Petrana makes a noncommittal sound — mmmm — at his assessment of the value in question, considers that they are considering the problem and its possible solutions from different angles. The Venatori can support their colony, granted, but from the sound of things those shard-bearers do not enjoy the degree of liberty to which she can lay claim, even as a rifter, even as outsider, still after all these years.

Have they families? Were they willing? Tevinter is not in the habit of surrendering its children the same way as the south — and it has shades of the south to it, doesn't it, what she's heard and what she means to try to observe for herself if the opportunity should arise. As southern mages might have been escorted to and from their containment, to serve their purpose,

perhaps there's nothing to that. Perhaps there is no crack in which to aim a lever, yet, but it strikes her and she is still considering it even as she considers, as well, the shape of Isaac's perspective and in which direction he (and others) had defected, or had imagined that they might. A dream, only, for all it had altered the course of their lives.

Her fingers flex and clench, where her anchor-shard is hidden beneath her glove.

“Is that all upon the subject she's said yet?”

Petrana evinces no expectation which way he'll answer; useful, if she's said more. As likely that she hasn't.