Cedric leans back, dust puffing from the ancient cushions behind him. Time was, they cost dear as a horse, but no one's cleaned this crypt for a while. The dead who called it home are gone; the living might be, too.

So it's a guest room. So he's mashing a hand over his face like he does back in Kirkwall, like he does when he wants to talk. It might be three in the morning, again, but it's hard to tell down here –

And anyway, they're both awake.

"Reckon this means they won?" Fishing in his pack, and Vanya will know what that means, too. Maybe Mobius is discreet, maybe he isn't; but Cedric's been too long in a war tent to care. "Th'Pentaghasts."