[ Dorian shares no such suspicion, as far as swooping goes, but he does keep an eye and an ear on their surroundings. A mixture of time with the Inquisition and natural distrust, to be sure. ]

Do you know-- [ He says it slowly, dubiously. ] --that sounds less like a party, and more like a deathtrap?

[ And then they find the wall, and Dorian frowns at it. On a hunch -- he has, after all, seen more than a few warded, booby-trapped, and otherwise deceptive walls in his time -- he brings his staff to bear, bladed end first. The electricity from the wall arcs to the metal of his staff, and Dorian scowls when his suspicions are confirmed. He mumbles, ]

Speaking of deathtraps...

Perhaps there's a weak point in the barrier.