[The grip that jerks him back is not rough, and the hand seems human enough, but there is an implacable solidity to it that is reminiscent of iron, or old, unbending trees. Matt is not released until he has steadied and his attention is fully on his friendly assailant, instead of on the water. Only then does the hand on his shoulder relax, retreating without fanfare.

Standing casually next to him, a tall, thin man observes him without obvious expression—at least until his reply. That earns a small shrug, a quirk of an eyebrow.]

Not me, personally. Manor staff. Probably some of those burly, horned fellows.

[The minotaurs look well-suited to dredging pond bottoms, don’t they? They certainly seem dutiful enough for the task.]

Anyway; the pool’s developed an appetite, apparently—along with the rest of the city. Best not to doze off around it.