Dent decided to push his luck. He took a quick glance around the temple. His colleagues were all reasonably positioned to make the most of their skill, if it came to that. He nodded to himself, assured. Then he smiled at Qarbo, showing a row crooked teeth yellowed from drink. "You're lying, of course. Not particularly well, either; such a disappointment. It's of little consequence. But if you haven't the Knight Captain, you should say now so that we may take our leave, leaving your lot unmolested." Dent modulated his voice so that it was low and steady. While he'd found in the past that even-keel tones coupled with overt insult often produced anxiety and uncertainty to the point of instigating an attack, he was sure Qarbo wouldn't bite at his crude attempt to provoke. But the other priest or one of the guards might; they looked well and truly nervous. Dent took a five-foot step closer to the bronze lever and the priest. If nothing else, and no one reacted to his insult, he'd learn something of the discipline of the temple inhabitants.
Hell, maybe I'll get lucky and Damien will tire of this exchange. Dent smiled again, this time to himself.