That comment about their colourful party makes him crack something that might look like a grin under different, less miserable circumstances. Because, well, it's the truth, isn't it, they do make for an eccentric and mismatched trio of travellers--and because something about the delivery of that line puts him in mind of--well. Best not to dwell on him now.
He tucks the ax back into the leather strap attached to his belt and gives it a pat, like you might pat a horse's flank after it has just put in a good run for you, before leading it back to the stables for a rub-down. "I'll follow your lead," he says, and there is a bit of hesitation as he gets his head around the syllables of, "Nie Huaisang," but it's not as difficult a name for him to pronounce as some of the guttural, glottal names that were favoured in the Outislands. He and Nighteyes, evidently by unspoken agreement, both fall into step on either side of Huaisang as they follow the street towards the inn.
He still hears it, every few moments; steel against stone, a cry of pain, his name a despairing, anguished sob, Fitz--
Clearing his throat: "Changer is--how Nighteyes sees me." And he cannot help the caution in his eyes as he studies Huaisang's profile; he knows well enough by now that the prejudices against the Old Blood haven't followed him here, and Huaisang is unlikely to be one of the Piebalds who would have sold out their fellow Witted. (He does not sound like a son of the Six Duchies.) Which still doesn't answer his principle question.
no subject
He tucks the ax back into the leather strap attached to his belt and gives it a pat, like you might pat a horse's flank after it has just put in a good run for you, before leading it back to the stables for a rub-down. "I'll follow your lead," he says, and there is a bit of hesitation as he gets his head around the syllables of, "Nie Huaisang," but it's not as difficult a name for him to pronounce as some of the guttural, glottal names that were favoured in the Outislands. He and Nighteyes, evidently by unspoken agreement, both fall into step on either side of Huaisang as they follow the street towards the inn.
He still hears it, every few moments; steel against stone, a cry of pain, his name a despairing, anguished sob, Fitz--
Clearing his throat: "Changer is--how Nighteyes sees me." And he cannot help the caution in his eyes as he studies Huaisang's profile; he knows well enough by now that the prejudices against the Old Blood haven't followed him here, and Huaisang is unlikely to be one of the Piebalds who would have sold out their fellow Witted. (He does not sound like a son of the Six Duchies.) Which still doesn't answer his principle question.
"You could hear him, just then, couldn't you?"