He made his decision and took them left, dodging under a broken archway overgrown with vines. He brushed his hand over the vines as he went, disturbing leaves and little curls of stems.

He smiled at Martin, warmly, blue eyes light and clear.

"I'm glad to hear that," he said. And he meant it. But he did not inquire any further; did not ask what sort of trouble, did not ask what giving up meant. It was good enough to know that he'd done right by this child.

If... Martin was a child, at all.

"Can you tell me about yourself, then?" Bariyan asked. "I don't mean to be rude, but... what are you?"