On the walk back to Veyrhold, the storm-silver tubes packed carefully in insulated cases, Rohan opened the detailed rank view.
[Rank: 34]
[Progress to Rank 35: 91%]
He almost stumbled.
Liora noticed.
"Panel?"
"Yes."
"Good or bad?"
"Annoying."
"That usually means good."
"I'm close to Rank 35."
She looked impressed despite herself.
"That quickly?"
"I've been hunting constantly."
"You've been surviving constantly. There is a difference."
"Survival counts."
"Not always."
Rohan glanced at her.
Liora's face was turned toward the distant walls of Veyrhold. The wind tugged at her scarf, and ash clicked softly against her leg brace.
"You've been here four months," she said. "Most outsiders would be dead."
"I thought there were no outsiders."
"There are merchants."
"They don't count."
"No," she said, voice colder. "They don't."
For a while, they walked in silence.
Then she said, "People trust you more now."
"Some people."
"More than before."
