"Ah," Gilmore said as the conjuration returned hither, its form once more slightly solidified (if such a word could even be appropriate to what was clearly not a solid creature) into a feline. Upon its back was a series of small cups. "Here we are. Shall we start with something local, hmm? This one, here, not so much a wine in the traditional sense, it's from here in Brightford and carries with it these fascinating undertones of coconut." The sorcerer gestured to one of the cups, which were sample cups to the average-sized human. "Do tell me what you think."
While he awaited Scanlan's expert opinion, Gilmore weighed in on the gnome's questions. Drawing one arm across his broad chest, he tipped the opposing elbow into it and drew his fingers through his beard. One thoughtful stroke, then another.
"Well, my friend, you're familiar with magics that lubricate travel between overlapping planes, hmm? Keyleth is proficient with such spells, as I recall from your adventures off into the Feywild. You're dealing in the same school of magic, conjuration, but the fundamental stuff of it is a rather different beast, altogether. Still," Gilmore conceded a possibility, the hand lifting away from his beard briefly as he shrugged, "if they are, indeed, Vestiges, one can never be too sure of the possibilities. Their properties do transform on occasion."
"As for the removal of the magic...well, it's not impossible--" the sorcerer's tone was anything but optimistic. "It can be done. The simpler the artifice, the easier it is to remove without rendering the whole of it into residuum. Magic items are built to last."
Gilmore looked down upon the stone, studied it for a moment, then even reached out to let his fingertips brush against it.
"Are you worried that they will come looking for you?"
A pointed question, one without pretense, but Gilmore weighed it apropos in the moment.