Nysha flinched by the door but didn't try to stop it.
Lindarion's shadow loomed over the man as he grabbed him by the collar and yanked him upright again.
"Black-robed. White-haired. Travels with a man who bends space like it's cloth. Sound familiar?"
The merchant choked. "Maeven—"
"There it is."
Lindarion's fist hovered again.
The merchant threw up his hands.
"Wait—wait—I don't know where they are now. I just know who paid for their arrival. A summoner. Local—sort of. Older blood. Demonic noble house. They're the ones who gave him access to the temple in the first place."
"Name," Lindarion growled.
The merchant wheezed. "House Veyr."
Lindarion let him go.
The man crumpled to the floor with a groan.
Nysha took a careful step forward, voice soft. "That's not a minor name…"
"Good," Lindarion muttered. "Then they'll know I'm coming."
He turned and walked back toward the curtain.
Nysha glanced once at the groaning merchant, then followed.
