The name has an effect; Sorrel stiffens, and a sensation not unlike ice goes through the whole of him, shocking and abrupt and it kicks his heart where it's tenderest and sets it to galloping. A thousand wondering questions run through his mind all at once babbling like a crowd of children: how did he know Beleth? Did she get into, somehow more than usual, trouble? Did she need them? Did she send this person?

Did this little thing even know her to begin with? It could all be a lie.

"Right," Sorrel says, abruptly more focused, his staff tilting more readily in his hand; on guard, "You're going to tell me who you are, what you want, and where you got that name from, and if you lie to me I'm going to set you on fire."