“Hm,” Lambert says, noncommittally. Syrlya is talking like Strange sometimes does, like he’s supposed to know or care who these people or places are, but this isn’t really the time to ask clarifying questions — it’s the time to just steadily feed him alcohol until he’s too drunk to walk or think in straight line. It won’t, however, save Syr from a bit of ribbing.

“So, you decided to come back to the Carnival for a vacation after all that, huh?”

He’s joking, mostly. His impression is that people who leave the Carnival with incomplete contracts don’t recall much of any of the Carnival back home, but he’s not sure how the Ringmaster works out the pickup point either. It’s all firmly in the realm of magic bullshit.