At Loghain's words, Pelindanus looks at Alistair—seeking an ally, perhaps, or some reassurance that they will indeed remember that he was their friend. He gets only a tilted head and silence, until he seems to look at Alistair more carefully, eyes narrowing, lingering on his nose.

Alistair knows that look. He doesn't like it, but at least this time it's useful, knowing for sure the man has seen his face somewhere before.

When the silence becomes too uncomfortable for even Pelindanus to bear, he says, "Aurelian Titus," and takes a belated drink from his goblet, as if doing so quickly enough will retroactively calm whatever nerves sharing that name has rattled. "He is a magister. He was a friend of Archon Davan, until he was not, and the Archon was dead—all his enemies turn to ash, one way or another. I would not like to be one of them." Another drink. "He had your king. He was once in need of a healer—" He gestures to himself. "—and he trusted me, then, though if he knew I might recognize the man perhaps he would not have. It was ten years ago. He may be dead now. If he is alive I do not know where he is held. That is all I have to offer."