Impervious to Alistair's usual quips, Teren presses the back of her hand against his forehead, then narrows her eyes at the blood on his arm. It's not a grievous wound, but she's still flooded with a sudden rage that he should be hurt at all. And... drugged?

"What's wrong with them," she snaps ferociously at their captors-- magebane? She's not sure what that is. She'd keep glaring at them, but instead she looks back at the dozey Alistair and frowns, gripping a bar with one hand as she uses the other to fretfully smooth his hair.