[center][h2][b][color=#d31c0a]Deo’Irah[/color][/b][/h2][/center]

Deo’Irah offered Caleb a solemn nod at his assertions; she would not stop him if he tried to leave, that much was true–but there were considerations and revelations to be had here yet. Pieces of the puzzle they’d not have been able to intuit–nor able to extract from the tight-lipped Freagon–had been willingly proffered by Caleb… and it would be a waste to not investigate such things already. She sighed internally, also chiding herself a little at how emotional she’d gotten–she could not deny that Freagon’s logic had been sound, that much was true, but she was used to receiving that sort of information from Lhirin (who cooperated with her freely–Freagon was far too reticent and wilful to possibly be of the same use) and factoring those things in more freely. Proceeding from here was going to be very tenuous indeed, especially with Lady Bor and her entourage still waiting outside.

[color=#d31c0a][b]“I will not stop you, no. Though I would urge that you disguise yourself or otherwise make yourself unseen and leave with us–the owner of this house and her entourage are stationed outside, awaiting the results of our efforts. It would be… challenging to explain to her and the assembled townsfolk what precisely has happened here, especially so soon after the bandit attack. They are scared and in a tremendous amount of pain–seeing you as you are would only serve to incite further hurt in these beleaguered people… not that I am suggesting that their apprehension is right, merely that it is real and we must consider it.”[/b][/color] Irah began, before turning to Sir Yanin (still fairly close to her) and taking a second or two to think before speaking again. He had proven meticulous with numbers, consistently checked what they thought they knew, and had a keen eye for detail–she had revealed enough to indict herself already, should he wish to take action against her, but he seemed quite eminently sensible. With only the four of them in the room and Lhirin already knowing her secrets… well, she had little to lose at this point. She figured that she might as well be honest.

[color=#d31c0a][b]“A swaigh, or Angel of Fear, is my second. I sense the question hangs in your mind. You might have been suspect of my extraordinary senses earlier, too, but it should be obvious in retrospect that those senses were Kinder’s, the iriao, rather than my own… but you [i]would[/i] be correct in assuming that I am also learned in necromancy. More specifically in freeing spirits afflicted by undeath from their torment on this plane, not as some crude profaner of dead flesh. I offer this information knowing full well the danger of doing so, especially after what happened here, but you have proven sensible and keen. I trust that you will appreciate having a better grasp on my capabilities for what is to come, and we will leave it at that.”[/b][/color] she spoke, quieting her voice considerably (certainly low enough for none outside the room to risk overhearing)–she intended primarily for Sir Yanin to hear it, though she was certain Freagon would too–and Caleb, most definitely. It was a risk, to be certain, but… if their temporary alliance were to end after the bandits had been apprehended and the healer returned, she and Lhirin could part ways with them and head towards Anaxim Forest as had been their loose idea beforehand, no worse for wear. 

She then looked towards Sir Freagon, something in her expression having changed from the cold fury of before, now more akin to the embers of curiosity mixed with apprehension.

[color=#d31c0a][b]“... I should examine your soul now. You know now that my senses are keen enough to discern plenty… but I would rather you offer it freely than perpetuate this escalation of hostilities we have found ourselves in. May we talk before we head off to find the bandits?”[/b][/color] she asked, her tone soft and only just verging on reproachful. A tiny part of her thought it might be wise to offer an apology, for things getting as out of hand as they had, but her pride and her anger stopped that thought dead in its tracks. Perhaps after she’d calmed down she’d feel differently, but… the bitter sting in her voice was not fully gone just yet, even as she took more steadying breaths to calm and centre herself in the situation they found themselves in. She shot Lhirin a quick glance and directed him towards the book that he’d been so enamoured with, also curious to learn of its contents. She could not discount that something in the diary, presumably Feevesha’s words, might contradict its account of having been gifted his summoner’s flesh in a moment of desperation. It would be good to confirm that before they proceeded further.