The Chancellor looked down at the paper in front of him. He cleared his throat. 'Re'lar Ambrose, are you a donkey?' Ambrose went stiff. 'No, sir,' he said. 'Are you possessed of,' he cleared his throat and read directly off the page. 'A pizzle bound to fizzle?' A few of the masters struggled to control smiles. Elodin grinned openly. Ambrose flushed. 'No sir.' 'Then I'm afraid I don't see the problem,' the Chancellor said curtly, letting the paper settle to the table.