To the Esteemed Lady Codinth,
You once told me that all things in this world have their proper place. A blade belongs in its sheath, a coin in its purse, and a secret on the lips of the one who can make best use of it. It is in that spirit that I write to you now, for your concern is no longer a secret, and its place is not yet secure.
The egg you seek has changed hands once more. It now lies within the vault beneath the Ziggurat of Coatlicue, under the watch of Ras Ssathasaa and his brood. Whether they know its true worth or merely hoard it as another trophy in their ceaseless hunger for dominion, I cannot say. But I do know this—if it remains in their grasp much longer, it will become theirs beyond contest.
However, fortune favors you. Their forces are divided. Half of Ssathasaa’s warriors have left for Voor Daran Palace, seeking whatever ghosts and magic still linger in that forsaken place. The ziggurat stands weaker than it has in years, its defenses strained, its sentinels stretched thin, although I expect they're prepared for you in particular. I do not know how long this will last, nor do I intend to linger and find out. You, however, still have time.
Consider this my final word on the matter, and with it, the closure of my debt to you. I trust you will move swiftly, as you always do. And should you require a reminder of our agreement, let me be clear—I have no desire to involve myself further. I deliver this knowledge to you freely, as promised, but what happens next is yours to decide.
Do not delay, Codinth. There are others who would kill for what you seek. Perhaps they already have.
— The Mongoose