"Of course you haven't," Dain replies without thinking, pressing one hand against the painted wood of the wagon like he's halfway worried he might be imagining it and his hand will pass right through. "You have quite a capable guard bird."

Which reminds him of all of the questions he wants to ask, all of which seem important enough to tie for the first spot, none of which will have quick or easy answers. If Tuo hasn't changed, then asking questions will be something of a game, trying to find more and more specific words to ensure that he has no choice but to give a direct response. 'Where does your bird come from' leaves plenty of room for a meandering tale.

But the wagon -- it's beautiful, and familiar. Even in Fairport, Dain hasn't come across much architecture made to be beautiful. Homes are simple and serviceable. Churches are large and intimidating. Other buildings fit somewhere into the vast chasm between, and richer families will pay for elaborate trappings, but almost nothing is built from scratch to be this colourful. It makes Dain abruptly, sharply homesick, in a way he has not been for many years.

"You didn't build this yourself," he remarks in an effort to distract himself. It's very deliberately not a question. "And I'm sure I would have remembered if it fit onto the ship. Where does it come from?"