Wilhelm keeps trying — first of all, to believe Istredd. He can't hurt anyone here. He can't burn anything down. It's his faith in Istredd's power as a mage more so than any faith in himself that persuades him of the sturdiness these claims possess.

Second, to pull the flame toward him. He forces his breath into a slow, even rhythm; he feels the fire's energy. All his willpower pinpoints on the ball of flame, which stretches toward his hand, little by little, until finally...it falls into his palm. Well, not into it — it's still hovering in the air. But when he moves his hand, slowly, carefully, the flame stays with it.

He doesn't say anything, as if afraid that the fire will startle like a bird, but his relief is visible. Palpable, even. He looks to Istredd for the next instructions.