had said. He spun to face the room, rubbing at his scorched chest. Whatever that prod had been designed to subdue, it wasn’t an asura. The shock from it had burned a ragged hole straight through the stolen uniform. If it hadn’t been for Minkus’ magic, first absorbing part of the blast and now streaming into him to heal the burn, he knew he wouldn’t be on his feet, if even conscious.