As the faelan was led away by Tamor's manservant, Tamor invited Dauphin to sit at his table while he prepared them both a hot drink.
"You look as though you need it," he smiled.
She returned the compliment and he disappeared into a back room. She had time to look around, and saw that Tamor's spartan outlook on life hadn't really changed, even after all these years. His only decoration seemed to be the unsheathed blade that was mounted above the hearth, a memory of his other life, before he had become civilised and moved south.
"So, what brings you to my door?" his voice travelled from the open doorway.
"War is coming," she replied simply. "Cardac is on the move."
"That's hardly news," he told her as he returned, two steaming mugs in his thin hands, "the whole city has been in uproar for weeks. Refugees, evacuees, mercenaries - I've seen them all. This place is ready to burst. Were Cardac to arrive tomorrow, we'd be taken in a day."
"That may be somewhere where I can help." Dauphin said, letting the heat of the cup warm her chilled hands. "I haven't come all this way to see this town burn. And we have less than a week until Cardac arrives."
"A week! It's not me that you should be telling this news to!"
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