Bariyan was silent for a while. When he spoke again, it was in a murmur.

"No, that's all that I wanted to know about me," he said. Still smiling. "I thought about it, but..."

But he knew that he would be dead soon. It was a fact that he had to remind himself of, now. Being here and knowing that he was or would be here, earlier or later or again, all that was enough to make him wonder -- make him hope, falsely, that he might yet survive whatever was happening back home.

Futile to think that way. He turned memories over in his head, words said and unsaid, turned, looked at all the bridges burned, and knew that he was at his end. Even if it had been delayed by this place.

He would die. He didn't need the heartache of knowing what sort of life he might have led here to occupy his thoughts in the meanwhile. There was no more room in his heart for any sort of hurt.

"You, though...." Bariyan stopped briefly to look around, to decide where he wanted to turn next. "You were... important, weren't you?"