Byerly, though - Byerly does know that face. He remembers it well. It had loomed over him as he lay chained to a table, as she began to drain his blood for a ritual. Though that dream had been years ago, the incident itself had been too terrifyingly vivid ever to forget. Even now, a tremor of nervous energy goes through him at the sight of it.

There’s a quick flash of Bard-sign to Bastien, disguised as idly picking up the powder. Benedict’s mother.

And Benedict’s mother is a magister, and a supporter of Corypheus. This, right here - this might be an opportunity to gather intelligence of far higher value than anything they might manage to glean elsewhere. At the same time, though, if she caught sight of her son, that would mean death for Artemaeus. Was it worth the risk?

Follow? he signs to Bastien.