[ The display at least allows Estinien and Ysayle to retreat to somewhere private, a cobbled lane at odds with the mane street, trying to invoke some bygone age where charm and simplicity were still deeply valued.

Not surprisingly, the lane is empty.

He takes ten steps, strides enough to get them out of earshot of the street, and then turns to look upon her. He at last lets her go, giving her space to back away, to keep that gulf between them that had become so customary as to be comfortable.

He notices, now, the mark just under her chin.

Displeasure flits across his expression, there and gone in a blink. ]

It goes without saying that the people here possess a technology and ability that neither you nor I can contend with.

You will have to take more care.